Charm School For Cowboys. Meg Maxwell

      So why was he putting it off? CJ wasn’t that same kid who’d sobbed in his arms five years ago about losing everything. He was a man. So why was Jake so reluctant to bring up the subject again?

      It wasn’t like him to be unsure of how to proceed, to not know the best way to go with something. Dammit, this thing had him out of sorts. Aware that Emma seemed to be watching him while she loaded the dishwasher, he nodded at her, thanked her again for breakfast and headed out, stopping to watch the sun rise over the ridge. He focused on it, trying to clear his mind. But just when his mind settled he started thinking about the beautiful woman in his house. He was attracted to her in a way he hadn’t been to any woman in five years.

      Well, he’d have to add himself to his lineup of clueless cowboys because no matter what he told the guys about the heart wanting what it wants, he wasn’t about to heed his own.

      * * *

      The dishwasher full and going, the dining room table clean and the kitchen spotless, Emma glanced in the refrigerator to see what the guys would have for lunch, which was “make your own.” There were at least five pounds of sliced meats, from roast beef to ham to turkey, plus condiments and lettuce and tomatoes. Someone sure liked potato salad—there were two one-pound take-out containers from Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen. And was that a jar of pickled herring? On the counter, one of a few bread boxes was full of Kaiser rolls. Whoever did the grocery shopping knew what he was doing. The fruit bowls were picked almost clean through, so those would need replenishing. Emma would have to ask Jake if she should take on the shopping.

      She headed up to her room on the third floor, her suite like a palace compared to her small apartment in Oak Creek, if not the big house she’d grown up in. She loved the old hardwood floors in her bedroom here at the Full Circle, the soft Persian carpet covering a good portion of it. Her bed was plush, just the way she liked it, and the views outside all the windows were of endless green and trees and livestock. She glanced in the corner between the two big windows. That’s where she’d put the crib when it was time.

      She touched her hand to her belly, amazed for the millionth time that in just five months she’d have a baby. Emma had lost her mother her senior year of high school and wished Violet Hurley were here. What a grandmother she would be. Her dad’s disappointed face came to mind and she thought about calling him to let him know about her baby’s father and where she was living now. But he’d just insist she come home and not listen to a word about how she felt, what she wanted, so she kept her phone in her pocket.

      After a quick shower, Emma dressed in jeans and a pale blue T-shirt for her shift at Hurley’s. She helped out on Tuesdays—always a busy day since the restaurant was closed Monday and folks missed their po’boys and ribs and chicken fried steak—and Saturdays, today, the busiest lunch day. She headed back downstairs, gave Redford a scratch on the head and went out the front door. She could see Hank and Golden carrying hay bales from the barn, and in one of the pastures, Grizzle and CJ were leading the bulls farther out. She wondered where Jake was, what he was doing.

      A few weeks ago, her baby’s father had been out there on this land. She touched her hand to her stomach again and let the warm May breeze wrap around her. She suddenly wanted to see the ranch and take a look in the outbuildings.

      The big red barn was huge, home to many stalls with horses and a bunch of goats and sheep. She saw Jake checking on a small herd of goats in their pen and watched him open the gate and let them into the fenced-in pasture. The morning sun lit up his dark hair and shone on his strong, handsome profile. She realized she was staring and forced her gaze to the large bulletin board on the wall by the double doors.

      “Bucks’ Choice Dance?” Emma said, reading the flyer announcing a dance for the rancher association fund-raiser being held that night.

      “The crew has really been looking forward to this one,” Jake said, adjusting his brown Stetson. “Every song, the men get to choose their partner and it’s considered ill manners to say no. Last month it was ladies’ choice.”

      “CJ was brand-new in town and didn’t get to sit down once,” Hank said, scanning the clipboard in his hand. “Boy, was he tired the next morning.”

      Emma smiled. She wondered if Jake had gone and danced the night way. “And it says here since it’s bucks’ choice, men pay the ten-dollar admission but ladies go in free.”

      Grizzle led in a pretty brown-and-white mare to the grooming area and unbridled her. “But men drink free, whereas ladies have to pay.”

      “Which they gladly will since they have to dance with whoever asks, unless the guy’s a creep or an ex,” Hank said, checking something off on his clipboard.

      “Wait,” Emma said. “You’re saying women not only have to dance with whoever asks, but they have to pay for their drinks too?”

      Hank nodded. “Ain’t that grand? It switches every month, so it works out.” He chuckled, then turned to Jake. “You’re going, right, Boss?”

      “Me?” Jake asked, closing the goats’ pen. “No. I hung up my dancing shoes.”

      “You’re single, aincha?” Grizzle said as he removed the mare’s saddle and pad.

      “Yeah, but—” Jake began.

      “Plus, you’re a member of the rancher’s association. You have to go,” Hank pointed out. “Or you can forget about becoming a board member. Trust me, I know.”

      Grizzle frowned. “I hate tab keepers.”

      “Way of the world,” Hank said. “Oh, and, Grizz. Do your dance partners a favor—shave before the event. The barber shop’s open till six tonight.”

      “I ain’t cutting my hair and shaving this beard,” Grizzle muttered.

      The foreman stared at him. “Are you forgetting how that little girl jumped when she saw you at the feed store? When you start to scare small children, it’s time for a shave and a haircut.”

      Grizzle waved his hand dismissively and stared Hank down. “I’m sure you’ve got stuff to do. And considering you told a lady she smelled like cow dung, I don’t think I should be taking pointers from you.”

      Hank’s cheeks flamed. “Well, she did smell kind of like cow dung. So did I. We’re ranchers, for Pete’s sake.”

      Emma had a feeling these two could go at it for hours, but would be right there if one needed the other. And she wondered what Jake’s “yeah, but” was about. Yeah, but I’m dating someone and we’re serious and she can’t go tonight so I can’t, either. She sure hoped that wasn’t it.

      “I heard the association fund-raisers are dress up,” Jake said. “That true?”

      Hank nodded. “There’ll be a line at Joe’s all day. He’s the barber in town. Has a place right on Main Street next to the drugstore. Can’t miss it with the spinning red-and-white pole outside.”

      “I’ll bet you’d look very handsome with a haircut and beard trim,” Emma said to Grizzle.

      “Then I guess I won’t be going,” Grizzle griped. He dropped the sponge he’d been using to wash the mare’s neck into the bucket, then dried her off and led her to her stall.

      Emma’s face fell. “What’s that about?” she whispered.

      Jake shrugged. “Not sure.”

      “Maybe he’s used to looking like a mountain man,” Hank said. “You get used to your ways and then you can’t imagine changing. Like Michelle, the librarian. She hasn’t changed her look since high school and that was 1994. She has bigger shoulders than I do.”

      Emma glanced down toward the mare’s stall. She couldn’t see Grizzle from where she was standing by the bulletin board. She looked at Jake, then headed over to the stall, where Grizzle was checking the mare’s hooves. “I’m sorry about poking my nose into your business, Grizzle. That wasn’t fair of me.”

      Grizzle