Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | The Cowboy′s Second Chance

The Cowboy's Second Chance
Christyne Butler
Landon Cartwright was a hero in Maggie Stevens's eyes. The roving cowboy showed up just in time to rescue the Crescent Moon owner from the men trying to steal her land. But the longer the sexy-as-sin loner stayed–working her ranch and bonding with her daughter–the more Maggie knew she was setting herself up for heartbreak….Haunted by tragedy, Landon Cartwright came to Destiny looking for a job. He didn't expect to play rescuer, then fall for his alluring new boss and her daughter. He'd board his horse, earn his pay, and hit the road again. Because Maggie was a forever kind of woman. And he wasn't a stick-around kind of guy. Or was he?



“Do you need me to spell it out, Maggie?”
Landon’s lips creased into a smirk. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth. His lips traced the ridge of her knuckles. “I wanted to get into the good graces of my lady boss.”
A blaze ignited in her stomach. Much like the one he’d created in the dark interior of his truck when he’d slanted his mouth over hers in a searing kiss.
“Landon, I don’t…”
A storm of fury and lust flared in his eyes. Her heart seized in her chest. Before it jumped back to life again, the emotion in those dark depths vanished.
He lifted his mouth from her hand. “Liar.”
Dear Reader,
I’m a big believer in “do-overs”—where would we be without second chances? From sports to elections to falling in love, everyone deserves another try at getting it right and winning their heart’s desire.
Landon Cartwright and Maggie Stevens are two people who are in desperate need of a second chance, even if they can’t see it. Both of them need to let go of the past and realize love can be a part of their lives again, but boy, can they be stubborn about it! As someone who also found it difficult to take another chance on love (but the gamble paid off!), I just knew these two were perfect for each other. While Maggie is in a better place to take that sometimes frightening leap into the unknown, poor Landon really needs a few nudges from Maggie and her entire family to realize that a second chance is just what a certain cowboy needs.
I hope you enjoy Landon and Maggie’s story!
Christyne

The Cowboy’s Second Chance
Christyne Butler



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHRISTYNE BUTLER
fell in love with romance novels while serving in the United States Navy and started writing her own stories six years ago. She considers selling to Silhouette Special Edition a dream come true and enjoys writing contemporary romances full of life, love, a hint of laughter and perhaps a dash of danger, too. And there has to be a happily-ever-after or she’s just not satisfied.
She lives with her family in central Massachusetts and loves to hear from her readers at chris@christynebutler.com. Visit her Web site at www.christynebutler.com.
Dedicated to my own Nana B…Margaret Elizabeth Blakeslee,
and my aunt, Carol Ann Baranowski,
both of whom continue to live on in my heart.
And to my mother, Sandra Jean Toms,
thank you for your love and strength!
Extra special thanks to Charles and Gail for your belief in me,
“The Goddesses” at WriteRomance—Alison, Christina,
Jen, Sandi and Tina, NHRWA and everyone at the
eHarlequin boards for all your support!

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen

Chapter One
“You no-good, rotten thief!” Maggie Stevens stomped across the trampled grass of the fairgrounds and tried not to spill the frothy beer from the plastic cups she held in her hands. “You’re stealing my man!”
Kyle Greeley shot her a sardonic grin and continued to peel bills from the large roll of money. By the time Maggie reached him he’d handed over at least a hundred dollars to the cowboy standing next to him—her cowboy.
“Not man, babe,” Kyle said. “Men.”
“What do you mean, ‘men’?”
She shot a look at Spence Wilson, one of the hired hands who’d worked for her for the last few months. Then she saw Charlie Bain step from the shadows, his gaze locked on his boots.
She should’ve known.
While spending a beautiful summer day enjoying Destiny, Wyoming’s, Fourth of July Celebration with her daughter and grandmother, she’d seen neither hide nor hair of her cowboys.
Until now.
“It’s nothin’ personal, Miz Stevens,” Spence said. “We enjoy workin’ at the Crescent Moon, but Mr. Greeley’s pay is too good to pass up.”
Maggie fumed. The dangling carrot of more pay had charmed away ranch hands—at least her young and strong ones—once again. They took the bait like a pair of hungry rabbits.
You did, too, at one time.
Okay, so a few candlelight dinners wasn’t cold, hard cash, but she’d been enamored all the same by Kyle’s smooth-talking ways. Then she’d found out what a scumbag he really was.
Kyle leaned into her. “You know, Maggie, you could be quite comfortable if you’d accept my offer for your land. Buy yourself a place in town, spend more time with your daughter, get yourself a man…”
She glanced at the beer, trying to control her anger and the urge to dump the liquid over his head. She gritted her teeth. “I’ve told you before, my land isn’t for sale.”
Movement caught her eye, and she saw her former employees scurry into the shadows of the darkened barns and empty animal corrals.
Cowards.
She looked back at Kyle. “Why stop with those two? Why not wipe me out completely and go after Willie and Hank, too?”
“Those old coots should’ve been put out to pasture years ago.” He stepped closer, wrapping a finger around a strand of hair that had worked loose from her ponytail. “Admit it, you can’t handle all that land, cattle and horses.”
Maggie jerked her chin, freeing his hold. “Go to hell, Kyle.”
She headed for the bright lights of the raised wooden platform beyond a cluster of cottonwoods. He fell into step beside her.
“I remember a time when you didn’t want me to stay away.”
She shook her head, barely able to tolerate that she’d once been taken in by his baby-blue eyes, chiseled cheekbones and charming lies. “Three months,” she said. “Three months of romancing me to get my land.”
He smirked. “Sometimes a man’s got to make sacrifices. I never could figure what Alan saw in you. Then I realized he’d stuck around to get his hands on your ranch.”
She spun to him, furious. “Well, he didn’t. And you can forget about getting your hands on it, too.”
They’d reached the trees. Kyle leaned in and grabbed her arms. Whiskey laced his breath. She mentally kicked herself for not noticing sooner. Sober, Kyle was annoying, but after a few drinks, he could get downright mean.
“I can put my hands any damn place I please,” he said.
A flash of a buried memory caused Maggie’s stomach to lurch. Beer splashed over the edges of the cups and dripped over her fingers. “You bastard,” she choked. “Take your hands off me.”
“Not until I’m good and ready.”
A flicker of panic coursed through her, but anger snuffed it out. “Get ready now or you’re going to find yourself with a face full of Budweiser.”
“You wouldn’t dare—”
With an angry flick of her wrist, she launched the contents of the cups at him. He jumped back, releasing her with a shove. “Goddammit!”
The liquid splashed on Kyle’s fancy, snap-button shirt and her sundress, leaving enough for round two. “Don’t dare me anything.” A step backwards took her deeper into the trees. “Back off.”
Greeley seized her again, his blunt nails digging into her arms. “You’re gonna pay—”
“She told you to leave her alone.”
Maggie froze as a low, commanding voice rumbled over her shoulder.
Actually, it came more from over the top of her head. She was acutely conscious of a man towering behind her. Overwhelming her. The husky tone causing a ripple of…what? Need? Awareness?
Annoyance crossed Kyle’s face. “This is none of your business, Cartwright.”
“Maybe not, but the lady’s made her feelings quite clear.”
“Let me be clear.” Kyle took a step closer, his attention focused over Maggie’s head as his hands tightened on her. “If you want to keep your job, I suggest you turn and walk away.”
The man behind her took a step closer. “Let. Her. Go.” His voice grew harder with each word.
Kyle flicked his gaze back to Maggie. “We still got business between us.” He dropped his hands and stepped back. “Don’t bother showing up at the Triple G tonight, Cartwright. In fact, I suggest you leave Destiny. For good.”
Spinning around, Greeley vanished into the darkness.
Oh, boy, that was…she wasn’t sure what that was, other than Kyle being his usual idiotic self. A deep breath helped. Maggie turned to thank her rescuer, but her foot caught on a tree root, and she stumbled backwards.
A pair of strong hands clamped her waist, pulling her back against a solid chest and rock-hard thighs. The man’s jaw brushed her hair, a rush of hot breath flowed over her ear.
Twisting in his grasp, she tipped her head back to look at his face. Intense eyes stared at her from beneath the crown of a black Stetson. Dark stubble outlined his mouth and covered his jaw. A shiver she couldn’t control raced through her. He dropped his hands and took a step back.
Maggie struggled to speak. “Thank you…for, well, thank you.”
“No problem.” He tucked in his chin, effectively blocking her attempt to peer further under the wide brim of his hat. “You okay?”
“Y-yes.” She nodded. “I’m fine.”
“You better get going before he decides to come back.”
Before she could reply, her rescuer stepped around her and followed Kyle into the darkness. She watched his tall form disappear, trying to ignore the sudden rush of butterflies zooming around her stomach. Placing the blame for them firmly on Greeley, she glanced at what remained of the beer. Racy and Leeann were waiting for her. She’d better get moving. Mindful of the tree roots, she headed toward the crowded dance area.
Maggie offered a few hellos to familiar faces before she caught sight of her best friend in the middle of the dance floor with her seventy-year-old ranch hand. Willie tried his best to keep pace with Racy, who was four decades his junior, but like everyone else, he was distracted by her flame-red curls and undulating curves.
The dance ended and Racy joined Maggie. “Boy, Willie can still do a mean two-step.” She grabbed one of the cups. “About time you got here. Where’ve you been? And what happened to my beer?”
Maggie poured the remains of her drink into Racy’s. “I got sidetracked.”
“Doing what?”
Maggie ignored the question, renewing her determination not to let Kyle Greeley’s antics spoil her fun. “Where’s Leeann? I thought she was meeting us.”
“Her beeper chirped about ten minutes ago.”
“I thought Gage gave her the night off.”
“Yeah, well, being a deputy in a small town means you’re always on call. Besides, you know Sheriff Steele,” Racy snorted. “All work and no play makes for a pain-in-the—”
Maggie cut her off, tired of her friend’s nasty comments about the local lawman. “High school’s long gone, Racy. Let it go.”
“I have!”
Maggie raised an eyebrow.
Racy flushed. “Let’s not waste time on ancient history. Where’s your grandmother and Anna?”
“Nana B. went back to the ranch after collecting her blue ribbons, and Anna’s sleeping over at a friend’s house.”
Racy’s face lit up with a bright smile. “So, you’re a swinging single tonight. Honey, let’s find someone to push that swing!”
Flashes of denim, tanned skin and a black cowboy hat filled Maggie’s head. It’d been dark among the trees, but she easily recalled broad shoulders, shirtsleeves rolled tight against strong forearms and long legs encased in snug jeans.
Maggie pushed away the details and focused on her friend. “Don’t you ever give up? I told you, I’m not interested. And unless you’ve forgotten, I’ve got a few things on my mind. Especially now. Greeley walked off with Spence and Charlie tonight.”
“Those low-down, belly-crawlin’ snakes! And you thought they had staying power. What are you going to do now?”
What was she going to do? She needed help. Hopefully the ads she’d placed all over town would bring in some fresh faces. “The same thing I’ve been doing all along,” she replied, “keep on keeping on.”
“Well, not tonight. Tonight is for fun and what you need is a red-hot cowboy who’ll leave you too sore to move and too tired to care.”
“What I need is to get home. I’ve got a pile of paperwork waiting and—”
“Oh, come on. It’s a holiday!” Racy finished the last of the beer and tossed the cup in the nearby trash. “We’re celebrating our country’s independence, not to mention our own. Besides, the place is swarming with hunky cowboys.”
“Forget it, I’m not interested.”
“Look, I’m gonna find me a dance partner and I suggest you do the same. Then another and another.” She offered a quick wink. “Personally, I’m shooting for double digits.”
Maggie watched as Racy latched onto the closest cowboy and led him onto the dance floor.
“How long does it take to reach zero?” she muttered.

Zero.
Those were his chances of getting another job in this dot-on-the-map town called Destiny. Great place for an out-of-luck cowboy like him.
Landon walked across the teeming fairgrounds. The sun had set, and clusters of teenagers and families enjoyed the game booths and carnival rides that twirled in bright splashes of neon color.
He sidestepped an excited little girl carrying a prized stuffed animal and a breath-stealing squeeze compressed his chest. Shoving a hand deep into his pocket, his fingers curled around a familiar oval object. His boots shuffled to a stop and he closed his eyes against the memory before it had a chance to bring him to his knees.
It took a long moment, but he succeeded. Breathing deep, he opened his eyes and spotted the sheriff chatting with a group of men. Giving a tug on his Stetson, Landon pulled it lower on his brow. If there was anything he’d learned in the last few months, it was that the law was best avoided.
Hunger gnawed at his belly as he ducked into the food aisle, but he ignored the battling aromas of fried hot dogs and spun candy. The fifty dollars tucked in his pocket would have to last until he was employed again. After standing up for that lady, he was hell and gone from his next possible job three hundred miles away.
But what a lady.
Honey-colored hair and a sweet, fresh scent. Despite a shapeless dress, he could attest, thanks to having her body pressed to his, she had curves in all the right places. He hadn’t meant to get so close, but the weight of her body against his and the feel of her hair catching on his whiskers stayed with him.
Then she’d looked at him. A flash of something—longing, maybe—came through the anger and fear. A warning bell had gone off inside his head.
Leave. Now.
He’d ignored his own advice long enough to make sure she was okay, then followed his former boss to make sure the jerk didn’t come back.
Damn, he needed a job.
Greeley’s ranch was the largest in the area. The man meant it when he told him to get out of town. Big ranches and their owners carried a lot of power in small communities.
Landon headed to the far end of the parking lot where he’d left his truck and horse trailer. The dark shadows and relative quiet were the most he could offer his best friend right now. Hell, G.W. was his only friend, and the main reason for pulling off the highway earlier today.
“Hey, boy,” he said as he stepped inside the trailer and moved beside the stallion. “How’s the leg?”
He crouched down, murmuring softly as he ran his hands along G.W.’s forelimb, checking the area around the shipping boot. The horse snorted softly and shifted away.
“I know you hate these things, but it should help with the swelling.”
It wasn’t.
Landon had first noticed the horse favoring his leg the night he’d been not-so-politely told to leave his last job. Being on the road the last seven days meant he’d done a piss-poor job of icing the injury. He needed to find a place for the two of them to bunk down for a while, so he could take care of G.W. properly.
Three jobs since his release, three times told to move on.
He’d been foolish enough to reveal his conviction the first time. Never again. Now he did his best to keep to himself, but somehow the news always got out.
His stomach growled again. He opened the chest in the corner and found it empty. The ice packs were only slightly cool.
He leaned his head against the side of his horse. “I’m going to grab some chow and another bag of ice. Be back in a few.”
He stroked a hand over G.W.’s smooth coat, then exited and locked the trailer, heading toward the market across the street. Bright fluorescent lights shone on a woman behind the counter when he entered.
Was that wariness on her face?
He offered a quick, polite nod then walked to the first aisle. Five minutes later, he’d moved back to the cashier when a dog-eared piece of paper on a bulletin board caught his attention. The words “Wanted: Cowboys” jumped out at him.
Damn, he must be crazy.
He yanked the paper off the board and shoved it into his pocket. After paying for his stuff, he crossed the road back to the parking lot with a sandwich, a cold soda and a bag of ice. He peeled back the plastic wrapping around the day-old bread with his teeth. It was stale, but he hoped it would cover the bad taste in his mouth left by the store clerk’s apprehension.
His hair was too long and he was a week away from his last shave. Maybe that’s all it was. Or maybe it was because he was a stranger in a small town. She’d beamed at the two clean-cut cowboys with pressed snap-buttoned shirts and shiny belt buckles who’d come up behind him, obviously knowing them.
Landon shrugged off his mood and finished the sandwich in two bites. He wasn’t usually filled with his own thoughts. Not since his release. Before, he’d had plenty of time to think. Now he preferred a hard day’s work that left him too tired for anything but sleep. Something he hadn’t done much of over the last week.
He moved to the back of the trailer and led G.W. outside, taking the boot off and crushing ice around the injury. Standing in the light from an overhead parking lamp, he opened the soda and took a long draw on it, then yanked the piece of paper out of his jeans pocket and looked at it again.
“Okay, Crescent Moon, you’re my last chance.”
A soft shuffle invaded his consciousness, then sudden pain exploded between his shoulder blades. Seconds later, he smashed headfirst into his trailer.

Maggie waved goodbye to Racy from across the dance floor. She ignored her friend’s answering frown and made her way through the crowd. Unable to find Willie, she gave up and decided to head home alone.
Gave up looking for her cowboy rescuer, too.
“No, not my cowboy,” Maggie muttered, digging her keys from her purse.
Guilt settled in the pit of her stomach. She’d heard Kyle warn the stranger not to show up for work. She hated the idea he was now jobless because of her.
Offering him a job at the Moon had occurred to her while she stood on the sidelines of the dance floor. She needed a man—heck, she needed men, and as many as she could afford.
Kyle’s words came floating back to her.
“Buy yourself a place in town, spend more time with your daughter, get yourself a man.”
Nope. Not that kind of man. She didn’t have the time, strength or the emotional energy to deal with that.
Not anymore.
Heading across the full parking lot, she checked her watch. Almost ten o’clock. With her daughter gone and her grandmother probably tucked in bed with a book, she’d have plenty of time to attack the mess on her desk.
Exactly what she wanted to do on a hot summer’s night.
The promised relief of an overnight thunderstorm hadn’t materialized, leaving the air sultry and thick. No, what she’d love to do was head home to enjoy a long dip in the cool waters of the pond behind the house.
Minus a bathing suit. And wouldn’t it be nice if she wasn’t alone.
The image of a certain cowboy drifted into her mind. This time Maggie let the fantasy play out, smiling at their sensual image. “Okay, girl, admit it, maybe Racy’s right. Maybe it’s been too long—”
A high, shrill neigh filled the air, startling her. Maggie froze, heart racing.
The second time the horse cried out she knew it was scared to death. The commotion was coming from the end of the row of cars. She raced toward it and saw a honey-colored stallion tethered to a trailer, its eyes wide with panic. The animal was frantically trying to free itself. She reached out to calm it, but stopped when she saw three men fighting not ten feet away.
Actually, it was more like two bullies beating up the third, but he fought back, twisting and kicking, despite being held by both arms. A fist crashed into his face and the man sagged.
Maggie gasped. “Stop! Leave him alone!”
The two creeps looked at her, breathing hard. Stetsons shadowed their faces. They released the beaten man and took off into the dark. The man crumpled.
She rushed to where he lay face down in the dirt. “Are you all right?”
He groaned and pressed large hands against the ground. The muscles across the wide expanse of his shoulders tightened beneath his shirt as he attempted to get up.
“That was a dumb question. Of course you’re not all right.” Maggie’s fingers hovered between his shoulder blades, inches from long strands of hair covering his collar. “Don’t move. I’ll get help.”
“No,” he said, low and determined.
Maggie dropped to her knees. She wrapped a hand around his upper arm to steady him, her fingers small in comparison to his muscular bicep. Heat radiated from his body into the humid summer evening.
“You’re hurt. Please, let me—”
“No.” His refusal left no room for argument. “That’s the last thing I need.”
A zing of awareness raced through her.
The cowboy twisted and rolled onto his back. A cloud of dust rose as his head lolled to the side, away from her. A string of curses followed another moan. Dark hair fell across his forehead and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
She grabbed her purse and pulled out a handkerchief. “Look, I don’t know why you and your buddies got into a fight—”
“They’re not my buddies,” he muttered.
“Then we need to call the sheriff.” Forced to lean over him to press her hankie to his mouth, her fingers scraped the whiskers on his jaw. It reminded her of the dry stacks of summer grass in her barn. “Did they steal something from you?”
“No. I did a good deed and got my ass kicked for it,” he growled through clenched teeth as he pushed himself up on one elbow. “Typical, always doing the right kind of…”
His voice faded as he turned toward her to shove her hand away. Two black eyes, one swollen shut, collided with hers. Steely fingers clamped around her wrist.
“You.”

Chapter Two
“You!” Maggie echoed, her heart pounding in her throat.
His fingers seared her skin and she tugged free. He grabbed at her handkerchief, held it against his mouth. His denim shirt, ripped open to his waist, was covered in dirt and spatters of blood. A black Stetson sat on the ground nearby.
“Ohmigod, this wasn’t—” She hadn’t recognized the other men as they scuffled in the dirt, but now…Greeley’s foremen. “They jumped you because of me.”
“No.” Looking away, he wiped at the blood on his mouth.
“I don’t believe you.”
He rolled onto his hip, one leg bent at the knee, and gave his head a quick shake as if trying to clear it. “I don’t care what you believe,” he rasped, pushing unsteadily to his feet. “Where’s my hat?”
Maggie rose, ready to catch him if he fell. She grabbed the dusty Stetson, and held it out to him. “The fight was because you helped me.”
“Let it go, lady.”
He grabbed the hat, slapped it on the back of his head, and grimaced. The horse whinnied. The man swayed, but managed to steady himself before staggering to the animal. “Easy, boy…it’s all right.”
Maggie grabbed her purse and followed. “Did they hurt your horse?”
“G.W. is fine. Go away.”
His harsh words stung, but she didn’t give up. “The horse may be fine, but you’re not. We should get some help—”
Maggie stopped talking as he untied his horse and led it inside the trailer. She leaned against the cool metal surface, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. The smell of stale hay teased her nose.
Poor baby, the stallion must have been so frightened. Inside, the cowboy’s muted cadence soothed the skittish horse. Soothed her, too. Gradually his words faded away. She pressed an ear to the trailer. Nothing.
Was he okay? Had Greeley’s men hurt him so bad he’d passed out?
“Damn you, Kyle,” she whispered. “Haven’t you done enough?”
“You still here?”
Maggie whirled around to find him standing behind her, so close the brim of his Stetson brushed against her hair. His height blocked the overhead glow from the parking-lot lights, casting his face into shadow. His presence overpowered her, but somehow made her feel safe, too.
Safe? Where in the world had that come from?
“The medical clinic is down the street,” she said. “You should have someone take a look at your injuries.”
He took a swig from a bottle, grimaced and spat bloody water on the ground. Then he splashed a palm full of water over his face and wiped it away with his shirt sleeve. “Why?”
Maggie planted her hands on her hips. “Look, you need to—”
“I don’t need to do any…”
The cowboy swayed again. She laid a hand against his chest to stop him from crashing into her. “I can’t leave until I know you’re okay.”
His gaze dropped to her hand, then returned to her face. “We’re fine.”
His whispered words belied the uneven beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. She jerked her hand away. “Your lip’s stopped bleeding, but one eye is swollen shut, and you’ve got a nasty bruise at your temple.”
“What? You wanna play doctor?”
His deep whisper sent a flush of heat fanning over Maggie’s cheeks. She swallowed hard against the lump lodged in her throat. “I’ll play operator and dial 9-1-1.”
“No thanks.” He moved past her, shuffling toward the truck cab.
She followed. “I don’t think you should drive. You could pass out and kill yourself and your horse. Never mind what you might do to someone else.”
He tugged on the door, cursing when it wouldn’t open. Finally he got it free and crawled into the cab. “Been in enough fights—not hurt bad—not going far, anyway.”
Maggie put her hand on the door before he could close it. She stepped up on the truck’s running board, and watched him aim for the ignition.
He missed twice before he paused to squint at the keys. “Was planning to look for…a place to sleep.”
The low tone of his voice, mixed with a hint of southern twang, grabbed at her in a place she thought long dead. “This is my fault. Please let me help.”
He shook his head then his eyes rolled closed, his hands fell to his lap and he slumped against the seat.
“Are you—hello?”
Silence.
Maggie hesitated then gently removed his hat to get a closer look at his face. She braced one hand on his thigh to keep from falling into his lap. Soft denim and powerful muscles lay beneath her fingertips. Her pale-blue handkerchief sat clutched in his hand, the lace trim out of place next to his large, tanned fingers and the coarse texture of his skin. A deep shudder rumbled through his chest, the warm rush of his breath falling against her cheek. His eyes remained closed.
“I’m going to get help.” She’d seen enough injuries on the ranch to know he needed medical attention. “I’ll be back.”
“Don’t.” She jumped when his fingers tangled with hers. He held tight for a moment then his grip loosened. “I’ll…be fine. Please don’t…”
The quiet desperation in his voice struck at the deepest part of her heart. Why was he so against letting someone help him?
“Girly, what in hell’s bells are you doing?”
Maggie gasped and pulled her hand free. She swung around and looked into a pair of startling blue eyes framed by a shock of white hair. “Willie! You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?”
“Your grandmother took my ride. I saw your truck in the parking lot, and figured on hitching back with you. Darned surprised to find you getting all frisky in a stranger’s pickup.”
Willie’s sharp gaze peered around Maggie. “And with a drunken cowboy. Hoo-wee!”
“He’s not drunk.” Maggie stepped from the cab. “There was a fight. I’ve been trying to convince him to let me get help, but he keeps refusing.”
“Yep, right up to when he passed out.” Willie shoved his hands in his pockets. “You sure he ain’t tanked tight?”
Maggie frowned. “I’m sure. Can you take a look at him?”
The old man, more a member of the family than an employee, stared at her for a long moment.
“Please?”
Willie sighed, then nodded and Maggie stepped out of his way. He gently poked and prodded the unconscious man with a sure touch. Finally, he turned, thumbing up the brim of his hat.
“Well, he ain’t dead.”
“I know that. Should we take him to the clinic?”
“He’s got a lot of bruises and took a good clock to his left eye. He’s gonna be hurtin’ in the morning.” Willie stepped away. “But nothing’s broken from what I can tell, and his ribs appear okay. His pupils look fine, too, but that don’t explain why he’s out cold.”
“Exhaustion?” Maggie offered. “He said he needed sleep. He’s not from around here and doesn’t have a place to stay.”
“Oh, boy, I know where this is going.”
“Willie—”
“Don’t ‘Willie’ me. I’ve known you all your life, and if it’s one thing you can’t resist, it’s a hard-luck case.” He pointed his finger at her. “Don’t matter if it’s a four-legged or two-legged creature, you’ve given away more hot meals and places to sleep than anyone I know.”
“Yeah, and then they take off for greener pastures. Look, I’m not out to rescue anyone, but we can’t leave him here.”
Willie crossed his arms, pulling his starched shirt across his bony shoulders. Age stooped his once-tall frame, but he could still look her in the eye. “There’s something more going on here.”
Maggie sighed. It took a few minutes to fill him in on losing Spence and Charlie, as well as Kyle’s sleazy behavior—until this stranger stepped in.
Willie’s features hardened as she spoke. He looked at the cowboy again. “So, they paid him back?”
“Yeah. The least I can do is give him a place to sleep and a decent breakfast in the morning. And I’m not going to get the sheriff involved over something as trivial as Greeley jerking me around.”
“What about this guy getting the crap kicked out of him?”
Maggie dropped her hands to her sides, the cowboy’s Stetson banging against her leg. “He was adamant. He doesn’t want help from the sheriff or anyone else.”
Willie grunted. “You check the trailer. I’ll move him to the far side of the truck.”
Maggie protested, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I ain’t gonna let you drive him to the ranch alone. And it’s no good if he wakes up and finds a stranger behind the wheel. So it’s the three of us.”
“Fine,” Maggie handed over the cowboy’s keys. “My truck can sit here overnight. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
She checked the trailer then climbed into the cab. The cowboy leaned against the door, his face toward the glass. Willie joined them, forcing her to scoot into the middle, pressing her body into the unconscious man from shoulder to knee. His heat radiated through her dress to dance along her skin. The warm night air jumped up another degree as she watched his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.
“Margaret Anne, I hope you know what you’re doing,” she muttered, dropping his hat into his lap.
Willie pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home as fireworks lit the night sky. A half hour later, they turned off to the ranch. Despite his breathing, the cowboy hadn’t uttered a sound. If he didn’t wake soon, she’d place a call to Doc Cody.
The headlights gleamed over the bunkhouse and barn as they pulled into the drive, and Willie jolted the truck to a stop. “Sorry ’bout that, the brakes on this thing seem to be as old as me.” He opened the driver’s door and stepped out. “You stay here with sleeping beauty. I’ll get the barn doors.”

A gentle rocking caused Landon’s head to loll back and forth. He became aware of soft, feminine curves pressed against him and realized for the first time, in a long time, he wasn’t alone.
This was a dream. It had to be.
Unlike the nightmares of the past, he welcomed the heat against his body. Desire to nestle closer stirred deep. He was desperate for her scent, her touch. Desperate to believe this was real. He wanted her next to him, on top of him.
Then the warmth and curves moved away and a hard bounce caused his head to snap backwards. A ricochet of piercing light sparked inside his brain near one eye, and then spread to fill his entire body. He tried to move away from the pain, but his legs protested.
Was he sitting up?
He shifted again and pain exploded in his chest. A groan threatened to erupt, consuming every inch of air in his lungs as he forced himself to focus.
Did he hear voices? The sound of a truck door closing? His truck?
The familiar stale odors from the trailer filled his nose and he tried to slow the merry-go-round spinning inside his head.
Think, dammit! What’s the last thing you remember?
The sweet scent of fresh linen. No, that didn’t make sense. He hadn’t slept in a real bed in over a week. But the fragrance managed to make its way through the smells of his truck.
He curled one hand into a fist, crushing cool cotton against his palm. The same whiff of clean sheets, fresh from drying in the hot sun and a cool breeze, washed over his face as the gentle touch of a woman’s hand covered his.
Her curves were back, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel her against him. This time his body obeyed his silent command, and his hand found a delicate shoulder.
He pulled her toward him, need rushing through him as he breathed in her cry of surprise. He drew her closer, swiping his tongue over his dry lips before he covered her mouth. Breath rushed inward between supple lips, and his tongue followed.
He didn’t care if he was hallucinating. It was too perfect to stop—and he concentrated on his first kiss in four long years.
A minty flavor greeted him as he explored her mouth. He traced the edge of her teeth with his tongue then slipped out past her lips to dart at the corners of her mouth, sweet like a summertime rain. His hand stole across her upper back, sliding across cool, soft fabric until silky hair tangled with his fingers. He angled her across his chest. Her lips moved against his, and a small stab of pain made him groan. She retreated and this time he let her go.
Consciousness pulled at him, and Landon forced his eyes to open.
One obeyed, the other managed only a slit. His hair fell forward, partially blocking his view of feminine fingers lying over his fist. Clutched inside was a lacy handkerchief. Looking up, he focused on the outline of a woman. For a long moment, a pair of wet lips held his attention. Those lips trembled then the tip of her tongue stole out across her bottom lip.
“Oh…are you okay?”
Despite the shakiness of her words, Landon recognized the voice. Soft, sexy and sweet. The same voice that had sucker-punched him the first time she’d offered a breathless token of gratitude. The lady at the fairgrounds. The same lady who’d interrupted him getting his ass kicked and then refused to go away.
Was it a dream? Had he really kissed her?
Landon ignored her question and the pain shooting through his body. “What are—where am I?” He straightened, tunneling his fingers through his hair.
They sat in his parked, idling truck. He peered into the darkness. Thanks to the glow of a porch light, he could make out the outline of a house.
“My place.”
He swung around to face her, and the throbbing intensified. Landon cradled his forehead in his hand. “What the hell am I doing here?”
“You needed a place to sleep.”
“Lady, are you crazy? You don’t know me.”
She withdrew to the steering wheel, her face now hidden in the shadows. “Was I supposed to leave you in the parking lot for the sheriff? I guarantee I can provide a more comfortable bed than the local jail.”
The image of a barren room with bars flashed before his eyes. It was quickly pushed aside by another image, springing fully formed in his head before he could stop it.
The two of them, in a bed this time, tangled in crisp, clean sheets. Him flat on his back, her hands spread across his shoulders as he cradled her hips. She leaned forward and her curtain of blond hair hid them from the outside—
Landon squeezed his eyes closed to erase the fantasy. Another sharp ache pounded in his head—as demanding as the one pressed against his fly.
“I know I keep asking, but are you—”
“I’m fine.” It was a lie, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her what was in his mind.
The truck started to move. Landon opened his eyes, and watched her back toward a large barn that loomed out of the darkness.
She slowed to a stop. “Willie’s opening the barn doors—”
“Who’s Willie?”
“He works here for—”
“I’ll help him.”
Landon tugged on the door handle and nearly fell out the cab. He grabbed his hat before it hit the ground and slammed the door closed.
The last thing he needed was this angel of mercy asking him again if he was okay. He wasn’t. Wasn’t close to being okay after the vision he had of the two of them together.
Where in the hell had that come from?
He’d had plenty of chances to be with a woman since his release. Every town he’d worked in had bars and honky-tonks filled with ladies who didn’t care where you came from or where you were going. Women who wanted the attention they weren’t getting at home. He’d never been attracted to any of them. Hell, long before his conviction he’d lost any desire to be physically close to the opposite sex.
Amazing what deception could do to a man.
Burying the memory, Landon reached for the barn doors. He shoved, and they opened easily, thanks to the elderly cowboy on the other side. Had this old timer seen what’d happened in the truck? Did he care?
The man offered a curt nod. “Nice to see you on your feet.”
Landon nodded in return. “Thanks. You must be Willie.”
They moved aside when the trailer crossed the threshold.
G.W. Damn!
He’d started for the barn’s interior when another wave of dizziness hit him. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he fought off the unsteadiness and noticed the square piece of blue cloth in his grasp. A deep breath pulled in the smell of fresh linen and a hint of something spicy. It made him feel…peaceful.
He shoved the handkerchief into his jeans, next to the locket, and entered the barn at the same time as his lady rescuer. She flicked a switch and a circle of light sprang to life overhead. The occupants responded with low neighs.
“Hush, now,” she said, then turned to him. “Okay, let’s get your horse out of this trailer.”
Landon watched the woman, still not understanding how he’d ended up with her and this antique cowboy in the first place. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away the pain behind his eyes. “Ah, I’m a bit confused—”
“Not surprising considering the blow you’ve taken to the ol’ noggin,” Willie said with a hint of mockery. “You look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet.”
“You told me no sheriff,” the woman said, opening the trailer’s gate. “But someone had to look you over, and both you and your horse needed a place to sleep. Willie took care of the first, and the second will be done as soon as we get this animal into a clean stall.”
Landon dropped his hand and watched as she lowered the ramp to the floor. She put a foot on the edge, but Willie stopped her.
“Some cowboys think of their horses like they do their women.” He pulled the lady a few steps back. “Don’t want nobody else touching ’em. The first couple of stalls are empty. Take your pick.”
Landon stared hard at the old man then nodded and walked inside the trailer. He ran his hand along G.W.’s coat and dropped his head to rest against his warm mane. He drew in the familiar comfort of his friend before backing him out of the trailer and into a stall.
Grabbing his duffel bags and ice chest, he dropped his stuff on a low bench outside the stall. Another bout of dizziness hit him, but he pushed it away.
“She does this a lot.”
Landon looked up, surprised to see it was only him and Willie in the barn.
“Can’t resist helping someone who’s downtrodden,” Willie continued. “Been that way since she was a little bit. Doesn’t matter if it’s a rangy dog or a broke-down cowboy, she’s always there to offer a hot meal and a warm bed.”
Landon didn’t know which the old man considered him to be. “Is that so?”
“She doesn’t expect anything in return and that’s usually what she gets, but I’ve been here since God was a boy, and part of my job is looking out for my boss. I don’t want her hurt.”
Wait a minute.
Landon blinked. Did he say boss?

Chapter Three
“Yeah, you heard me right. She’s the one in charge around here. We haven’t been properly introduced. Willie Perkins.” He stuck out his hand.
Landon took it, not surprised at the strong grip. “Landon Cartwright.”
“At least you know who ya are. Come on, I’ll fix ya up in the bunk—”
“No, thanks. I’ll stay here.”
Willie’s bushy white brows arched high. “In the barn?”
Landon pulled his hand free. “Yeah, I’ve slept in worse places. Believe it or not, I’ve been in fights before, too.”
“Now, why don’t that surprise me? We got enough trouble around here, you hear?”
“Look, old man. I didn’t ask for her help. Or yours. And trouble is the last thing I’m looking for.”
Willie stared back at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll park your truck by the house. You get the doors.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Minutes later, Willie walked by and tossed him the keys before disappearing into the bunkhouse. Pocketing them, Landon closed one barn door, then stopped. His eyes drifted across the yard to the light spilling from a window in the main house.
Who was this lady? Did she own this spread? Alone?
Willie hadn’t mentioned a husband, and she seemed pretty upset with Greeley back at the carnival. He couldn’t remember if she wore a wedding ring, not that a piece of jewelry kept someone faithful.
And this ranch.
Other than the outlines of a few buildings, including a one-story house with a wraparound porch, he couldn’t see much in the darkness. The quiet surprised him. The barn sounded as if it was full of horses, but except for Willie, there weren’t any other cowboys in sight, and only one other pickup besides his own.
Unusual for a Saturday night and a holiday…
Stop thinking so much. Landon shut the other barn door. You’ve got more important things to worry about.
His body was wracked with sharp twinges of pain as he moved toward the stalls. After closer inspection of G.W.’s leg, he was happy to see the swelling under control.
“Wish I had some liniment to help you out, boy.” He kept his voice soft as he rewrapped the leg with firm pressure. “We’ll have to rely on good ol’ cold and hot therapy until I can get more cash.”
G.W. responded with a flick of his ears. A twinge of guilt twisted through Landon as he watched his horse feed. After a week of foraging on the side of the road, it was clear the palomino was enjoying the fresh hay and water.
Landon left the stall and walked to the bench. A low groan escaped as he pulled off his boots. It took a minute for another wave of dizziness to pass before he emptied his pockets into the duffel bag. He kept the tarnished silver locket. It took all his strength not to open it and look inside.
Rubbing his fingers over the inlaid scrollwork, he stared at it for a long moment then shoved it back into his jeans. Not now. He couldn’t deal with any more pain tonight.
What was left of his shirt hung free and he undid the few remaining buttons before releasing the top button of his jeans. His shoulders and arms ached as he reached around to rub the scar tissue on his lower back. He could get the crap kicked out of him and the injury didn’t flare up. Then something as simple as changing a tire and—
Injury. Yeah, right.
Injury implied healing. Not this. This he would carry for the rest of his life. He peeled the shirt off his shoulders. A low creaking caused him to spin around.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” She walked from the shadows, her arms filled with blankets, a pillow and a glass of water. “Willie called me from the bunkhouse and said you’d be staying…”
A rush of heat spread across Landon’s skin when her gaze trailed from his face, past his open shirt to his feet, then back again. Brightness shone in her emerald eyes. The pink on her cheeks matched her full lips and the memory of their imaginary kiss came rushing back.
He didn’t know if she was married or not, but the intensity of her stare was enough to start the pressure building behind his fly for the second time tonight.
“I guess I should’ve knocked first.”
Landon forced himself to relax. He tugged his shirt back onto his shoulders, thankful he still wore his hat. “It’s your barn.”
She held out the bedding in her arms and frowned. “Why sleep out here?”
“I already told your cowboy. The place is clean and the hay’s fresh. Better than where I’ve slept the last few days.” Landon’s heart pounded as he took the blankets, warm from her body. The now-familiar scent of fresh linen drifted around him. “Besides, most cowboys don’t welcome sharing a bunkhouse with an outsider. And I’m sure your husband isn’t too crazy about you bringing home a total stranger.”
He placed the items on the bench then turned to find her holding out the glass in one hand, two pills in the other and a faint blush on her cheeks.
“You might be right about the cowboys, but not the husband. I don’t have one.” She pushed the glass and pills at him. “Here, you must have one heck of a headache.”
No husband.
He ignored the jolt the news gave him, looked at the pills instead. He hesitated, hating how three years in prison had colored his view of people. He doubted the pills were anything other than pain medication. How could he refuse? She’d done more for him, a total stranger, than anyone else since he’d gotten out.
“You said your ranch hand checked me out?” He took the glass. “How did he do that exactly?”
“Willie served in the Korean War as a medic.” She dropped the medicine into his hand. “He has a bit of medical school under his belt, too. He’s helped a lot of people around here over the years.”
Landon nodded before he tipped his head back and pretended to take the pills. Instead, he slipped them into his pocket and washed the dryness from his mouth with the cool water.
“So, you all set?” She moved past him toward the horse stalls. “Got enough pillows, blankets…liniment?”
“Excuse me?”
“You told me those men didn’t hurt your horse.” She stood at G.W.’s stall and grabbed the top edge of the split door. “But I saw him favoring his forelimb when you brought him out of the trailer.”
He joined her, but stayed at arm’s length. “They didn’t hurt him. His injury happened about a week ago. Tonight’s excitement didn’t help.”
She took the glass from his outstretched hand. “Neither did riding in your trailer.”
G.W. shook his head and offered a nicker in response. She grinned and held her hand flat for the horse’s inspection before laying her palm on his nose and gently rubbing.
Another stabbing pain pierced Landon’s chest. This one didn’t hurt like the others. Laced with an edge of something carnal, it curled inside his gut.
He put more space between them and crossed his arms over his chest. The sawdust covering the concrete floor was cool against his feet. “He’s okay. I’ve got it under control.”
“I’ve got Dermcusal, but it might be too late.” She offered the horse a final pat before moving away. “Warming liniments might help. There’s a refrigerator and warmer in the tack room.”
“Lady, what are you—”
“Wait right here.” She disappeared through a door in the corner of the barn. He could hear the jingling of keys, then she returned with a jumble of small boxes and tubes that she handed to him. “Here, these should help. If you want, we can call Kali Watson in the morning. She’s the local vet, well, the practice is her and her husband, but he’s gone at the moment—”
“No.”
Landon’s reply was stronger than he intended, evident by how she skittered backwards. He looked at the medicine he’d been hoping for a moment ago. Medicine he couldn’t afford.
“Ah, no thanks.” His voice was softer this time. “I can care for him.”
“How? You said you didn’t have anywhere to go tonight.”
“I did? When?”
“Back at the fairgrounds when we debated whether you were fit to drive.” She took another step toward the side door. “That’s how you ended up here.”
Geez, he needed to clear the fog swirling in his head. What else had he said?
He again looked at the tubes of ointment and swallowed hard. “I appreciate this, but I’m passing through. I can’t…I don’t have the money to pay you.”
She waved off his words. “Don’t worry about it.”
Pride filled him. He’d always earned everything he’d gotten in life. Long before his time in jail, charity wasn’t something he’d ever taken lightly. “And the hay—G.W. can eat like there’s no tomorrow. Your hospitality—”
“Consider it a proper thank you for what you did for me tonight.” She reached behind her and opened the door. “You know, with all that’s happened you never did tell me your name.”
“Cartwright.” The word was out of his mouth before he thought about it. “Landon Cartwright.”
“Well, Landon Cartwright, my name’s Maggie Stevens. Welcome to the Crescent Moon. You’re invited to breakfast come morning if you’re still here.”
She hurried through the door, closing it firmly behind her. Landon remained rooted to the spot and stared after her before he dumped the meds on the bench.
Had he heard right?
He pulled the help-wanted ad from his jeans.
Yep, Crescent Moon.

Bam, bam, bam.
Maggie allowed one eye to open wide enough to look at the clock on her nightstand. A low groan escaped her lips. Despite the morning light filling her bedroom, it wasn’t quite six o’clock. Unlike most nights when she’d fall into bed already half asleep, it’d taken hours before she’d stopped reliving the events of last night. For a day that started so simply, it certainly ended with a bang.
More like an explosion.
She pictured the tall, handsome stranger sleeping in her barn and relived his soul-stirring, stomach-dropping kiss. The memory made Maggie’s insides plunge all the way to her toes.
The same as they did last night when Landon had grabbed her and pulled her close in his truck. She had seen his head snap back against the seat rest when Willie had hit the brakes. Her first instinct had been to make sure he was okay. His first instinct, evidently, had been to cover her mouth with his. She’d been so surprised by his actions and her response that it had taken a groan from him to make her pull away.
Racy was always telling her she needed a little excitement in her life. Nothing like breaking up a fight and bringing home a not-so-conscious sexy stranger to liven things up.
A stranger who cared very much for his horse.
Intuition told her the cowboy and G.W. were best friends, despite the sad conditions of both his truck and trailer. Maybe it was because he’d wanted to stay in the barn. Or the relief in his eyes when he’d first seen the medicine. A relief quickly hidden behind a mask of pride.
Bam, bam, bam.
Maggie groaned again and crawled from her bed. She crossed to one of the windows facing the barn. It had to be Hank. No matter how many times she’d told him it was okay to start the workday a little later on Sundays, he was always up at dawn. Thanks to ranch hands disappearing and the list of chores growing daily, she was up with the sun most days, too. Hank had agreed to do something away from the house until everyone else was up and moving. But not this morning. No, it sounded as if he was right beneath her window.
White eyelet curtains ruffled in the cool morning breeze, obscuring her view. She pulled them to the side and squinted at the cloudless blue sky and the promise of another hot summer day. She scanned the swimming hole in the backyard and the empty foreman’s cabin until her eyes came to rest on the tall figure wielding a hammer at the main corral.
That wasn’t Hank.
There was no way anyone could confuse her ranch hand, a shorter, solid, fatherly type, with the man outside her window. A lean, muscular body poured into a black T-shirt and matching jeans, stood tall in the morning light. His long hair was tied at the base of his neck under a black Stetson.
“Landon Cartwright,” Maggie whispered against the windowpane.
He dug into a pocket before dropping to a crouch. Her next breath came out in a low hum as the denim covering his backside pulled taut. His shirt did the same over muscular arms and shoulders as he lifted a wooden slat. He braced it with his knee, and then—bam, bam, bam—three blows of the hammer sank three nails to secure the board in place.
Okay, that was impressive.
He rose and circled the corral, stopping to test each section, making quick work of an important job she hadn’t had time to tackle in the last month.
Thanks to the work she’d done with a horse for Destiny’s mayor and the fact that his wife was a cousin of Tucker Hargrove, she’d won first crack at taming a horse purchased by the A-list movie star for his talented but spoiled daughter. Black Jack, a wild mustang who fit his name perfectly, was due to arrive the day after next.
Landon stopped and turned, his gaze narrowing on her window.
Maggie dropped the curtain and scooted to the side, bracing herself against the flowery wallpaper. Her heart raced.
“He’s a man doing ordinary chores,” she chided, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. “Get over it.”
She wished it were that easy. His dark eyes and calloused yet gentle touch had haunted her deep into the night. Willie was right. She’d brought home another stray. Without a second thought to the pile of bills on her desk, she’d handed over medicine she should’ve kept for her own horses.
But she couldn’t stop herself.
The palomino was a beauty, with its golden coat, dark eyes, and white mane and tail. Its owner was a cowboy who’d stepped in when most would’ve minded their own business, and got the crap kicked out of him for his troubles.
A cowboy who was now finishing one of the many chores at her ranch.
A cowboy who’d kissed her, but likely wouldn’t even remember.
It was for the best.
With all last night’s excitement, she hadn’t given a second thought to what the loss of her ranch hands would mean until long after she’d crawled into bed. Once again, she toyed with the idea of talking to this stranger about the job. Lord knows she needed the help, but should she take the first cowboy that sashayed down the road?
The air remained silent. Maggie glanced past the edge of the curtain in time to see his knees hit the ground as he grabbed on to the side of the corral.
She raced from her bedroom, out the back door and across the cool, green grass and the dusty, dirt-packed drive. When she reached him, he was back on his feet, but bent at the waist.
“Are you all right?”
He took his time rising to his full height. One hand rubbed his stomach, pulling the fabric of his shirt tight across his chest. The other hung at his side, the hammer clenched in his fist. His dark eyes roamed over her, from her bed-head hair to her naked toes.
“Is that Clint Eastwood?”
Maggie followed his pointed gaze, and let loose a low groan, her face and neck growing hot. Her pajamas consisted of a tank top, emblazed with a head shot of the legendary actor, and matching loose cotton pants, covered with horseshoes and saddles, that hung low on her waist.
“They were a gift.” She fidgeted. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
He tugged his Stetson lower. “Tired. I was up most of the night with G.W.”
“How is he?”
“Fine.”
Maggie waited for him to go into detail, but the firm press of his lips told her he was finished.
“But you’re not.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Maggie returned his gaze. With his dark skin and hat pulled low, it was hard to see the varying shades of the shiner around his eye, but at least he was able to open it. Her toes curled into the dirt under his steady gaze.
“I’m fine, too,” he said at last.
“Better than fine the way you wielded that hammer.”
“I didn’t know I had an audience.”
A flush of heat stained Maggie’s cheeks. “Things are pretty quiet around here on Sunday mornings.”
“Well, after waking to find a shotgun in my face—”
“What?”
“I think I surprised one of your ranch hands.” He shoved a hand into the front pocket of his jeans. “I told him I had permission to camp in the barn. I guess he believed me because he let me help muck the stalls and feed the horses. He then saddled up and left.”
Maggie heaved a sigh. “Hank Jarvis. He’s my other hand. Did he say anything else?”
Landon cleared his throat. “He mumbled something about a soft-hearted do-gooder.”
“That would be me.” Maggie crossed her arms, conscious she wasn’t wearing a bra. “So, you want to explain why you’re fixing my corral?”
“I figured since I was awake I’d do something to thank you for the meds, putting me up last night…everything.”
“Last night was my way of thanking you for helping me with that pain-in-the-ass Greeley,” Maggie countered, “and getting beat up for your efforts.”
“I told you—”
“Yeah, you told me.” Maggie propped her hands on her hips. “Don’t let the fact I’m a natural blonde fool you. I’m not as dumb as I look. Not anymore, and—”
“Margaret Anne Stevens! What in the blazes are you doing out here half-naked? And talking with a stranger, no less!”
Maggie jumped and spun around. Her grandmother, five feet of wiry enthusiasm and pure white curls, stood on the back porch. “Nana B., you scared me!” Then she sighed, and turned back to Landon. “My grandmother. You might as well come meet her before she goes for her shotgun, too.”
His mouth twitched at one corner.
Maggie started across the yard, a hot prickle dancing across her skin. As much as she wanted to blame it on the July sun, she wondered if it was Landon’s heated gaze on her back.
And her backside.
“I’m not half-naked and this isn’t a stranger…well, not really.” Maggie pushed her hair from her eyes as she reached the porch. Turning, she found he’d stayed at the foot of the stairs. “This is Landon and he—ah, he and his horse needed a place to crash last night. Landon Cartwright, my grandmother, Beatrice Travers.”
“Ma’am.” He hooked one finger on the brim of his Stetson and nodded.
“Call me Nana B., everyone does.” Her grandmother shot Maggie a quick look then continued. “So, you’re the noisemaker. You look right at home with a hammer. We’re lookin’—”
“Nana B.!” Horror filled Maggie at her grandmother’s words. “Mr. Cartwright isn’t looking for work.”
“I’m passing through, ma’am.”
Nana B.’s back stiffened, then a bright smile danced over her aged features. “Not without washing up and some breakfast.” She headed back inside. “I’ll get started on the food, you two get wet.”
Get wet.
The two little words sent Maggie’s heart racing again. Last night’s fantasy of a midnight skinny-dip, present company included, flashed inside her head. Mortified, she bit her bottom lip, glancing toward Landon. “Ah, there’s a half bath inside if you want it.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. Something hot and powerful flashed in his dark eyes. Her nipples tightened against the soft cotton of her tank top. His eyes flickered to her breasts for a moment before looking away.
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he focused on the horizon. “I should be heading out.”
A voice deep inside, frantic and desperate, cried out for him to stay.
Good Lord, where’d that come from?
“N-not without breakfast. My grandmother would skin me alive if I let you leave before tasting her blue-ribbon muffins.” She backed up until her butt hit the door. She pulled it open and stepped inside. “Besides, your horse is going to need—”
“I know what G.W. needs.”
The screen door banged closed between them at his abrupt words. Maggie didn’t know him from a hole in the wall. Her gut told her he was a good man, but hell, she’d been wrong before. Her body’s reaction was a poor barometer. She had her family and ranch to protect. Besides, it was clear he wanted to leave.
“Fine…do what you want.”
She forced herself not to look back as she made a beeline for the bathroom. The phone on the hall table rang. She grabbed the extension before it stopped. “Crescent Moon.”
“Mama?”
Joy flooded Maggie at the sound of her daughter’s voice. “Hey, sweetie.”
“Are you okay? Did I wake you?”
“I’m fine, honey, and no, you didn’t wake me.” A tall, sexy-as-sin cowboy who’s no doubt packing his truck as we speak, did. “Why are you calling so early?”
A long pause filled the air. “I wanted to check on things.”
Oh, Anna. Maggie leaned again the wall and pressed a hand to her forehead. Eight years old is too young to be such a worrier. “Everything is fine here.”
“No accidents while we were at the carnival?”
“You know Hank stayed at the ranch while we were in town.” Maggie straightened and forced a smile into her words. “Did you and Julie have a good time last night?”
She listened to her daughter’s excited chatter for a few more minutes before ending the call. After lingering under the spray of the shower, she grabbed her robe and headed to her bedroom. Once inside, she paused at the door. Despite the nearness of her room to the kitchen, she didn’t hear a word of conversation.
Not her grandmother’s lilting pitch, which still carried a hint of her Irish heritage, or Willie’s gravel-filled murmur that reminded her of aged leather. And certainly not the low, smoky tone of her rescuer-cowboy.
Girl, you’ve got more important things to worry about than a cowboy and his lame horse. She closed the door and moved to her dresser. Like the financial standing of your ranch.
Financial leaning was a better way to put it.
After pulling on her boots, she used the hair dryer to blast her shoulder-length hair then pulled it into a ponytail as columns of figures from her so-called budget flashed through her mind. An upcoming vet payment to the Watson Clinic loomed, and her credit line at the feed store was near its limit. Not to mention the final balloon payment on the loan she’d had to get to buy her ex out of the Crescent Moon.
Balloon payment! What a stupid term for a financial dealing. Made it sound like something connected with a birthday party instead of a way for her to lose everything.
Lose everything? Over my dead body.
Maggie marched into the kitchen, drawn by the aroma of her grandmother’s cooking. Weaving her leather belt through the loops on her jeans, she walked right into a heated wall of muscles.

Chapter Four
“Watch out!” Landon cried out. “Hot coffee!”
“Oh!” Maggie grabbed on to the front of his shirt.
With one arm clamped around her waist, he swung her in a neat circle. He held a mug away from them, managing not to spill a drop. “You’re in a bit of a hurry, aren’t you?”
She looked up. Despite the height difference—he easily carried six or more inches on her—she noticed how perfectly they fit together. Without his hat and his dark hair pulled back from his face, the sharp angles of his nose and cheekbones were more prominent.
Maggie’s stomach zoomed for another roller-coaster ride. She forced herself to look away, her eyes centering on his chest. Her blood ran cold.
She pushed, and he released her. “Where did you get that shirt?”
“I gave it to him.” Nana B. set two plates of food on the table. “No sense waiting on Willie. The old coot probably can’t pull himself away from the mirror. You two eat.”
Landon grabbed an empty chair, but remained standing. Maggie stared at him until she realized he was waiting on her. She fumbled with her belt, getting it tight against her stomach, before she pulled out her chair and sat.
He followed. “It was either this shirt or nothing. All of my stuff is wet.”
“What?”
“I started his laundry.” Nana B. placed another plate of food on the table as Willie entered the kitchen. “It’s about time, Handsome.”
Maggie’s eyes shifted from Willie’s cheeks, marked by embarrassment, to her grandmother. “You did what?”
Landon put his napkin on his lap. “After washing up I walked out of the bathroom and found your grandmother waiting with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and this shirt in the other.”
“One whiff of the duffel bag he’d brought in told me he needed his skivvies cleaned, and cleaned good,” Nana B. said. “So, I dumped it all in the washer. Then I demanded his T-shirt, too.”
“I’ve been on the road the last week and haven’t—she said I wasn’t going to eat until I changed.” Landon offered a careless shrug. “After catching the scent of eggs and bacon, I did what I was told.”
“Which is usually best when dealing with my grandmother,” Maggie said, staring at the older woman.
“Makes sense to help him out.” Nana B. offered an arched brow in response as she joined them. “If he’s gonna work here.”
“I told you he’s not—”
“I told you I’m not—”
Landon’s words collided with Maggie’s, and they both stopped short.
“Mr. Cartwright fixed the corral in less than an hour,” Nana B. said while buttering her toast. “Isn’t that amazing? Maggie’s been after Spence to get it done for a week now. Speaking of that youngster, think we might see him and his sidekick crawl outta the bunkhouse anytime soon?”
Maggie set her coffee mug on the table. “Ah, Nana, I should’ve told you before you started cooking. Spence and Charlie quit last night. They’re working for Greeley now.”
“They’re what?” Nana B. cried out, her knife clanging against her plate. “Those no-good, snot-nose saplings! What are we going to—”
Maggie cut her off. “Let’s talk about it after breakfast, okay?”
Silence filled the sunny country kitchen. The only sound came from Willie, who seemed determined to finish his breakfast in record time.
Nana B. frowned, then replaced it with another bright smile. “Whatever you say, dearie. Mr. Cartwright can be on his way as soon as I’m done fluffin’ and foldin’.”
“Ah, ma’am, I can handle my own laundry—”
“Don’t you never mind.” Nana B. cut Landon’s protest off with a wink. “Considering the quick work you did this morning, we owe you a debt of thanks. Now eat before it gets cold.”
Landon glanced between Maggie and her grandmother before he turned to his food and dug in.
Maggie did the same, not completely trusting her grandmother’s scheming mind. Not that she could do anything about it now. If the woman thought corralling Landon was a way to help, she’d try to do it.
Not that Maggie wasn’t trying to hire more cowboys, but after finding Kyle sweet-talking Spence and Charlie, she’d bet his long reach extended to the whole county, keeping anyone from answering her ads.
Except for his former employee who sat at her kitchen table.
“So, cowboy, where you from?”
Willie’s question broke the silence. Maggie gave Landon an expectant look.
“No place special,” he said. “I finished a drive for the Red River Ranch in Blakeslee, Colorado. I’ve never been to this part of the country before, so I decided to head this way.”
“How long were you at Red River?” Nana B. asked.
Landon paused for a long moment. Maggie got the feeling if it was anyone else asking, he’d tell ’em to mind their own business. “About a month. Before that the Double Deuce outside of Las Vegas, and the Circle S near Tucson.”
“You move around a lot.” The words were out of Maggie’s mouth before she could pull them back.
His lips pressed into a hard line before he spoke. “There’s a lot of country to see.”
He’s a drifter. Maggie put the thought firmly at the front of her brain as she resumed eating.

Landon forced his attention away from Maggie’s mesmerizing green eyes and back to his plate. Her folded ad burned in the back pocket of his jeans.
Should he stay or should he go?
The question swirled inside his head, much as it’d done all night. After getting a good look at the Crescent Moon in the daylight, he understood why Maggie and her grandmother were upset about losing two more cowboys. They needed help. A lot of help.
Most of the buildings could do with repairs and fresh paint. He’d found the tools to fix the corral in a shed that looked ready to topple at a strong wind. Here in the kitchen the linoleum flooring curled in places and the appliances were a shade of avocado green that dated them back three decades. He didn’t know how many head of cattle or acres of land she had, but he’d tended to almost a dozen horses in the barn this morning.
How was she going to handle it all with her grandmother and two geriatric cowboys?
Two ladies and two old geezers. Too much like family for him. At one time, family had been a big part of his life. The biggest. Not anymore. And he had no one to blame but himself.
“You got another job lined up?”
Another nosy question from Willie broke into his thoughts.
Landon looked up and found all three watching him. He took a sip of strong, black coffee. “On the other side of the Black Hills.”
That was a lie. When he’d been forced from his last job, a fellow cowboy had told him about a place, saying they were always looking for help. What he didn’t have was enough money to get from Wyoming to South Dakota.
“I guess you’ll want to head out soon, seeing as it’s a couple days’ drive,” Maggie said.
His gaze held hers. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
She pursed her lips then returned to eating. This time he couldn’t look away from the fork sliding between her lips. The memory of his mouth on hers flashed through his mind.
Had they or hadn’t they?
He still wasn’t sure if the kiss in his truck was real or a fantasy. He raised his gaze, surprised at the quick flash of heat in her eyes. Was she thinking the same thing?
Probably not, he decided when her eyes flickered away and centered on his chest, her lips flattening into a hard line. She’d frowned like that earlier when she’d pushed him away. Good thing, too, or else she would’ve realized the effect her body had on his.
Another reason to get the hell out of here.
What exactly occurred between the two of them last night was a bit fuzzy, but having her in his arms again this morning made one thing clear. He’d put his hands on her. And not to steady her or keep her from falling. No, he’d held her close, pulled her up hard against him in order to feel the intimate details of her soft curves.
“Bats wingin’ around the belfry?”
Landon looked at Willie. “Excuse me?”
“The way you’re shaking your head makes me wonder if we should be hearin’ a rattling noise or the thrapping of wings.”
“Thrapping?”
“Yeah, you know.” Willie dropped his fork and knife, tucked his fingers under his armpits, and waved his bent arms. “Thrap, thrap, thrap.”
Nana B. frowned at Willie. “Old man, you’ve taken one too many horseshoes to the head.” Then she smiled at Landon. “More food, Mr. Cartwright?”
“No, thank you, ma’am.” Her generous helpings had filled his empty stomach. He ignored Willie’s question and rose, putting his plate and utensils in the sink. “I wouldn’t mind another cup of coffee, though.”
“Help yourself.” Nana B. pointed to the counter. “The coffee maker runs twenty-four hours a day around here.”
He filled his mug with the steaming liquid. He could feel Maggie’s gaze on him.
“You need more food, honey?”
Landon turned to lean against the counter just as Maggie’s grandmother asked her the question. She snapped her attention back to her plate, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Are you kidding?” she said, jabbing at the remains of her eggs. “There’s too much here already.”
“Hogwash! You’re too skinny, like those girls on that castaway show. Now, finish up.”
Willie guffawed behind his coffee mug. Landon did the same, though more quietly. Too skinny? No way.
He’d been right last night about her dress hiding her curves. They were in plain sight today, thanks to a soft, gray T-shirt and faded jeans hugging her in all the right places. A ponytail made her look about eighteen, probably ten years younger than her true age.
“Well, the day’s a-wasting.” Willie rose, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He placed his dishes in the sink before grabbing a ragged, straw Stetson from a hook near the door. “I’m gonna meet up with Hank and check the herd. Unless you need me here?”
Willie eyed Landon and Maggie followed his gaze.
“No, we’ll be fine,” she said. “Oh, my truck. I’ve got to get into town—”
“I’ll take you,” he interrupted.
Her green eyes returned to his, and he found himself wishing for his hat.
“I thought you were leaving?” she asked.
He was. So why weren’t his feet moving?
Placing his mug on the counter, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I’ll drop you off on my way out.”
She didn’t reply.
“Margaret Anne, where are your manners?” Nana B. chided. “Say thank you.”
“Thank you,” she dutifully repeated, looking away as she rose.
Landon nodded, not believing she meant it and wondering why he cared. “I’ll finish up my laundry so we can head out.”
“I told you not to worry about that.” Nana B. dried her hands with a dishrag. “It’s gonna be a couple of hours before you can leave anyway.”
“A couple hours?”
Maggie walked to the sink and dumped her dishes into the soapy water. “The machine’s old. It takes a few cycles to get everything dry.”
“Dryer-schmryer. I’ll put this beautiful day to good use and hang most of it outside. Nothing like the smell of clean clothes fresh from flapping in the sunshine.” Nana B. draped the dish towel over Maggie’s shoulder and winked before walking into the mudroom.
Fresh linen.
The memory of that scent invading his dreams caused Landon to draw in a deep breath. There it was again, mixed among the lingering smells of frying bacon and lemon dish soap. Since he’d held Maggie in his arms, her fresh, unsullied fragrance clung to his clothes, and his fingers itched at the awakened memory of soft skin.
Willie cleared his throat. “I’ll be heading out, then.”
Maggie nodded. “See you at dinner.”
Willie nodded and moved to Landon. “I guess I’ll say my goodbyes.”
Landon took his outstretched hand. “Much obliged for—well, for last night.”
“No need. You helped Miss Maggie with that jackass Gree—” Willie’s eyes darted to Maggie’s grandmother busy at the washing machine. His voice dropped to a mumble. “—and we helped you.”
“Is he as much of a weasel as he pretends to be?” Landon asked, ending the handshake.
“Yes siree.”
“No.”
Maggie’s disagreement had Landon locking gazes with her across the kitchen. Her eyes held for a moment then broke free, and she busied herself clearing the table. He looked back at the elderly cowboy.
“You didn’t take a beatin’ for no reason,” Willie muttered before heading out. The sound of the back door closing echoed through the kitchen.
Landon moved toward the table, keeping his voice soft. “You told Willie about your run-in with Greeley. But not your grandmother?”
Maggie ignored him as she put things away in the refrigerator.
He leaned closer and asked, “She accepts a stranger who spent the night in your barn and ends up at her table the next morning?”
“Not much surprises my grandmother anymore.” Maggie closed the fridge door, pausing to push hard against the handle until it clicked shut.
“Why didn’t you tell her?”
She spun around, her honey-colored hair whipping over her shoulder. “What happened last night was no big deal.”
Landon crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the need to brush away the few strands caught at the edge of her mouth. “You get manhandled, break up fights and bring home strangers often?”
First surprise, then anger crossed Maggie’s features. She advanced on him until they stood toe to toe. “You don’t know me. You don’t know this ranch. And you sure as hell made it clear you don’t want to work here. So why don’t you mind your own business?”
She pushed past him and stomped across the kitchen.
He watched her go, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. Maggie Stevens had a temper, and she was sexy as hell when riled.
No, don’t go there. You’re halfway out the door.
Still, his gut told him something wasn’t right. He didn’t know if it was Maggie’s refusal to tell her grandmother about last night or the fact she’d brought home a total stranger and treated him like family.
Forget it. You don’t know these people from a hole in the wall, and you’ve got your own problems to deal with like an empty wallet and a lame horse.
Ah, hell.
He started for the back door, grabbing his hat on the way out. Maggie headed across the yard. He followed her into the cool interior of the barn. “Hold on a minute—”
“I don’t have time to hold on.” Maggie moved from one empty stall to the next, pausing to open each door and push it flat against the wall. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve a lot of work to do.”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Where do I start?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/christyne-butler/the-cowboy-s-second-chance/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.