Just What The Cowboy Needed

Cassie took both of their hands and tugged them through the crowd to where the three siblings stood together. “Hi!”

“Hello, peanut.” The pretty twentysomething woman bent to hug her niece. “Love your holiday hair.”

“I know. I love it, too. Grace did it.”

Questioning blue eyes, a lot like Logan’s, regarded her. “And you must be Grace, the hair goddess.”

“Be nice, Jamie. Don’t scare her off.” Logan put his hand at the small of her back. “This is Grace Flynn. She’s taking care of Cassie for the summer.”

“Tracy mentioned she was hiring someone to help while she plans for the wedding then goes on her honeymoon.” The woman’s look was friendly and welcoming.

“Grace,” Logan continued, “this is my sister, Jamie Hart, and my brothers, Tucker and Max Hart.”

All of them Harts? But Logan’s last name was Hunt. Maybe they were half siblings, she thought, although some instinct told her that wasn’t the case. The family resemblance, especially among the men, was pretty strong. All three were better-than-average-looking and would have women sacrificing to the matchmaking gods.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” She shook hands with each of them. His brother Max was tall and broad, like a walking mountain, and his big hand swallowed hers. “You look familiar,” she said.

“If you recognize him it’s probably from tabloid stories linking him to all his groupies. He played in the National Hockey League,” Logan explained.

Grace decided to ignore the not very veiled reference to women. “Played? Past tense?”

“Ankle injury. It affected my skating skills.” Max shrugged, and his dark blue eyes didn’t reveal how he felt about a career-ending injury.

“Now he has too much time on his hands and uses it to harass me.” Tucker was tall, muscular and somewhere in his thirties. He was pretty cute, too. “I have better things to do than prop up his ego.”

“Building houseboats is no big deal,” Max shot back.

“What are you guys? Five? Our niece is more mature than you,” their sister teased.

Grace had always wished for a big brother, and this woman had three to protect her. She envied that. “What do you do, Jamie?”

“She’s a nurse practitioner and works at Mercy Medical Clinic here in town.” Logan’s voice and expression were full of pride and affection. “Our little sister saves lives.”

“She 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—”