Her Hill Country Cowboy. Myra Johnson

      “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.

      But no, with a degree in urban design from Texas A&M, Georgia wanted more than Juniper Bluff had to offer. When a big-name architectural firm in Minneapolis offered her a position, she said yes first and informed Seth after the fact.

      He should have seen right then that there were more problems in his marriage than Georgia’s need for career fulfillment.

      And he should never have allowed her to take the kids. He could shoulder the blame for the upheaval they’d suffered, because if he’d swallowed his stupid male pride and followed Georgia to Minneapolis instead of staying put and waging the war for his marriage and his kids long distance, things might have turned out a whole lot differently.

      Some things, anyway. A deep, throbbing ache rolled through him. He slammed down the freezer lid and leaned hard into it while he tried to shove the memories from his mind. The phone call from his mother-in-law saying Georgia had gotten sick. The unbearable wait for test results. The wondering, the questions, the prayers. Then the devastating cancer diagnosis that gave Georgia only weeks to live.

      “Seth?” His grandfather’s voice sounded behind him. “You okay?”

      He straightened and drew a hand down his face. The day’s growth of whiskers rasped beneath his palm. “Yeah, fine.”

      “Omi’s got supper on the table. I had the kids wash up.”

      “Be right there. I need to wash up, too.”

      A splash of cold water soothed his stinging eyes. Joining his family at the table, he plucked a piece of straw from Eva’s hair as he sat down beside her. Leaning over to plant a kiss on her sweet blond head, he thought his heart would burst with all the love he felt for this child. For both his children.

      Clearing his throat meaningfully, Opi reached for Eva’s hand on one side and Joseph’s on the other. Seth joined hands with Eva and Omi as his grandfather bowed his head to offer thanks.

      Afterward, Joseph helped himself to a hefty serving of Omi’s seasoned pan fries. “Opi says tomorrow we can ride over to Mr. Nesbit’s farm and see his calves.”

      Eva tugged on Seth’s sleeve and whispered, “You’ll come, too, won’t you, Daddy?”

      “Sure, hon. Soon as chores are done, we’ll all go.” It would be a good excuse to get the kids away from the ranch and avoid running into the housekeeper and her dog.

      Omi passed a platter of sliced ham to Seth, but before he could serve himself, a knock sounded on the back door. Omi offered a placid smile. “Seth, would you mind?”

      He did mind, because the only other person on the place tonight was Christina Hunter. He forked a slab of ham onto his plate and smiled right back. “Maybe you should get it.”

      “You’ll get there faster than I can. Let’s not keep our visitor waiting.”

      Yep, Marie Peterson definitely reigned supreme at Serenity Hills. Muttering under his breath, Seth wadded his napkin next to his plate and marched to the door. Through the glass pane, he glimpsed Christina standing on the porch, arms folded as she glanced right and left. The evening dusk was gathering, and something about the anxious look on her face made him swallow the caustic greeting on the tip of his tongue.

      He opened the inner door and spoke through the screen. “Can I help you?”

      “Oh. Hi.” She seemed surprised to see him standing there. “I—well—this is embarrassing, but I’ve already locked myself out of my cabin.”

      “Hang on. I’ll get you another key.” Seth should have invited her inside, but it wasn’t happening while she had the dog with her. He slipped down the short hallway to the office, where he fetched a duplicate key.

      On his return trip, his grandmother stopped him in the kitchen and handed him a tray covered with an oversize checkered napkin. “Here’s Christina’s supper. Tell her to come on over for breakfast in the morning, seven sharp.”

      Seth ground his teeth. Good thing the kids rarely came downstairs before seven thirty. “You planning on having her eat with us every meal?”

      “Of course not. Just till she settles in and has a chance to pick up some groceries for herself.”

      Lips in a twist, Seth dropped the key onto the tray and continued to the back door. He nudged it open with his hip. “My grandmother sent this tray for you. The key’s right here.”

      “Thanks. Sorry to cause so much trouble.” One hand on the dog’s head, Christina looked ready to jump out of her skin.

      Seth figured he’d kick himself later, but his kindlier instincts kicked in. Nice to realize he still had a few. “Would you feel better if I walked you back to the cabin?”

      “Please don’t bother. You already think little enough of me.” Her throat shifted. She reached for the tray. “I’ll just—”

      “No, wait.” Rats, all he needed was to go soft over a woman in distress. Looked like his own supper would be getting cold. “The path can be tricky after dark, especially before all the vapor lights power up. I’ll make sure you get back safely.”

      “You really don’t mind?”

      Seth harrumphed. “Need to make sure the pasture gates got latched. Might as well see you to your cabin on the way.”

      Christina looked at him sideways as if she didn’t quite believe him, but a little of her apprehension seemed to have lifted. They started down the path together, Seth carrying the tray and making sure to walk on the opposite side from her dog. No sense giving Christina the idea he’d softened his stance on the animal’s presence. Because he hadn’t and he wouldn’t.

      The ranch had two staff cabins, located on the far side of the main house and secluded from the guest cabins. They had to walk past the garage and a couple of outbuildings, then through a copse of trees, and Christina kept her hand on the dog’s shoulder the whole way. Seth still hadn’t been told what her disability was that required a service animal, but if it caused this much anxiety, he could see why the shadowy trek to her cabin might be a problem.

      All the more reason she didn’t belong on the ranch. He hoped it wouldn’t take long for his grandmother to come to the same conclusion, as well.

      * * *

      Christina was glad the cabin’s porch light operated on a sensor. The sun hadn’t quite set when she’d gone out earlier on a walk with Gracie. Stupidly, she hadn’t thought to take her key and discovered too late that the door locked automatically. She’d really, really hoped it would be Mrs. Peterson who answered her knock. Seeing Seth on the other side of the screen door had sent her misgivings soaring. How would she endure working here when his dislike was so palpable?

      Except he was being pretty nice at the moment, and it didn’t help her nerves one bit now that she knew he was single. Mrs. Peterson hadn’t said much about Seth’s wife except that they’d separated and soon afterward she’d become ill and passed away.

      He set the tray of food on one of the retro-style red