Just What The Cowboy Needed. Teresa Southwick

arranged plastic plates and utensils in front of all tea party participants.

      In the distance you could see the lake and the mountains beyond. The view took her breath away. The barn and corral were at the bottom of the rise, and she could see several horses prancing and playing. Then she sat cross-legged with her back to the sight. At her interview, Logan had mentioned he raised cattle and was doing a little horse breeding, too.

      She hadn’t seen him since last night in his study and didn’t have a clue when their paths would cross again, although his daughter was insistent about having room for him should he show up for the tea party. Grace’s heart skipped at the thought and she did her best to ignore the involuntary reaction. Anyway, it was silly. Cassie had told her he never showed up to play.

      “Can you cut up the muffin?” Cassie asked. “Abigail and Hattie are gettin’ hungry.”

      “My apologies, ladies,” she said to the dolls, and Cassie giggled. “Kiddo, if you would pour tea for our guests, I will take care of the snacks.”

      Grace didn’t know whether or not the plastic play knives had been washed, so she decided to break up the muffin with her hands, as evenly as possible.

      “Here you go, Abigail. And some for you, Hattie,” she said, placing a bite in front of the blonde and brunette dolls.

      “Thank you.” Cassie used a high-pitched, pretend voice, obviously channeling either Abigail or Hattie. Then she wolfed down her share of the treat.

      Grace’s mouth was full when she heard footsteps. The hairs on her neck stood up, and there was a hitch in her breathing. It wasn’t necessary to see him to know Logan was behind her, and if there was a God in heaven, she would not choke on her blueberry muffin.

      Then he moved into view and spoke in the wonderful, deep voice that turned her insides to mush. “What’s going on here?”

      “Daddy!” Cassie was clearly excited to see him. “Grace let me have a tea party with my dolls. We shared a muffin and it’s ’nanimous we won’t spoil our appetites.”

      “Those muffins are pretty good.” There was male appreciation in his eyes, the kind that was reserved for food.

      The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

      Grace wished that saying hadn’t popped into her head because it made her face flush. “I’m glad you liked them.”

      “It wasn’t necessary for you to make them last night,” he said.

      She shrugged. “You had all the ingredients and I like to bake.”

      “I like to eat,” Cassie chimed in.

      Logan laughed. “It is kind of important.”

      “Daddy, you should have tea with us. It’s only pretend, but Abigail and Hattie are too full to eat so they’ll share with you.” Her little face took on an earnest, pleading expression.

      “Oh, honey, it looks like fun but—” He sighed “—I came up here because I have to eat lunch and then get back to work.”

      “But it’s too early,” she said.

      “Not for me. I’ve been working since before the sun came up.”

      “While I was still sleepin’?”

      He knelt on one knee beside her. “That’s right.”

      “You must be tired. And really hungry,” she said thoughtfully. “I have an idea.”

      “Oh?”

      The tone was cautious, uneasy, and the look on his face said he’d rather walk barefoot on boulders than hear what his daughter was going to suggest.

      “You should bring your lunch outside and we’ll keep you company. Me and Abigail and Hattie and Grace.”

      Grace watched his reaction closely and couldn’t quite put it in the fear category, but there was a definite dash of discomfort there.

      “I sure wish I could, honey. But I have a busy afternoon and I need to eat quick.”

      “But, Daddy, it won’t take that long.”

      “Maybe next time.”

      “Ookay.” There was disappointment in her voice along with a measure of acceptance, as if the suggestion had been a long shot in the first place. Clearly she’d been turned down before.

      “I’m really sorry.” He held out his arms and without hesitation the little girl stood and moved into them, sliding her arms around his neck.

      When his hold slackened, Cassie stepped away and looked at him a little sadly. “When I hug you, you always let go first.”

      “Do I?”

      Grace didn’t believe Cassie intended to hurt his feelings, but the words had sliced into him and hit their mark. It was clear by the tortured look in his eyes.

      She really felt his pain and wanted so badly to say that five or ten minutes wouldn’t make a difference to the horses and cows but could mean everything to his child. She opened her mouth, and he happened to be looking right at her.

      A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Something on your mind?”

      Just in time, she closed off the words and shook her head.

      “Okay, then.” He smiled at Cassie. “I’ll see you tonight.”

      “Okay.” She watched wistfully as he disappeared inside. “Mommy says the very best hugs are the ‘never let go’ kind.”

      “I know what she means, sweetie.” And that’s all she could say really.

      Because it wasn’t in her job description to comment on the father/daughter relationship, no matter how much she was tempted.

      * * *

      Logan was pretty sure Grace thought he was the lowest life-form on the planet for not joining the tea party yesterday. She’d almost said something but then checked the words, and he was glad she’d kept them to herself. Except he hadn’t been able to get her disapproving look out of his mind. She wasn’t very good at hiding her feelings, but he had his reasons—and they were good ones.

      He’d been a kid living in a car with his younger siblings when he figured out that behind his mother’s optimistic mask was fear. And that was his father’s fault. No, he knew Grace’s opinion of him ranged somewhere between snake and slimy single-cell organism. He’d had a dream last night and no expert was needed to analyze it. She’d pointed an accusing finger at him and before she could tell him he was a terrible father, he kissed her. That woke him up, and from then on it wasn’t a restful sleep, which made a man crabby, short-tempered and careless.

      He was in the barn repairing tack when he heard the sound of female voices just outside. One was Cassie’s. The other was sexy and sweet, and he knew it belonged to Grace. Then his stomach clenched. Something was wrong or they wouldn’t be here.

      He left the little room where tack was stored and hurried to meet them in the hay-scattered main aisle that separated the rows of horse stalls. “What’s going on?”

      Grace frowned at his tone, but Cassie seemed unfazed. She ran up to him, her eyes bright with excitement.

      “Hi, Daddy!” She was dressed in denim shorts and a pink T-shirt. Her hair was in some complicated weave. “Grace French-braided my hair. Isn’t it pretty?”

      “Beautiful.” He looked at the woman standing beside the little girl and could have said the same thing. Her hair was pulled up in a sassy ponytail that brushed the shoulder of her skinny-strap shirt. Her shorts were black and revealed smooth, tanned skin that made his stomach clench again, for a very different reason. Beautiful.

      “I was tellin’ Grace about the cats and goats, so we came to see ’em.” She ran past him and peeked into each of the empty stalls.

      “Be