Just What the Cowboy Needed

by Teresa Southwick

  “But you hafta come,” Cassie pleaded. “It’s fun. And there’s a parade.”

  “What else is going on?” she asked.

  “Hot dogs. Pizza. And cotton candy.” The little girl thought for a moment. “There’s rides and fireworks. I don’t like the real loud ones, though.”

  “All of that sounds good except the cotton candy. If that’s a deal breaker...”

  “You don’t have to eat it,” Logan said. “You should come with us. We’re celebrating America’s independence, and it’s downright un-American to sit here by yourself.” He settled his hands on lean hips. “If you were in Buckskin Pass what would you be doing?”

  There she would go to the annual town celebration and try not to smack Lance the Loser, who had broken her heart and her bank account. In her current situation, being by herself meant not having to pretend she wasn’t infatuated with this cowboy. When she was around him, the attraction meter never failed to click into the danger zone.

  “I would take part in the Buckskin Pass festivities,” she finally admitted, leaving out the part about Lance the Loser.

  “Then you should come with us.” Was that guilt, reluctance or obligation in his tone?

  “Daddy’s right.”

  “Wow.” He looked at his daughter as if she was an alien being from another planet. “That hardly ever happens. Me? Correct about something? That parade today just might be in my honor.”

  “You have to, Grace. I’ll be sad if you don’t.” Cassie thrust out her bottom lip in an unmistakable pout.

  Grace sighed. “Who can resist that face? Not me, that’s for sure.”

  “Yay!”

  At least one out of three was pleased. Grace thought Logan looked as if his horses had just gone on strike. In spite of his inviting her along, his body language said he didn’t want to be around her any more than necessary.

  Actually, she couldn’t blame him. It’s what she deserved after offering unsolicited parenting advice in her first couple of days on the job. Now she was barely into week number two. She’d made a personal vow not to offer an opinion unless he asked for it.

  “How does my hair look, Daddy?”

  “I like the ribbons. Red, white and blue. Very patriotic.”

  “Grace did it.” She turned her head from side to side, showing off the ponytail and the long strands of ribbon decorating it. “I’m never getting my hair cut.”

  “That’s a topic best discussed with your mom.” He looked at Grace. “You ready to go?”

  She glanced at her denim capri pants and red T-shirt with stars and stripes. If only there was an anti-Logan spray like the one you could buy to repel mosquitoes. Not to say he was a pest, but it would come in handy. Alas, no such product existed. “I’ll just get my purse and light jackets for Cassie and me.”

  A little while later Logan drove into a lot designated for holiday parking because Main Street Blackwater Lake was closed off to through traffic. The carnival rides were operating in the same open area, and Cassie’s eyes grew wider as she pointed out the ones she wanted to go on.

  Logan made no comment but kept on walking. It was a short distance to the parade area, and they looked around to find the best viewing spot in the crowd gathered up and down the street. As it turned out, all the front-row spaces were taken and the audience was several people deep. Before they could decide where to go, she heard someone call out Logan’s name.

  “Look!” Cassie pointed at the Grizzly Bear Diner. “There’s Uncle Tucker and Uncle Max and Aunt Jamie.”

  “My siblings,” Logan explained.

  “A big family.” Grace envied him. She had no one, except the friends she’d made in Buckskin Pass. Although she’d made the comment that it must have been fun growing up with them, his response had been “not really.” Why did she get the feeling that circumstances and not his brothers and sister had colored his view? “They look nice.”

  “You might change your mind about that after you meet them. There’s no getting out of this now that we’ve been spotted.” His voice was teasing. In spite of the words, he looked pleased to see them. “Brace for impact.”

  Cassie took both of their hands and tugged them through the crowd to where the three siblings stood together. “Hi!”

  “Hello, peanut.” The pretty twentysomething woman bent to hug her niece. “Love your holiday hair.”

  “I know. I love it, too. Grace did it.”

  Questioning blue eyes, a lot like Logan’s, regarded her. “And you must be Grace, the hair goddess.”

  “Be nice, Jamie. Don’t scare her off.” Logan put his hand at the small of her back. “This is Grace Flynn. She’s taking care of Cassie for the summer.”

  “Tracy mentioned she was hiring someone to help while she plans for the wedding then goes on her honeymoon.” The woman’s look was friendly and welcoming.

  “Grace,” Logan continued, “this is my sister, Jamie Hart, and my brothers, Tucker and Max Hart.”

  All of them Harts? But Logan’s last name was Hunt. Maybe they were half siblings, she thought, although some instinct told her that wasn’t the case. The family resemblance, especially among the men, was pretty strong. All three were better-than-average-looking and would have women sacrificing to the matchmaking gods.

  “It’s nice to meet you all.” She shook hands with each of them. His brother Max was tall and broad, like a walking mountain, and his big hand swallowed hers. “You look familiar,” she said.

  “If you recognize him it’s probably from tabloid stories linking him to all his groupies. He played in the National Hockey League,” Logan explained.

  Grace decided to ignore the not very veiled reference to women. “Played? Past tense?”

  “Ankle injury. It affected my skating skills.” Max shrugged, and his dark blue eyes didn’t reveal how he felt about a career-ending injury.

  “Now he has too much time on his hands and uses it to harass me.” Tucker was tall, muscular and somewhere in his thirties. He was pretty cute, too. “I have better things to do than prop up his ego.”

  “Building houseboats is no big deal,” Max shot back.

  “What are you guys? Five? Our niece is more mature than you,” their sister teased.

  Grace had always wished for a big brother, and this woman had three to protect her. She envied that. “What do you do, Jamie?”

  “She’s a nurse practitioner and works at Mercy Medical Clinic here in town.” Logan’s voice and expression were full of pride and affection. “Our little sister saves lives.”

  “She gives shots.” Cassie wrinkled her freckled nose.

  “I’ve never given one to you,” her aunt said. “And if I did, it would be because an injection was medically necessary.”

  “Does that mean only if I really and truly needed it?”

  “Yes.” Jamie hugged her tight. “You’re so smart, my pretty little peanut.”

  “Breaking news. The parade is starting.” Because he was the tallest, Max could see over the heads of all the people in front of them.

  “I can’t see anything,” Cassie complained.

  “That can be fixed.” Her very big uncle scooped her up and settled her on his wide shoulders. “How’s that?”

  “I can see better than anyone!” The little girl squealed with delight.

  Grace was shifting to get a better view of the street, and her arm brushed Logan’s. The tingles commenced as if the starting buzzer had just sounded at a track meet. Just when she managed to get a handle on the feeling, he put his hands on her arms and urged her to stand in front of him.

  “You can see better here,” he said.

  His touch was gentle, but his fingers on her bare skin felt hot enough to leave a mark. It was only the space of a heartbeat before he dropped his hands, but she missed the contact. That was weird, along with the fact that his brot
hers were extraordinarily good-looking men, but neither of them made her toes curl like Logan did.

  Then the Blackwater Lake High School band marched by playing “America the Beautiful,” distracting her from the unsettling reaction. For about fifteen minutes she watched horses, antique cars and even a covered wagon go by. At the end of the line was the town fire department’s big red hook and ladder. A very handsome, dark-haired firefighter stood on the running board, waving an American flag.

  “He’s cute,” Grace commented.

  “Never judge a book by its cover,” Jamie muttered.

  The tone and words convinced Grace that Logan’s sister had a Lance the Loser story, too.

  “You should give him a break, Jamie. Des Parker isn’t a bad guy.” Tucker gently nudged his sister’s shoulder.

  She gave him a look that would melt steel. “Do you really want to give me advice on the opposite sex, Tucker? You spent years living with a woman and couldn’t cross the finish line.” Jamie leaned toward Grace and whispered loud enough to be heard in the next county, “No one knows why that long-term relationship ended, but it makes his qualifications for offering romantic advice questionable.”

  Logan gave his brother a sympathetic look. “I hate to say it, Tuck, but she’s got a point.”

  “Really?” The brother in question shook his head. “You’re taking her side?”

  “Look at it this way,” the cowboy said. “I will never need a houseboat, what with living on the ranch and all. But at some point, medical care is a real possibility. This is a strategic decision about which one of you I can least afford to tick off.”

  Grace cracked up. “You guys are too funny.”

  “Logan,” his sister told him, “I always knew you were wise beyond your years, and you get points for that. But the truth is that men are pigs. Am I right, Grace?”

  Now she was on the spot. It was three against three if you counted Cassie, but she was too young to know anything about being hurt by a man. “I’m not comfortable labeling all of them that way. Especially when three of them are standing right here and one is my boss. But—” she glanced at Logan, remembering how he felt about that particular word “—I’m pretty sure a majority of women have a pig in their past.”

  Jamie nodded knowingly. “You and I need to talk sometime.”

  “About what?” Cassie demanded.

  “Grown-up stuff.” Grace felt guilty that her comment had slipped out and wished she could rewind and delete. She glanced at Logan, his brown Stetson shading his eyes, and caught something dark and intense in his expression. At least she thought so. It disappeared as soon as their gazes touched.

  “Not to change this fascinating subject,” Max interjected, “but Bar None has a beer booth set up across the street. I think we should go get one.”

  “I don’t like beer,” Cassie said.

  “Do I want to know how and why you know that?” Tucker asked his niece.

  “I just know,” his niece declared. “Because I want to go and play the beanbag game.”

  Grace could tell Logan was conflicted about what to do and figured she could help him out. “You go with your family. I’ll take Cassie to see the games.”

  “You’re not on duty. It’s a holiday,” he protested.

  “I like hanging out with her. It’s not work.” She saw his hesitation and said, “Look, we can debate the issue and waste time until everyone is bored to tears—”

  “I’m already bored,” Cassie chimed in. She pointed at someone nearby. “There’s my friend Lindsay. I wanna go play.”

  “I rest my case. So you can give in—dare I say it—gracefully and everyone gets what they want,” she said.

  “Not only is Grace pretty,” Max said, “she’s right. It would be best to go with her on this, big brother.”

  Logan glared at everyone in general, but before he could respond, Cassie piped up.

  “Daddy, please can I go with Grace?”

  He thought for a moment, then finally nodded. “Okay, kiddo. But you stay with her.”

  As if the little girl weighed nothing, Max lifted her from his shoulders and set her on her feet. “There you go, munchkin.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Max. I’m goin’ over there to see my friend Lindsay.” She ran over and the two girls hugged.

  “I guess that’s settled.” Logan slid his fingers into his jeans pockets.

  “It was nice to meet you all,” Grace said.

  “Likewise.” Max gave her a charming grin. “My brother doesn’t deserve you. But it’s good to know my niece is in expert hands.”

  “One beer,” Logan told her. “I’ll call your cell to see where the two of you are when I’m finished.”

  “Okay.”

  She watched the four of them start across the street, then turned away when there was a tug on her hand. “What is it?”

  “Grace, can I go on the roller coaster with Lindsay? Her mom and dad are comin’ with us. Please?”

  “Okay, I’ll just tag along—”

  “Hold on.” Logan came up behind her. “I thought you were taking her to play the games.”

  Grace’s eyes were on Cassie, who drifted back to her friend’s family, out of hearing distance. Then she glanced up at her tense and decidedly displeased employer. “She changed her mind. It happens when you’re a five-year-old girl. She wants to go on a ride with her friend and parents.”

  “We didn’t talk about this,” he said.

  “You hired me to use my own judgment,” she reminded him. “But if you don’t trust me—”

  “It’s not that.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I just feel as if I should be there.”

  Be there? Really? She’d vowed not to offer advice, but technically she wasn’t. “If being there is so important, why didn’t you take ten minutes to sit and have a pretend tea party with her?”

  “I’m not good at that.” Uncertainty mixed with the tension on his face. “And don’t ask me to explain how or why, but this is different.”

  Grace searched his gaze for several moments, not exactly sure what she was looking for but convinced she wasn’t finding any answers there. “Do you want me to tell her she can’t go on the ride?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll take her.”

  “But your family is waiting for you,” she protested.

  “They’ll live.” He looked down for a moment, then back at her. “And so we’re clear, I do trust you. This is on me, not you.”

  Without another word, Logan walked over to where Cassie was with her friend’s family. He shook hands and smiled at Lindsay’s parents in a casual, friendly way before the group threaded through the crowd in the direction of the open area where the carnival rides were set up.

  Grace saw the protective hand he put on his daughter’s small shoulder, and the sight tugged at her heart. He was the personification of the strong, silent, solid cowboy—polite and protective. She believed him when he said he trusted her but would bet almost anything that he didn’t trust himself.

  Why was that?

  * * *

  Unlike his daughter, who’d conked out in the truck on the way home after fireworks, Logan couldn’t sleep when they got back to the ranch. He was tossing and turning in bed and couldn’t get Grace off his mind. For a lot of reasons, not the least of which was the feel of her bare skin beneath his hands. But mostly it was how she’d looked at him when he got squirrelly about Cassie going on a carnival ride without him there to watch her. You’d think he set Grace’s hot-pink panties on fire.

  Well, maybe that wasn’t the best way to think of it since he was the one with hot pants and doing his damnedest not to let on. No, that look of hers was about judging him, and in the fatherhood department, he came up short. Trying to hide the fact that he had no idea what he was doing wasn’t working. She was too good with kids n
ot to see the truth. Before she came here, things with him and Cassie were fine. Weekends were sacred, and the hired help took over. He hung out with his daughter, and when she was with him, he knew she was safe. He didn’t have to delegate that responsibility.

  Now he had to trust Grace with what was most precious to him in this world. But trust didn’t come easy. The fact was, he’d never hated Foster Hart more than he did at this moment. Thanks to that bastard, he had no blueprint of what a good father looked like.

  Logan heard something, and his eyes popped open, adrenaline pumping. The sound came again, and he realized it was Cassie crying out. He threw off the covers and jumped out of bed, his only thought to get to her.

  He ran down the hall and saw that her bedroom door was open, and faint light from her lamp spilled out. Inside, Grace sat on the bed cradling the little girl in her arms. Since her room was next to Cassie’s, she got there first and was crooning comforting words.

  “It was a bad dream, honey. You’re fine. I’m here. There’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise.” She met his gaze, and there was a question in her eyes.

  Logan knew she was wondering if he wanted to take over, and he shook his head. Cassie was clinging to Grace, and he figured she was probably better off right where she was.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart.” The sobs were tapering off as Grace rocked her and rubbed her back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I’ll be scared.” Cassie clutched even tighter.

  “Sometimes if we share something that scares us it loses the power to be frightening.”

  “Somethin’ was after me.” Cassie sniffled. “I ran and ran as fast as I could, but it grabbed my shirt and I couldn’t get away. I kept saying, ‘Help,’ but nobody came.”

  “Oh, honey.” Grace brushed a hand over Cassie’s hair. “I’m so sorry you were scared. It was just a dream, though, and can’t hurt you. I’m here. Your dad is here.”

  Cassie lifted her head and looked at him. “I didn’t see you, Daddy. Sorry I waked you up.”