Just What The Cowboy Needed. Teresa Southwick
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gives shots.” Cassie wrinkled her freckled nose.
“I’ve never given one to you,” her aunt said. “And if I did, it would be because an injection was medically necessary.”
“Does that mean only if I really and truly needed it?”
“Yes.” Jamie hugged her tight. “You’re so smart, my pretty little peanut.”
“Breaking news. The parade is starting.” Because he was the tallest, Max could see over the heads of all the people in front of them.
“I can’t see anything,” Cassie complained.
“That can be fixed.” Her very big uncle scooped her up and settled her on his wide shoulders. “How’s that?”
“I can see better than anyone!” The little girl squealed with delight.
Grace was shifting to get a better view of the street, and her arm brushed Logan’s. The tingles commenced as if the starting buzzer had just sounded at a track meet. Just when she managed to get a handle on the feeling, he put his hands on her arms and urged her to stand in front of him.
“You can see better here,” he said.
His touch was gentle, but his fingers on her bare skin felt hot enough to leave a mark. It was only the space of a heartbeat before he dropped his hands, but she missed the contact. That was weird, along with the fact that his brothers were extraordinarily good-looking men, but neither of them made her toes curl like Logan did.
Then the Blackwater Lake High School band marched by playing “America the Beautiful,” distracting her from the unsettling reaction. For about fifteen minutes she watched horses, antique cars and even a covered wagon go by. At the end of the line was the town fire department’s big red hook and ladder. A very handsome, dark-haired firefighter stood on the running board, waving an American flag.
“He’s cute,” Grace commented.
“Never judge a book by its cover,” Jamie muttered.
The tone and words convinced Grace that Logan’s sister had a Lance the Loser story, too.
“You should give him a break, Jamie. Des Parker isn’t a bad guy.” Tucker gently nudged his sister’s shoulder.
She gave him a look that would melt steel. “Do you really want to give me advice on the opposite sex, Tucker? You spent years living with a woman and couldn’t cross the finish line.” Jamie leaned toward Grace and whispered loud enough to be heard in the next county, “No one knows why that long-term relationship ended, but it makes his qualifications for offering romantic advice questionable.”
Logan gave his brother a sympathetic look. “I hate to say it, Tuck, but she’s got a point.”
“Really?” The brother in question shook his head. “You’re taking her side?”
“Look at it this way,” the cowboy said. “I will never need a houseboat, what with living on the ranch and all. But at some point, medical care is a real possibility. This is a strategic decision about which one of you I can least afford to tick off.”
Grace cracked up. “You guys are too funny.”
“Logan,” his sister told him, “I always knew you were wise beyond your years, and you get points for that. But the truth is that men are pigs. Am I right, Grace?”
Now she was on the spot. It was three against three if you counted Cassie, but she was too young to know anything about being hurt by a man. “I’m not comfortable labeling all of them that way. Especially when three of them are standing right here and one is my boss. But—” she glanced at Logan, remembering how he felt about that particular word “—I’m pretty sure a majority of women have a pig in their past.”
Jamie nodded knowingly. “You and I need to talk sometime.”
“About what?” Cassie demanded.
“Grown-up stuff.” Grace felt guilty that her comment had slipped out and wished she could rewind and delete. She glanced at Logan, his brown Stetson shading his eyes, and caught something dark and intense in his expression. At least she thought so. It disappeared as soon as their gazes touched.
“Not to change this fascinating subject,” Max interjected, “but Bar None has a beer booth set up across the street. I think we should go get one.”
“I don’t like beer,” Cassie said.
“Do I want to know how and why you know that?” Tucker asked his niece.
“I just know,” his niece declared. “Because I want to go and play the beanbag game.”
Grace could tell Logan was conflicted about what to do and figured she could help him out. “You go with your family. I’ll take Cassie to see the games.”
“You’re not on duty. It’s a holiday,” he protested.
“I like hanging out with her. It’s not work.” She saw his hesitation and said, “Look, we can debate the issue and waste time until everyone is bored to tears—”
“I’m already bored,” Cassie chimed in. She pointed at someone nearby. “There’s my friend Lindsay. I wanna go play.”
“I rest my case. So you can give in—dare I say it—gracefully and everyone gets what they want,” she said.
“Not only is Grace pretty,” Max said, “she’s right. It would be best to go with her on this, big brother.”
Logan glared at everyone in general, but before he could respond, Cassie piped up.
“Daddy, please can I go with Grace?”
He thought for a moment, then finally nodded. “Okay, kiddo. But you stay with her.”
As if the little girl weighed nothing, Max lifted her from his shoulders and set her on her feet. “There you go, munchkin.”
“Thanks, Uncle Max. I’m goin’ over there to see my friend Lindsay.” She ran over and the two girls hugged.
“I guess that’s settled.” Logan slid his fingers into his jeans pockets.
“It was nice to meet you all,” Grace said.
“Likewise.” Max gave her a charming grin. “My brother doesn’t deserve you. But it’s good to know my niece is in expert hands.”
“One beer,” Logan told her. “I’ll call your cell to see where the two of you are when I’m finished.”
“Okay.”
She watched the four of them start across the street, then turned away when there was a tug on her hand. “What is it?”
“Grace, can I go on the roller coaster with Lindsay? Her mom and dad are comin’ with us. Please?”
“Okay, I’ll just tag along—”
“Hold on.” Logan came up behind her. “I thought you were taking her to play the games.”
Grace’s eyes were on Cassie, who drifted back to her friend’s family, out of hearing distance. Then she glanced up at her tense and decidedly displeased employer. “She changed her mind. It happens when you’re a five-year-old girl. She wants to go on a ride with her friend and parents.”
“We didn’t talk about this,” he said.
“You hired me to use my own judgment,” she reminded him. “But if you don’t trust me—”
“It’s not that.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I just feel as if I should be there.”
Be there? Really? She’d vowed not to offer advice, but technically she wasn’t. “If being there is so important, why didn’t you take ten minutes to sit and have a pretend tea party with her?”
“I’m