Teresa Southwick - The Rancher Who Took Her In

Following the instructions Michelle Crawford had given her, Kate drove past a real working barn, then a smaller barnlike building with a large patio and scattered picnic tables. That must be where camp meals were served. Beyond that were six spacious cabins. Michelle had told her the first five housed campers and senior counselors, and the last one, a much smaller cabin, would be where she’d stay for the summer. If she got the cook’s approval for the assistant-counselor position.

She parked by cabin number six and turned off the truck’s ignition before blowing out a long breath. What a relief to just be still. It felt weird. Not good; not bad. Just...strange. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t had a million things going on at once. Training, practice, competition and product endorsements made for twenty-hour workdays. Now she had...nothing.

Sliding out of the truck, she noticed a little boy running toward her. Oh, to have that much energy, she thought.

The dark-haired, dark-eyed kid skidded to a stop in front of her. He looked about seven or eight. “Hi. I’m Tyler, but most people call me Ty. Not my teacher, though. She believes in calling kids by their given name.”

“I’m Kate Scott. Nice to meet you, Ty.” His features and the intensity stamped on them were familiar. “I bet your last name is Dixon.”

“It is.” His long-lashed eyes grew bigger, as if she’d read his mind. “How’d you know?”

“You look like your dad.”

“That’s what folks say.”

And when he grew up, he’d probably be just as drop-dead gorgeous as his father. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Cabot Dixon was one fine-looking man, which had probably sparked the unexpected blast of adrenaline at the diner. She hadn’t been too tired to notice that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

She’d felt only a little shame about the spurt of gladness following the observation. Shame because mere hours ago she’d been on the verge of getting married and now she was scoping out commitment symbols, or lack thereof, on the handsome rancher. It felt wrong to ask this little boy about his mother, so she didn’t.

She looked around and saw the lake just past a grassy area beyond the cabins. “This is a nice place you’ve got here, Ty.”

“It’s not mine. It’s my dad’s.” His expression was solemn, as if he’d been taught to tell only the absolute truth. “He told me to come down and let you know he and Caroline will be here in a few minutes.” The boy thought for a moment, as if trying to remember something, and then his expression changed. “Oh, yeah. And I’m s’posed to welcome you to the ranch.”

“Thanks. That’s very sweet of you. I’m here for the camp-counselor job—to do whatever I’m told to do, which could be dishes. And I’m fine with that.”

Ty nodded sympathetically. “I have to do that all the time.”

“Even grown-ups have to follow orders.”

“Not my dad.” She heard pride in his voice. “He gives ’em.”

“I guess you can do that when you’re the boss,” she agreed. “I appreciate the welcome. Thanks.”

Thin shoulders lifted in a shrug. “My dad would say that’s just the way it is here in Blackwater Lake.”

For a second Kate felt as if she’d ridden a twister to the land of Oz. This was a place where folks made a person feel welcome because it was just a small town’s way. That was unbelievably refreshing.

“Well, a stranger like me thinks it’s pretty cool to get a friendly welcome.”

“Where are you from?” He looked up, and a ray of sunshine slicing through the tree leaves made him squint one eye closed.

“I’ve been all over.”

That was vague but still the truth. She trained wherever there were facilities for skeet shooting. Then there were competitions all over the country, all over the world, not to mention the Olympics. Winning had opened the door to lucrative product-endorsement deals, and fitting in those location shoots with everything else was stressful and challenging.

Ted, her too-good-looking-for-his-own-good manager and weasel-dog ex-fiancé, had pushed hard to get it all in and now she knew why. Marrying her would have punched his meal ticket for life. The sleazy jerk had been using her. She’d been stupid to accept his proposal and move forward with wedding plans, but at least her instinctive judgment about the man had been right on target. She’d never once been swept off her feet when she kissed him.

“My dad said you’re pretty.” The kid was staring at her, obviously trying to decide for himself if it was true.

“He did?”

Ty nodded uncertainly. “Caroline asked if you were as pretty as Michelle said. That’s Mrs. Crawford. She owns the Grizzly Bear Diner.”

“I met her.” And obviously word about the weirdo in the wedding dress was spreading. “Your dad said I’m pretty?”

He thought about that. “He just said ‘yes’ when Caroline asked if you were as pretty as Mrs. Crawford said.”

That was something, anyway. Kate would have figured if he thought anything at all, it was mostly questioning her sanity for asking for a job while dressed for her own wedding.

“That was very nice of your dad. Thank you for telling me, Ty.”

“It’s the truth. My dad says you should always tell the truth. People get hurt when you don’t.”

She was curious about the moral and personal lesson that was in there somewhere. Maybe she’d find out, and maybe she wouldn’t. And maybe she was better off not wondering about it at all.

“Here comes my dad and Caroline.” He pointed, then raced back down the road to meet them.

Kate watched the man stoop down to his son’s level and put a big hand on the small, thin shoulder. He smiled and affectionately ruffled the boy’s dark hair before Ty continued running toward the house. One picture was worth a thousand words, and the one she’d just seen said Cabot Dixon loved his boy a lot.

She waited and watched the two adults walk toward her. Now that she’d seen the ranch, something about it pulled at her, and she wanted very much to stay for a little while. It wasn’t hiding out, she assured herself. Just taking a much-needed break.

Kate had always thought she was different from other women, so it was surprising to realize that she was having a clichéd reaction as Cabot approached. She found something inherently sexy about a tall, well-built man in worn jeans, white long-sleeved cotton shirt, boots and a black cowboy hat. What was it about a cowboy? He stopped in front of her and again she could feel adrenaline obliterating her exhaustion.

A quirk turned up one corner of his mouth. “I sort of miss the dress.”

“It’s carefully packed away.”

“I thought you were going to burn it.”

“Something to look forward to.” Kate glanced down at the new sneakers, jeans and red scoop-necked T-shirt she’d purchased at the big discount retail store in Blackwater Lake. “This is more practical. And comfortable.”

“Amen to that.” Caroline looked to be somewhere in her fifties. She was tall with stylishly cut and discreetly streaked blond hair.

“Kate, this is Caroline Daly.” Cabot looked from her to the other woman. “Caroline, meet Kate Scott, Blackwater Lake’s own runaway bride.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Caroline held out her hand.

Kate gave it a firm squeeze. “Very nice to meet you. And, just so you know, I had my reasons for leaving that toad at the altar.”

“Cabot told me.” Sympathy brimmed in her blue eyes. “He also said you need a job.”

That wasn’t technically accurate, but she did need to keep busy. She didn’t know any other way to be. “I could use work.”

“Have you ever been involved with kids?”