Page 7 of A Summer to Claim Her Cowboy

“When is that?”

“Not until November.”

“Okay.”

“Just... Don’t cry, Frankie. I’m going to go out and do some work. You can get your things moved in. You can... Cook dinner. And we’ll talk more then.”

Frankie nodded. And she tried not to think about the sadness of all this. That she was sadder at the idea her employer didn’t need her anymore than she was about her breakup. That her things fit into two suitcases, because she’d never actually made her own life. Because Walker’s house had always felt more like hers than anywhere else. Because if she had bought something for a kitchen, it had been for this one.

November. That was when Carter was coming back. She needed to draw a line under this. She needed to make her own life. Because Walker had one, and it was clear to her that he didn’t actually have a place for her in it.

This was buying her some time, but in the end, she was going to have to sort herself out. She was going to have to figure out how to extricate herself from this. From the delusion that this was her family. And from the impossible feelings that she had carried for this man for ten years. At least now she knew. He didn’t need her. And even if he let her stay out of pity, she couldn’t forget that.

CHAPTER THREE

WALKERSIGHEDANDset down his shovel. He had been moving manure all day, and it wasn’t even a metaphor.

Frankie had looked so fragile and vulnerable earlier, and he’d wanted to take her in his arms and shield her from it. That didn’t bother him too much.

It was the way his body felt when he let himself imagine how it would feel if hers was crushed up against him. She had a lush figure, even if it was petite like the rest of her.

He could still remember the day Frankie, the solution to everything, had become a problem.

He hated himself for it, because it was basic. And his life, Frankie’s place in it, and Frankie herself, weren’t basic at all.

But as for seeing her as a woman?

It had been the first day of summer two years ago and he’d heard a howl of outrage coming from the front of the barn and had run out to check.

Which was when he’d seen her, pulling her sodden T-shirt away from her body, exposing her midsection as she tried angrily to wring it out. “Sky!Carter!I swear toGod!”

She’d been furious, and she’d let her top fall back into place and it stuck to her, and he was right in the middle of a wet T-shirt contest he hadn’t asked to be invited to.

He’d been forced to look.Forced.

But at least for a moment he’d been aware only of her taut midsection, the outline of her breasts, and—God help him—her nipples, tight from the cold. Because that preoccupation could be written off as generic. He was a man who hadn’t actually touched a pair of breasts in far too long so he could be forgiven for focusing on any set in the vicinity.

But then she’d looked at him.

And there was no denying it was Frankie.

Pissed, wet, and prettier than he wanted to admit.

“Did your boys run through here?” she asked.

“Not that I saw.”

“Are you covering for them?”

“I would never.” He tried to keep his eyes firmly focused on hers, but that didn’t even help.

Because when had her eyes gotten so beautiful? And how had he missed it? When had she grown into this? This beautifulwoman.

He shook off the memory, because he did not need to dwell on that right now.

He took a breath, took off his gloves and took his phone out of his pocket. He had one text from Sky updating him on his current location—as if he wasn’t also going to track the kid’s phone. He also had a text from Carter about how he’d gone on a tour and that there was shitty food on campus, and Walker fired back a response about how he wasn’t getting Uber Eats every day, and he just had to deal with the meal plan. It was unsympathetic, maybe. But as Walker had devoted his twenties to raising his kids, having never actually gone to college, he felt strongly that his kid could deal with the indignity of being sent away to a nice school. And then, he decided to call Frankie’s dad.

Steve Davis was a good guy and had been Walker’s employer when the kids were little. He had given him more than a fair wage to work the place and Walker would always be grateful to him for helping him and Anna get a start. He’d really given Walker passion for ranching, and when Walker had saved up enough money to buy his own place, Steve had always been on hand to give advice. It was through Steve that he knew Frankie, who had been one of the most important people in his life over the last eight years. Without Frankie, everything would’ve fallen apart.

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