Teaching the Cowboy Read Free

of their hearts left to give away.
    In his confined little corner of the world, John knew every single person by sight. There were maybe two women who might have been suitable replacements for his fickle ex-wife and that wasn’t saying much. Dawna Roe was thirty, flirty, and had an insatiable appetite for Lundstrom beef. While he was flattered that she ate so heartily whenever the Lundstroms and Ericksons got together for one of their big blow-out barbecues, she didn’t have anything else of worth to say unless it was about what was on her burger.
    Merri Roe, actually Dawna’s sister, was thirty-two and a champion barrel racer. She knew horses and she tended to ride her men like they were horses, too. He liked it rough every now and then, but he hated feeling like he was just a means to an end. In fact, he’d all but given up on socializing in the past few years. Why bother? But then, as if his dreams had been transmitted straight to God’s to-do list, this fine little sable-colored slip of a woman got dropped right at the toes of his cowboy boots.
    Halleluiah, the angels sang.
    It had taken Liss’s and Peter’s embarrassing little outbursts to make him ignore the itch in his fingers to wrap his hands around the woman’s tiny little waist and pull her in close for a proper introduction. Real proper, regardless of the fact he’d signed a fifteen thousand-dollar check to get the woman out there. That made him her boss.
    He’d deal with the kids later. At least Landon had had the good sense to rein Pete in or else that boy would have been running his mouth ’til Kingdom Come. He didn’t mean anything by it; it was just the way he was wired. Same as his daddy.
    Before she’d died, John’s mother had warned him that Pete’s mouth would get them all in trouble some day. She’d laughed about it, though. John didn’t think it was funny. Impulse control? Pete had none . The doctors said he’d grow out of his ADHD some, but to John, it seemed like the medications somehow made it worse.
    He stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel draped over his sink. After wrapping the fluffy white terrycloth thing around his waist, he leaned against the counter of the double sink, the other side having been long abandoned. His thoughts flitted back to his ex-wife, Charlene, for a moment as he remembered how the countertop would always be cluttered with so many bottles and pots of perfumes and cosmetics. She always did herself up as if she had a photo shoot scheduled, when the truth was she wasn’t going much farther than town to pick up the kids from school. When she remembered, anyway. She was high maintenance for a ranch wife but didn’t start off that way. His money made her that way.
    He held his razor’s plug in his hand while studying his appearance in the mirror and decided against shaving. Everyone else at the table would probably be straight from work with straw and manure still on their boots. He didn’t want to stand out too much, especially since he was acting out of character by going to dinner in the first place. He hated visiting the Ericksons. Becka cried too damn much, Ted was half-deaf and loud, and those kids…
    He blew out a breath.
    Maybe lumping Liss and Peter with them in this homeschooling scheme is a bad idea.
    He dried his hair on a second towel, brushed his teeth, and dressed casually: his favorite jeans and one of his few shirts that wasn’t plaid, striped, or denim. It was supposed to be a church shirt. Had a little polo horse on it and everything. He used his teeth to break off the plastic tie holding on the price tag. Who was he kidding? He hadn’t been to church since Liss, now six, was a baby. He’d always planned to go, though, so that had to count for something.
    He padded down the hall in his socks, knocking on each kid’s bedroom door as he passed. “All right, we’re about to head out. Make sure your nails are clean and faces washed.”
    The kids piled out of their rooms wearing