Just What the Cowboy Needed

by Teresa Southwick

  “Gus Gus, maybe.”

  That was one of the mice from Cinderella. So he could see where she was going with this. It was marginally better. “What else?”

  “How about Gaston or Prince Charming?” She looked up at him hopefully.

  It was a darn shame she was too young for grown-up movies because he could get behind more manly names like Braveheart, Black Jack or Rambo. “Prince Charming isn’t bad.”

  She climbed up on the second slat of the fence and he was about to say something, but she stopped there. “It’s not the rightest one.”

  “What else have you got?”

  “Well, he has dark hair like Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid.”

  Logan could live with that. “Not bad.”

  “Really?” She had moved up another slat, getting closer to eye to eye with him.

  “What do you think?”

  “Eric.” She was testing it out loud again. “I like it.”

  “Me, too. Eric it is.”

  Logan thought he heard a car, and his pulse jumped. It could be Grace. He moved several steps to the open barn door and looked up toward the house. There was no sign of her, and the way his heart fell was pretty amazing—and not in a good way. He shouldn’t feel anything but neutral, but that wasn’t the case. Obviously, it was personal.

  “Daddy, look at me!”

  He turned and saw his daughter had climbed to the top of the stall’s gate. And she wasn’t holding on. Her hands were up in the air.

  “Cassie—” The sharp tone in his voice startled her, and she fell.

  It seemed to happen in slow motion, and just like a nightmare, he couldn’t get there in time to catch her. She cried out and landed on both knees. For a split second she made no sound at all, then the crying started.

  “Daddy—”

  He rushed over and scooped her up, noting the blood on her legs. “I’ve got you, baby girl.”

  Tears were streaming down her face, and her little chest was heaving from the sobs. He carried her out of the barn and up to the house. In the downstairs bathroom, he set her on the counter in order to assess the damage. Both knees were scraped and had bits of dirt and hay in them. He had never wished for Grace to be there as much as he did at that moment. More than anything he wanted to turn first aid over to her.

  But this couldn’t wait, and he was the last line of defense. “I have to clean up these scrapes, baby girl.”

  “No, Daddy. It will sting.”

  “If I don’t it will hurt worse, honey.”

  “Don’t. Please, Daddy.” Tears had made muddy tracks through the dirt on her face.

  If he said it was going to hurt him more than her there was no way she’d understand, but that didn’t make it any less true. “How about this. If I hurt you cleaning this up, you can punch me in the arm five times.”

  That got her attention. “Ten times.”

  “Can you count that high?”

  “Grace taught me to count to fifty. Maybe even higher.” She was a tough negotiator.

  “Do you want to hit me as many times as you can count?” He was willing if that would make her feel better.

  “No. But maybe up to twenty.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.” He pretended to think it over. “Deal.”

  She made a fist and held it out for a bump from him to seal the bargain. He obliged.

  “Okay. I’m going to swing your legs over the sink and turn on the water.” He’d heard Grace talk to Cassie and explain what was going to happen. Now seemed like a good time to do that. “I’ll squirt a little hand soap on—”

  “Don’t rub it,” she cried out.

  “I won’t. Then I’ll scoop water on to wash off the soap. When it’s all clean I’ll put peroxide—”

  “What’s that?”

  He got out the brown bottle, antibiotic ointment and bandages from the medicine cabinet. “It’s this. It looks like water.”

  “Will it sting?”

  He couldn’t lie to her. “It might a little. But it will bubble up.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “My boo-boo blows bubbles?”

  “Yeah. Kind of. To kill germs so it won’t get infected. When that dries we’ll put on some cream to kill germs, then bandages.”

  “The Ariel ones?”

  “Yup. Do you want to hold them?”

  “Okay.”

  “You ready to do this?” When she nodded, he took a deep breath and did exactly what he’d said. Bits of hay and dirt along with soap went down the drain. He finished off with the peroxide while she was busy unwrapping the bandages. She hadn’t made a peep.

  “Look, Daddy, there’s the bubbles.”

  “Told you. Now we have to wait for this to dry or the bandages won’t stick. But the worst is over.”

  “Do I get to punch your arm now?” She looked unsure about that.

  “Did it hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you can if you want to,” he said.

  “That’s okay. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  It would make him feel better. He deserved worse for letting this happen.

  “Daddy!” That was her crisis-in-progress tone.

  “What’s wrong? Where do you hurt?” He put his palm on her abdomen. It wasn’t possible she had internal injuries, was it?

  “I’m going to have skinned-up knees when Mommy gets married and it will ruin my pretty dress just like you said.”

  And the hits just keep on coming, he thought. What was he going to tell her now? He thought for a moment. “Didn’t you tell me your dress goes almost to your ankles?”

  She nodded and handed over the unwrapped bandages. “Like Belle’s yellow dress.”

  “Then it will cover your boo-boos. They will not show when you walk down the aisle at your mom’s wedding.”

  “You sure?”

  “As much as I can be since you won’t let me see it until the big day,” he said.

  The little girl looked past him and smiled. “Grace! Do you think my dress will cover my boo-boos like Daddy said?”

  “Absolutely it will.”

  Cassie’s smile was radiant. “Can we put the bandages on now?”

  “Sure.” He looked in the mirror and met Grace’s gaze. “Do you want to do the honors?”

  “Nope.” She folded her arms over her chest.

  He sighed and put on the ointment before finishing off with the protective covering. “You’re good to go.”

  The little girl threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “You’re welcome.” He lifted her down.

  “I’m going to get the picture I made for Grace.” Then she was gone.

  Logan rubbed a hand across his neck. “How long were you standing there?”

  “From when you agreed to take twenty slugs for team Cassie.”

  “Okay, let me have it. I was wrong how many ways?” Before she could say anything, he continued, “She climbed on the gate to look at Eric—”

  “Who?”

  “That’s what she named the foal. I just took my eyes off her for a minute.” To look for you, he thought, but didn’t say that. “It happened so fast.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Logan. She’s a kid and stuff happens. It’s literally impossible to watch them every single second. And look at it this way. Cheap lesson. She’ll be more careful the next time she climbs on anything. The scrapes will heal, and as you pointed out, they will not show when she wears her dress.”

  “The words are all nice, but I know you’re judging.”

  She made a scoffing sound. “Actually, I was thinking that you should give lessons on first aid for five-year-olds.”

  He shrugged. “Just doing what had to be done.”

  “That’s what a good dad does. And
you get an A-plus in daddying. You should know I grade tough, so that means a lot.”

  “You teach kindergarten,” he said wryly.

  “Still, in my class every grade is earned.” She patted him on the back. “Nice job, Logan.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll get dinner started. It’s just hamburgers and hot dogs.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She nodded, then backed out of the room and left him alone. Imagine that. Mary Poppins gave him a passing grade. He felt pretty damn pleased about that. Her good opinion meant a lot to him. Later he would worry about how bad that was, but right now he didn’t have the energy to question the reaction.

  And she’d touched him. That pleased him, too, but the memory of that touch was going to keep him awake tonight.

  * * *

  Grace put the finishing touches on her makeup, going with a dramatic smoky eye for Tracy’s evening wedding. She’d bought some new shadow, eyeliner and mascara on her day off and had experimented. The results were worth it, she thought, studying her reflection in the bathroom mirror. But the rollers the size of Coke cans had to go. And they did.

  The hair and makeup gods were on her side today because she brushed out the shiny strands that fell past her shoulders and assessed the results. Full but not too curvy, no further fussing necessary.

  Now for her dress. She’d brought one with her from Buckskin Pass because Tracy had made it clear she wanted Grace at the wedding to help with Cassie. The floral, crepe, sleeveless number had a matching belt and fit her curves like someone had her shape in mind when making it. Something fun and maybe the tiniest bit sexy. Not that she planned to take the sex part out for a spin. This was part of her job, but a girl still wanted to look good.

  She took the plastic covering off the dress and lifted it from the hanger, then stepped into it. After pulling the material up over her hips, she slid her arms in and reached behind to do the zipper.

  Then she remembered. This dress had required zipper assistance from the saleswoman. It was tight and her arms weren’t long enough, nor did they bend the right way to get that little tab where it was supposed to be in order to not flash skin.

  She bought the thing because she fell in love with the look and fit, figuring her landlady, Janice Erwin, would give her a hand if necessary. This was something Cassie could handle, but she wasn’t here. The little girl had spent the night with her mom and they were getting ready together.

  This was a major problem. She wasn’t sure whether or not Logan was still in the house. He hadn’t shared his wedding-day itinerary with her. Since Cassie was squared away, he had no reason to speak to Grace at all and hadn’t much, not since grading his first-aid skills. And before that the night she’d thought he was going to kiss her. After she fixed him dinner.

  The way to a man’s heart being through his stomach was a flawed saying. Not that she wanted any man’s heart. Bottom line: there was no one here to help with her darn zipper.

  She could think of only one thing to do. She had a shawl, pink to pick up one of the shades in the material, and would just have to wear it until she could grab a woman to help.

  She looked at herself in the full-length, freestanding mirror in her room as she buckled the belt. Then she pivoted to glance at the back where the sides of her dress gapped. “It’s not technically a wardrobe malfunction so much as a glitch right out of the starting gate.”

  It was early, but she would just head over to Holden House, where the wedding and reception were being held. The bride and her attendants were already there, so someone could fix her up, then she might be of some use to Tracy.

  She slipped on her four-inch pink pumps, grabbed her purse and wrap and headed down the stairs. When she got to the bottom, she heard one of the steps behind her squeak. The loose tread meant she wasn’t alone after all.

  And her dress wasn’t zipped. She whirled around and backed up against the wall, then met Logan’s gaze as he took the last two steps. “Hi. I didn’t think you were still here.”

  “My presence isn’t required until later. The photographer is getting photos of the bride, groom and the wedding party, so lucky for you, I haven’t left yet.”

  She blinked up at him. He was close enough to feel the heat of his body and his breath on her face. “L-lucky?”

  “It looks like you could use some help with your dress.”

  The darkly intense expression on his face made her wonder if he was offering to zip the dress or take it off. Quite frankly, right that second she hoped it was the latter. Then rational thought returned.

  “Help? Right. The zipper. That’s okay. I’ll find someone when I get there.”

  “Don’t be silly.” He made a circle with his finger, indicating she should turn around. “Two seconds and you’re decent.”

  “I’m hardly indecent now. More of me is covered by this half-closed dress than the average woman in a bikini.”

  It didn’t seem possible but his eyes actually went a shade darker, and her pulse started to race. But he was right that she was making a big deal out of nothing. Two seconds and she would be out of here and on her way. She’d see him again at the wedding, but a lot of people were attending and he could go back to ignoring her again.

  Without another word she turned, giving him access to the back of the dress. It must have been her imagination, his small intake of breath, but his hesitation was enough to make her glance over her shoulder.

  “Is there a problem? Is the zipper caught?”

  “No.” The word was like a growl—gruff and hoarse. He cleared his throat and pulled the zipper up, then secured it with the hook and eye at the top.

  Obviously, the man knew his way around a woman’s clothes, but probably from removing them, not making sure they stayed on.

  And don’t even get her started on the touch of his fingers on her neck. Tingles tap-danced down her arms, and that was bad. If ever she needed not to be distracted, it was now.

  She faced him again. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He looked her up and down, his gaze stopping the longest on her pink heels. “You look nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Just stating a fact.”

  She thought her glam squad—namely herself—had outdone itself. So hats off for making her look awesome. And then for the first time she noticed him and almost said wow.

  “You look nice, too.” Just to be a smart-ass, she let her gaze wander over him just like he’d done to her. “Just stating a fact.”

  Logan was wearing a traditional black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and bow tie. He personified the word awesome and took her breath away for the second time in the last two minutes. In his cowboy gear of jeans, snap-front shirt, scuffed boots and worn Stetson, he would have women throwing their phone numbers at him like confetti.

  But this dashing, elegant look revealed a side to him that was positively heart-stopping. The black jacket fit him perfectly, outlining his broad shoulders, and made her want to run her palms over the width of them. His brown hair was recently trimmed and combed, although the tendency to curl couldn’t be completely tamed. No doubt like the man himself.

  It was a darn good thing a lot of people would be there tonight to blunt the force of what this man did to her. She wasn’t prone to quivering inside, and the only way to make it stop was to get the heck away from him.

  “Well, thanks again, Logan. I better get going. See if I can do anything to help Tracy.”

  “I’m heading out, too. Told her I’d be there early just in case.”

  “Right. So, I guess I’ll see you there.” She took a step to the side, intending to walk past him.

  “Hold on.” He put his fingers on her arm, but it was probably an automatic gesture, judging by the surprised look that jumped into his eyes. And the speed with which he dropped his hand.

 
; “What?” she asked.

  “We should ride over together.”

  “To the wedding,” she clarified, not sure if she’d heard him right.

  The corners of his mouth curved up as he glanced down at his tuxedo pants and shiny shoes. “I think we’re overdressed for a rodeo.”

  “No—I meant—” She couldn’t help laughing. This was the old Logan, the one who was friendly and funny, before he wasn’t. He’d been successfully keeping his distance from her, so his voluntarily suggesting being in the same vehicle had come as something of a surprise. “You don’t want to be stuck with me if there’s something you have to do.”

  “I doubt that will happen. And being stuck with you isn’t exactly what I’d call it.”

  “Oh? What would you call it?” She couldn’t help asking, then literally held her breath while waiting for an answer.

  “Carpooling.”

  “Right.” She nodded. “Because saving gas is always a good thing.”

  He grinned. “You in?”

  So much more than she should be. “Yes.”

  “My truck is parked out front, by the porch. I’ll drive.”

  “Okay.”

  Grace followed him outside and saw the bright red pickup where he said it would be. Side by side they walked down the steps, with her treading carefully in her very high heels. He opened the door for her, and then she saw a logistical issue. This truck didn’t have a running board. With her very tight skirt there was no way she could climb into the cab of this vehicle without sacrificing her dignity.

  Chapter Seven

  “I have a problem.” Grace looked up at Logan. “There’s no way for me to get from down here to up there in any sort of ladylike way. Maybe we should take my car?”

  “No way I’m riding in that dinky thing. Hold on.” The warning was barely out of his mouth before he scooped her up and set her on the truck’s passenger seat. “Problem solved.”

  Be still my heart, she thought. She wondered what Logan Hunt would do if she batted her eyelashes and said, “You’re so manly and strong.” The intrepid cowboy would probably run for his life, and the idea of hitting him with a full-on, in-your-face flirt made her smile.