Her Lone Cowboy. Patricia Forsythe

lips tightened and his eyebrows pulled together in a ferocious frown. The argument became too personal. “Don Parkey took the kittens to his clinic, spayed and neutered them, brought two back to me and put the rest up for adoption, but he couldn’t catch the mother because, first of all, she is feral, and second, she and the other two know there’s a pack of coyotes roaming the area, so they all pretty much stay up in the rafters. And, no, I don’t know how the tomcat has stayed alive to keep coming to pay her conjugal visits.” He stopped and pointed to his bad leg. “And, obviously, I can’t catch her, either.”

      In a flash Laney’s expression went from annoyance to embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

      When he saw pity drench her eyes, he looked away. That was what he hated—someone feeling sorry for him. And worse, someone wanting to do things for him that he used to be able to do without a second thought.