Her Cowboy Boss

What did Meredith Billings do to bring herself comfort?

She was trying to move home. And he could help her with that.

She and her strawberry blond, coconut-scented hair arrived with black coffee and a breakfast tray around six in the morning. He was waiting for her, sitting atop the toolbox.

“Morning.”

She gave him that devastating smile along with the breakfast tray. “Good morning.”

“Swelling’s gone down,” he told her, parking the tray on his knees. “I expect to repair the tracheotomy tomorrow.”

“That’s good.”

He removed the dish towel, uncovering a thick omelet topped with salsa and cheese, along with rolled tortillas and sliced melon. The Billings family did not stint in the kitchen. Mouth watering, he picked up his fork and said slowly, “I could use your help.”

Meredith caught her breath, but he pretended not to notice.

“Okay,” she said. “Someone has to miss service tomorrow to stay with Dad anyway.”

He’d forgotten that tomorrow was Sunday. He hated Sundays. They were his slowest days. This particular Sunday he hated most of all. But he wouldn’t think about that. He never thought about that.

Right.

Keeping his gaze on his plate, he said, “Best do it early.”

“That’s fine. After breakfast okay?”

“Works for me.”

“That’s settled then. Now, I have a favor to ask.”

Stark steeled himself, setting aside his fork to slug back strong black coffee, and nodded noncommittally. “You can ask.”

“You said you’d talk to Dad, give him an update on Soldier.”

Stark relaxed. “No problem.”

“We thought you might do that this evening. Ann and Dean are coming over for dinner. We’ll tell Dad everything that’s been going on the last few days, then you can give him the latest update on Soldier’s condition. If that’s all right with you.”

He knew she was asking him to do more than simply speak to her father about his horse, and he meant to tell her that speaking to Wes was all he would do, that he would not join the family for dinner, but he couldn’t seem to think of words that weren’t too sharp, rude or unintentionally wounding. In the end, he nodded curtly and ate his omelet. It had nothing, nothing whatsoever, to do with the date. Or so he told himself. Smiling, she skipped out of the stable, leaving him frowning at her back.

Looked like he was having dinner with the Billings family.

He tried not to think about it, going about his business on Saturday as usual. Plenty needed to be done. Somehow, though, he still found enough time to shower, shave, change and show up at the stable in time to give Soldier a thorough exam before Meredith insisted on dragging him into the house. She’d changed the IV bag before he’d arrived, and, try as he might, he could find no fault with her work.

“You want me to give your father a comprehensive report, don’t you?” he grumbled as she towed him by the arm down the aisle of the stable.

“Yes, and I also want to eat before dinner gets cold.”

He rolled his eyes, dragging his feet, but inside he felt an alarming tendency to smile. Countering it with a scowl, he allowed himself to be escorted to the ranch house. As soon as he passed through the front door into the foyer, he removed his hat and hung it on a peg on the wall. The instant he stepped into the living room, however, a little redheaded tornado hurled himself off the couch and straight at Stark.

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