A Bride for a Blue-Ribbon Cowboy

“Last winter, when Robby Bradshaw was home for Christmas break, I ran into him at Twin Oaks Lake, where he was fishing. And he…uh…” Ah, shoot. Robby hadn’t exactly spit out the words, yet somehow, she’d figured out what was on his mind. And his obvious interest in her had set off a flurry of excitement.

Blake’s movements stilled. He tensed and his brow furrowed. His eyes hardened. “What the hell did that guy do to you?”

“Oh, no,” she said, realizing he might feel the need to defend her honor or something, although it was kind of nice to think that he might, if she needed him to. “It’s just that he sort of…well, he’s in Colorado and will be graduating from CSU soon, and we’re probably going to go out on a date. And stuff.”

“A date and stuff?” Blake arched a brow in a big-brotherly way.

She kicked at the ground with the scuffed toe of her boot. “Well, it’s not like I have a ton of experience with men or with romance. You ought to know that. So I could use a little coaching on how to act around him. And since you’re such an expert on…well, that sort of thing, I figured you’d make a perfect tutor.”

Blake couldn’t help the grin that stole across his face. Little Cindy Lou, with her red hair wrapped into a knot on her head, her flannel shirt rolled to her forearms and a black smudge across her freckled nose, was growing up. And she wanted him to give her some pointers about men.

She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing. I’m just glad to see that you’re finally interested in the opposite sex. That’s all.”

“You, of all people, ought to know how tough it is for me. I can hardly remember my mother, let alone my grandmother.”

“I know that, honey.”

She’d never had too many girlfriends, either.

Blake had never been sure if that was because she was stubborn and difficult to get along with, or if she felt some damn obligation to stick close to her grandpa and the ranch. Before Blake had come to live with them, the old rodeo cowboy and his granddaughter had been close. And more than once, Blake had suspected that Cindy had wanted to be the son Tuck had lost when her daddy died.

It hadn’t taken Blake five minutes on the Tumbling T to realize the red-haired girl was a dedicated tomboy. But then again, maybe that was because she didn’t stand a chance of developing into a lady and knew it.

Benjamin “Tuck” Tucker was a darn good cowboy. And he’d done a fine job straightening out Blake, a troubled teenage boy who’d been shipped off by his own grandfather to live on the Tumbling T. But Tuck didn’t know squat about raising little girls. So it wasn’t any wonder Cindy was a bit backward when it came to womanly things, like cooking and sewing, primping and flirting.

“So what do you say?” she asked.

He countered with a question of his own. “What would you have done if I hadn’t come back home?”

She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one booted foot. “I’d have fumbled and stumbled my way through it, one way or another.”

He didn’t doubt it. Cindy had a lot of gumption.

But Blake wasn’t sure what he could do to help, other than encourage her to buy some dresses. Maybe fix her hair differently. That would be a good start.

Cindy had never been what you’d call pretty. But that was because she didn’t do anything to help her looks. She didn’t use makeup, perfume or body lotions. And as far as he knew, she’d never worn anything other than denim and flannel.

The small-town tomboy was definitely going to have to change her style.

Of course, it wasn’t as though Blake knew how to coach a woman through that sort of thing. But Cindy was a special friend who was like a kid sister to him. And catching Robby’s eye obviously meant a lot to her.

He tossed her a sympathetic grin. “You’re going to need a makeover, Sprout.”

She brightened. “So, you’ll help me?”

“Sure.” He’d give it a try—if he could. And if she’d let him have a free hand.

She smiled at him, with glistening eyes that were the color of new-mowed hay. He hadn’t noticed before, but they were actually pretty. And far more expressive than he’d remembered.

When she blinked, he realized her long, spiky black lashes curled naturally. Hey, that was a plus. She wouldn’t need to use any of that black goop women brushed on them.

He looked at her hair. She always plaited her long curly red mop in a single braid that hung down her back or in that slick granny-type topknot she was wearing now. On some women, the style looked sexy when they let wispy strands hang free and loose.

He began to pull out the pins that held her hair in place. If she was going to wear it up, she needed to fix it differently.

Her eyes widened and her lips parted. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing what this looks like down.”

She touched the side of her hair with a dirty hand. “Now it’s a mess.”

He had to agree, as he used his fingers to comb out the clumps of curls. But as the sun lit upon golden highlights, his hand slowed.

Wow. He hadn’t realized how thick, how rich…how shiny her hair was.

He dropped his hands to his sides. God knows he couldn’t coach her on how to style a new hairdo. “Our first stop will be at the Cut N Curl.”

“Oh, no,” she said, taking a step back. “Not there. Grandpa took me once or twice when I was a kid, and they tugged and pulled on my hair something awful. After that, I refused to go and have been trimming it myself for years.”

No one needed to tell Blake how stubborn Cindy could be when she set her mind to something or dug in her heels.

So he played her game. “If you’re all fired up for a makeover, you’re going to have to do something different with it. And God knows I can’t coach you on how to come up with a new hairstyle.”

She tugged at one of the wavy strands, pulling it taut. “You think someone there can actually get this bush to obey a comb and brush?”

“Sure.” He offered her a smile. “We can talk about it more in the house. Just let me put Cutter into the corral so he can stretch out his legs.”

“Mind if I help?” she asked.

“Not at all. It’ll be nice to have your company. I’ve missed you, Sprout.”

And he had.

She’d been a pest when he’d first come to live here. But a sweet pest who’d actually grown on him. And now, eight years after he’d moved away from the ranch, it was his job to help her attract the attention of Robby Bradshaw, a guy who’d better treat her right, or he’d have a fight on his hands.

Blake wouldn’t stand by and let anyone hurt the young woman he cared about.

As he led Cutter to the corral, he watched as Cindy strode ahead to unlatch the gate. He couldn’t help noticing the natural sway to her gait, the nice curve of her hips.

Years ago, she’d been all knees and elbows.

But she’d sure grown into those jeans.

Dinner at the Tumbling T Ranch was the usual, no-fuss, no-muss fare. Ever since the old cowboy’s wife had passed on and kitchen duty had fallen on Tuck, he fixed easy meals that required very little time at the stove.

Tuck couldn’t cook a lick, but he was a whiz with a can opener, lunch meat and two slabs of bread.