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polite. And the contempt in his voice when he called her “Princess”.…She squirmed, feeling seventeen again and hating him with all that same thwarted fury. Her jaw tightened. What right did he have to condemn her lifestyle? She was a big girl now. All grown-up. She'd like to bloody that handsome nose of his and slap that cool expression on his face into next week.
    Knowing she was getting herself all in a snit over nothing, she took a deep calming breath. She'd tried to be polite. OK, not much, but she'd made the effort and what did she get for it? Disparaging remarks and insults. “Is this an official inquiry?” she asked tightly. “Otherwise, my reasons are my own and I don't have to share them with you. In fact, get off my property.”
    A muscle clenched in his jaw. “You know, someday someone is going to teach you some manners.”
    Her lip curled. “You volunteering?”
    His gaze swept over her. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Maybe.”
    He swung on his heels and climbed into the truck. The engine snarled to life and with more force than necessary, he spun the vehicle around and nosed it down the hill.
    For several minutes after he'd left, Roxanne stood there staring at nothing. What the hell was the matter with her? With anyone else, she would have offered a smile, refreshments, and the hand of friendship. She bit her lip. So why not with Jeb? Because I'm a bitch? Nah. Because he's a jerk. Pleased with her conclusion, she headed for the greenhouses.
    It was only ten o'clock in the morning, but already the heat was savage—by noon, every living thing, plant and animal alike, would be gasping for relief—relief that wouldn't come until the sun set. Despite her brief apparel, Roxanne still felt the heat and after walking a couple of hundred yards in the direction of greenhouses decided she'd put off investigating them until early tomorrow morning. Before it got hot. She grimaced. Yeah. Right.
    She started back to the cabin when a rustling in the heavy brush to her right had her freezing in her steps. Visions of bears and cougars leaped to her mind—she knew the area abounded with them—and she cursed herself for not carrying some sort of weapon. Even a big stick would have been a comfort at the moment. Trying to remember everything she'd ever known about confronting a bear or a mountain lion, she faced the direction of the noise and edged backward toward the cabin.
    The noise grew fearsome and just when she was certain she couldn't stand the suspense any longer, a horse and rider, followed by three dusty, panting cow dogs, burst into view.
    Recognizing the wiry rider, a battered beige cowboy hat on his head, Roxanne's heartbeat slowed to normal and a welcoming smile lit her face. “Acey Babbitt!” she exclaimed. “You nearly gave me a heartattack. I was certain that a bear had me in mind for breakfast.”
    Acey grinned, blue eyes bright in his sun-worn face. “And a tasty meal you would have made.” Beneath an impressive pair of white handlebar mustaches, he smacked his lips. “Yes, ma'am, you do look good enough to eat—even to an old cowpoke like me.”
    She chuckled. “Why, Mr. Babbitt, are you putting the moves on little ole me?”
    “Might…if I were twenty years younger and you were twenty years older,” he said, wriggling his bushy white eyebrows. “Of course, if you don't mind a fellow who creaks when he walks, I'd sure be still willing to give it a try.”
    Roxanne laughed again, not at all fooled by his hopeful expression. Acey Babbitt was seventy-five years old if he was a day and one of the dearest men Roxanne had ever known—and one of the biggest teases. His prowess with cattle and horses alike was legendary and throughout his long career, at one time or another, he had worked for almost every ranch in the valley, including the Ballingers. Just about every kid in the valley, including herself and her siblings, had learned to ride under Acey's gentle but steely guidance. And while he