Jeanne Allan - One Bride Delivered

“And that means good looks aren’t sexy?”

She elected to answer him honestly. “You want to know what’s sexy in a man? Goodness, caring, gentleness. Kindness.”

“I suppose this Worth you talk about is sexy.”

“Worth? Sexy?” Cheyenne burst out laughing. “He’d throw a fit if I even suggested it.”

“He’s not good and kind and gentle?”

Cheyenne cleared up the remains of the lunch. “Of course he is.” She’d contradicted her own words. “But Worth is just Worth.” She closed the lid to the picnic basket, puzzling over Thomas Steele’s tone. For whatever reason, he’d sounded almost petulant when he’d said Worth’s name. Which made no sense.

Unless men were like bull elk in the fall. Macho, competitive, and determined to be the number one bull. Maybe she could use male testosterone to Davy’s advantage. “Of course,” she said casually, “Worth is good-looking, and I have to admit his blue eyes are gorgeous. Half the women in the valley are in love with him. You wouldn’t believe the stupid reasons they give for showing up at our ranch so they can see him. My sister claims his muscles turn the average woman’s brain to mush.”

Thomas Steele grabbed the picnic basket. “I’ll carry it. Open the back end of your car.” He slid the basket inside and slammed the back of her vehicle “It sounds to me as if there are too many distractions for you on your ranch. I don’t think Davy should go with you tomorrow. You almost lost him today in the river. He could get into all kinds of trouble on a ranch while you’re otherwise occupied.”

“I did not almost lose him in the river. He was in no danger whatsoever. And you don’t have to worry about him on the ranch. Worth will take care of Davy.”

Thomas Steele carefully gathered up the gear air-drying on a rock in the shade. “I’ll decide who takes care of him.”

“Naturally.” Cheyenne signaled Davy to head for the car. “He is your nephew.”

Thomas Steele gave her a measured look. “I am not going to help you with your so-called birthday party. I have no idea what a seven-year-old boy would like.”

“It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out. What did you do at your birthday parties when you were Davy’s age?”

After a moment he said, “I never had a birthday party”

The bald statement gave Cheyenne pause. She couldn’t help picturing Thomas Steele as a child, pretending year after year that birthday parties didn’t matter. Her heart twisted, and she wanted to hold him in her arms and console the child he’d been. Before she made a fool of herself, Davy ran up, flying his uncle’s shirt behind him like a flag.

“Are we gonna fish now?” Davy asked.

Thomas Steele took his shirt “I’m going back to the hotel. I have work to do.”

“Oh.” Davy scuffed his toe in the dirt. “I thought you was gonna fish with me. I guess you don’t want to.”

Thomas Steele gripped his shirt so tightly, his knuckles turned white “It has nothing to do with you There are things which need to be done”

“Let someone else do them,” Cheyenne said. If Thomas Steele wanted to return to St. Chris’s, he’d have to get there on his own. “I booked you for the whole day We’re going to Ruedi Reservoir so you can teach Davy how to fish.”

Disappointment switched to hopefulness on Davy’s face. “We are? Cool.” He gave his uncle a sideways glance. “I’ll prolly catch a fish”

Thomas Steele raised an eyebrow at his nephew. “Are you casting aspersions on my fishing ability, young man?”

Davy stood his ground. “I don’t know,” he said cautiously. “What does that mean?”

“You think I’m not a very good fisherman.”

“You didn’t catch any fish.”

Cheyenne laughed.

Thomas Steele swung his gaze toward her. “I see there are two of you who think I don’t know anything about fishing. All right, we’ll have a little contest. Biggest fish wins.”

“What will I win?” Davy asked excitedly.

“You’re awfully confident, young man.”

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