Loving A Lonesome Cowboy. Debbi Rawlins

stall in front of number six and as soon as he pulled in and turned off the engine, the door opened. A petite woman with reddish-blond hair stepped outside, and quietly closed the door behind her.

      She gave him a shy smile, then rubbed her palms down the front of her jeans while she waited for him to walk around the front of the pickup.

      “Mr. Slade?”

      He nodded. “Ethan.”

      “I’m Sara Conroy,” she said, offering him her hand.

      It trembled slightly in his grasp, and although her blue eyes met his steadily, wariness darkened them.

      “You’re awfully young.”

      She blinked and pulled back her hand. “That has nothing to do with how well I can clean. Besides, I’m not that young.”

      Ethan rubbed the side of his jaw. He supposed that was true, except he didn’t know that some pretty young gal would want to do the dirty job that he had in mind. Besides, she was little, and there was going to be some lifting involved in restoring the house.

      Still, he figured he was lucky to find someone at this late date, and that she was a stranger and not likely to pry was a big bonus.

      “This is going to be a sizable job. The house hasn’t been lived in for almost six years,” he finally said. “It’ll probably take you the two full days.”

      “No problem.”

      “Like I told you on the phone, the girls get here on Friday, which basically gives you no leeway.”

      Shrugging, she pushed back the sleeves of her pink flannel shirt. She had the tiniest wrists he’d ever seen. “Like I told you, no problem.”

      He leaned against the front of his truck. She hadn’t asked him inside, and he didn’t blame her. He was a stranger to her. Made him wonder what she’d found out about him. A cautious woman would have asked around. “I won’t be around to help.”

      “I won’t need it.”

      Ethan exhaled. “You have a car?”

      She shook her head.

      “The ranch is about thirty miles outside of town. How do you plan on getting there?”

      She smiled. “I can be ready in twenty minutes.”

      He stiffened. It wasn’t like it was out of his way, but he’d planned on asking Sam to let her in. Although he probably ought to make sure she only readied the kitchen and the rooms his nieces would need. No sense in putting the entire house back to order. But it had been a hell of a long time since he’d set foot in that house. And he wasn’t sure if he was ready. He liked living alone in the caretaker’s shack. Life was fine just the way it was.

      He lifted his Stetson off his head, pushed the too-long strands of hair off his forehead, then settled the hat back down. “All right. I was going to let the foreman take care of things, but I suppose I can let you in and make sure you know where everything is.”

      Her smile broadened. “Great.” Dusting her hands together, she turned to the door, then stopped. “Maybe you have something to do in town while I get ready? I won’t be but twenty minutes.”

      He looked at his watch. The worn leather band was on its last leg. Maybe he ought to use the time to replace it. “Twenty minutes,” he said, and rounded the truck to the door.

      By the time he’d climbed behind the wheel, Sara had already disappeared behind the ugly orange door. He couldn’t help but wonder why a pretty young girl like her was staying in a dumpy motel like this. Or why she needed a job cleaning other people’s houses.

      Maybe she was a runaway. Just like his sister had been once upon a time. Sara had to be younger than Jenna. He turned the key in the ignition, his thoughts straying to his sister.

      In some ways it seemed like only yesterday that he’d awakened at sunup to find a note from Jenna telling him she’d eloped. But she’d been seventeen then, and now she was sending her two daughters to spend Christmas with him while she honeymooned with her soon-to-be-third husband.

      Ethan sighed heavily. What the hell was he going to do with a twelve-and six-year-old for ten days? It wasn’t that he didn’t like children, or that he wasn’t happy to see his nieces, but he obviously didn’t know beans about kids.

      He’d tried his hardest to raise fourteen-year-old Jenna after their parents had died, but he’d clearly failed. She’d gone from a sweet-tempered, shy child to a headstrong hellion by the time she was sixteen. Of course he’d only been twenty himself at the time of the car accident, and totally clueless about the needs of a young teenage girl. The only thing he knew about was ranching. And Emily.

      But Emily was dead now. And Ethan didn’t give a damn anymore about the ranch they’d built together. Sam took care of everything just fine.

      There was a small jewelry and coin store right at the edge of town, so he parked the truck and went inside. He vaguely knew the owner, who was reading a comic book behind the counter, but fortunately not well enough to make small talk or to have to answer a lot of nosy questions. Other than that, no one else was around. Probably all home having supper.

      The owner showed him a modest selection of watchbands from which to choose, then went back to reading his comic book. Ethan checked the time. He still had ten minutes.

      He tried to concentrate on finding the most durable band, but his mind kept drifting to the girls’ arrival. Erika was the older one; he’d seen her only twice before, on the rare occasions when Jenna had remembered she still had family and had shown up at the ranch. Denise, the younger one, had to be about six. He’d never met her or her father.

      His gut clenched at the thought that these two little girls were his own flesh and blood—the last of the Slade line. He and Emily had waited on having children. Foolishly, they’d counted on having a lifetime together.

      He quickly chose a plain black leather band before his thoughts wandered to forbidden territory, then he pulled some money out of his pocket while the owner replaced the old band. Already twenty minutes had flown by, and damn if it wasn’t going to take Sara Conroy every spare minute to get the house in decent shape.

      As he left the store, his thoughts strayed back to her. He sure hoped she was stronger than she looked. He wouldn’t be much help to her. The idea of going back to the house still made him uneasy. The idea of even Sara or his nieces entering the house and touching things didn’t sit well with him.

      He forced a deep breath as he fished in his pocket for his keys. In a way, it was better Jenna had given him no notice. He didn’t have time to dread facing the ghosts or the memories.

      Besides, he had enough to worry about, trying to figure out what to do with two kids.

      He opened the truck’s door and froze.

      Sara was already sitting in the cab. On her lap was a suitcase. Beside her was a freckled-faced little girl staring back at him.

      Chapter Two

      “Who is this?”

      Sara raised her brows in innocence, then looked down at the child who had plastered herself to Sara’s side. “You mean, Misty? She’s my daughter. Misty, say hi to Mr. Slade.”

      Misty didn’t utter so much as a peep.

      “Why is she sitting in my truck?”

      Sara set a pair of headphones over Misty’s ears, then started the Baby Beluga tape she’d readied in the event Mr. Slade opposed her plan. “You didn’t expect me to leave her alone in the motel room, did you?”

      “I didn’t expect her at all.” Ethan frowned at the suitcase. “What’s that for?”

      “I wasn’t sure I’d get a ride back so I brought a few things in case we have to spend the night.” In fact,