Читать книгу: «The Way to a Cowboy's Heart»

Chapter One

“You’re a woman.”

“You’re a man.” P. J. Kirkland shot back, then winced after the words popped out.

Open mouth, insert foot. The first time she’d laid eyes on her new boss too.

Would she ever learn to think before letting words come out? Cade McKendrick didn’t seem a warm, fuzzy—forgiving—sort of man. She was relieved when his lips curved up slightly in a smile.

“Can’t argue that.” He glanced down at the paper on the desk in front of him. “I just figured P. J. Kirkland was a guy.”

“That happens a lot.”

“Hmm.” The leather chair creaked loudly as he sat down. Not surprising. His approximately six-foot-two-inch, solid-as-a-rock frame would make any piece of furniture groan. Not to mention most females she knew. Luckily, she was the exception.

A good-looking man held no appeal for her. Not anymore. But she couldn’t help noticing that Cade McKendrick, with his deep blue eyes, sun-streaked brown hair and chiseled jaw, would not have to wear a bag over his head in public—unless he wanted to avoid female attention.

P.J. held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. McKendrick.”

“Cade,” he said leaning forward to squeeze her fingers. He indicated the chair in front of his desk and said, “Please sit down. What does P.J. stand for?”

“Would you believe pajamas?”

“No.”

So much for trying to distract him with humor. Although brief, that flash of amusement on his rugged face moments ago had charmed her, and she’d hoped to bring it out again. But it was gone, as if it had never happened, replaced by an unreadable mask. He watched her intently, expectantly, waiting her out. He was going to make her tell him her full name. She would make him pay.

“Penelope Jane,” she said quickly. “It’s nice—”

“What’s wrong with Penelope Jane?” Even as he innocently asked, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as his mouth twitched. She had hoped to impress him with her razor-sharp wit, not her dippy name.

She sighed. “Sounds like a character from a bad Doris Day movie.”

“What’s wrong with Penny?”

“Too cutesy. My older brother started using the initials and it stuck.”

“Okay. So tell me what you know about kids.”

“In twenty-five words or less?” she joked.

“Okay.”

He sounded serious. P.J. frowned. Her experience and qualifications were in the résumé she’d sent him. Now that she thought about it, the fact that she was a woman was clear in her introductory letter. But maybe this was his way of breaking the ice.

“I teach high-school kids. Just completed my fourth year.” Her job in Valencia, California, was a far cry from his ranch near Santa Barbara. Hard to believe the two places were in the same state, only a couple hours apart by car.

He nodded, apparently satisfied. “You can cook, right?”

Shouldn’t this have been ironed out before she arrived? “If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t have answered your ad, in spite of the fact that this job is exactly what I need. The idea of a youth summer program on a ranch is innovative and a terrific opportunity. For children,” she added, knowing she was babbling. She was nervous. She couldn’t help it. He kept looking at her with those blue eyes that seemed to read every secret she had.

“These kids aren’t children. They’re teenagers,” he said. “What’s your specialty? In food, I mean.”

“I don’t do gourmet/fancy. But I know what kids like—hot dogs, hamburgers, tacos and fries are about as sophisticated as they get. I can make biscuits from scratch that will melt in your mouth. And my chocolate chip cookies wouldn’t be mistaken for hockey pucks,” she added, sacrificing modesty for honesty and complete objectivity.

Small doubts began to creep in on her. This felt an awful lot like a job interview, but she’d been under the impression that she already had the position. He’d left the message on her answering machine that she was hired and the date he wanted her to start.

She was about to ask a few incisive questions of her own when there was a loud crash outside his office door. P.J. jumped up and raced into the hall with Cade right behind her. There beside an antique accent table, she saw her daughter, Emily, with a shattered crystal photo frame on the distressed-oak floor at her feet.

“Mommy—” Her child’s fearful gaze darted to Cade just before she scurried forward and buried her face against P.J.’s jean-clad leg.

P.J. crouched down and gathered the seven-year-old in her arms. ‘ “What happened, sweetie? I told you to sit quietly and not touch anything while you waited for me.”

“Mommy?” Cade frowned. “You brought a kid with you?”

“Not a kid. My daughter, Emily.” PJ. took a deep breath to keep her anger at bay. How long before she learned that when something looked too good to be true it usually was? Case in point: a job on a ranch where she and Emily could live for the summer. It had seemed ideal. She would be able to work and still save money on child care. She might actually get ahead financially.

She glared up at him. “I stated clearly in the letter accompanying my résumé that I had a child. I told you she would be coming with me. When you left the message that I had been hired, I assumed that you had gone over my qualifications carefully. But you haven’t even looked at my résumé, have you, Mr. McKendrick?”

Before he could answer, Emily looked at him with red-rimmed green eyes. Her lips quivered when she said, “I—I’m sorry about the picture, mister.”

He went down on one knee and lifted the photograph from the shards of glass. He studied the granite features of the gray-haired man, then said, “Forget it.”

Emily stared at the picture in his hands. “But it must be special—”

“Just my father,” he said.

She rubbed a knuckle beneath her nose. “You’re lucky. I don’t have a daddy.”

Her words tugged at P.J.’s heart.

“Me either. He died three months ago.” He looked up at P.J. “Don’t lose any sleep over it,” he said reading the sympathy she knew was on her face. “I won’t.”

Emily sniffled again. “I’m extra sorry, mister.”

P.J. pulled her little girl more protectively against her. “I’ll see that the frame is replaced, Mr. McKendrick. ”

“Don’t worry about it. And I already told you the name is Cade,” he said, standing.

“I insist. As soon as—” She looked down when she felt a tug on her jeans pocket. “What is it, Emily?”

“Do ranches have bathrooms?”

Cade smiled for the second time in the last fifteen minutes. Once at her, once at Emily. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like “double trouble.”

Great, she thought, already planning to apply for work at her local fast-food place. She would figure out some way to arrange child care.

When Emily tugged again, she said, “T’m sure there’s a powder room. Let’s ask Mr.—” she stopped when he slanted her a look. “Cade. He’ll tell you where it is.”

He pointed down the hall. “Go that way and it’ll be on your right.”

“Do you want me to go with you, Em?”

The girl shook her head, then looked uncertain. “But which side is right?”

“It’s the side you hold your pencil. Okay?”

She smiled. “Okay.”

They watched her until she’d found the right door, then P.J. turned to him. “You didn’t answer my question. Did you read my résumé?”

He rubbed his neck. “No.”

“Was mine the only one you received?”

He shook his head. “Got about six or seven.”

“If you didn’t read mine, how did you pick me?”

“Yours was on top.”

“Would I be wrong to assume that you didn’t check out my references either?”

“No.”

“If I were a cowboy, would you have done some checking on my background?”

“Yes, but—”

She shook her head. This was no way to run a youth program. Cavalier and slipshod at best. “We’re talking about children, not horses. This is irresponsible—”

“So I’ve been told,” he said, bitterness twisting his words.

“I can’t believe someone entrusted you with this program.”

“Me either. But someone did.”

“Who?”

“My father. It was his idea.”

“And he passed away before he could get it running,” she guessed. “I’m sorry for your loss, Cade. But this could be a dynamite thing you’re doing. Channeling your energy into children will help you get over your grief—”

“That’s what you think this is about?” he asked.

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I hardly knew him. We hadn’t spoken since I left home at eighteen. When he found out he was dying he sent for me. He ordered me to finish what he’d started.”

“Ordered? You didn’t want to?”

“Nope.”

“Then why are you?”

“If I don’t, I lose the ranch.”

“I don’t understand.”

“If I don’t see this program through the summer, the ranch will be sold and the money donated to his favorite charity.” Cade watched her big brown eyes grow wider.

“You must have misunderstood—”

“His will was so clear I didn’t even need the lawyer to translate.” He shoved his fingertips into the pockets of his jeans. “He had already picked three kids from a local probation program. By the end of the summer, they’ll go back where they came from and the ranch will be mine, free and clear. I just have to get through the next couple months.”

Cade waited for her disapproving look. He wasn’t disappointed. Her full lips tightened. Lifting his gaze slightly, he saw her nose wrinkle, drawing his attention to how freckle-splashed and turned-up-cute it was. A pale yellow cotton blouse tucked into her jeans showed off her slender curves. Shoulder-length brown hair curled in layers around her pretty face. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but clean-cut and appealing. Not his normal type, although under different circumstances he might have been tempted to put moves on her. But she had a kid. That was strike one. Strike two: he had a bad feeling P. J. Kirkland was a do-gooder who would give him what-for about his attitude.

When she took a deep breath, he braced himself. Sometimes he hated it when he was right.

“Get through?” she said, clearly offended. “That’s not good enough. These are children. They’re at risk. You have a unique opportunity. This is a chance to make a difference in their lives. And you just want to ‘get through’?”

“That’s about the size of it.” He didn’t care whether or not she approved. He just needed her until the end of August. “So you still want the job, or do I need to call the second résumé in the stack?”

She blinked. “You’re hiring me?”

The sound of footsteps kept her from saying more, and they both turned to see Emily coming toward them. The child stopped beside her and looked from PJ. to him. “Mister, if you have a broom, I’ll sweep up the glass. Mom always makes me clean up my messes.”

“I have a broom. You can sweep it into a pile, but don’t pick it up. I’ll do that so you don’t cut yourself.”

She glanced at her mother. “Is that okay, Mom?”

“It’s fine,” PJ. said.

“Good,” he answered pointing. “The kitchen is that way. Follow me.”

He started toward the back of the house when the little girl slipped her small hand into his. It was amazingly small, and wet from a recent washing. Surprised, he looked down at her and she smiled. Glancing over his shoulder, he checked to make sure PJ. was following.

“I’ve never seen a cowboy before,” she confided.

“I’ve never seen a little girl before.”

She stared up at him, doubt written all over her small oval face. “You’re fibbing, mister.”

“Call me Cade. And I’m not exactly fibbing. I’ve never been this close to a little girl.” The thought bothered him a little. He wondered what else he’d missed out on because of his wandering life-style.

“Really?”

“Cross my heart,” he said.

“Did you hear that, Mom?”

“I did, sweetie. Cade hasn’t been around boys either, he says.”

“Is that why you need my mommy to help you?”

Helping him made it sound more intimate than it was. Bottom line: he was the boss; she was the cook. He glanced at the woman on the other side of the little girl. “Yes.”

“At least you know when you’re in over your head,” P.J. said.

“Does that mean you’ll stay for the summer?” He hoped the answer was yes. It would be convenient if he didn’t have to find someone else on such short notice.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“How’s that?”

She sighed. “I need the work.”

Bright-eyed with excitement, Emily tipped her head back and looked from him to her mother. “So we don’t have to go?”

“No. As a matter of fact, I think we have a duty to stay.” PJ. shot him a meaningful glance. “We have to help him get to know kids.”

Emily frowned. “I don’t know how. Travis Wilkins always pulls my hair. I ask him nicely to stop, but he won’t. How can I help Mister Cade?”

“By doing what you’re told,” P.J. said.

The child nodded. “I can do that.”

Cade shook his head, mystified. As easy as that she would behave, he thought. But his cynicism quickly returned. Emily was young yet. Give her time. Rebellion would set in and he’d like to be around to see Ms. Cool, Unruffled, Idealistic P. J. Kirkland deal with that. If Emily was half as much trouble as he’d been, he figured her pretty mother would have her hands full.

They entered the kitchen and he watched P.J. look around what would be her territory for the next three months. The approving light in her chocolate-brown eyes told him the spacious ceramic tile countertops and center island work area appealed to her. The side-by-side refrigerator would hold plenty of food for the three boys who would be boarding for the summer. The only thing he knew about young boys was how much they could eat—that he remembered. At the far end of the room, sitting on the oak-plank floor, was a table with eight chairs. That should give them enough space for eating.

He reached into the closet beside the pantry and pulled out the broom, handing it to Emily. “This is pretty big. Can you carry it?”

“Yes, sir.” She tilted her head back to look at him, then quickly glanced away. “Mister Cade, can I ask you something?”

“I guess.”

“Will I fall over backwards if I look up at you all the way?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re awful tall. I feel like I’m gonna tip over backwards if I do.”

“I promise if I see you going over, I’ll grab you. Fair enough?”

She nodded. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure. Shoot.”

“Do you have a boy or girl of your own?”

“No.” Cade stared at her, not sure where that had come from.

PJ. quickly ran interference. “Emily, you’re procrastinating. It’s time for you to go start sweeping up.”

Cade raised an eyebrow. “Do you understand those twenty-dollar words?” he asked the little girl.

“Not always. But Mom helps me.” She smiled at him. “You’re really a cowboy?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes.” Hadn’t they already covered this?

“But you’re not wearin’ a hat.”

“You don’t have to wear a hat to be a cowboy.”

“But on the way here in the car, Mommy said cowboys wear hats. Do you?”

“Yes.”

“White or black?”

PJ. moved forward and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Enough questions, chatterbox. Go clean up your mess.”

“I will, Mom. First I gotta know what color his hat is.”

“Brown,” Cade answered.

Emily’s forehead wrinkled as she thought that over. “Does that mean you’re a good guy or a bad one?”

He mulled that for a moment, then answered truthfully. “Bad.”

After reading Emily a bedtime story, P.J. wandered out on the front porch. Cade had put them upstairs in the room next to his. There were two other bedrooms down the ball from her and Em where the boys would stay. With a sigh, she sat on the swing. Suspended by thick ropes, the redwood frame was covered with a cushioned canvas pad. Moonlight combined with the lamplight spilling through the window to bathe her surroundings in a silver glow. Sighing again, she closed her eyes and relaxed her body into the cushy softness as she swayed gently back and forth. It had been an unsettling day, but this peace and serenity almost made up for it.

“Evening.”

Her eyes snapped open. The sound of that familiar deep voice shot tension up her spine faster than she could say this town ain’t big enough for the both of us. He was just emerging from the shadows beyond the circle of light from the house. “Cade. I didn’t know you were out here.”

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” He walked up the steps. “Before sundown I always do a last look-see around the ranch to make sure everything’s quiet.”

“Emily asked me to tell you good-night.”

“She settle in all right?” he asked, removing his brown hat.

She remembered his words about being a bad guy. She didn’t buy it. Would a bad guy care if a little girl was all right, or pick up her mess so she wouldn’t cut herself? He leaned back against the porch support beam, and rested one hip on the railing beside her. It was a blatantly masculine pose that did strange things to her stomach.

“She couldn’t keep her eyes open long enough to hear the end of her favorite story.”

He set his hat on his thigh and rubbed the brim between his fingers. P.J. would never peg him as the nervous type, but, all the same, she sensed that something was eating him.

He cleared his throat. “If I gave you a bad moment today, I apologize, PJ.”

“What do you mean?”

“About the job and all. With the kid to think about, and needing the work since your husband passed away—”

“What?” she asked, sitting forward on the swing.

“Emily said she didn’t have a dad. I just assumed he was—You know.”

“He’s alive and well. I need this job because it allows me to save money on child care. Even if I could find it now. All the good camp programs are full by the time summer starts.”

“What about her dad?”

“I support Emily by myself.”

“He doesn’t see her or help out?”

The mingled surprise and outrage in his voice startled P.J. Earlier she had thought him slipshod and actually called him irresponsible. Geez, she didn’t know what to make of this man who was obviously steamed about Emily’s absentee father.

Thoughts of Dave Kirkland steamed her up too. Annoyance vibrated through P.J., pushing her to her feet. “I don’t want him seeing my daughter.”

“Did he hurt her?” His voice was just this side of an angry growl.

“Not physically.” She folded her arms over her chest, wondering why she was going to tell him. There was no reason she should, but the words still came pouring out. “He’s a charming, good-looking airhead. Flaky as a French pastry.”

“What did he do?”

“It’s more what he didn’t do. He was forever making plans to see Em and not showing up. I couldn’t stand to see the disappointment on her little face when he broke promise after promise.” She wrapped a strand of hair around her finger and was irritated to see that her hand was trembling. “To his credit, he was the one who decided to bow out and stop hurting her. At least he knew his limitations.”

“How did Emily take it?”

“It’s been a couple years since she’s seen him. She appears to have accepted the situation.” Better than I did in her shoes, P.J. thought. But thinking of her daughter made her smile. “Sometimes she seems far too mature for her age.”

“That so?” he said.

She glanced at him. “She’s had to grow up fast, maybe too fast. Sometimes I wish she could be a completely carefree kid.”

“You? Miss Take-Your-Responsibilities-Seriously.”

She grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry if I came on a little preachy. I just like kids. I believe every one deserves a chance.”

“So do I. With someone else.”

Puzzled, she shook her head. “You’re so cynical. Beats the heck out of me why Emily’s taken such a shine to you.”

“Me?” he asked, sounding shocked. “She has?”

“Just ask her.”

“No, thanks.”

His rigid posture drew P.J.’s gaze to the impressive width of his shoulders and chest in his plaid work shirt. Moonlight accentuated his rugged face and the frown he wore so comfortably. The pain she saw in his eyes tore at her. He was clearly a man in conflict.

He looked at her. “That little girl’s had enough heartbreak. She shouldn’t go asking for trouble from this cowboy.” He shook his head. “It’s like you said earlier, at least I know when I’m in over my head.”

P.J. appreciated his honesty and sensitivity. On the other hand, she wondered why he would head for the hills, emotionally speaking, because a little girl had a small case of hero worship.

She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to get involved with any man. Especially a handsome, complicated, mysterious cowboy. On the one-to-ten danger scale, Cade McKendrick came in a whopping fifteen. His problems were his business. Her problem was this job.

“So the boys arrive tomorrow?”

“That’s right,” he said.

She sat down on the swing again and moved slowly back and forth. “This is a wonderful thing your father started.”

He heaved himself away from the porch railing and set his hat back on his head. Turning away, he tucked his fingertips beneath his arms and stared out toward the ranch buildings. “If you say so.”

“You don’t think it is?”

“It’s not that. I’m just the wrong man for the job.”

“Apparently he didn’t agree.”

He laughed, but it was a bitter, chilling sound. “He was determined that those boys not be disappointed.”

“You sound surprised at that.”

“I am.” He turned and walked over to the swing, sitting down beside her. “Even more than his manipulation.”

“Manipulation?”

“He knew how much I love this ranch. He was counting on that to get his way.”

“Why did he feel emotional blackmail was necessary? This project was obviously important to him. Why couldn’t he simply ask his only son to fulfill his dying request?”

She shifted her position on the swing and her thigh brushed against his. Ignoring the flash of heat and sparks, she forced herself to concentrate on the man beside her.

“He couldn’t forgive me for being less than perfect.”

“I’m sure he loved you, Cade.” A man altruistic enough to give delinquent teens another chance would surely care about his own son.

Cade’s mouth turned up in a bitter smile. “How could you understand? I bet your idea of doing something wrong is whispering in church, or not making your bed every day.”

“You certainly have a strong opinion of me based on several hours acquaintance.” She frowned at him. “Do you really believe I’m that one-dimensional?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll have you know I got into my share of trouble.”

Genuine amusement glinted in his eyes and relaxed the tension in his body. “Oh yeah? Define trouble.”

She thought hard. “All right. I’ve got one. There was the time I was necking in the driveway with Bill Perkins. My brother came out, tapped on the car window, and told me to get in the house.”

He laughed. “I bet that put a crimp in your social life for a spell.”

“I was grounded for a month. Can you top that?”

“Lady, you don’t want to know.”

“Try me. I’m not the Miss Goody Two-Shoes you apparently think I am.”

All traces of laughter disappeared. The black look was back and with it the tension. “All right. You asked for it.”

“Well, what did you do?”

“Grand theft auto.”