Suzannah Davis - The Rancher And The Redhead

“I don’t need a second invitation. Good night.” He turned toward his room.

Roni tugged at her damp shirt and wrinkled her nose. “Have you got something I can sleep in?”

“In the bathroom cupboard. Watch out for that hot water spigot. It’s loose and cantankerous.”

“I remember.”

“And, Roni?”

She paused at the bathroom door. A peculiar little stirring fluttered in her chest at both the solemnity and the affection she saw in his dark blue eyes. “Yes, Sam?”

“Thanks.”

Smiling, Roni shrugged. “Hey, what are best friends for?”

* * *

There was a newborn calf bawling outside, and sooner or later Sam was going to have to get up and see to it. He pulled his pillow over his ears and groaned.

But not yet, damn you.

One eye flew open. The angle of the morning sun falling through his bedroom window was a lot higher than it should have been. And there was something he ought to remember... Jessie!

Sam jackknifed out of bed. He was leaning over the empty playpen in the next room before the sleep cleared from his groggy brain, and for an awful moment of panic and guilt he thought he’d misplaced her. Then he heard baby gurgles and Roni’s soft laughter floating from the direction of the kitchen.

He took only a second to pull on jeans, then came up short in the doorway of the large country kitchen. Stretched out on the rag rug underneath the trestle table was a pair of long, long feminine legs and a shapely behind. She was decent only by the length of a man’s shirttail.

“Peekaboo, Jessie. Where’s Jessie?”

Roni peered around a chair leg at the little girl, who clapped and bounced on her diaper-clad bottom in delight at the game, then took off scrambling on all fours around the opposite side of the table. Roni came to her knees, too, stalking her prey with a mock ferocity that made the child squeal—just like a calf stuck in a fence, Sam thought.

Leaning his shoulder against the door frame, he grinned, remembering times past when he and Kenny and Roni had played much the same kind of game in this very kitchen, building imaginary forts and corrals in and among the chair rungs, fighting off savage Indians and rustlers with their trusty six-guns. Of course, at that time none of them had sported anything like the provocative candy-pink lace he glimpsed peeking from beneath the hem of the old white dress shirt Roni had slept in.

After an instant’s honest masculine appreciation, he dragged his gaze reluctantly to a more respectful perusal of the rich brown sleep-tousled curls spilling down the middle of her back. Though she liked to keep her mop ruthlessly clipped back and tidy these days, it was still more than clear why she’d earned her nickname. He’d teased her unmercifully about her mane one summer—at least until she’d bloodied his nose with an uppercut that had laid him out flat and taught him a valuable lesson about women.

Chuckling at the memory, he watched Roni creep after Jessie, poking her way through a litter of oat cereal “O’s” and discarded paper napkins. It was an amazement and a miracle to him that his childhood playmate was still such an important part of his life. He was selfishly glad she’d finally had the good sense to break things off with that no-good jet-setting scoundrel she’d been involved with and come home to Flat Fork where she belonged.

The mess he’d made with Shelly had made him gun-shy when it came to matters of the heart, and if it hadn’t been for Roni Daniels bullying him back into life, he surely would have become a hermit. Instead, over their Friday-night beers at Rosie’s, she’d cajoled him and talked him into reentering life while nursing her own bruised heart.

Sam didn’t know what he would have done without her, and now, here she was again, pitching in like the true pal she was, giving him her unequivocal support to a decision that no doubt half the county would consider as cracked as the Liberty Bell.

And, on top of that, she’d taken the early shift.

“Morning, you two.”

Jessie’s russet curls bobbed at the sound of Sam’s sleep-husky voice, and her blue eyes widened in recognition. Forgetting the game, she scrambled madly across the floor toward him with a squeal. “Da!”

She was irresistible. Sam bent and scooped the tyke into his arms as Roni sat back on her heels and eyed the duo.

“So what am I now, chopped liver?” she mock complained.

Sam grinned. “Sorry, Curly. Can I help it if women of all ages find me fascinating?”

Roni gave an indelicate snort. “You wish, cowboy.”

Hauling herself to her feet, she flicked her dark hair over her shoulders and straightened the oversize shirt. From the stains on the front, Jessie’s first breakfast in her new home had been a challenging experience. Ocher and peach-colored splatters dotted the fabric, but not quite enough to obscure the faint dark shadows of Roni’s nipples showing beneath the white cotton.

Sam frowned to himself. Now why had he noticed that? Roni was his buddy, like the sister he never had. Still, he wouldn’t have been much of a man not to appreciate the way the crests of her full bosom poked against...

“Ready for a taste?” Roni sashayed to the counter and lifted a cup in an invitation that slid in under Sam’s defenses and landed hot in his belly.

Hell, yes! He’d like to taste those impudent buds, lave them with his tongue right through the thin cotton until the fabric was wet and transparent and so was...

Roni was frowning at his lack of response. “Sam? Your coffee?”

Savagely, Sam reigned in his meandering thoughts. Jeez, he’d been without female companionship way too long when he started fantasizing about Curly! The last thing he wanted was to spoil their friendship with inappropriate lasciviousness.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” He shifted the chortling baby to the opposite shoulder and shook his groggy head. Yeah, that was it. He was still sleep-muddled. “You should have gotten me up sooner.”

She passed him a mug of steaming coffee, shrugging. “You obviously needed the rest. And Jessie and I have been getting acquainted. She’s quite a charmer.”

As if in response, the little girl nestled her cheek in the hollow of Sam’s collarbone and batted her long eyelashes at him in a look that was pure coquettishness. “Da?”

Sam’s laugh was helpless. “I’m a goner, as you can see.”

“Yes, indeed.” Roni cupped her hands around her own mug and gazed at him over the rim, her brown eyes serious. “Sure you know what you’re getting into?”

“No.” The twist of his mouth was wry. “But I’m in over my head, and it’s too late now.”

“Then I’ll help you all I can,” she said simply.

Her unqualified generosity produced a suspicious thickness in his throat. “Thanks, Curly. I—I don’t quite know what to say.”

“Just tell me what you want for breakfast, because I think that’s Angel’s old truck I hear coming down the lane, and you’ve got some bulls to see to.”

“Damn! He’s here already? I’m running later than I thought.” He took a step toward the bedroom, hesitated as he realized he still held Jessie, then passed her off to Roni with an apologetic look. “Sorry. Can you stay a bit? Just until we get the livestock loaded.”

“Relax, Sam. Everything’s under control.” Roni tickled the baby’s chin and was rewarded with a giggle. “You see to those bulls, and I’ll give Krystal a call about prospective housekeepers.”

He shoved a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “That would be a big help.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Krystal and I will have something worked out by suppertime.” Roni bounced the baby on her hip, her smile complacent. “After all, Jessie’s a doll. How hard could it be?”