Page 16 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

He shrugged. “Figured it was about time to give that pink puff of an automobile a name. Lucille fits her, I think.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Now that we’ve established that …”

Willow groaned.

“What Ireallycame by to tell you, Miss Willow, is that I’m here to help when you need me. Can’t imagine why Ace wants us to make such a big deal about the new recruit, but”—he shrugged, not wanting to talk about it all that much—“I’m here to help. Call on meif you want.”

Her eyes held doubt, but she said, “You mean that?”

“I said I’d help, didn’t I?” He hadn’t meant for that to sound so harsh. Even to himself, it had.

A slow, skeptical smile pulled at the corner of her lips. “Then grab an apron, cowboy. We’ve got a party to plan.”

ChapterFour

Well.Chance had helped her all right, but the start of a grin she’d seen on his face earlier in the week when she’d forced that flower-patterned apron on him had turned to a flat line the minute Rafael and his sweet wife, Bella, showed up.

Oh, and that dog! What had Seabiscuit, Bella’s cute Pomeranian-mix pup, ever done to Chance?

He wasn’t mean or anything, but he did ignore the poor little thing who nose bumped the cowboy’s boot. The dog didn’t give up, though. Bumped him again for good measure, then let out a bark that said,Play with me!Somehow, Seabiscuit sensed he was going to have to work extra hard to get that grumpy ol’ cowboy on board with his presence here at the ranch.

As far as Willow was concerned, the precious animal could clean up her kitchen floors any time he liked. She loved dogs but hadn’t been able to have one in her life for years. Not with all the uprooting that had taken place.

“You’ve outdone yourself, cook!” Bella appeared in the kitchen, her face flushed, her smile bright. Seabiscuit peeked out from the carrier slung around her shoulder. “The barn looks and smells amazing. I am overwhelmed by all of it. Truly.”

Willow tossed a damp towel over her shoulder and smoothed a hand across her forehead where a bead of perspiration threatened. “Bella Sutter, scoot! You’re a guest of honor tonight.”

Bella laughed. “I’m content to leave that honor to my husband, but thank you.”

Willow leaned toward the pup and chucked him under the chin. I suppose you could stay to help me mop the floors later, friend.”

“Ahh, he would love that, but what can I do to help now?”

“No-nothing. Really.” Willow straightened. Her voice broke, and she swallowed back a sudden lump in her throat. What in the world?

The truth was, she was tired—both mentally and physically. She’d done her best not to show how overwhelmed she’d been with not only handling the normal kitchen duties, but planning this party as well. With all Chance’s stomping around here this week, you’d have thought Miranda Priestly fromThe Devil Wears Pradawas moving in instead of the sweetest woman she had likely ever met.

“Oh boy, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Willow shook her head tightly. The last thing she needed right now was to tip anyone off to her family problems. It hadn’t helped that Landson had called again. She had followed her mother up into these mountains overlooking the sea for logistical reasons, but the strain of keeping up her responsibilities--all while keeping her family life private—had become a mountain all its own.

The word “secretive” came to mind, but since when did family troubles require airing publicly like so many do on social media? She had carefully scrubbed her accounts years ago and only kept one alive, under her initials, to keep an eye on her uncle.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been too active lately, which was a good thing. Or maybe he was just trying to be on his best behavior and not draw any attention to himself.

Sigh.

An all-too-familiar commotion from the mudroom broke the friendly banter. Chance’s voice preceded him into the long and narrow kitchen. “You havegotto be kidding!”

“Something wrong?” Willow asked to be polite, not because she cared all that much to hear any bad news.

Chance’s handsome mug was less than when wearing that scowl on it. He opened his mouth, but it froze there as his eyes settled on Bella’s presence in the kitchen. His expression morphed in a way that Willow was beginning to recognize—from spitting mad to a flash of sarcasm to, finally,get ahold of yourself, man.

“Bella,” he said, doffing his hat, his voice polite.

“Hey, Chance.” She bounced Seabiscuit in that sling like a newborn. Probably nervous. And why wouldn’t she be? Chance barreled into the place with fire lighting him up, only to turn the flame down when he’d been caught by an outsider.

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