Rodeo Rancher. Mary Sullivan

had heard him than he did about criticizing her in the first place.

      He could fault her all he wanted. She didn’t care. She knew she was a damned fine mother.

      She loved her children.

      What was his problem, anyway?

      He watched her steadily with eyes that were deep brown, almost black, and inscrutable.

      Defiantly, she gave the same kind of direct scrutiny right back.

      Not much taller than her own five eight, he made up for any lack of height with an impressively broad chest and developed biceps and thighs. Dark chocolate hair curled over his collar, matching his eyes.

      She might have found him attractive if he didn’t grind his hard jaw, as though softness and compromise were dirty words.

      Good God, just what she needed. She’d been exposed to enough inflexible men in her line of work. She’d left all of that behind. She didn’t need it here in Rodeo.

      She glanced at her boys. They would make the best new start here that she could manage, even if it killed her. Her boys deserved no less.

      In a month, she would start work at her new job in town and would work her butt off to be independent from everyone, even her brother.

      She glanced back at the hard-edged rancher.

      Maybe they shouldn’t have stopped here.

      Dumb thought. They’d had no choice. If she hadn’t stopped, her children would have been dead by morning. This had been the only light visible through the storm.

      Sammy would never admit it to the boys, but she’d been terrified.

      Everyone stared at her. No one seemed to know what to do next.

      The silence stretched, unnerving her. Her antsy inner neurotic raised her unwelcome head, just like clockwork. Sammy rushed to fill the space and stillness of the room...as she always did.

      “Well, hey, you. What are your names?” She leaned forward to inspect the two cute little darlings, especially the girl, who stared at her as if she had two heads. You’d think she’d never seen a woman before.

      Sammy loved children. Adored them.

      “I’m Mick,” the boy said, his voice too loud in the quiet room. Was he overcompensating like her with her silly chatter? She guessed him to be about Colt’s age. He pointed to his sister, who peeked around him. “She’s Lily.”

      Lily was maybe three or four. A beautiful child, her mass of unruly hair, dark chocolate like her father’s but shot through with red highlights, overwhelmed her delicate heart-shaped face.

      “I’m so happy to meet you both. You’ve met my boys.”

      To Michael, who watched her as though she were an exotic and not-too-welcome bird, she said, “My older son is Jason, and this little troublemaker is Colt.”

      “Mo-om,” Colt complained, but smiled as she’d known he would.

      “Is it real?” Lily asked.

      Sammy returned her attention to the girl. “Is what real?”

      “Your hair,” she whispered, clutching a doll to her chest by its mass of tangled hair.

      Sammy laughed and squatted on her heels, beckoning to her. “You tell me. Does it feel real?”

      Lily approached shyly and patted Sammy’s hair, then jerked her hand away as though stung.

      “What? Is it bad? I’ll bet it’s a real mess. We’ve been on the road for days.” She was babbling again because Michael stared a hole through her. Cripes, she was just trying to make his daughter comfortable.

      “It’s soft.” Lily put a couple of fingers into her mouth and spoke around them. “Pretty.”

      “You think so? Winter static is not a woman’s friend.” She fingered the neckline of her sweater. “Watch this!”

      Pulling the neck of her sweater up over the side of her head, she rubbed her hair with it.

      She heard the rancher gasp. Oh, dear. What had she done wrong now? It was all good fun.

      When she pulled her sweater back down, her hair stood on end on that side of her head. Her blond, almost white, hair was fine. Unless she used a lot of product, it tended to be wayward. In this dry Montana cold, it just wanted to float everywhere.

      She hadn’t bothered styling it lately. They were on the road driving to Travis’s. Who on earth did she need to impress with perfect hair and makeup? No one.

      In Vegas, she’d had to dress to the nines to impress her boss and his clientele. Not here.

      Lily dissolved into the sweetest bundle of giggles, and Sammy laughed with her.

      “Not so pretty now, is it?”

      “No!” the child shouted, her straight little baby teeth gleaming.

      She ran to her father, dragging her doll by the hair, and raised her arms to be picked up. He lifted her as though she weighed a couple of ounces. Lily whispered in his ear.

      “Good, honey,” he murmured back.

      Whatever she’d said mellowed him. A bit. Sammy liked the way he held his daughter.

      “We need to get you settled in.” He glanced out the window. “You won’t be going anywhere for a while.”

      “Dad, where are they going to sleep?” Mick asked.

      His father sighed and seemed to weigh options.

      “We have a spare bedroom,” he said, “Trouble is I’ve been using it to store junk and overflow. Sometimes, the kids play in there to keep the living room clear of toys.”

      Samantha waited, not sure where this was going. Did he want them all to sleep on the sofa? That would be fine.

      After coming to a decision, he said, “How about all of you take my bedroom? It has a king-size bed, so there’s room for everyone.”

      Sammy had to be sure she was putting out this family as little as possible. Jason had been right to call her to task for barging into the house without invitation. She had an impulsive nature she seemed to spend most of her life curbing.

      “I couldn’t possibly put you out of your room.” She cast her gaze about wildly. “How about if the boys share the sofa and I can camp out on the floor?”

      “No. The three of you will take my bedroom.”

      “But where will you sleep?”

      “There’s a spare bed in Lily’s room.”

      Lily popped her fingers out of her mouth. “Daddy, no! You snore.”

      “It’s not that bad.”

      Lily nodded so hard her hair flopped about. “Is bad, Daddy.”

      He chewed on his lip. “I guess I could put all of you in Mick’s room and he could bunk with me in mine.”

      “No, Dad!” Mick yelled. “Sometimes I can hear you even from my room. I won’t be able to sleep!”

      His cheeks turned red. “If I wake you up, I’ll come out here to the sofa.”

      “Da-a-ad. No.” Mick looked miserable.

      Clearly frustrated, Michael said, “Back to the original plan. You’ll all take my bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

      “I can’t let you sleep on the sofa while I take your bed.” It just didn’t sit right with Samantha.

      “You sure like to argue.”

      “I do not!”

      A smile kicked up the corners of his lips. Okay, so maybe he had a sense of humor.

      “Thank