Texas Trouble

Texas Trouble
Kathleen O'Brien

It all starts with the kid…Life was better for Logan Cathcart before he crossed paths with nine-year-old Sean Archer. Because now he has to face the kid's mom, Nora. It's not that Logan doesn't like Nora. He does–a lot. Perhaps too much. Even though she's captivated him from the moment they met, socially he and the wealthy widow next door are leagues apart.Still, keeping his distance is next to impossible with Nora constantly on his ranch, determined to clean up the mess Sean made. With the kind of sparks that erupt whenever she and Logan are within touching distance of each other, there's a whole lot of trouble in Logan's future…the adult, let's-get-serious kind of trouble.

He watched her approach

Nora was too far away for Logan to see details, but his mind could conjure every inch. The silly auburn curls that frothed around her shoulders. The round eyes, too big for her face, forest-colored, mostly brown with shards of green and bronze. Little-girl pink cheeks, freckles and an upturned, cheerleader’s nose.

But a dangerous woman’s mouth, wide and soft and tempting.

Today, her head was bowed as she moved toward them, her pale face somber. She might have the coloring of a roseate spoonbill, but she had the soft melancholy of the mourning dove. The widow Archer. He squeezed the handle of the hammer he was holding. She was as beautiful—and as off-limits—as ever.

Dear Reader,

Many years ago, on a wintery Florida afternoon, my mother, my little girl and I spent a couple of hours at the nearby Audubon Center for Birds of Prey. It was an idle choice, mostly an excuse to get outdoors.

But as we walked under the spreading oaks, we were caught by the magic of the place. The long-taloned, steady-eyed raptors. The impossibly tiny owls, who peeked out of their houses, mere cottonballs with button eyes. The dignified barn owl turning his head solemnly from side to side while we watched. We laughed at his hauteur, but we were secretly honored that he had deigned to notice us.

My mother has been gone a long time now, and my “little girl” is a beautiful, independent woman. But that day lives on. That afternoon when we shared a mystical bond with nature, feeling completely at peace, one with the birds…and each other.

When I came to write Nora Archer’s story, I knew she needed a special kind of healing. Nora and her fatherless sons have been through so much. She needed a man, and a place, that could bring her that kind of peace. And so…I remembered the birds.

I hope you enjoy Nora and Logan’s story. If you have a wildlife sanctuary near you, please visit and support them. Then drop by www.KOBrienOnline.com and tell me all about it!

Warmly,

Kathleen O’Brien

Texas Trouble

Kathleen O’Brien

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

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kathleen O’Brien was a feature writer and TV critic before marrying a fellow journalist. Motherhood, which followed soon after, was so marvelous she turned to writing novels, which could be done at home. She works hard to pack her backyard with birds, butterflies and squirrels. Indoors, her two cockatiels, Honey and Lizzie, announce repeatedly, if not humbly, that they are “pretty birds.” Her colorful Gouldian finch, who lives in her office, fills every day with music.

To my much-loved mother and daughter, who shared that extraordinary day with me.

I wish we could do it again.

And to the Audubon Center for Birds of Prey, for working magic year after year.

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 EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

A DRAGONFLY HOVERED INCHES from Nora Archer’s shoulder, its wings hypnotically beating the warm air of the hacienda courtyard. She ought to get up, get going, get Sean ready for Little League, but peaceful moments were too rare these days. She used to love sitting out here in the late afternoon, when the Bull’s Eye Ranch was quiet, the shadows stretched across the bricks, and the breeze was full of honeysuckle and wind chimes.

Milly, the housekeeper, was vacuuming on the second floor, a way of keeping an eye on Sean without making him feel like a prisoner. So, temporarily off duty, Nora lay on the lounger, prepared to steal a few more minutes.

A battle was coming with Sean, and she wasn’t eager to engage. They’d quarreled as soon as he got home from school, about whether his homework could wait until after the game. She hadn’t budged, though as always she’d needed to steel herself against the pain behind his angry hazel eyes. He was only nine… He’d been through so much….

But dealing with Sean called for discipline and routine, not sloppy emotion and inconsistency. So she’d held firm. As usual, he’d stomped upstairs in a fury and slammed his door.

Most days, after a scene like that, she would send Harry up to remind Sean it was time to shower and put on his uniform. No matter how prickly Sean was with his mother, no matter how sour he’d grown about his former love, baseball, he never took it out on Harry.

The hero-worship of a little brother had once been the bane of Sean’s existence, but not anymore. These days, Harry was the only one Sean seemed to trust.

Unfortunately, Harry was playing at a friend’s house.

So for just a few minutes more, she wanted to watch the dragonfly, bask in the spring sunshine, and pretend everything was normal. She wanted to pretend that her boys had a father, who at any moment might come whistling around the corner, shouldering a trio of fishing poles. She wanted to pretend that Sean hadn’t grown surly and difficult, that he hadn’t begun to hate everything he used to love, and that his nights were peaceful under acres of starry Archer sky, not haunted by nightmares of madmen, guns and fear.