Myra Johnson - Her Hill Country Cowboy

“Like biting off more than you can chew with a heavy-duty housekeeping job?” Shooting a glance skyward, Seth ushered her inside. He needed to let go of her quickly, because he hadn’t held a woman this close since Georgia, and look where that had gotten him. Gently, he eased her into one of the padded side chairs in the sitting area.

She sank down with a groan. “I need time to adjust, that’s all. I haven’t done anything quite so...” She clamped her mouth shut and reached out for the dog, now poised beside her chair.

After gathering up the grocery bags and depositing them on the kitchen table, Seth planted himself in front of Christina and crossed his arms. “My grandmother explained about your accident. And why you need your service dog.”

Christina cast him an uneasy glance. “What exactly did she tell you?”

“Just that you were hurt pretty bad and now you have PTSD.” Exhaling sharply, Seth propped a hip on the arm of the chair across from her. “Look, I know we got off to a rough start, and I should probably apologize.”

“Probably?” Christina released a shaky laugh.

“Okay, I definitely owe you an apology.” He brushed a hand across his nape while deciding how much of his own past to open up about. As little as possible, he reasoned. Doubtful she’d stick around long enough for it to matter. “My grandmother has accused me more than once of being overprotective of my kids.”

Was that a smirk on her face? No, more like a smile of acknowledgment. “Yes, I recognized the signs.”

“Maybe I am,” he said defensively, “but I’ve got my reasons.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out your little girl is deathly afraid of dogs.” Christina’s gaze held his, her tone softening. “May I ask what happened?”

This much he could reveal without too great a risk of deepening the gash in his heart. “My brother-in-law has two Rottweilers. My...wife—” Okay, this was hurting a little more than he’d planned on. He took a stuttering breath. “She, uh, took the kids to visit her brother, and the dogs got a little rough with Eva. She wasn’t even three years old then. The dogs each outweighed her by a hundred pounds.”

“Oh, no. Was she hurt?”

“A few bruises, and a split lip from being knocked down. It wasn’t like they attacked her. They were just being playful and didn’t know their own strength.”

“Still, she must have been terrified.” One hand caressing her dog’s head, Christina sat forward. “I promise you, nothing like that will ever happen with Gracie. There isn’t a gentler animal alive.”

Seth stood. “Just keep her away from my kids.”

Chapter Three

With last-minute preparations for the reunion guests, Christina had little time to dwell on Seth Austin’s mercurial moods. Seemed he could go from caring and considerate to simmering animosity at the drop of a dusty Stetson.

Also, if she read the situation correctly, he still had unresolved feelings for his late wife. Or ex-wife. Or late ex-wife. Christina still wasn’t totally clear on which label applied. And she definitely wasn’t clear on why it should matter to her, because the last thing she needed in her life was a tall, good-looking cowboy with issues of his own.

Even if his two kids were adorably precious.

When the first of the weekend guests rolled in on Thursday afternoon, Christina thought it wise to get out of the way for a while. She snapped on Gracie’s car harness and buckled her into the passenger seat, then headed for town.

Passing the spot where she’d first encountered Seth brought a quiver to her stomach, so she kept her eyes forward until she turned onto Main Street. Downtown Juniper Bluff appeared no busier now than it had been two days ago when she’d first driven through, which was a good thing because since the accident, Christina didn’t easily abide noise and confusion—another reason she hoped moving to a small town would help her ease back into normal life.

The sun-dappled town square looked peacefully inviting. Christina parked on a side street and walked over with Gracie, and they followed the path to the foot of the horse-and-rider statue. Christina read the inscription on the plaque beneath.

Jake Austin.

Juniper Bluff’s Hometown Hero.

According to the plaque, Austin was a search-and-rescue volunteer who met his death twenty-two years ago while freeing a family trapped in their overturned car.

A tremor raced through Christina as images from her own accident surfaced. Determinedly shaking them off, she focused on the man’s features forever preserved in bronze. The resemblance to Seth was uncanny. Could Jake Austin be his father? If so, Seth would have been a young boy at the time, probably about Joseph’s age. So very young to lose a parent.

Gracie nudged Christina’s hand, the dog’s quiet signal that she sensed Christina’s tension level climbing. How an animal knew such things, Christina had no idea. She was grateful nonetheless and made a conscious effort to relax.

“Okay, girl, let’s walk. After two days of maid’s work, I need to stretch the kinks out.”

After an hour or so of meandering around the square and peeking in a couple of interesting shops, they headed back to the car. Before leaving town, Christina stopped at the supermarket and picked up a rotisserie chicken and small container of three-bean salad. Marie had been cooking all day, and the family would have dinner in the main dining room with the ranch guests. Marie had invited Christina to join them, but Christina doubted she could endure the socializing—or Seth’s annoyed glares—without her dog close by. A quiet supper in her cabin sounded much more appealing.

Hard work and tranquil surroundings were definitely conducive to a good night’s sleep, and Christina awoke the next morning feeling more energized than she had in a long time. The sun had barely peeked over the hills when she trekked to the workroom to organize her housekeeping supplies. As soon as the guests had gone to the main house for breakfast, she trundled the maid’s cart down the path and set to work. She easily finished making beds and freshening bathrooms in the two occupied cabins before the families returned.

Consulting her checklist, she made sure everything was in order in the other three cabins reserved for the weekend, then pushed the cart back to the workroom and deposited a pile of damp towels in the laundry bin. By then, her morning burst of energy had waned. Ready to put her feet up for a bit while sipping a cold drink, she trudged outside.

“Christina!” Marie called from the porch. “Can you come in the house for a minute and give me a hand with something?”

“Sure.” Christina waved and started that way. The soft chair and cold drink would have to wait.

In the kitchen, Christina found Marie huddled over a red-faced, teary-eyed Joseph, perched on a chair at the end of the trestle table. The little boy cradled his left hand and refused to let Marie see it.

Christina hurried forward. “What happened?”

“He was playing in the barn and got a big ol’ splinter. Now he won’t let me pull it out.”

“Ouch.” Offering Joseph a sympathetic smile, Christina knelt in front of him, Gracie at her side. “If I promise not to touch it, would you hold your hand out for me to see?”

“Y-you promise?” He started to extend his hand, then jerked it back. “You can’t let Omi touch it, either.”

“Absolutely not. What if Omi and I both tuck our hands into our back pockets? Will you show us then?”

Joseph thought a moment, then nodded. He opened his left hand to reveal an ugly splinter embedded deep into his grime-covered palm. If they didn’t get the splinter out and clean the wound, infection was sure to follow.