Her Montana Cowboy. Jeannie Watt

then a few seconds later he heard Lillie Jean coming down the hall to the kitchen. Last night he’d come to the conclusion that his guest reminded him of the Disney princesses on the T-shirt Callie, his fill-in bartender, regularly wore. She was small with a lot of dark hair falling down her back and framing her face. Nice mouth, wide eyes. Suspicious wide eyes. She wet her lips as their gazes met and her back went just a little straighter.

      “Good morning.”

      It was almost but not quite a question. She moved past him to check to see if the yard gate was closed, then opened the back door and let her dog outside.

      “Good morning. Coffee?”

      “Please.”

      She hovered near the doorway as he poured her coffee, and then he set the cup on the table and took the chair at the other end. A few seconds later she opened the door and the little dog raced in, his nails clacking on the mudroom floor.

      “Nice sweater,” Gus said drily.

      “Henry doesn’t have a lot of hair. Can’t have him freezing to death.”

      “No. I guess not.”

      “This was the only sweater I could find in a gas station when I realized how cold it was up here.”

      Lillie Jean pulled out the chair and sat, taking hold of the coffee cup with both hands, but making no move to drink.

      “Things look different in the light of day?”

      She gave him a startled look. “What does that mean?”

      Gus regarded the table between them, a frown pulling his eyebrows together. Play the game or cut to the chase?

      He looked up, met those blue-green eyes and made his decision. Cut to the chase. How many people had this woman twisted around her finger with that innocent expression and those startling eyes? However many, he wasn’t going to be one of them.

      “Who are you and why are you here?”

      Her eyes went wide at the blunt question, then narrowed as she pressed her lips together, her gaze never leaving his face. At least she didn’t play coy. Gus had no patience with eye batting and mock shyness, having dealt with that particular come-on about a zillion times during his shifts at the pub.

      “I told you my name and I’ll discuss the rest with Thaddeus when I get back to town.”

      “Why do you want to see him?”

      “Are you his keeper?” she responded coolly.

      Lillie Jean looked like a waif in the storm, but she had some backbone. “No. I’m his nephew and I watch his back.”

      “I will not come at him from behind.”

      Was she messing with him? Three years of tending bar at the pub had given him a pretty good feel for people, but now he suspected his first read on Ms. Jean was off base. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to intimidate her into telling him her mission. But he was going to give it another shot.

      “Why are you here?” he asked softly.

      “I need to talk to Thaddeus. It’s...personal.”

      Her continued use of his proper name threw him. “How do you know him?”

      “I don’t. But we have mutual acquaintances.”

      “Who sent you here?”

      She put her palms on the table on either side of her coffee cup. “I don’t know you, so pardon me if I don’t unburden myself to you upon request.”

      Now Gus’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the woman across the table. He’d definitely read her wrong. Her delicate appearance and the fact that she’d been rattled the night before had thrown him off track. This woman was a straight-talker. Now it was up to him to discover if that was good or bad.

      “Tell you what... I’ll call Thad, tell him you’re here, and he can decide whether he wants to see you.”

      It took her less than a second to say, “Very well.”

      He pushed his chair back and went to the old-fashioned wall phone hanging near the fridge. He hoped Thad wasn’t going to kill him for getting him out of bed early, but this matter needed to be dealt with. His uncle’s voice was thick with sleep when he answered on the fifth ring, and then he cleared his throat and said hello once again.

      “It’s me,” Gus said. He glanced over at Lillie Jean who sat watching him, an impassive look on her face. “There’s a person here at the ranch who wants to talk to you.”

      “Who?”

      “Her name is Lillie Jean.”

      “I don’t know a Lillie Jean.” Thad sounded bemused. Gus knew the feeling. From behind him Lillie cleared her throat.

      “Hardaway,” she said. He gave her a confused look. “Lillie Jean Hardaway.”

      Gus gave his head a shake and repeated what she’d said. “Hardaway. Lillie Jean Hardaway.”

      There was a silence on the other end of the phone, and then Thad said, “I’ll be right out.”

      Gus frowned at the change in Thad’s voice. “Wait. Explain what’s going on.”

      “I will.” He exhaled loudly. “When I get there. Just...make sure she doesn’t leave.”

      “I don’t think that will be an issue,” Gus said. “Her car is axle-deep in the mud on the blind corner. Watch yourself coming around it.”

      “I will.” Was it his imagination, or did his uncle suddenly sound older? “I’ll be there in forty minutes.”

      Which meant he was pretty much going to put on his clothes and walk out the door. Which in turn meant that he was in some way familiar with Lillie Jean Hardaway and that seeing her was important enough that he wasn’t going to burn any daylight before doing so.

      “I’m curious,” Gus said, folding his arms over his chest. “Why you didn’t give me your last name? Why did you let me assume that Jean was your last name?”

      “I’m cautious,” she said matter-of-factly.

      “That’s not an explanation.”

      “I told you...”

      “I know. You don’t know me. You don’t know Thad, either.”

      “That doesn’t really matter.”

      He was about to ask why when she frowned at him.

      “I have to ask,” she said in a way that made him think she was purposely changing the subject, “what happened to your forehead?”

      “I’m not overly cautious,” he said darkly. Which was a lie. He was always careful in his dealings, which was why Lillie Jean’s appearance on the ranch was sending up so many red flags.

      “Is that a tattoo?”

      Gus ran his hand over his forehead. The skin was still tender from the scrubbing, but the mark was just as dark as when Mimi had put it on him the night before. That was the last time he let a roll of the bar dice decide his future.

      “It’s supposed to be temporary.”

      “Not the result of a drunken trip to the ink parlor?”

      He didn’t have to ask why she assumed it would be a drunken trip. What kind of sober person would do this to themselves? “It was part of a going-away party gag gift.”

      “Are you going somewhere?” she asked politely, although he also read a hopeful note in her voice.

      “I worked my last shift at the bar last night. Now I’m full-time manager here.”

      An odd expression flickered across her face, there, then gone. “On the ranch.”

      “Yes.”