The Cowboy's Second Chance

“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.”