Just What The Cowboy Needed. Teresa Southwick
It had come too soon for him. Logan was just a kid himself when his mom took her four children and left his wealthy, cheating father. They ended up homeless, even though she waitressed and cleaned houses, doing her best to take care of them. Logan took on being head of the family to protect her and his siblings. He’d been twelve then and didn’t recommend it for any kid.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Fun first. No dedicated learning during the summer. Good talk. I’m glad—”
“Wait. Something else I need to ask.”
“Shoot.” He held in a sigh.
“As far as structuring time... Do you need me to do housekeeping? Cooking? Anything like that?”
“I have someone who comes in once a week, so probably not. But cooking for Cassie and you is something you’ll need to handle.”
“No problem. I’m happy to plan meals and make a plate for you, if you’d like.”
There was a sweetness in her voice, an expression in her eyes, a softness that any man could get used to. And it pierced the hollow emptiness inside him. He was normally dead tired when he finished work at night, and that obviously lowered his resistance. It was his only excuse for saying, “That would be nice.”
“Great. Pleased to do it.” And she smiled as if that was the truth.
“So, if there’s nothing else...”
“Just one more thing.”
There always was. “Okay. What is it?”
“Why don’t you want to teach Cassie to ride a horse?”
“What makes you think I don’t?” He didn’t, but that was beside the point.
“I read between the lines,” Grace said. “The fact that you always say you’ll talk about it later coupled with her protest that she’s not a baby. Apparently she feels treated like one.”
Logan was pretty sure that at this point in a conversation a mother would fall back on “because I’m the mom and know best.” He couldn’t do the dad version because he had no idea what the blueprint of a good one looked like. All he could think to say was, “What’s your point?”
“Just that I live in a ranching community and teach kindergarten. Lots of children learn to ride even younger than Cassie. So what are you afraid of?”
That he’d be outed as a fraud? The bad that he grew up with was carved into him and would somehow come out and hurt his daughter? “I’m not afraid of anything. But I gave my word to Tracy that our child will be in one cute, adorable piece when she comes back from her honeymoon. You’ve been hired to help me do that.”
“Right.” Her tone said she’d noticed he hadn’t actually answered her question about teaching Cassie to ride. “That’s it, then. Good night, Logan.”
He watched the sway of her hips as she left his office, then let out a long breath. Cassie would be fine when this was all over because he’d walk through fire to make sure of it, but he wasn’t so sure about himself.
Grace Flynn was unexpected, and nine times out of ten that was not a good thing.
The next morning after a late breakfast, Cassie wanted to have a tea party outside on the front porch. It was a spectacular late June day and Grace didn’t see any reason to say no.
“Let’s get our supplies together,” she said.
In the spacious family room a very large flat-screen TV was mounted on the wall above the rock fireplace and oak mantel. There was also a very large area in a corner beside it where the little girl’s toys were stored. The two of them stood side by side looking at it and taking stock of what they would need.
“Do you want to sit on a blanket and spread out? Or use the outside furniture or your play table? And before you answer, keep in mind that whatever we take outside with us has to be brought back in.”
The little girl thought for a moment. “There are only two chairs on the porch, and my table is too little for Daddy. So maybe a blanket, just in case he has time to play there will be enough room for him.”
“Does he play with you often?”
“No. Never.”
Logan had made it clear that running a ranch took up most of his time and not to expect him to be around much. But there was sadness behind this little girl’s resignation and, apparently, a dash of hope that he might one day have a moment to stop and hang with her, if tea party seating to accommodate his size was anything to go by. If they were talking his sex appeal, Grace couldn’t imagine a venue spacious enough to contain it. Just an observation, not personal or anything.
“Okay,” she said. “A blanket it is.”
An old quilt was neatly folded among the games and toys. Grace grabbed it along with a mesh bag full of pink cups, saucers, a teapot and plastic utensils. She took the string handles, then slipped them over her arm. “We’ll need this.”
“And people, too. But who can I bring?” Cassie tapped her lip thoughtfully. “Ariel has a time-out.”
Grace pressed her lips together to hold back her amusement. This child sounded like a miniature adult, and it was so adorable. When she could talk without laughing she asked, “What did Ariel do to get in trouble?”
“She talked back to her mom. And being tired and crabby is no excuse. Moms get tired and crabby, too. But Daddy never does.” She picked up another doll and shook her head. “Ella can’t go either. Her mom said she had to eat her vegetables and she gave them to the dog.”
Grace knelt down and scooped up a soft, pink terry-cloth baby. “How about this cutie?”
“No.” Cassie shook her head. “She was whining and her mommy ran out of patience.”
Grace noticed that this child was projecting her own experiences on the dolls, and the discipline was clearly mom-centered. “Do their dads ever give them a time-out?”
“No. The dads just smile and pat their heads.” There was a wistful quality in her voice, then she brightened. “I know who to bring. Abigail and Hattie. They’ve been very good and kept their rooms neat and went to bed without complaining.”
“Okay, then.” Grace watched the child grab two dolls around the neck because her arms were too little to carry both with dignity. “Can you handle those by yourself, kiddo?”
“Yes,” she answered proudly.
“I think we might need a blueberry muffin to go along with our tea.” Grace had made a batch the previous evening and noticed that Logan ate more than one before he left the house just shy of dawn this morning.
Cassie met her gaze, eyes solemn and hopeful. “That’s a good idea. But it might spoil my appetite for lunch.”
“Hmm.” She didn’t want to break rules, but maybe there was wiggle room. “Lunch isn’t for a while yet, and if you and I share just one muffin with Abigail and Hattie, that would probably be okay.”
The little girl grinned. “You’re right. Goody!”
“It’s unanimous, then.”
Cassie frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you and I agree,” Grace explained, then looked at the dolls the child was hanging on to. “Although we should ask Abigail and Hattie whether or not they would like some muffin with their tea.”
Cassie looked from one to the other doll. “They both said yes. It’s ’nanimous.”
Imagination with a dollop of rule breaking was a beautiful