It Takes a Cowboy

He patted her head again. “Don’t worry, Aunt Blair. I’ll take care of the kid.” He added in an aside to Jeffrey, “Women get a little crazy sometimes when they’re protecting their precious little boys.”

Blair started to retort, but realized that Jeffrey was looking at her with sudden speculation, as if it hadn’t occurred to him before that she might feel protective toward him—or that he might be precious to her. “I’ll be careful, Aunt Blair,” he promised, and again, his tone was new to her. Reassuring. Even rather sweet.

Too bad it wouldn’t last, she thought pessimistically. He just wanted to get on that roof.

She leveled a look at Scott. “I’m trusting you to keep him safe.”

“No sweat. He’ll be fine. Now go put your feet up and relax awhile. There are cocoa and cider mixes in the kitchen, if you want. Make yourself at home.” Smiling, he stepped closer to her, lifting his hand.

“If you pat my head again,” Blair warned him in a low, deceptively gentle voice, “I’ll bite you.”

His grin deepened. “Maybe we should save that for later,” he murmured, then abruptly turned away. “C’mon, Jeff, let’s get the ladder.”

He left Blair shaking her head as he walked around the building with the boy.

*

SETTLED INTO A CHAIR with a cup of hot cider beside her, Blair had been reading—or trying to read—for nearly twenty minutes when Scott came inside. It had been a bit hard to concentrate with all the pounding going on overhead. Of course, that had nothing to do with the fact that the critically touted book was as dry as the shingles the guys were hammering, she assured herself. Still, it was with relief that she looked up from the densely printed pages to greet Scott as he came in.

“Jeff and I are thirsty,” he announced. “I’m getting some sodas.”

“I could have brought some out to you.”

He shook his head. “Keep your seat. You look comfortable. Good book?”

“I’m having a little trouble getting into it,” she admitted. “But it came very highly recommended. I’ve been meaning to read it for some time.”

He glanced at the title and scowled. “That’s your idea of relaxing pleasure reading?”

“I don’t have much time to read purely for pleasure,” she answered, going on the defensive in response to his critical tone. “When I do find time to read, I feel as though I should choose something worthwhile. Something informative that challenges the reader to think and draw conclu— What are you doing?”

Scott had plucked the book from her hands and tossed it unceremoniously onto a table. Before he answered, he moved to the crowded bookshelf that took up one full wall of the room and extracted a colorful paperback. “Here,” he said, thrusting it into her hands. “Have you read this?”

She glanced automatically at the title. “No, I—”

“Good. You’re supposed to be taking a break. You can be informed and challenged some other time. This is reading for fun.”

“But I—”

“I have to get back outside before the kid falls off the roof. I’ll expect a full report on that book later, by the way.”

“You didn’t really leave Jeffrey alone on the roof, did you?” she demanded, instinctively starting to rise.

Grinning, he put a hand on her shoulder to hold her in place. “It was a joke, Blair. Lighten up. Jeffrey is safely on the ground—or he was the last time I checked. I gave him orders to stay there until I got back.”

“Maybe you’d better go check again,” she suggested through teeth that were showing a tendency to clench. She was much too vividly aware of his hand on her shoulder, his fingertips straying a bit too close to the low scooped neckline of her T-shirt.

“Good idea.” He made a hasty exit, leaving her to rub her temples with her fingertips and wish she had a roll of antacids handy.

To keep from going outside to monitor Jeffrey and risk interfering with whatever bond Scott was forming with the boy, she opened the dog-eared paperback. The analysis of modern politics she’d been trying to read had been rather uninteresting, she admitted. Not that she expected to like this book any better. The description on the back sounded downright bizarre—which shouldn’t have surprised her, since Scott had recommended it.

Hearing renewed hammering above her, she started to read. The opening was mildly interesting—a man who seemed to be contemplating suicide was distracted when a pitiful but sweet-natured dog came out of nowhere and needed immediate attention. Blair sighed. She wasn’t particularly fond of dogs, but she kept reading. It wasn’t long before she was totally absorbed in the novel, swiftly turning pages as the nerve-racking tale unfolded.

She became so engrossed in the book that she completely lost track of time, paying no attention to the sounds coming from above her head. When a hand fell on her shoulder sometime later, she jumped and gave a muffled shriek.

“Scott,” she scolded, holding one hand to her pounding heart. “You scared me half to death.”

He grinned unrepentantly. “Who’d you think I was? The mutant monster or the sadistic paid assassin?”