Stand-In Rancher Daddy. Renee Ryan

She also saw rough honesty, conviction and the deep code of ethics that ruled him. CJ Thorn would make some woman a wonderful husband.

      There was no joy in the knowledge, only an ache of longing. The sensation plowed deeper when he picked up a cup of vanilla ice cream and offered it to her. It was such a simple thing yet spoke of his attentiveness.

      Unable to imagine swallowing a single bite past the walnut-sized lump lodged in her throat, she lifted her hand, palm facing him. “None for me.”

      “You sure?”

      “Positive.”

      Shrugging, he set the cup back on the table, then speared his splayed fingers through his hair as he gazed at her. When he pulled his hand away, several wild strands were left sticking out.

      Molly desperately wanted to reach up and smooth the black locks back in place. It was oddly distracting, this need to take care of CJ. Not as she did the twins, but as a woman took care of her man.

      The thought staggered her. She deliberately glanced away, and realized her mistake when she caught her mother watching her interacting with CJ and the twins.

      A familiar look of concern fell across Helen Carson’s face, or was that disapproval? Dread pulled in Molly’s stomach, twisting hard when the older woman made a jerking motion with her chin, as if to say she wanted a word with Molly in private.

      She had a good idea what was on her mother’s mind. Molly had made a bold statement when she’d chosen to sit with the Thorns during service, and then had stuck by their sides ever since.

      Well, this wasn’t the time for a heart-to-heart between mother and daughter. Ned’s absence had been noticed and publically remarked upon by Little Horn’s most voracious gossip.

      No doubt Mrs. Hickey was already discussing the situation with her cronies and anyone else who cared to listen. Talk would inevitably turn to the twins, then to CJ, and ultimately to Molly’s role in their family. Assumptions would be made, conclusions drawn.

      A hard knot of frustration balled in Molly’s stomach. No wonder her mother wanted to speak with her.

      As inconspicuously as possible, Molly slipped to the other side of CJ, then made the mistake of sending another glance in her mother’s direction. She was still watching her. This time, Molly definitely saw worry in the older woman’s eyes.

      Feeling marginally guilty, she started toward her mother, but paused midstep when a neighboring rancher moved directly into her path. He was clearly heading her way. Or rather, he was heading toward CJ.

      What little Molly knew about Edmund McKay, which admittedly wasn’t much, she liked. He was a hardworking, dedicated rancher and one of the most respected men in the community. Somewhere in his early thirties, he’d lived in the area for nearly thirteen years. Tall, several inches over six feet, he had a strong muscular frame, light brown hair and intense green eyes that held a hawk-like sharpness.

      He was a bit rough around the edges, but he was one of CJ’s closest friends, which was a large point in his favor.

      Drawing to a stop at a polite distance, he took off his hat and gave Molly a kind, if somewhat tentative smile. “Good day, Mrs. Langley.”

      “Good day to you, Mr. McKay.”

      Looking slightly uncomfortable, he jammed his hat back on his head and fumbled for words. “It’s...ah...” He trailed off, swallowed several times, then tried again. “It’s a...beautiful day, is it not?”

      Molly felt her lips twitch at the innocuous comment about the weather. Clearly, conversation wasn’t the man’s strong suit.

      “Why, yes, it’s a lovely day indeed.” She brightened her smile. “I trust all is well at your ranch.”

      “Very well, thank you.”

      He broke eye contact, placed his palms on his knees and greeted the girls.

      Anna grinned around her spoon. “Hi, Mr. McKay.”

      Sarah showed off her pink bow, which he took considerable time admiring. “It’s very pretty.”

      “I know!” She shoved a bite of her ice cream in her mouth. “I tied it myself,” she announced, after swallowing.

      “Impressive.” He patted her shoulder, then straightened and faced CJ.

      The two men had barely shaken hands before they launched into a conversation about the unpredictable cattle prices this year due to inconsistent demand in the northern states.

      Molly found the conversation fascinating. She nearly joined in the discussion, but the girls chose that moment to finish their ice cream. She took their empty cups.

      As she set them on the table, a movement on her left had her looking over her shoulder. Her friend Lula May Barlow stood beneath the shade of a large oak tree. Her eight-year-old daughter, Pauline, was with her.

      Though Molly’s friend was also a widow that was where the similarities between them ended. Lula May had five children, ages six to seventeen. She was also beautiful and kind, with strawberry blond hair, dark blue eyes and a no-nonsense, take-charge nature Molly admired.

      She waved at her friend. Lula May waved back, then beckoned to her. Molly looked in the direction of her mother, discovering she was engaged in a conversation with Beatrice Rampart.

      Deciding she could use a good chat with Lula May, whose daughter looked as restless and bored as the twins had become, Molly laid a hand on CJ’s arm. “If you have no objection, I thought I’d take the girls away to play with my friend’s daughter.”

      He appeared to consider her request with a hint of indecision.

      Giving his arm a reassuring squeeze, she hitched her chin toward where Lula May and Pauline waited. “We’ll be right over there.”

      “Ah, yes.” He nodded at Lula May. “That’ll be fine.”

      Molly dropped her hand. “It was lovely to see you again, Mr. McKay.”

      The rancher tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”

      “Come on, girls.” Molly placed a smile in her voice and took hold of their hands. “Let’s go say hi to Mrs. Barlow and Pauline.”

      The twins declared this the grandest of grand ideas. They adored Pauline Barlow, as did Molly. Lula May’s only daughter was a sweet girl with bright red hair, a sunny disposition and eyes the same indigo blue as her mother’s.

      Seeming as eager as the twins, Pauline hurried to meet them halfway across a grassy knoll, her enthusiasm propelling her forward.

      “Hello, girls!” She barely stopped to take a breath before asking, “Want to play jacks with me?”

      “I do.” Anna all but vibrated with excitement. “I really, truly do.”

      Sarah frowned at her sister. “You don’t even know how to play jacks.”

      “Neither do you.”

      “I can learn.”

      Anna stuck out her bottom lip. “Well, I can, too.”

      Undaunted by the girls arguing, Pauline stepped between them. “I’ll teach you both how to play. I’m really good, just ask anyone.”

      Once she was given permission by Molly and her mother, Pauline led the girls to a flat spot on the other side of the tree, placed a wooden board on the ground and got down to the business of teaching the twins how to play jacks.

      Not until the three were chattering happily away did Lula May take Molly’s hand and hold on tight. “How are you? And I won’t take a pat answer. I want the truth.”

      Something in her friend’s eyes put Molly instantly on guard. “I’m...fine.”

      Looking far from convinced, Lula May dropped her hand, but continued holding Molly’s stare. She tried not to react to the