Her Hill Country Cowboy. Myra Johnson

* *

      Her pulse skittering, Christina looked up with a gasp. “You?”

      “Surprise.” Seth Austin’s greeting held no warmth whatsoever.

      “Seth...?” Mrs. Peterson’s tone was part question, part warning.

      “We sort of ran into each other in town this afternoon,” Seth muttered. He looked pointedly at Gracie. “I told you we can’t have dogs on the place.”

      “We’ve already talked this through,” Mrs. Peterson said patiently. “Gracie is Christina’s service dog.”

      “Yeah, I got that.” Seth’s fierce stare wavered as he glanced toward his grandmother. “But think about Eva. You know this can’t work.” He swung his gaze back to Christina. “I’m sorry, Miss—”

      “Hunter.” Christina swallowed nervously. Was she about to get fired before she’d even filled out her W-4?

      “Miss Hunter. Like I told you in town, we’ve got rules. This is a working ranch, and safety is our number one concern. We aren’t in a position to start making exceptions.”

      Whining softly, Gracie sat up and rested her chin on Christina’s leg. When Christina glanced down into those soft, expressive eyes, the tension that had welled at Seth’s arrival slowly subsided. One hand on Gracie’s head, she sat a little straighter and cleared her throat. “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Austin. As long as Gracie isn’t disruptive and doesn’t interfere with my work, I have the legal right to keep her with me.”

      Jaw clenched, Seth backed up a step. His steely gaze combed Christina from head to toe. “Housekeeping at a guest ranch isn’t exactly light work, and you look pretty able-bodied to me.” His tone turned skeptical. “So forgive me for asking, but what exactly is your disability?”

      Christina pressed her lips together. She should be used to the question by now, along with the typical doubts. If she’d lost her sight or hearing, or if she were in a wheelchair, her disability and need for a service animal would be obvious. But when she explained she’d suffered a brain injury and had post-traumatic stress disorder, she’d come to expect the raised eyebrows and dubious frowns.

      Before she could form a response, Mrs. Peterson interrupted. “Now, Seth, stop the third degree and be a gentleman. Christina’s been forthright with me about why she needs Gracie, and I’m not anticipating any problems.”

      Seth glared at his grandmother as if debating his chances of winning this argument. Christina held her breath and prayed. She needed this job. It could mean the difference between being stuck forever living with her overprotective parents or groping her way back to independence and a normal life.

      “All right, have it your way.” With a sharp exhalation, Seth turned to go. Before he’d taken three steps, he swung around and leveled a finger at Christina. “But first sign of a problem and you’re out of here, got it? And keep that dog away from my kids.”

      Christina didn’t realize how badly she’d started shaking until she felt Gracie’s wet nose beneath her palm. Giving the dog all her attention, she forced herself to breathe. Get back in the car and go home, her inner voice demanded. You’re not ready. This was a mistake. A huge, horrible mistake.

      Mrs. Peterson set a glass of water at Christina’s place. “Seth’s all bluster and very little bite. He’s got his issues, too. Give him time and he’ll come around.”

      After taking a sip of water, Christina slid the employment papers across the table. “You’ve been very understanding, but your grandson clearly doesn’t want me here.” She pushed unsteadily to her feet. “I don’t think this is going to work out after all.”

      “Now hold on, honey.” Mrs. Peterson shoved the paperwork back toward Christina. “We’ve got fourteen guests coming for a family reunion this weekend. Where do you think we’re gonna find another housekeeper on such short notice?”

      Christina sighed and glanced toward the window. Near the barn, Seth knelt in front of his children, and the little girl’s face looked anything but happy. When she and her brother had come to the house earlier, the girl had taken one look at Gracie and run screaming into her great-grandmother’s arms. At least Mrs. Peterson hadn’t overreacted. She’d calmly offered the little girl a cookie and led her out to the porch.

      Seth had issues? Apparently his children did, too. As an experienced child and family social worker, and emotionally traumatized herself as a result of her auto accident, Christina recognized the signs. Was it possible God had sent her here for this very reason, to offer help to a troubled family?

      Shoulders sagging, she returned to her chair. “All right, I’ll stay. But let’s take it one day at a time. The last thing I want is to cause more problems for those kids.”

      “Believe me, honey, you’ll be like a breath of fresh air around here. I felt it in my bones from our very first phone interview.” Mrs. Peterson handed Christina a pen. “Let’s get these papers filled out, and then I’ll show you to your cabin so you and Gracie can get comfortable in your new digs.”

       Chapter Two

      Seth kept the kids occupied helping Opi with simple barn chores until he was certain their new housekeeper had finished her business with Omi and had gone to her cabin. He couldn’t avoid Christina Hunter indefinitely, but he’d make sure she kept her dog well away from Eva. This being Christina’s first night on the place, Seth figured Omi would invite her to the house for supper, so he decided to take the kids down to the picnic area by the lake and grill something for just the three of them.

      While he stood in the utility room digging through the chest-type freezer for franks or burgers, Omi came up behind him. “I know you’re mad, Seth, but you might as well get over it. Christina’s staying. And so is her dog.”

      He nearly rammed his head on the freezer lid as he straightened to face his grandmother. “I don’t tell you how to run the ranch, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t interfere in how I take care of my kids.”

      “That’s a laugh!” Omi set her hands at her ample waist. “You’ve always got plenty to say about how we run things around here, and I’m right glad you do. But the truth is, somebody needs to tell you a thing or two about how you’re raising those youngsters. Georgia’s been gone three years now. You aren’t helping your kids one bit by mollycoddling them like you do.”

      “You know as well as I do the heartache Joseph and Eva have suffered.” Seth fought to keep his voice level. “I’m just trying to give them the room they need to heal. What’s wrong with that?”

      “Not a blasted thing. Except I worry all this room you’re giving them—without the benefit of some kind of counseling—is just more space to wallow in their grief and fear.”

      “We tried counseling.” Returning his attention to his quest, Seth pushed aside some frozen pizzas. “If you remember, it was an interfering social worker who nearly lost me my kids.”

      “You can’t write off the whole field of psychology because one dimwit couldn’t see past the end of her nose.”

      Green beans, stir-fry mix, brown-and-serve rolls—there had to be franks and buns in here somewhere. Seth’s fingers were getting numb.

      “What exactly are you looking for?” Omi snapped. When he told her his intentions, she scoffed. “No cause to run off and hide. Christina’s worn out from her trip. I’m sending a plate of food to her cabin.”

      Nose in the air, Omi marched out of the utility room, leaving Seth to stew in his own lousy mood. Maybe he had grown too protective of his kids, but he wasn’t taking any more chances with their frail little spirits. When Georgia had left him, taking the kids with her, Seth had nearly gone off the deep end. To this day, he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been able to make his wife happy right here on the ranch.