Page 26 of The Cowboy's Christmas
“Will do.”
“What happened on the mountain?” She ambushed him with the question before he could form another sexy smile.
The sexy smile happened anyway as he stubbornly shook his head, but before he could answer—or not answer—the back door opened and two little girls in winter parkas and flowered boots rushed out.
“Aunt Vannie,” Sophie said as she banged open the gate, “we took good care of Uncle Deke.” Jessa followed close behind, almost tripping as she kept her eyes on Quinn.
Savannah crouched down to open her arms and draw the girls in for hugs. “I bet you did. I was counting on you for that.”
“He got out of his chair seven times,” Jessa reported. “But he was r-r-real careful when he walked.” She shifted her attention to Quinn. “Deke said your name is Mr. Harding and you’re helping.”
“Quinn,” he said with a smile. They hadn’t had a proper introduction when he’d brought Deke home.
“I’m Sophie and this is Jessa,” Sophie said, effectively stealing her sister’s thunder. Her sister looked none too pleased, but Quinn saved the day.
“Deke said you were princesses.”
Their expressions brightened. “Not real princesses,” Jessa explained, once more in control. “We’repretendprincesses.”
“The best kind,” Quinn said. He shifted his attention to Savannah. “I should go. What time do you do chores?”
“Shortly after you get here.”
“See you around seven, then.” He smiled at the girls. “Good job taking care of your uncle, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He shot Savannah a look she couldn’t read, then whistled for his dog, who rocketed toward him, and headed for the flatbed.
“We’d better get inside,” she said to the girls, who were watching him leave.
“Is he a real cowboy?” Sophie asked.
“Yes,” Savannah said as she began to guide her nieces to the back door. “I think he is.”
A very real, very dangerous cowboy.
*
“What took solong?” Deke asked when Savannah came into the living room where he was in his recliner as per orders. She did not ask about what he did when he got up seven times, but she noticed that the dishes were done and there was a chicken casserole in the slow cooker. Deke did love to cook, so she decided to call it therapy. Quinn should have taken the dinner invitation.
“Mishap on the hill,” Savannah said as she scooted a few pieces of the farm set into a pile with her stocking-covered foot. “I brought the cows down while Quinn beat the brush. He, and I quote, ‘got off to check something,’ and as near as I can tell a grouse spooked Pete and our cowboy friend was left walking home.”
“He got off to pee.”
She gave him right-you-are look. “He is not fessing up.”
“Well, you know, that’s kind of a pride buster. Is he coming back?”
“I certainly hope so,” Savannah said. “He has the flatbed.”
“He could abandon it in Marietta.”
“True, but I don’t think he’s going to.” She stretched, then looked over her shoulder toward the arched doorway. “Were the girls good?”
“Very helpful,” he said in a way that made Savannah smile again.
“Can you do it?” she deadpanned. “Spend a week pretending to be off your feet while babysitting?”
“And being babysat,” he added, echoing what the girls had announced that morning.
“Yes.” She gave a laugh. “I’m not sure where they came up with that.”
