Patricia Knoll - Bachelor Cowboy

But her card was in his pocket, and he left it there.

Wiley pounced as soon as she walked in the door. “Who was that guy? And what was he doing driving my truck?”

Shannon lifted an eyebrow as she skirted around him and headed for her small office. “When did the agency sign the truck over to be your personal vehicle?”

“You know what I mean.” He dogged her steps.

In a cool tone, Shannon explained what had happened. Typically, Wiley didn’t express any concern for her welfare. She wasn’t surprised. Her boss was a secretive man whose main interest was himself.

“I know you lied to me when you said no one had contacted him.” She pointed a finger at him. “You tried to call him on the phone last week, and when he wouldn’t talk to you, you sent me out there. How I got back is my own business.”

Wiley’s ferocious frown told her he didn’t care that she knew he’d lied. “Did you do any good out there? Get him to sign on for the project?”

Shannon locked her shoulder bag in her desk drawer and sat down to go through her mail. “Not yet. But I will.” She wished she felt the confidence she put into her voice.

“Humph,” he said, turning to leave her office. “You can’t do this job. They should have hired a man for it.”

Shannon wanted to respond that they should have hired a man for Wiley’s job, too, but that would surely get her into hot water. She was growing weary of the constant struggles with him, and lately his animosity was tinged with an undercurrent she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He watched everything she did almost jealously, but she concluded it was because he had wanted his nephew to get her job. She could only think that he couldn’t seem to forgive her for being better qualified for the job—or for being a woman. Her only consolation was the knowledge that it was his problem, not hers.

As she cleared her desk, Shannon came across the paperwork she’d begun to get Ben and Timmy started on the lengthy grant awards process. They would have needed government money to fix up the Crescent Ranch. Except for their names and the date of purchase, she had filled in all the necessary information. It was true that she wanted to help her cousins, but it was part of her job. She would have done the same thing for a total stranger like Luke Farraday. Maybe she still could. She would hold on to these. He might change his mind. With a wry smile, Shannon told herself she was being ridiculously optimistic. She dropped the forms into a drawer and closed it.

She propped her elbows on her desk and pressed her fingertips to her lips as she wondered if there was any way to get him to change his mind. He’d told her that he didn’t want anyone telling him how to run his place, but she thought there was more to it than that. She didn’t know any rancher who liked government interference, but most of them were willing to work with her for the betterment of their land and cattle. She would have to think about the situation with Luke and see if she could come up with a better approach—just as soon as she stopped dwelling on what a disturbingly attractive man he was.

On Saturday morning, Shannon happily snuggled her two-month-old niece, Christina, against her chest and tucked a light blanket around her as they made their way down the sidewalk of Tarrant’s business district. Her mother and two sisters, Brittnie and Becca, were at the grand opening of Lauren’s Boutique, a shop owned by a friend of the family. Shannon, who hated shopping on the best of days, had no desire to go into that crowd no matter how much she wished Lauren well, so she had volunteered to take care of Becca’s baby.

Her family teased that she really didn’t care very much about clothes, and that was true, though she’d sought to please them today by dressing in a red shorts and top outfit that Brittnie had brought back last November from her honeymoon in Mexico. She liked the outfit because the shorts weren’t too snug or revealing and the top was loose enough to be comfortable.

Shannon pushed the stroller with one hand, held the baby with the other and drifted down the walk, gazing in windows and stopping frequently to talk to shoppers, most of them friends who wanted a look at Christina.

The sidewalk ended in front of the feed store, and she started to turn toward the boutique only to get the stroller caught in a crack in the sidewalk. Carefully supporting Christina, she was bending to free it when a hand came down, picked the stroller up and spun it around in the direction she wanted to go.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling and glancing up. She straightened abruptly, and surprise sponged the smile off her lips when she saw that her rescuer was Luke Farraday. “Oh, it’s you.”

He lifted a brow at her. “So it seems. Are you feeling better?”

The solicitous words were belied by the coolness of his tone. Shannon wondered why the contrasts in this man seemed to fascinate her so much. It had been more than a week since she’d been to his ranch, but she’d thought about him every day. “Yes,” she finally said. “I’m completely well now.”

He nodded toward Christina. “Not yours, I take it, since you told me you’re not married.”

“My niece.” Shannon turned Christina so Luke could see her face. The whole Kelleher Saunders family agreed that she was an exceptionally beautiful baby, with her dark eyes and wispy hair. The baby looked at Luke and broke into one of her rare smiles.

Shannon glanced up in time to see something move in Luke’s eyes, a swift shadow of longing that first set her back on her heels, then made her doubt what she had seen, so quickly was it gone.

The thought flashed through her mind that he was determined to remain a loner, but even he had vulnerabilities. She wondered if it could be that he had the same needs most people had for family. She wished she knew more about him. She knew he lived, and ranched, alone.

Luke’s gaze flashed to hers, and the softness she’d seen disappeared. She glanced down to see he was carrying a box of items from the feed store. “You’ve been shopping,” she said lamely.

“Isn’t that what everyone’s doing here on a Saturday morning?” he asked, nodding toward the mass of shoppers. “Except you, it seems.”

“I only shop when my back’s to the wall.”

“You don’t like buying stacks of new clothes, maybe some diamonds, a fur coat?”

She burst out laughing. “And wear them where? To help Pete Minton reseed his north pasture? Luke, you’re a riot.”

At her flippant tone, he narrowed his eyes. “Then you’re an unusual woman.”

“I thought we’d already established that.”

“Yeah, I guess we did.” He tipped his hat to her and started to turn away, but he paused, looking up the sidewalk with a frown.

CHAPTER THREE

SHANNON’S attention followed his to see what he was looking at Automatically, she stiffened at the sight of Gus Blackhawk approaching. His feet shuffled as if he could barely lift them. His gray hair was disheveled, as were his clothes. He wore jeans and a faded green shirt topped by a winter jacket, despite the heat of the June day.

Shannon gaped at him. She hadn’t seen him in months and had never seen him looking like this. He was a proud man, always well-dressed, disdainful of those he considered beneath him. But today he looked like a bum. Even as her heart went out to him, she tightened her arms protectively around Christina.

Luke saw her movement and gave her a curious look just as Mr. Blackhawk reached them. He would have passed them by, but Luke said, “Good morning, Mr. Blackhawk,” and the old man stopped.

His eyes, once a deep, dark blue, now murky, lifted to Luke. He stared for a few seconds before he responded, “Oh, Farraday. Yeah, hello.” Unfocused, his gaze slanted to Shannon and Christina. He studied her blankly for a moment, then his lip curled. “You’re that girl of Mary Jane’s. Bet your family wasn’t too happy when I sold to this guy, huh?”