Cassie's Cowboy Daddy

“Nope,” Hank said, sounding unrepentant.

Logan felt a vein in his temple begin to throb as he glared over his shoulder. “Why not?”

Hank stared at his boot tops, then, shrugging, met Logan’s gaze. “She sounded so happy about it, I couldn’t tell her not to move here.”

“She’s happy, all right.” His hands propped on his hips, Logan turned to face his friend. “Happy to get her hands on my ranch.”

“It’s as much hers as it is yours.”

Logan winced as his sore muscles tightened further. “I didn’t see any of the Hastings family anywhere near here when the temperature dipped down to twenty below last winter and we had to chop holes in the ice for the cattle to get water.” He pointed toward the window. “Or two years ago, when lightning touched off the fire that swept down the mountains into the valley. There wasn’t one of them here busting their asses to help us save the house and barns.”

“I know,” Hank agreed. “But, legally, she is an equal partner in the Lazy Ace.”

“I don’t give a damn about legalities,” Logan said through gritted teeth. He ran his hand over the aching knot at the back of his neck.

Hank had no way of knowing Logan’s plan, or that if Logan was successful in his bid to obtain all of the ranch, then Hank would gain an interest in the enterprise. Logan owed it to him for the loyalty and years of hard work Hank had invested in the Lazy Ace. But if Logan couldn’t get Cassie Wellington to sell him her share, all his carefully laid plans would go to hell in a handbasket.

“I have to figure a way to get her to sell out and leave,” he muttered.

“I like havin’ ladies and babies around,” Hank said happily. “It dresses up this old place right nice.”

Glaring at his lifelong friend, Logan tightened the towel at his waist. “You know, old buddy, the only thing softer than your heart is your head.”

“I can’t help it,” Hank said. The man’s wide grin irritated the hell out of Logan. “When it comes to women and cute little kids—”

“Your common sense takes a hike.” Logan marched back to his chair and plopped down. Propping his elbows on the desktop, he buried his head in his hands. “What the hell could old Silas have been thinking when he left his share of the ranch to a woman? He knew how remote this place is. And how dangerous it can be at times.”

“Maybe the old codger wanted the two families to merge,” Hank suggested.

Logan jerked his head up. “Before that happens, Murray Parkinson’s jackass will sprout wings and fly. You know how I feel about having a woman underfoot all the time.”

“Especially one as pretty as Cassie?”

Logan ground his teeth, then lied right through them. “She’s not that good-looking.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s not,” Logan insisted.

“If you say so,” Hank said, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

Before Logan could decide whether to defend himself further or just give up and choke Hank, a soft female voice outside the closed door announced, “Gentlemen, dinner’s ready.”

Surprised, Logan and Hank looked at each other, then at the closed door.

“Are you sure you don’t want her stickin’ around?” Hank asked, jumping to his feet. “We ain’t had a decent meal around this place in a month of Sundays.”

“Don’t let Tucker hear you say that,” Logan said, heading for the door. “He might just up and quit.”

“I don’t care if he does.” Hank shouldered past Logan to bolt out the door into the hall. “Ol’ Tuck used to be pretty fair as bunkhouse cooks go. But since he got too vain to buy himself a pair of glasses, we’ve been eatin’ stuff a starvin’ dog would turn down.”

Logan nodded and started toward the stairs. “The other day I caught him trying to make a cake from a feed-store receipt. I had the devil’s own time trying to convince him it wasn’t a recipe.”

While Hank headed for the kitchen like a man possessed, Logan took the stairs two at a time. After quickly exchanging the towel for jeans and a chambray shirt, he entered the kitchen a few minutes later.

Stopping abruptly, he barely managed to keep from gaping at the unfamiliar sight. It looked like an all-out female invasion. Bright clothing added splashes of color to the normally somber room as the Widow Wellington and her friend milled around his table and fussed over the girl babies riding their hips. Feminine voices replaced the usual silence and Logan was more than a little irritated that he found the sound a pleasant variation.

He shook his head when he watched Hank set up two high chairs. The man looked disgustingly happy.

Hank glanced up and grinned as he set the chairs at the end of the table. “It sure was nice of these ladies to fix our supper after bein’ on the road for the last two days. Wasn’t it, Logan?”

All eyes turned to solemnly stare at him. Even the copper-haired babies.

When he walked to the head of the large oak table, the widow set a plate of sandwiches on the recently polished surface. “Mr. Murdock, this is my friend, Ginny Sadler. She’ll be staying with us for a few days.” The look she gave him clearly challenged any objections he might have. Then she pointed to the identical babies, adding, “And these are my daughters, Kelsie and Chelsea.”

The blonde she’d called Ginny smiled weakly and edged her way toward Hank.

Logan nodded his acknowledgment, but his grim stare remained fixed on the widow and the domestic picture laid out before him. She looked at home in his kitchen, and she’d apparently already started nesting. He wouldn’t have believed the old table could shine up that nicely.

He flicked a frilly piece of cloth from his spot at the table, sending it skittering across the shiny surface. “Where the devil did that come from?”

“I brought it with me,” she replied, returning the offending object to its place. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a linen napkin.”

“Not on my table,” Logan growled. He seated himself, then once again pushed the cloth aside. “You’re on a working ranch in the middle of Wyoming, lady, not some fancy restaurant.”

“I’m well aware of that,” she said calmly.

He watched her place the babies in their chairs. Then in one smooth motion she replaced his napkin and plopped a set of silverware on top of it, as if that ended any further protest he might have.

Logan knew he was being unreasonable, but with each passing second he could feel his blissful bachelor existence slipping further away. He wasn’t accustomed to having females, and especially one with babies, in his home. And the Widow Wellington appeared to be one of the worst of her gender.

He could tell by just looking at her that she’d make demands and all kinds of things would change. For as long as she and her brood stayed on the Lazy Ace, she’d expect him to watch his language when a graphic, heartfelt cussing would feel good—help him put things in perspective. And he for damned sure wouldn’t be able to sit around in his underwear and watch television anymore, either. Not that he practiced that particular habit all that often, but just knowing he couldn’t had him lamenting the loss.

Good thing the master bedroom had a half bath. At least he wouldn’t have her glaring daggers at him when he left the toilet seat up.

Frowning, Logan took a bite from his sandwich and watched the women laugh at something Hank said. Unlike his friend, Logan had no intention of letting some woman lead him around like a puppy on a string. He’d seen that happen to some of his neighbors in the Rancher’s Emporium down in Bear Creek. While their women tried on clothes in the dressing rooms, the men stood around holding prissy little handbags in their big brawny fists, discussing the advantages of artificial insemination over a good breeding bull. The big galoots didn’t even have enough sense to look as if they found the experience humiliating.

“Logan?” Hank waved his hand in front of Logan’s face. “I asked if you found any signs of the cougar Ray reported seeing up in the high pastures while you were on your camping trip.”

Snapped out of his dismal speculation, Logan shook his head and swallowed what tasted like sawdust slapped between two slices of bread. “I tracked him all over the northwestern quadrant, but never did catch sight of him. When I reached the waterfall at the end of Shadow Valley, the tracks disappeared.”

“Do you have a lot of trouble with wild animals?” Cassie inquired.

He watched her spoon some of the nastiest-looking green stuff he’d ever seen from small jars and into the babies’ eager mouths. It looked as if their supper wasn’t any more palatable than his. So much for the widow’s cooking.

“Well, do you?”

“Huh?

“I asked if you have a lot of trouble with wild animals.”

He studied her curious expression. Maybe if he mentioned a wild animal or two, she’d decide it was far too dangerous for her and her kids and take off like a coyote with a buttful of buckshot.

“Sometimes,” Logan said slowly.

“Oh, speaking of wild animals, Samson paid us a visit while you were gone,” Hank said, as if on cue.

“Who or what is Samson?” Ginny asked.

“One of the biggest black bears you’d ever care to see,” Hank answered, leaning back in his chair.

Logan couldn’t have been more pleased with the turn of conversation. Knowing Hank and his aversion to the bear Logan had raised from an orphaned cub, Samson would no doubt grow at least two feet in height and gain a couple of hundred pounds by the time Hank finished describing him.

“When that bear stands on his hind feet, he’s every bit as big as a grizzly,” Hank said.

Logan took another bite of his sandwich to keep from grinning. He couldn’t have asked Hank for a better job of exaggerating the bear’s size.

“Do you think he’ll be back any time soon?” Cassie asked, continuing to spoon the unappealing mush from the jars and into the little girls’ mouths.

“It wouldn’t surprise me.” When Ginny scooted her chair a little closer to his, a pleased expression lit Hank’s face. “Old Samson has been known to hang around for days before he heads back up into the mountains.”

A sense of contentment surrounded Logan. The widow and her entourage would be off the ranch, out of his life and headed back to St. Louis first thing in the morning.

Unable to resist adding a little fuel to the fire Hank had kindled, Logan tried to keep his tone pragmatic. “Wild animals are just one of the hazards of living in this part of the country. At times, the weather can be more dangerous than the wildlife.”

“You might as well give it up, Mr. Murdock,” Cassie said, setting the baby-food jar on the table. The clatter of the spoon inside the empty glass echoed throughout the suddenly quiet room. She knew what he was up to and the sooner he realized it wasn’t going to work, the better off they’d both be. “You’re not going to scare me away from what’s rightfully mine. Whether you like it or not, the twins and I are here to stay.”

The shroud of stillness that descended on the kitchen was deafening as she and Logan glared at each other across the big oak table. It reminded her of the unnatural calm before a huge storm.

“Hank, why don’t you help me with the twins?” Ginny asked, finally breaking the tense silence. She rose from the table and began unfastening the safety straps on the high chairs. “I think these two need to talk.”

“But it’s just startin’ to get interestin’,” Hank protested. When Ginny leaned down to whisper something in his ear, Hank’s face brightened and he left the table so fast his chair tilted precariously. “You’re right. They don’t need us. It’s a fairly warm evening. Why don’t we take the babies for a walk?”

Hank took Kelsie, while Ginny removed Chelsea from her high chair. “We’re going to show the babies Velvet Lady’s new colt.” He waited for Ginny to wipe the twins’ faces, then helped her wrestle matching yellow sweaters on them. They each held a baby as Hank ushered Ginny toward the door. “You two take all the time you need.”

At any other time, Cassie might have found Hank’s haste to be with Ginny quite comical. But considering that their departure left her alone with Logan, Cassie didn’t see anything funny about it.

The man was raw virility personified, and from the moment he’d walked into the kitchen, every one of her senses had homed in on him like some type of feminine radar. The lingering scent of his masculine soap, the sight of his corded forearms beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves and the sound of his slightly rough baritone had her remembering the feel of his callused hands on her upper arms. The memory of his nude body in the bathtub sent a shiver snaking up her spine that had nothing to do with being chilled.

“Ginny’s right,” Cassie said, her tone sharpened by the sudden tension gripping her body. “We need to discuss the terms of our partnership.”

The harsh sound of Logan’s chair scraping along the hardwood floor echoed through the room. “I couldn’t agree more. There are some things we need to resolve, Mrs. Wellington. And I’d say now is as good a time as any to get it done.”

“Since my children and I are going to be living here, don’t you think it would be a good idea if we were on a first-name basis?” she asked, rising to face him.

He stared at her a moment before he nodded, stepped aside and motioned toward the hall. “All right, Cassie. Let’s go into my study.”

She normally hated confrontations, but she looked forward to this one. Logan Murdock needed to be treated to a few home truths. And the sooner, the better. She’d been around one too many selfish, self-centered men to let this one get the best of her.

She only wished his deep baritone hadn’t sounded so sexy, or that she hadn’t preceded him down the hall. His voice had that rough bedroom quality that sent a tremor passing through her when he said her name, and she could feel his gaze on her backside as surely as if he touched her there.

The man was, without a doubt, the most infuriating, obstinate soul Cassie had ever met. But he made her knees wobble and her lungs forget to take in air.

Logan brushed past her to open the door, and a tingle raced the length of her. Reminding herself to breathe, she entered the study and looked around in an attempt to distract herself from the unsettling reaction. To her disappointment, it was no different than any of the other rooms in the house—cherry wainscoting, massive pieces of leather-and-walnut furniture and neutral, nondescript drapes. It appeared Logan Murdock was stuck in a decorating rut.

“Does it meet with your approval?” he asked from somewhere behind her.

Cassie turned toward the sound of his voice, but instead of the snappy comeback she’d intended, she let loose a startled squeak. A huge bear in the corner loomed over Logan, mouth agape, claws extended, and after all the talk about Samson, it took a moment for her to realize the beast was poised for all eternity in the ferocious, battle-ready stance.

She shuddered and turned away. Instead of her gaze settling on something innocuous, she came face-to-face with the largest snake she’d ever seen outside the confines of a zoo. It was sitting in the middle of the mantel above the fireplace, four inches of rattles protruding from the tan-and-brown-blotched coil, the raised head promising a deadly bite from its enormous, bared fangs.

What sort of man kept such hideous works of taxidermy in his home? she wondered, spotting a lynx on the shelves beside the fireplace. The animal was frozen forever in what looked to be a really lousy mood.

“No wonder you keep this door closed,” Cassie said, her voice slightly shaky. “No one in their right mind would want to come in here.”

It was all Logan could do to keep from laughing out loud at Cassie’s shocked expression. Her face had paled to a pasty white and she looked ready to bolt for the door. She had no way of knowing this room had scared the hell out of him when he was a kid. Or that the stuffed animals were a lot older than he was.

“They threatened the welfare of the Lazy Ace,” he stated, lowering himself into the chair behind the desk. “When they attacked the livestock, my family had no choice but to deal with them.”

“You see me as a threat.” Cassie turned to glare at him. “Is this your way of telling me I’m the next to be stuffed and mounted?”

Logan watched her cheeks color a pretty pink as the double meaning of her words registered with both of them. He swallowed hard and his body responded in ways he’d rather not dwell on as a very provocative scenario flashed through his mind. This wasn’t going the way he’d planned. He was supposed to be discussing her departure from the Lazy Ace, not trying to hide the fact that her remark excited the hell out of him.

“I…uh, never said you were a threat.”

“You didn’t have to.” She sat in the leather chair in front of his desk, her arms crossed beneath her breasts, her expression defiant. “Once you found out who I was, you turned off the charm and turned on the hostility.”

“You weren’t exactly Miss Congeniality yourself.” He leaned back in the high-backed chair and sighed heavily. “Look, taking potshots at each other isn’t going to get us anywhere. What do you say we start over?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” she agreed. “I think that might make our living here more tolerable.”

Every time she mentioned staying on the ranch, the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up and his gut felt as if he’d been punched.

Logan squared his shoulders. He knew beyond a shadow of doubt he wasn’t going to like what she had to say, but he’d always been of the opinion that a situation should be dealt with head-on.

“Why don’t you tell me why you want to live here, then we’ll go from there,” he suggested.

“All right.” She took a deep breath, then met his gaze. “Uncle Silas bequeathed money to my cousins, but his last wish for me and the twins was a new way of life. By leaving me his half of the Lazy Ace Cattle Company, he’s provided me the opportunity to stay at home to raise my girls.” Her relieved smile made the knot in Logan’s gut twist even tighter. “I remember hearing Uncle Silas repeatedly say the unhurried pace of rural Wyoming was the perfect place to raise children. And he was right. It’s much safer here, the girls will have a healthy atmosphere away from the smog and fumes of an overcrowded city, and I’ll be with them to watch and enjoy every moment of their lives, instead of hearing about it from a baby-sitter.”

By the time she finished telling him about her desire to be a full-time mother and how important it was for her to raise her kids in a safe, wholesome environment, Logan felt as if he’d been blindsided by a steamroller. If he insisted she leave now, he’d feel like a low-down, sorry excuse for a skunk.

“Wouldn’t you rather live in town?” he asked hopefully. He knew all too well the dangers the area posed to women and children. But if he tried to explain that to her now, she’d think it was nothing more than a ploy to get her off the Lazy Ace.

She shook her head. “I’ve analyzed it from every angle and arrived at the same conclusion each time. It was the nicest thing Uncle Silas could have ever done for us. I want the girls to grow up here where they can run and play.” She gave him a pointed look. “And I want to be here to oversee my share of the ranch.”

Logan left his chair to pace back and forth behind the desk. “I could keep you informed of all business transactions in a quarterly report when I send a check for your part of the profits. Like I did for Silas.”

“Nothing against you, Mr. Murdock, but it’s my inheritance and I think it would be in my best interest to be here in order to watch over it.”

“The Murdock and Hastings families have been in business together for over a hundred years….”

“I know,” she said, nodding. “I’ve heard the story since I was old enough to listen—first from my father and grandfather, then after they passed away, from Uncle Silas. Your great-grandfather, Jake Murdock, and my great-grandfather, Ned Hastings, left St. Louis with nothing but their six-shooters and a deed for a large piece of prime ranch land they’d won in a poker game.”

“That’s right,” Logan agreed. “And it was your great-grandfather who lost interest and moved back to Missouri thirty-five years later,” he said pointedly. “He and the rest of your family have been perfectly happy as silent partners in the ranch. The Murdocks were the ones who stuck it out and made the Lazy Ace what it is today.”

“I’m well aware of that,” she said, her patience beginning to wear on his nerves. “But when Uncle Silas willed me his share of the ranch, I made a firm decision to become an active partner. It’s not fair that you and your family suffered all the hardships, while my family sat back and did nothing. Besides, I want to have firsthand knowledge of how you’re handling our livelihood.”

Logan stopped to glare at her. “I’m a man of my word. If that was good enough for your uncle, it should be good enough for you.”

“I’m not my uncle, Mr. Murdock. Put yourself in my shoes. Would you trust someone you didn’t know with the stakes this high?” When he remained silent, she smiled and rose to leave. “I’m no different. This is my children’s future we’re discussing and I’m not about to leave anything to chance.”

“But what about your family?” Logan asked desperately. “Won’t you miss seeing them?”

She shook her head. “There’s no reason for me to ever return to St. Louis. My parents are both deceased and I don’t have any brothers or sisters.” Opening the office door, she advised, “You might as well accept the fact that, from now on, my daughters and I will be calling the Lazy Ace home.”

He watched her close the door with a quiet click. “Not if I have anything to do with it, lady,” he muttered.

Three

Cassie stood at the foot of the stairs, feather duster in one hand and a bottle of furniture polish in the other. Where should she start?

Yesterday, after finding Logan in the bathtub, she hadn’t given cleaning the house a second thought. A warm shiver coursed through her. She doubted there was a woman alive who could think of dusting and polishing woodwork after seeing Logan Murdock in the buff.

And she’d told a real whopper yesterday when she’d said his body was unremarkable. Just the memory of all that masculine skin and the feel of those rock-hard muscles pressed against her had kept her awake most of the night. Which was about the dumbest thing she’d ever let happen. She wasn’t the least bit interested in Logan or his impressive muscle groups.

Shaking her head to dislodge the memory of his impressive assets from her traitorous brain, she stared at the living room. The man might have a gorgeous body, but he was a slob. Plain and simple. And the reality of the monumental task before her was almost enough to make her rethink her decision to move to the Lazy Ace.

That’s probably why he’s not married. Any woman in her right mind would take one look at the condition of the house and run as hard and fast as she could to get away.

A saddle draped the back of one armchair, while an odd assortment of jeans, shirts and white cotton briefs graced the back of the other. Newspapers, magazines, cups and glasses covered the tables beside the chairs and the coffee table in front of the big leather couch.

Dazed, Cassie turned her attention to the stone fireplace on the far side of the room. The moose head hanging above the mantel sported a Colorado Rockies ball cap, a pair of oversize sunglasses and a necktie screen printed with popular cartoon characters.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Ginny said, walking up beside her. “It looks like a war zone.”

Cassie nodded as she walked over to the fireplace to run the feather duster over the mantel. The cloud raised by the simple action made her sneeze. “When I called last week, Hank said the place needed a woman’s touch.” She picked up a pair of stiff socks from the stone hearth and held them at arm’s length. “But he failed to mention I’d need a bulldozer to clear out the clutter. It’s going to take me weeks to get this place into shape.”