Counting On The Cowboy. Shannon Vannatter Taylor

went dry. He didn’t want to get into the fiasco with Phoebe. And her father. “I went into partnership, tried to go on a grander scale, but it didn’t work out.”

      “I wish we could afford your cabins here.” Landry rolled onto her side. “I’m afraid ours probably seem beneath you.”

      “They’re cozy and perfect for a vacation. Besides, I’m happy to be here. To help out a friend.” He was. He just wished he wasn’t constantly distracted by Devree and her pretty blue eyes. And his mother lurking about somewhere on the premises weighed heavy on his mind. He stood. “I appreciate y’all inviting me to supper, but I think I’ll turn in.”

      “Glad you could make it. Eat in the dining room anytime you like. On the house.”

      “I don’t mind paying.”

      “We know. But you’re getting us out of a major bind. The least we can do is feed you.”

      “Good night, then.” He headed for the exit. The night sounds—frog’s croaks, cricket’s chirps, horse’s whinnies—tugged at him. He’d sat on the porch swing many a night with his dad. He knew he should get going, back to his room. But as housekeeper, his mom should be long gone by now. He could sit a spell.

      Closing his eyes, he settled on the swing. Old spice cologne and tales of the day’s handyman chores filled his memory. His dad’s calloused hands gentle, his voice low. Brock leaning his cheek on his dad’s arm. He’d often fallen asleep in the swing, then awoken in his bed the next morning.

      The door opened and he became instantly alert. Surely, not his mom. He stiffened, then quickly relaxed as Devree stepped outside. Gasping when she spotted him.

      “Sorry, I didn’t know you were out here.”

      “I didn’t mean to be.”

      “I love sitting on the porch swing at night.”

      He scooted to the end, patted the slats beside him. “Feel free.”

      She hesitated a moment, but headed his way in the end. The swing barely shifted with her slight weight.

      “I don’t know why I like it out here.” She shuddered. “There’s probably snakes lurking. Or bats. Or bears for that matter. Maybe even a man with wire cutters. But I feel safe so close to the house and I love the night sounds. You don’t get that in the city.”

      “I imagine not.”

      “And the stars are so bright here. So many of them.”

      He scanned the horizon, ashamed he often took the stars for granted. The black curtain sprinkled with sparkling flecks spread for miles. “So, why do you stay there?”

      “It’s where I belong. It’s nice to visit the country—hear the sounds, experience the slowed-down lifestyle—but I could never live here. I’d be bored to tears.”

      Her statement was a good reminder. For a short time, they’d work together. Then they’d go their separate ways. “I could never live anywhere else.”

      “Do you think we put Landry’s mind at ease? With my blurting out the mouse issue.”

      “She seemed relieved.” The swing had almost stopped and he pushed off with his boot. “Just wish she wasn’t right about someone trucking mice into the fishing cabin. Maybe I scared him off and the mice will be gone in the morning.”

      “Where do you even find so many mice?”

      “Good question. Maybe the city dump.”

      “We should go there, ask around, see if anyone’s been setting traps.”

      With the renewed swaying, a waft of apples caught his senses. “What are you, a detective?”

      “I just want this craziness to end. If we don’t get rid of the mice before the Brighton/Anderson wedding, it’ll be a disaster.”

      “The cabin’s caulked as tight as a storm shelter and the locks have been changed. I think the mice invasion is over.”

      “Maybe so. But if someone’s trying to sabotage the dude ranch, they’ll come up with another way. He broke into the cabin.” The quiver in her voice tugged at him. “What if the ranch house is next?”