.

Mona, have we got company?” a voice asked from the kitchen.

      “Herbie and a young man,” Mona called back. “Are you decent? We’re coming in for lemonade.”

      Max laughed. They both gave him odd looks. He’d assumed Rosie was the cook, or some other help. Maybe she was one of the…

      He cleared his throat. Taylor was his attorney, dammit. He should have insisted she come and handle this. “Is there a place I can wash up?”

      “Sure, the kitchen sink.” Mona reached behind to untie her apron as she led them through the dining room.

      So much for trying to stall. Following beside Herbert, Max couldn’t help but notice the rhythmic sway of Mona’s hips but he straightened in disgust when he realized he was admiring a woman old enough to be his grandmother.

      “Either of you boys want some rum to go with that lemonade?” Mona asked over her shoulder.

      “None for me,” Herbert said. “I’m working.”

      “Working?” Mona laughed. “Standing here jawing with us?”

      “Nope. Driving this young fella around.”

      They reached the kitchen, and with open curiosity, Mona turned to give Max the once-over. “You still haven’t told me your name, Sugar.”

      “Max Bennett.” He offered his hand.

      She frowned. “Now, why does that name sound familiar?”

      “Maxwell Bennett?” A surprised high-pitched voice came from somewhere in the corner.

      He looked past Mona and Herbert to find a well-rounded, platinum-blond woman balancing on a step stool in the walk-in pantry.

      Mona looked from Max to the other woman. “Rosie, you know this young man?”

      “For goodness sakes, Mona, this is Lily’s nephew.” She came out of the pantry, dusting her hands, and sending up a mist of flour. “He’s taking over the Ranch. Aren’t you, Mr. Bennett?”

      Max blinked. When the air cleared, he got a good look at Rosie. Her hair wasn’t blond. It was white. Attractive, but definitely white. The lines etched around her mouth and fanning from her brown eyes put her in the late sixties category. Was she the cook? Which made Mona…what? The housekeeper?

      His gaze strayed over to her. He tried not to gape. She’d removed her apron and now he knew what they did with black lace. The fabric fit her like a second skin, clinging and diving to a deep V between her sizable breasts.

      “Max.” Mona grabbed the hand he’d offered earlier. “I assume I can call you Max? And of course you already know I’m Mona. Mona Lisa. And this here is Rosie Peach.”

      “Mona Lisa. Rosie Peach,” Max repeated slowly. This couldn’t be what he was thinking.

      Mona nodded. “Candy Kane is out shopping but she should be home soon. There’s only three of us these days.”

      Oh, man. Max swallowed, not sure what to say.

      To his further embarrassment, Mona and Rosie exchanged knowing looks. Then Rosie smiled. “Don’t worry, Max,” she said patting his arm. “There may be snow on the chimney but there’s still fire in the furnace.”

      “WHERE IS SHE?” Abby stood on the porch of the Swinging R and planted her hands on her hips, waiting for Mona to deny that Gramms was here.

      “I presume you’re talking about Estelle.” Mona folded her arms across her chest, keeping the screen door open with one hip. “She’s not here.”

      “I knew you’d say that.”

      “She’s out shopping with Candy.”

      “Oh.” Abby hadn’t been prepared for the admission. “Well, what time will she be back?”

      “How should I know, Abigail? I’m not her mother.” Mona narrowed her dramatically made-up eyes. “And neither are you.”

      Abby lifted her chin. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what this show of rebellion was about. She knew Gramms thought she was too bossy. But Abby sure wasn’t about to discuss their personal business with Mona. “I’ll wait.”

      “Don’t you have campaign things to go worry about?”

      Abby was about to reply when she heard a deep rumbling laugh coming from inside. She’d already seen Herb Hanson’s car parked alongside the house. No surprise. Everyone knew he and Mona had been an item for a number of years. But that wasn’t his laugh she’d heard. Curiosity elbowed her and she shifted to get a look inside.

      Mona shifted, too, blocking her vision. “Abigail, you know we like to protect the privacy of our gentlemen callers.”

      Everyone knew the Swinging R had been closed to that kind of business for nearly twenty years. Mona was just trying to be a pain. Abby sighed. “Are you going to make me wait out here?”

      “I’m thinking about it. Unless you promise to leave Estelle alone. She’ll go home when she’s good and ready.”

      Abby tried to keep her chin up. But it hurt to think that Gramms was trying to get away from her. They’d always been close, and after Abby’s parents died, they’d gotten even closer.

      “Ah, shoot. Come on in, honey,” Mona said, and Abby stiffened at the trace of pity in her voice. “Rosie made some fresh lemonade a little while ago.”

      Abby was about to refuse, upset that she’d somehow revealed too much of her thoughts. But Mona’s eyes were kind, and that deep rumbling laughter coming from inside called to Abby again.

      “Thank you,” she said a little more stiffly than intended, and followed Mona inside.

      As soon as she crossed the threshold she saw him. He had his back to her. A very nice back. Medium brown hair a tad too long. Broad-shouldered, tapered waist. And his jeans fit him…extremely well.

      “Nice buns, huh?” Mona whispered.

      “I wasn’t looking there,” Abby shot back, obviously in too loud a voice.

      Both men turned.

      Heat blossomed in her cheeks. “I guess I’ll go find Rosie,” she muttered.

      Before she could slip away, Mona grabbed her arm. “Not so fast. There’s someone we want you to meet.”

      Abby had no choice but to stop and look up.

      Oh, no.

      Green eyes. She was the world’s biggest sucker for guys with green eyes. She’d made two huge mistakes over green-eyed men—one in high school, one in college. Both disastrous. And this man’s eyes were gorgeous, especially the way they lit up with his smile.

      “Hi, I’m Abby,” she said, disgusted at how tongue-tied she felt.

      “I’m Max Bennett.” His perfectly shaped mouth curved slowly, a faint dimple appearing in one cheek.

      “You certainly are,” she murmured, astonished by the sheer beauty of him. She cringed. Had she really said that out loud?

      “Did I tell you I’m Abby?”

      His green eyes gleamed with amusement and she found she couldn’t look away. When he started to nod slowly, she found herself absently nodding along with him. Horrified, she snapped out of the trance.

      This was not at all like her. The clammy palms, the speeding pulse. Sure, he was gorgeous but…she wanted to be mayor. She had to focus on her campaign, concentrate on her career, on bringing Bingo into the twenty-first century. Her future had been too meticulously planned. It did not include a man. Or a family. For now, anyway. Maybe later…

      She took a deep breath, trying to rein in her wildly galloping thoughts. For heaven’s sake, she was only being introduced to the