Once Upon a Cowboy Read Free

such a ridiculous—"
    "You'll see soon enough." Holt circled his horse around a pile of boulders. "Come on. Let's get this settled and those folks on their way. We've got fences to mend." He nudged Loco into a trot and started down the hill, Gabby and Frank at his heels.
    Pulling up alongside the porch, he eyed the group and buried a smile. Yep. Tourists. He tugged at the brim of his hat. "Excuse me," he said. "Mind if I ask what's going on here?"
    The yo-yo whistled past the kids, coming to within a hair of Holt's nose, froze in midair, then snapped back into the woman's hand. In one smooth move it disappeared into the pocket of a heavily starched pair of jeans.
    She turned to face him, a wide, appealing grin splitting her face. "Hey, there," she called in greeting. She trotted across the wooden planks of the porch, her gait a bit stiff-legged from the batwing leather chaps she wore, and on down the stairs, huge, pointy spurs jangling with every step.
    She was a looker, no two ways about it. At least, for a city slicker. He fought to keep a straight face, striving to ignore her pseudo-western gear. But he found it near impossible to ignore a loud red, white and blue checked shirt with silly silver fringe dangling from every conceivable seam. He found it even tougher to ignore her longhorn cow buckle, a buckle that threatened to gore anybody who came within courtin' distance. But it was toughest of all to ignore the perfectly good Stetson perched atop her head. A Stetson some fool had dyed bubblegum pink and decorated with more feathers than a gaggle of geese. One good gust and she'd be airborne.
    "Been shopping at Clara's?" Holt couldn't resist asking. Beside him, Frank choked. Gabby proceeded to thump their neighbor on the back. Hard.
    Eyes as wide and blue as the morning sky stared up at Holt from beneath a tumble of thick, curly black hair. And then she smiled, the most adorable dimples he'd ever seen winking in her cheeks. "Clara did me up real fine, didn't she?"
    He swallowed his laughter, the ingenuousness of her expression stealing the urge to tease clean away. "She aims to satisfy," he conceded gruffly.
    This was a city woman, Holt reminded himself. He shouldn't be seeing her as anything other than a second coming of Gwen, no matter how innocent she appeared on the surface. City was city. Period.
    Her adorable dimples winked at him again and his train of thought evaporated as though it had never been. He'd never kissed a pair of dimples before, but these seemed like the perfect punctuation marks to a mouth a man could get lost exploring.
    As though remembering her manners, she doffed her hat. Feathers spurted into the air, drifting downward to snag in her hair and in the fringe of her shirt. "How do. Cami Greenbush at your service. I work for Mr. Holt Winston and since he's not around, I thought I'd help his guests unload and keep them entertained." She gestured toward the porch. "This is Rob and Rhonda Radburn and their boys, Randy, Rory, Rufus, Rollie, Rusty, and—" She glanced uncertainly at the baby.
    "Junior," Rob supplied.
    Cami grinned. "And Junior."
    Holt tensed, mild amusement rapidly dissipating. A horrible suspicion grabbed hold. A suspicion he sincerely hoped would prove wrong. "Did you say your name is Greenbush ?" he bit out, praying his ears deceived him.
    "I surely did. Actually, it's Camellia Greenbush," she admitted.
    "Camellia..." His voice dried up.
    She scowled. "God's honest truth. I'm a Texan, myself. But my momma is from Virginia and thought it would be kinda cute to name me after her favorite shrub."
    He tried again. "Camellia..."
    "Now, don't rub it in. With the last name Greenbush, nobody would want to lug around a handle like Camellia. Leastwise, I wouldn't. But I don't hold it against Momma. She meant well. I guess. Still, I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Cami. Okay?"
    For a split second stunned silence reigned. Then Frank exploded with laughter, Gabby muttered a colorful expletive,