The Rancher's Surprise Baby. Trish Milburn

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The Rancher's Surprise Baby - Trish  Milburn

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style="font-size:15px;">      He turned back to where Mandy stood holding up her ponytail and fanning her neck with her other hand. Her face was flushed with the heat, even though the sun was sinking in the western sky. Not that it cooled off that much after sunset this time of year.

      “Where were you headed before a crazy birdman ran into your car?” He’d noticed her cleaning up a couple of spilled to-go containers while he’d waited for Greg to arrive with the tow truck.

      “My mom’s place, but all I want to do now is go home and collapse. It’s been one of those days. I told Mom we’d get together a different day.”

      “Let me give you a ride.”

      “Okay, if you’re sure your truck is safe to drive.”

      He placed his palm atop the hood of the truck. “She has a new dent, but she’s drivable. Sorry, but you got the raw end of the deal today.”

      “At least I didn’t suffer a bird to the head.”

      He smiled. “True. I don’t recommend it.”

      They climbed into the truck, and that little skirt with the big bright flowers she was wearing rode up her thighs a bit. She didn’t seem to notice or care, but that few extra inches of skin caused it to grow even hotter inside the already roasting cab.

      “Sorry I can’t offer AC, but at least we’ll have some moving air in a minute.”

      “I might just have you drop me at the lake so I can jump in.”

      The last thing he needed was the image of her with that skirt and her light blue sleeveless top plastered to her body.

      Damn, maybe he did have a concussion. He’d never thought about Mandy that way before. Heck, he hadn’t thought about her much at all. She was just someone he knew casually. Or maybe it was seeing his older brother, Neil, having a hard time keeping his hands off Arden, his fiancée, that had him thinking it’d been a while since he’d gone out on a date. But wrecking a woman’s car seemed like a bad precursor to asking her out to dinner.

      Asking Mandy out? That was it, he was going home and sticking his head in his mom’s freezer, maybe pressing a bag of green peas against his aching temple.

      “So, where to?” he asked, focusing on the road in front of him.

      “Actually, out toward your place. The former Webster ranch.”

      He looked over at her. “You bought the Cedar Creek? Maybe I need to start working in a yarn shop.”

      “Yes, I’m sure you know loads about yarn and knitting needles.” She shook her head. “I only bought a couple of acres on the creek. They subdivided so they could sell off the land quicker.”

      “Huh. I’m surprised one of those bigwigs looking to invest in large tracts for hobby ranches didn’t snap it up. We had one sniffing around ours until my soon-to-be sister-in-law sent him packing with the threat of some not-so-nice press coverage.”

      “Well, I heard that was a secondary reason for subdividing. The Websters wanted their place to go to people who could afford a more reasonable price tag and appreciate it more. Got the feeling they didn’t like rich ‘bigwigs’ too much.”

      He laughed at that. “I always did like the Websters. Hated they had to sell, but they had a rough time this past year.”

      Ranching was always a touch-and-go way to make a living. That was why he and his brothers and sisters did their best to keep expenses low and to bring in other income to make sure the Rocking Heart stayed afloat for their parents—and for future generations of Hartleys. Of course, he wasn’t going to be providing any of those munchkins—even though his family didn’t know that. Luckily, his sister Angel already had a daughter, and he’d bet Neil and Arden popped out a few rug rats before long.

      “Do you need to stop anywhere before we leave town?” he asked Mandy. “Grab some dinner?”

      “Nah. I might just pour a glass of wine and sit in the creek.”

      “Make it a beer and that doesn’t sound half-bad.”

      “You’re welcome to the creek, but I don’t have any beer.”

      “I better stay away from the creek. The way my day’s going, I’d probably fall and drown in an inch of water.”

      “I’d save you. I might have to leave you there if you’re unconscious, but I’d at least roll you faceup.”

      He laughed. “How very kind of you. Have to say you’re being pretty nice to the guy who crashed into your car.”

      She shrugged. “Being mad wouldn’t make it any less crunched. Plus, at least I didn’t get whacked in the head by a bird.”

      Her smile transformed her face from merely pretty to stunning. Why had he never noticed how gorgeous she was before? Perspiration made damp wisps of her hair curl around the edges of her face, and he thought maybe there was a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He experienced the oddest urge to lean closer to find out. Of course that was a bad idea on a lot of levels, not the least of which was he’d probably end up driving his truck into some other stationary object. Or she’d whack him on the other side of his head.

      He jerked his attention back to the road. That damned pigeon had obviously knocked his brain loose, causing it to bounce around inside his skull.

      Mandy leaned her head over on her forearm where it rested along the open window, letting the wind whip the loose strands of her hair. She closed her eyes in a way that made him realize how tired she must be after a day of work then standing out in the heat while they dealt with first Deputy Conner Murphy, who’d also had a not-well-hidden chuckle at the bird attack story, then Greg. For a moment, he thought maybe she’d fallen asleep. But then she opened her eyes and pointed ahead.

      “Turn at the next road on the left.”

      He turned onto a smaller county road and then into a new gravel drive flanked by lines of cedar trees. Through them he spotted the trickle of the creek, one that ran wider, deeper and faster during spring rains like the creek on his family’s ranch. Up ahead, a little wooden shed sat with a miniature front porch pointed toward the creek. When he noticed that the gravel drive ended next to it, he glanced over at Mandy in confusion.

      “Where’s your house?”

      She pointed toward the shed. “That’s it.”

      “Ha-ha, very funny. The pigeon didn’t hit me that hard.”

      “No, seriously, that’s it.”

      “You live in a shed?”

      She turned partially toward him. “It’s not a shed. It’s a tiny house.”

      It was tiny, all right. How did she fit anything in there? He didn’t think it was any bigger than his bedroom.

      “Come on, I’ll give you the ten-cent tour,” she said as he stopped in a wider gravel area that appeared to be where she normally parked and turned her car around.

      “More like the ten-second

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