Glynna Kaye - Pine Country Cowboy

But why did he keep hanging around? Didn’t he have any place he needed to be?

Slinging the lesson bag over her shoulder, she patted Davy on the back. “Why don’t you find Grandpa? I’m sure he’ll be expecting you in church.”

Davy’s brow wrinkled. “You’re not coming?”

“No, I have a few things to attend to. But I’m sure your grandpa will see that you get lunch and bring you home afterward.” Or at least that’s what he used to do when she was a kid.

Even though only the Diaz children—not the adults—had actually attended church, Dad enjoyed Sunday family times and they’d given his wife a break from meal preparation. Mom still hated cooking. Dad had done much of it whenever he could, so they’d probably consumed way too many meals prepared on his oversize grill and Sunday specials at Kit’s Lodge.

“You’ll still be there when I get home, won’t you?” Davy’s eyes sought hers for reassurance. Thank goodness his mother would return this afternoon. Abby was already losing her heart to this little guy and he seemed to be latching on to her, too.

“I’ll be there. Me and that shoe-chewing pooch of yours.”

Davy grinned, then with a wave to Brett he disappeared out the door.

“Good kid.” Brett retrieved his hat from atop the supply cabinet, a version that was in more pristine condition than the one he’d worn at the equine center yesterday. He’d donned his Sunday best, too—well-oiled boots, dark jeans and a crisp white Western-cut shirt. “So how’s his mom and the bambina?”

So that’s why he’d lingered. He wanted an update on Meg.

“She and the baby are both stabilized and she’s hoping to come home this afternoon. She can’t return to work, of course, but at least she may be able to wait things out at home.”

“Glad to hear it.” Rotating his hat in his hands, he didn’t seem in any hurry to be on his way.

She patted the bun on her head, ensuring it was still secure, then took a step toward the door. “Thank you for helping out. That little red schoolhouse thing is ingenious.”

“I was more than happy to assist.” He cocked his head, eyes twinkling. “But I thought you librarians knew all the tricks in the book about kid control. Assuming, of course, they still have story hours at libraries these days.”

Abby shrugged. “I was a high school librarian.”

“Was?”

Ugh. He’d picked up on that slip of the tongue.

“Yes, was.” But she didn’t intend to discuss it. Cutbacks in funding weren’t kind to a private school librarian with a paltry four years of experience. Even with a master’s degree, she’d been among the first to be let go at the end of the spring semester.

In the weeks since school ended, she had no idea how she’d managed to motivate herself to apply for the few available librarian job openings in the Tucson area, let alone make a good showing in the interviews. Nevertheless, she hoped to hear an affirmative for the fall semester soon. It didn’t much matter which one. With an apartment to maintain and car and education loans to pay off, she couldn’t afford to be choosy.

Eyeing her curiously, Brett nevertheless didn’t press her for an explanation, for which she was grateful.

“There you are.” A masculine voice came almost accusingly from the doorway. Her dad. The stocky, mustached Bill Diaz stepped into the room, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his hawklike nose and salt-and-pepper hair highlighted by the fluorescent overhead lights.

“Hey, Bill.” Brett stepped forward to shake his hand.

He knew her dad?

The older man’s smile broadened. “I should have known you’d manage to find the prettiest girl in the building.”

Brett darted a look in her direction, the first uncomfortable one she’d seen coming from him. Had he naively assumed she hadn’t already heard of his ladies’ man reputation and thought Dad was spilling the beans? He must have forgotten she’d observed him with the women at the equine center and borne the impact of his heart-stopping grin.

Brett sheepishly returned her father’s knowing smile. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on them. Keep the rounders at bay.”

“You’re the man for the job, son.” Her father gave him a nod of approval, then turned to pin Abby with a frown. “What’s this Davy’s saying about you not staying for church? Come on now, folks are wanting to see you again. Since you’re staying the weekend after all, you need to give your old man a chance to show off his beautiful daughter.”

Why was Dad being so jolly this morning? When they’d last spoken as she packed her car on Saturday morning—before Meg’s SOS to help with Davy’s riding lesson—things had been extremely awkward. “Dad, I don’t want to be shown off.”

“Indulge me. Sit beside me during the worship service and join me and Davy for lunch at Kit’s.”

Her hopes lifted. Did he want to put more effort into bridging the gap of too many lost years? To try again to establish a relationship with his long-absent offspring?

Then she remembered Sharon.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

He lowered his glasses on his nose to peer at her. “Intrude? On what?”

She cast an uneasy look in Brett’s direction. He didn’t need to be privy to family matters. “I assume Sharon’s joining you?”

Her father’s brows took a dive. “She’s not. She has a ladies luncheon to attend. But what if she were coming? She wants to get to know you better, honey, just like I do.”

“Dad—”

“You can bring your friend here, too.” He waved his hand toward Brett.

Brett wasn’t her friend. He wasn’t her anything. “Dad, I don’t—”

“You both have to eat, don’t you? My treat.”

Brett shook his head. “Thank you, sir, but—”

“Come on, join us. Abby needs to get to know some young folks in Canyon Springs. Maybe you can talk her into staying a few weeks. Maybe all summer.”

Hope flickered. Dad wanted her to stay? It sure hadn’t felt like that yesterday morning. He’d seemed as bewildered as she was about how to build a real-life bridge between them, not just communicate through birthday cards and an occasional ill-at-ease phone call. The past few days she’d spent with him had seemed, well, more than weird. And disappointing. Maybe he’d been disappointed, too?

“Come on, Brett,” Dad urged again, almost as though needing an ally in the struggle to find comfortable ground with his only daughter. A third party to balance things out?

While her instincts warned to stay away from Brett—he was a heartache waiting to happen—his presence at lunch might ease the tension between her and Dad. He and Davy would keep conversation at a superficial level and his happy-go-lucky approach might deflect the wounding sparks that sometimes flared between father and daughter. Despite her misgivings, Brett’s accompanying them suddenly seemed vital to paving the path to a harmonious connection with Dad.

Brett’s eyes narrowed as if trying to read her thoughts, then he dropped his gaze to the hat in his hands. “I appreciate the invitation, Bill, but I’m sure Abby can make up her own mind as to how long she wants to stay in town.”

He moved toward the door.

“You’re welcome to come.” Her rapid response provoked a surprised lifting of a brow as his gaze met her now-pleading one. Couldn’t he see that just as he’d barged into the Sunday school class, he needed to barge in here now, too? Needed to be a buffer between her and Dad?

Come on, cowboy. Say yes.

Chapter Four

Monday morning Brett rolled over with a groan and felt around blindly on the nightstand for his ringing cell phone. Six o’clock. It was his day off, but he’d overslept by two hours. He had someplace he had to be. Early. Before the wind picked up.