id="u94e34248-d82c-5b79-8ab1-c276a6530324">
It shouldn’t matter to me.
He sawed through the wood with the handsaw he preferred to an electric version. Thinking about her like that was selfish and thickheaded. The only thing that should matter was whether or not she could be convinced to let him spend time with his daughter.
He’d thought it would be easier somehow—that perhaps if Shiloh was being cared for by someone with a family of her own, that the help of a parent might be, if not wholly welcome, then possibly some relief, financial or otherwise. He hadn’t considered that she’d be living with an incredibly dedicated and, admittedly, alluring young woman whose presence had an intense, unwelcome effect on him.
Sam put the saw down to measure another piece of wood, working as fast as he could while maintaining precision. Soon enough he’d be done cutting the lumber, and he could begin to pound nails into boards. Maybe the sweat and hard work in the Texas spring sun would remind him of the potential storm ahead, brought on by his own actions, and he’d forget the way his heart raced at the mere sight of Lucy Monroe.
Finding His
Lone Star Love
Amy Woods
AMY WOODS took the scenic route to becoming an author. She’s been a bookkeeper, a high school English teacher, and a claims specialist, but now that she makes up stories for a living, she’s never giving it up. She grew up in Austin, Texas, USA, and lives there with her wonderfully goofy, supportive husband and a spoiled rescue dog. Amy can be reached on Facebook, Twitter and her website, www.amywoodsbooks.com.
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For Grandma and Grandpa Bruce, who would have been proud.
Contents
There was no less-qualified cook in the town of Peach Leaf, Texas—okay, possibly the whole world—than Lucy Monroe, and she would be the first to admit it.
So then, to Lucy, given the way things had been going lately, it wasn’t really all that surprising that she was responsible for preparing lunch for the hungry kids on a field trip, who now crowded the Lonestar Observatory’s small café. Thirty or so second graders, and their already-worn-out teachers and parent-chaperones, who must be standing staring at the still-swinging kitchen door, thinly veiled impatience clouding their features as they wondered what on earth was keeping their solo waitress. Not that Lucy was much of a server, either, for that matter. Lord help her, Lucy needed a break.
Or a miracle.
She was short on both.
Full order pad in hand, she grabbed an apron, tying it quickly over her lemon-colored pencil skirt and white button-down shirt. Lucy rushed to the prep table to start slicing cheese and bread for sandwiches, and to check on the caramel apple pies she’d had the foresight to put in the oven earlier between her regular duties. The pie recipe was her grandma’s—an old favorite—and the only thing she really knew how to get right in the kitchen.
Unlike Nana, Lucy was as out of her element in a kitchen as a hog in a chicken coop, which was exactly why she’d hired the best chef she could find to handle the observatory’s little café. A very skilled, highly trained, seemingly intelligent chef, who, at that very moment, was on a plane to Las Vegas with the fiancée he’d met only a week ago.
Damn that Axel.
Lucy pulled out a knife and began slicing a loaf from the day before, pushing the utensil through the soft bread perhaps a little harder than was necessary.
Surely he could have given more than a day’s notice before he skipped town. But then, Axel had probably made his rash decision with something other than his brain. He’d called and woken Lucy late the evening before to give his resignation. She’d bitten her tongue to prevent her true thoughts from escaping her mouth when Axel had said he would be sorry to cut out on her on such short notice, except for the fact he’d found the love of his life and therefore was the happiest man on the planet and didn’t have a sorry bone in his body.
Lucy had more than enough sorry bones for the both of them. He’d left her high and dry for a red-eye to Vegas, and she hadn’t had a single second to hire someone to take his place. Her regular tasks as the observatory’s