His Favorite Cowgirl Read online

  “They have other stuff,” he backpedaled, wondering where he’d gone wrong. “Great barbeque. Steaks, too, though we’re throwing some of the Circle P’s best on the grill tonight in your honor.”

  “From cows?” In the rearview mirror, he watched as Noelle’s fingers flew over the keys on her cell phone. “You know I’m a vegetarian!”

  Hank propped one arm on the seat back. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Like, duh, forever. Aren’t you supposed to know stuff like that?”

  “No-elle.” Hating himself for it, he let his voice drop into a lower register. “You ordered fried chicken when I took you out for your birthday.”

  Noelle’s chin jutted forward as she folded her arms across her thin chest. “The whole family went vegetarian to support Grampa after his heart attack.”

  Well, excuse him for not being in the loop. Except, wasn’t rectifying that situation the reason he’d insisted she stay with him instead of going to boarding school? He wondered how his daughter’s “no meat” policy would go over with the cooks on the Circle P and frowned. He lived on a cattle ranch, after all. Beef, in one form or another, was served at practically every meal.

  Casting about for help, he glanced up to see his own personal cavalry emerge from Eli’s in jeans and a new shirt. Confident Kelly would know how to handle this latest quirk in his daughter’s personality, he waited until she added her bags to Noelle’s before he broached the newest in what was apparently a never-ending series of hurdles.

  “Uh, Kel, we have a little problem.”

  “Whatever it is, can it wait?” She slipped out of her high heels and crossed denim-clad legs. “I’m famished. You can tell me about it over lunch. My treat, since you drove and paid for the gas.”

  Hank did his best not to stare as she massaged one slender foot. He and Kelly always had been on the same wavelength. It had boggled his mind when they were teens. Twelve years later, it still did.

  “Noelle and I were just discussing that very thing. I suggested burgers at Cowboys, but she’s not into meat these days. Got any ideas?”

  Kelly merely shifted to his daughter. In a tone far less judgmental than the one he’d used, she asked, “Vegan? Or are you more flexible?” At Noelle’s confused look, she continued. “Do you eat eggs and dairy? What about seafood?”

  “Shrimp are okay, as long as they’re fried. Mom makes me drink a glass of milk every morning.” Noelle made a face. “I don’t like it much.”

  Kelly tapped one finger against her chin. “Got it. If I remember right, The Clock has the best salads in town. Good burgers, too,” she added with a grin.

  Before anyone—and by anyone, he meant his prickly daughter—changed their mind, Hank drove to the restaurant. The lunch hour crowd had thinned, and soon they were settled in a roomy booth. The waitress handed them plastic-coated menus that offered a variety of salads and vegetarian dishes. He and Kelly traded amused glances, but neither said a word when Noelle skipped the healthy stuff in favor of mac and cheese and a plate of fries. Determined to get in his daughter’s good graces, he dug deep into his pockets for spare change so she could play video games until their food was served.

  As she headed off, he turned a decidedly neighborly glance at the woman seated across from him. “Thanks for all your help today, Kelly. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s never been like this before.”

  “Relax.” Kelly squeezed a wedge of lemon over a glass of sweet tea. “She’s just pushing your buttons, trying to find out where the limits are. Things will smooth out.”

  Uncertain, he ran a hand through his hair. “How’d you get so smart about kids?” She was an only child, and it wasn’t like she had a lot of nieces or nephews to learn from.

  “We fill a lot of entry-level positions with high school students at Palmetto Boots. I don’t work with them as much as I did when I was managing a store, but I used to deal with teens all the time.” Ice cubes clinked softly against her glass as she swirled a spoon through the tea. “Some of them can get pretty sassy. I gave them a firm hand.” She shrugged. “They usually came around.”

  Hank cupped his hands around his own glass. “Do you think I did the right thing by insisting she come here?” It had only been one day, and he already felt like he’d been ridden hard. Much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t sure how much more he could handle.

  Kelly’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you want to spend time with her?”

  “More than anything.” Trusting his one-time friend would understand, he didn’t try to hide the wistful quality that seeped into his voice.

  Without looking up, Kelly settled her spoon on her napkin. “I was her age when Mom dumped me with Pops.”

  She’d been such a big part of his life that he’d nearly forgotten she hadn’t been around until the fourth grade. “That had to be tough,” he acknowledged. “You ever hear from her?”

  For an instant, he caught a glimpse of the girl who had once cried on his shoulder. Then Kelly’s features straightened. Staring into her glass, she said, “’Bout five years ago, I got an envelope in the mail. Inside was a newspaper clipping about a car crash in New Mexico and a death certificate with her name on it. No note. Nothing else.”

  “Your grandfather sent it?” At Kelly’s nod, he swore softly. “You two never did get along, but that was cruel. Even for him.” If she’d been closer instead of clear across the table, he would have put his arm around her and given her a hug. As it was, he had to settle for words that seemed inadequate. “I’m sorry.”

  Dry-eyed, she finally glanced at him. “Mom made her choices. Pops, too, I guess.” They fell silent for a while, each busy with their own thoughts. He glanced into the game nook in time to see his daughter slip another coin into one of the machines. He had three months to get things right with her before her mom took her home again. All too soon, Noelle would be old enough to do whatever she wanted. This visit could be his last chance.

  “I’m afraid things will turn out between Noelle and me like they did between you and your grandfather,” he admitted at last.

  Kelly’s head rose. “If you want the kind of relationship Pops and I have, it’s simple. Just don’t do anything. He certainly didn’t even try.” Blinking rapidly, she drummed her long, slender fingers on the tabletop. At last, she stilled. “I’m sorry,” she said, lifting her hand. “Your relationship with Noelle is none of my business.”

  Across the room, his daughter guided a mechanical claw through a glass box filled with inexpensive stuffed animals. Kelly had no idea how deep his daughter’s resentment went. Or how well he’d earned her low opinion of him.

  “Speaking of your grandfather, what went on at the lawyer’s office?” he asked, putting aside the topic of his daughter for the moment.

  Kelly ran her fingers along the placket of her new shirt. “Turns out that shortly after my grandmother died, Paul added my name to the title of the Bar X.”

  Powerless against his shock, Hank let his surprise show. “You own the place?”

  “There are some legal hoops to jump through, but yeah, basically.”

  For someone who’d just learned she owned a valuable piece of property, Kelly didn’t look happy. In fact, if he was reading the tightness around her mouth right, her grandfather had pulled another fast one on her. He leaned back, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together while he waited for her to tell the rest of the story.

  Across from him, she straightened the silverware on her napkin. “The day I turned twenty-one—long after I’d moved away—Pops wrote out a Power of Attorney. It gives me the authority to do whatever I want. With him. With the ranch. With everything on it. Whatever happens next, it’s all on me.”

  “And he never changed it? Never told you?” It was hard to believe, but then, Paul Tompkins had always been a difficult man to understand.


  “Never said a word.” Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a breath. “Not that he had the chance. We haven’t exactly been on speaking terms.”

  He tried to imagine how he’d feel if the full weight of the Circle P had landed on his shoulders, and failed. Though his family had managed the ranch for two hundred years, the land had—and always would—belong to the Parkers. Staggered by Kelly’s news, he asked, “What are you going to do?”

  She took a packet of sugar from the caddie and tapped the edge against the table. “I can’t stay here,” she said at last. “My job, my life, is in Houston.”

  Hank propped his elbows on the table and cupped his chin in his hands. “You can’t leave the livestock to fend for themselves.”

  “Tell me something I don’t already know.” Kelly dumped the contents of the packet into her tea. “As near as I can tell, Pops is land rich and cash poor. And since I emptied my savings account to pay for his back taxes, I guess I’m in the same boat.”

  “Those Brahmans have been a thorn in Ty’s side for a long time. If you were to sell them off, he might lend you enough men to round ’em up.”

  “You think?” Hope flickered in her eyes. “Without the livestock to tend to, I wouldn’t need to stick around.”

  Hank suppressed a flicker of disappointment at her eagerness to put Florida in her rearview. He had no claims on Kelly. What’s more, he didn’t want any. Their relationship might have burned hotter than a summer wildfire, but the fast-moving flames had scorched his heart. He’d learned his lesson. He’d keep his distance while he extended the same neighborly hand he’d offer any of the other ranchers in the area. “I’ll find out who’s buying cattle this time of year. Get you a fair price.”

  “That’d be great, Hank.” Kelly sighed, the tiniest bit of tension easing from her lips. “Then I can put the Bar X in the hands of a Realtor and get back to Houston.”

  Now that had definite possibilities. Hank summoned his most easygoing smile. “You know real estate is my livelihood.”

  Certain they’d circle back to it, he let the subject drop when their food arrived. Noelle slipped into the booth. Once their drinks had been refreshed, Hank glanced down at a burger half the size of the ones they served at Cowboys. He shrugged, while across the table Noelle scraped aside the toasted croutons that sat atop her macaroni.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  Noelle turned up her nose. “I like the kind that comes in a box.”

  “O-kay,” Hank sighed.

  For a few minutes, he concentrated on his food as Noelle gingerly picked at a few bites of macaroni and ate precisely three French fries. As soon as his daughter took a bathroom break, he leaned across the table.

  “Let’s get down to brass tacks. In order to provide for your grandfather, you need to get the best possible price for the Bar X. In this economy, that won’t be easy, unless you’re willing to fix things up a bit.”

  When Kelly raised her eyebrows, he lifted his hands. “You saw the shape the ranch is in. But I can help. You give me the listing and I’ll make the repairs in my spare time.” If the Bar X brought as good a price as he thought it would, he’d clear enough to establish a new real estate office once the economy improved and people started buying again. Which would happen. Home ownership was the American dream.

  “And in exchange?” Doubt and wariness played across Kelly’s face.

  “In exchange, you pay for half the supplies. Lend a hand when I need help.” He pushed his plate and half-eaten hamburger aside. Getting to know his daughter better—forming a real relationship with her—was the most important thing he’d ever do. Maybe Kelly could help with that, too.

  He peered into the face of the woman he’d once loved. Heaven help him. He didn’t know which he was more afraid of—that she’d turn down his plan, or that she’d agree to it.

  Chapter Four

  Hank tapped the toe of his right boot against the floor. He swirled the last of the coffee in his mug and pretended he wasn’t counting the minutes as they flew by. Nearly an hour had passed since the last of the ranch hands had polished off their breakfasts and headed to their assigned chores. He should be with them. Should be overseeing the care and feeding of a thousand head of prime Andalusian cattle. Should be riding the fence lines. Should be knocking down that patch of nettles in the north section before the noxious weeds spread. In short, the list of things he should be doing was longer than his arm.

  Waiting for a lazy ten-year-old to roll out of bed wasn’t on that list.

  He rose from his place at the table. Crossing to the screened door, he peered out. Star and Belle stood in the riding ring where he’d left them. The horses stomped their hooves, as eager as he was to get the day started. Hank checked his watch. Eight in the morning. He’d planned to evaluate Noelle’s riding skills before he started on his chores. It was too late for that now. He carted his mug to the coffeepot for a refill. When he flipped the handle, a few drops dribbled into the cup.

  “No more coffee,” he grunted. He glanced toward the counter, where Chris chopped vegetables for tonight’s supper.

  “Sorry, Mr. Hank.” Beneath the young man’s knife, a pepper turned into fine green ribbons. “We don’t usually keep the pot going during the day when no one’s here to drink it.”

  Hank shook his head. On the busy Circle P Ranch, everyone had a job to do and was hard at it. Everyone except him, apparently. Deciding he’d waited long enough for Noelle to meander into the kitchen, he started toward the hall. The distinctive sound of a new pair of boots striking the stair risers stopped him. Hoping to tap into his daughter’s good side—assuming she had one—Hank swallowed an urge to scold her.

  “Morning, sunshine,” he called when his ten-year-old clomped into the kitchen. He tore his gaze away from the trail of smudge marks she left on the polished cedar floors. “Sleep well?”

  Noelle bobbed her head while her shirt’s pink sparkles shimmered in the bright sunlight. “I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast?”

  No surprise there. Not after the previous night, when Her Royal Fussiness had balked at the salad and baked potato Emma had fixed special for her. Hank aimed his chin toward the single place setting he’d laid out on the long trestle table. A box of cereal stood nearby.

  “That’s all?” Noelle’s eyes widened as if he’d suggested she go on a fast. “I smelled pancakes.”

  “For those, you have to show up when the bell rings.” He pointed past the kitchen door to a brass bell mounted on a tall post. The cook gave the rope three sharp tugs to summon ranch hands, guests and family members for meals.

  The corners of Noelle’s mouth turned down, but her disappointment showed for only a moment before she issued the standard “whatever.” Still, Hank had a feeling his daughter would scramble out of bed on time in the future. “I guess I’ll have cereal,” she said, sounding as if she were doing the world a favor.

  “You want orange juice? Milk?”

  Noelle poured a generous helping of cornflakes into her bowl. “Milk. For the cereal. Can I have some coffee?”

  “Sorry. Fresh out.” Hank tapped his empty mug. “Besides, you’re too young.”

  “Mom lets me,” Noelle pouted.

  “Yeah? I’ll ask her next time she calls.”

  “Don’t bother.” Noelle’s eyes cut to one side. “I only drink Starbucks anyway.”

  Hank turned away so his daughter wouldn’t see his face. Score one for the old man, he told himself. He battled a grin into submission before he turned back to Noelle.

  “Soon as you finish eating, we’ll head out. Ty ordered a new solar array for one of the water pumps. It’ll take most of the day to install it.” Instead of the horses, they’d have to take one of the ATVs. Between the late start and the need to keep his daughter entertained, he feared the job could stretch into two day
s, and put him further behind schedule. “You might want to bring a book or something. Your cell phone’s no good out that far.”

  Noelle froze, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “You have to work?”

  She made fresh air, sunshine and long rides in the country sound like a bad thing.

  “Ranching is a full-time job. Six, sometimes seven days a week.”

  “I have to start school Monday, Dad. Who’s gonna take me?” A pleading tone crept into her voice. “When will I pick up my uniforms?”

  “Uniforms?” He scrubbed one hand along the seam of his jeans. The kids who waited for the bus at the end of the driveway would probably laugh themselves silly at the idea of pleated skirts and button-down collars. “Round here, the dress code is a bit more casual than you’re used to.”

  If he thought that would please his daughter, he was wrong. His little drama queen’s mouth widened like a starlet’s in a horror movie.

  “You can’t expect me to wear these—” she gestured to the outfit he’d paid for with hard-earned money “—to school.” She shuddered.

  “What’s wrong with your clothes?” Hank fought an urge to scratch his head.

  “Da-ad!” Noelle’s spoon dropped into her bowl. The move sent a splatter of milk onto the table. “I can’t wear the same outfit to school every other day. The kids will tease me.”

  “Didn’t you bring anything with you?” Hank asked, hoping his daughter’s woefully light bag had contained more than it appeared to. “What about what you wore to your old school?”

  “Johnston Prep gave us uniforms.” Noelle rolled her eyes. “Besides, Mom told me to pack my pajamas, my bathing suits and some shorts. She said you’d take care of everything else. She said you should have plenty of cash now that you aren’t giving her money.”

  Slowly, Hank slid onto the bench across from his daughter. Okay, sure. He’d had his child support payments reduced after the housing market dried up. But from the moment he and Amy had separated right up until Noelle came to live with him, he’d sent every spare penny to her mother each month.