Rodeo Baby. Mary Sullivan

diner ever thought to call this a ranch.

      All along the highway, he’d passed low-slung ranch houses better suited to the prairie. But he could probably take the house and plunk it down into an old Boston neighbor­hood. He fully expected to find a parlor inside outfitted with velvet sofas and crocheted doilies.

      After knocking on the oak door, he waited, his stomach dancing with nerves. How did he possibly think he could handle this?

      He could handle it. Look how well he’d done with the Harper acquisition. He’d made millions on that. Or how he’d managed to fight off the hostile takeover by Steig Industries.

      He could do just about anything. As long as they didn’t have him shoveling manure, he should be fine.

      Well, duh. Of course, cowboys shovel manure. Chelsea’s imagined sarcasm sounded in his head.

      She sat in the car, elbow deep in a self-indulgent pout.

      The door opened before Sam raised his hand to knock again.

      A tall, fair-haired man stood in the dim hallway, denim shirt and pants outlining a work-hardened body. A chiseled jaw and enough fine lines at the corners of his blue eyes to add character prevented a slide into movie-star territory.

      “I’m Travis Read.” He stuck out his hand. “You must be Sam. Rachel told me you were coming. Expected you sooner.”

      “I drove around a bit. I’ve never been in Montana before. It’s beautiful.” Not a complete lie. He and Chelsea had seen a bit of the country on their way to the nursing home and here.

      “Come on in.” Travis peered beyond Sam and asked, “Is that your daughter in the car? Doesn’t she want to come inside?”

      “She’s...she’s not completely happy we’re here.” He left it at that.

      A tiny girl, only three or so, popped up beside Travis. “You gots a little girl? I go get her.”

      “She’s not little,” Sam began, but the girl shot off the veranda and tried to open the car door.

      Sam reached her and opened the passenger door. Maybe this cute child would succeed where Sam hadn’t. Her dimples could charm even a hardened criminal.

      “Hi,” she said to Chelsea, leaning into the car. “My name’s Victoria. Mommy calls me Tori. What’s your name?” Without waiting for a reply, she forged on. “I gots pink cowboy boots. Look! Do you gots cowboy boots? Why don’t you come out? We can play.”

      Chelsea glanced at Sam helplessly and he understood why. As much as Chelsea adored animals, she loved children even more. Hard to hold on to a good pout when a charming little girl asked you to come out to play.

      He waited with a smile on his lips. Any second now, Chelsea had to give in to the girl’s charm.

      “Is your seat belt stuck?” Tori asked. “You can’t get it off? I hep you!”

      Tori climbed up onto Chelsea to reach the seat belt connection. Chelsea said, “Oof,” and laughed.

      “It’s okay, Tori, I can do it. I’ll get out now.”

      Tori climbed back out with Chelsea’s supporting hand on her back so she wouldn’t fall. Chelsea unsnapped her seat belt and left the car.

      Tori grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the house.

      “Does anyone ever say no to that child?” Sam asked.

      Travis grinned. “No one I’ve met yet.”

      Sam followed him, Chelsea and Tori into the house.

      He’d been wrong about the interior. Completely. No sedate, old-fashioned Victorian, sage-green living room walls contrasted the solid oak floor and the dark wood trim nicely. A huge fireplace dominated one side of the room.

      On the walls, several large landscapes startled with their colors and subject matter, at once roughhewn and refined, powerful and elegant. Painted by the same hand as the ones in the diner?

      Travis caught him studying them. “Local artist. Zachary Brandt.”

      “Local scenery?”

      Travis nodded.

      “Beautiful.”

      “Sit, please. I’ll get Rachel. Let’s get to know each other before you start work.”

      Work. Sam swallowed. What exactly would it entail here?

      Rachel, an attractive woman with a warm smile and a baby in her arms, joined them, and after introductions and glasses of fresh lemonade were produced, they all sat.

      Sam struggled with how to break the ice, but Tori took care of that. She lounged against Travis’s leg with her little feet crossed at the ankle and rested one elbow on Travis’s knee and her chin on her hand.

      She directed all of her attention toward Chelsea.

      “You gots nail polish. You like black. I like your hair. Is it soft?”

      Chelsea nodded.

      “Can I feel it?”

      Chelsea nodded again.

      Tori approached and touched it. “Oh, it’s so soft. Pretty.”

      Now she leaned on Chelsea’s knee.

      “Travis is gonna buy me a pony. Do you gots a pony?”

      Chelsea nodded.

      Tori’s eyes widened. “Mommy! Travis! Chels gots a pony!”

      Sam smiled at the girl’s attempt to pronounce his daughter’s name.

      Tori leaned close to Chelsea. “What’s his name?”