The Bull Rider Meets His Match

Indeed, there were signs of cake making in the form of chocolate batter pretty much everywhere, including the front of the fridge, the cabinets and the floor. No fewer than five bowls were stacked in the sink, along with a gooey eggbeater lying on the counter. Grady picked it up gingerly and set it in the bowls.

“We aren’t allowed to use the mixer,” Katie explained, casually wiping her gooey hands down the sides of her pink jeans.

Grady could only imagine the havoc they could have created with an electric mixer tossing batter around the room. “I see.” He rubbed his jaw as he took in the carnage. If he was quick, there was an off chance they could get the mess cleaned up before Annie got home.

“Here’s the deal, guys. I want you to stay out of here until I get the floor cleaned up, then—”

The sound of a car interrupted his words.

“Mom,” the girls said simultaneously in a hushed tone.

“Sounds like it,” he agreed, heading for the door and shooting a look out the window. It was indeed Annie who’d pulled into the drive. He turned back to the two wide-eyed girls. “Why don’t you two wait in the living room?”

They turned without argument and walked side by side down the hall. Katie had a perfect chocolate handprint on her backside. They’d just disappeared into the living room when he heard Kristen say in a low voice, “She’s going to be mad.”

No doubt.

Grady pulled open the door to take the heat.

Annie practically danced up the sidewalk. “I got the job!”

“Congratulations,” Grady said, forcing a quick smile. He glanced over his shoulder at the house.

“What happened?” Annie’s voice instantly went flat. The Mom Voice.

“Well...” Grady shrugged. “Slight mishap. The ice tea jug got knocked out of the fridge and broke.”

Annie paled. “No one got hurt?”

“No.” That was the good news. “But the mess is still there.”

“It happens,” Annie said as she headed past him to the door.

“And the girls made a cake.”

She stopped dead and turned back to him. “With supervision...right?”

He gave a small cough. “It was kind of an independent project.”

A curse slipped out of Annie’s lips followed by an even more colorful curse when she opened the door. For a moment she simply stood cataloging the damage to her kitchen. “Did they ask?”

“Uh...”

“Answer enough. Where are they?”

“Living room.”

She carefully skirted the broken glass in her heels before marching toward the living room. Grady thought about intervening, since he had vague memories of him and Annie doing the exact same thing, minus the broken tea jug, but decided not to risk the wrath of his sister.

Half an hour later the kitchen was cleaned, the girls fed and playing on their swing set and Grady was waiting to hear that he was an irresponsible uncle. Instead Annie opened the fridge and looked inside. “Good. Beer. Do you want one?”

Annie didn’t normally partake at home, and Grady hated the thought that he’d driven her to drink. “Sure.”

She pulled out two bottles and set them on the counter. He automatically stepped over to open them and then handed one to Annie before touching the top of his bottle to hers. “Congratulations, sis. I wish your homecoming had been better.”

“Yes. That’s what I want to talk to you about.” She held the bottle in front of her but had yet to take a sip. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Yeah?” he asked cautiously.

“I know you plan to practice at Hennessey’s while you’re here, and you’re going to be busy with the garage and barn and I know today was a bit of a disaster, but—” she pressed her lips together “—could you also watch the girls in the mornings? They have their regular sitter for the afternoons, but she can’t do mornings.”

Grady shrugged as if watching the twins were the easiest thing in the world. “Sure. Not a problem.”

Annie’s face broke into a wide smile. “I don’t know about that, but it would really help me out.”

“Like I said, not a problem. I came home to help.”

“You came home to rebuild the garage and barn, since I underinsured the outbuildings.”

“We underinsured the outbuildings.” Grady went to sit at the kitchen table, but Annie stayed where she was, leaning against the newly cleaned counter. “I don’t mind watching the girls. I learned a lot today, and I can’t see this—” he gestured at the kitchen “—happening again.”

“They’ll think of something else,” Annie said matter-of-factly. “It’s not an easy job keeping them out of trouble.”

“I can handle it.” He hoped. “I’d even keep them in the afternoons if you want.”

“I need to keep my sitter booked or I’ll lose her during the school year.” And she couldn’t count on him then, because he was leaving for a few months at the end of the summer to take part in the traveling Bull Extravaganza Buck-Off.

“Yeah. That makes sense.” He grinned at her. It’d been a while since he saw Annie so happy. “I’m glad that you got the job.”

“I think I’m going to like it. A lot.” She shot him a sideways look after taking a sip of her beer. “Does it bother you that Danielle’s getting married?”

“I thought it might, but it doesn’t.”

She regarded him for a moment, using her truth-detector look. The same look she’d used whenever he said things like, Honest, I haven’t said a word to Joey Barton about you having a crush on him.

“You sound pretty sure about that,” Annie said. “What changed ‘it might’ to ‘it doesn’t’?”

“She stopped by and we talked. It’s pretty clear to me now that when I left two years ago, I accidentally did the best thing for both of us.”

“So you have no issue with me working for her?”

“Of course not.” Actually, he had more of an issue with her working for Lex, but she was a silent partner, as he understood it, so really he had no issue at all. All he wanted was for his sister to be employed and secure.

* * *

ANNIE OWEN’S FIRST day of work was a typical summer Monday at the store. Crotchety Mrs. Lacombe stopped by before lunch to admire the quilts and complain bitterly about the prices, even though she was perhaps the wealthiest person in town. Annie did her best to assist the woman, but nothing she did was right. Lex wanted to rescue her, but when you worked in retail, you had to learn to deal with the Mrs. Lacombes of the world. Annie looked as if her smile were literally frozen in place by the time the woman left—empty-handed as usual, a broken salesperson in her wake.

She was barely out the door when four ladies in their midfifties, wearing Yellowstone National Park T-shirts, came in and started oohing and aahing over the Western-themed memorabilia. And, thankfully, they were buyers, so Annie came away from her second retail encounter feeling a lot better about her sales abilities.