Her Hill Country Cowboy. Myra Johnson

      Dipping his head, the man looked past Christina and frowned toward Gracie. “Then you should know the ranch has a no-pets policy.”

      “Gracie isn’t a pet. She’s a registered service dog.” Guess he hadn’t noticed the blue vest Gracie wore.

      “Be that as it may, you still can’t—”

      A car horn blared behind them, and Christina startled. In the rearview mirror, she glimpsed a dusty tan SUV.

      “Hey, Seth,” the whiskered driver bellowed through his open window. “Do your jawin’ somewhere’s else, will ya?”

      “Cool your jets, LeRoy. The lady just had a little car trouble. Pull around if you’re in a hurry.”

      Car trouble she wouldn’t have had if Seth hadn’t forced her to stop so he could move a turtle out of danger. And now he was telling her they wouldn’t allow Gracie at the ranch? Obviously, he was ignorant about laws regarding service animals.

      And obviously, she’d misjudged his solicitous nature.

      As the SUV eased around them, Christina gripped the steering wheel and shot a curt glance at the man at her window. “Thanks again for getting my car started. I’m sure I can find my way from here.”

      “But the dog—”

      She didn’t give him a chance to finish. Shifting into Drive, she left the do-gooder cowboy and his pickup behind. This transition was hard enough without letting an opinionated—and clearly uninformed—stranger rattle her.

      So much for her initial admiration for a kindhearted dad who rescued defenseless animals. She could only pray she didn’t cross his path again anytime soon.

      * * *

      Seth Austin ground his teeth. Yes, the guest ranch had been short on business this summer, but the last thing he needed was a lodger who thought she could ignore the rules.

      Although he was pretty certain he would have remembered if they’d had a reservation for a Tuesday night. Most of their guests arrived on Thursday or Friday for a weekend stay, or else on Sunday if they had reservations for a full week.

      Then it hit him. His grandmother had hired a new housekeeper, who should have reported yesterday, only something had come up and she’d postponed her arrival for a day.

      “Please, please, please, Lord,” Seth mumbled as he strode to his pickup. “Don’t let that woman be her.”

      She sure didn’t look like any housekeeper they’d ever had on the place. Too pretty, for one thing—and it galled Seth to realize he’d even noticed. Shoulder-length golden-blond hair, eyes the color of fresh-brewed coffee. And just as potent, apparently, because Seth couldn’t feel more wired if he’d polished off a whole pot of his grandmother’s strong brew.

      “Daddy?” Nine-year-old Joseph scrambled out of the way as Seth climbed into the cab. “Is the turtle gonna be all right?”

      “Sure thing. He’s probably happily munching on dandelions by now.” Seth twisted around to make sure Eva, his six-year-old, was buckled into her booster seat behind him.

      Joseph crawled between the seats and buckled up in his spot next to Eva. “Who was that lady in the car, Daddy?”

      “Just somebody new in town.”

      Eva sniffled. “She had a big dog.”

      “I know, honey. But it’s gone now. Nothing to worry about.” Laying his Stetson on the passenger seat, Seth sent his little girl a reassuring smile through the rearview mirror, then belted in behind the wheel. On the worrisome chance the woman was the new housekeeper, he’d be sending her right back to town with directions to Doc Ingram’s so she could board that beast of hers at Juniper Bluff’s only veterinary clinic. Service dog or not, Seth wasn’t about to let the animal anywhere near his kids.

      He had one more stop to make on his way home. At the farm-and-ranch supply on the outskirts of town, the kids latched onto both his hands as he waited for Wally, the teenage store helper, to load four fifty-pound bags of horse feed into the pickup bed. When Wally tipped his baseball cap at Eva, she scooted farther behind Seth’s leg.

      “Shy as ever, ain’t you, sweet thing?” Wally glanced up at Seth with a regretful frown.

      Seth had long ago grown tired of fending off such remarks about his little girl, skittish as a newborn foal. Eva would get over her timidity when she was good and ready. “Thanks, Wally. Hop in the truck, kids.”

      Twenty minutes later, he backed the pickup up to the barn door. As he helped the kids to the ground, his grandfather ambled through the opening. Bryan Peterson, Seth’s mother’s dad, walked with a slight limp, thanks to his horse taking a misstep some twenty years ago and both of them landing in a gully.

      The kids darted over to greet their great-grandfather, affectionately known as Opi, a German endearment for grandpa. “Daddy helped a turtle get to the other side of the road,” Joseph announced. “Then he had to fix a lady’s car that wouldn’t start.”

      “Sounds like y’all had yourselves a little adventure in town.” Opi tousled Joseph’s mop of tawny hair. “Why don’t you take your sister to the house? I think Omi has some chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven.”

      Seth’s heart clenched as he watched the indecision play across his son’s face. Since their mother’s death not quite three years ago, neither of the kids strayed far from Seth’s side. But the lure of those fresh-baked cookies finally won out. Joseph grabbed Eva’s hand, and together they jogged across the lane to the white three-story farmhouse that served as both their home and the guest ranch offices.

      Only then did Seth notice the blue compact sedan parked in the gravel lot behind the house. He yanked off his Stetson and slapped it against his leg. “Shoulda known.”

      “What, son?” Opi hefted one of the feed sacks.

      “The car over there. Our new housekeeper?”

      “Yep. Pretty little thing.” As if Seth needed reminding. “Your grandma’s getting her paperwork in order.” Shifting the feed sack to his shoulder, Opi started for the storeroom.

      “You told her she couldn’t keep the dog here, right?”

      “It’s a service dog. Got no choice.”

      Bile rose in Seth’s throat. They most certainly did have a choice. Omi would just have to find another housekeeper.

      He stormed across the lane, but before he made it to the back door, he spied Eva shivering on the wooden swing at the far end of the porch. “Aw, baby.”

      She pulled her thumb out of her mouth long enough to whimper, “The big dog’s in there, Daddy!”

      “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Sweeping Eva into his arms, he sank onto the swing and held her close. It was all he could do to speak calm, soothing words to his little girl while a cauldron of fury boiled in his gut.

      “Omi gave me a cookie and said to wait out here.” Eva looked up, tears pooling in eyes as brown as the chocolate smearing the tip of her nose. “Can you make the big dog go away?”

      Seth fully intended to, but he dare not make promises to his daughter until after he cleared the matter with his grandmother. Marie Peterson pretty much ruled the roost at Serenity Hills Guest Ranch, and she’d have to be the one to send this woman on her way.

      “Tell you what,” he said, shifting Eva onto the swing beside him. “I’ll walk you over to Opi in the barn, and you can give him a hand feeding the horses while I talk to Omi about the lady with the big dog.”

      The suggestion seemed to mollify Eva. She nodded and slid off the swing, then clung to Seth’s fingers as they headed over to the barn. Once Eva had transferred her death grip from Seth’s hand to Opi’s, Seth marched back to the house. He squared his shoulders and hauled in a determined breath