might be inexperienced, but I read books and magazines. And I watch TV. So you don’t have to worry about me.”
She talked a good story, but he had his doubts. Some men would take advantage of her innocence. And that was something Blake couldn’t allow to happen.
“I’m only going to be in town for another couple weeks, then you’ll be on your own. And I want to leave knowing you won’t let some fast-talking, womanizing cowboy sweep you off your feet.” His gaze dropped down to her toes, which had been newly polished.
Oh, for Pete’s sake. She even had beautiful feet.
Blake blew out a ragged sigh.
What in the world had he created?
And worse, what had he gotten himself into?
Chapter Three
As they carried their packages to the pickup, Blake didn’t say much to Cindy. He figured she was still trying to get used to the change in her appearance.
And so was he.
He’d known she would benefit from a makeover. But he hadn’t been prepared for the actual difference a new outfit and hairstyle would make.
How had he ever missed seeing her potential?
“Thank you for the new clothes and all the beauty treatments,” she said. “I really should have paid for it myself.”
“I wanted to do it. Besides, it was a way for me to repay you and your grandfather for putting up with me when I was a mouthy teen.”
“You weren’t so bad,” she said.
“Not even that first day when I teased you about the color of your hair?”
The day Blake had arrived on the ranch, he’d tugged on one of her braids and called her Carrot Top. She’d merely glared at him until he looked away. Then she’d lowered her head and rushed him like a billy goat with its tail on fire.
“When I picked myself up off the floor, you slapped your hands on your hips, glared down and said, ‘Carrot tops are green, city boy.’”
She smiled. “You got the point. And you only called me Carrot Top once.”
Yeah, but from that day on, he’d started calling her Sprout instead. “If I hadn’t been off balance, I would have stayed on my feet.”
Cindy grinned, green eyes glimmering with the memory of his reaction to her sneak attack. “I’ll never forget that wide-eyed gape on your face when I stood over you.”
“You had a lot more spunk as a kid than I gave you credit for.”
“I still do.”
She certainly did. There’d always been a lot more to Cindy Tucker than met the eye. And what met the eye now was a pleasant surprise.
“I’m glad you came to live with us,” she admitted, “even though I resented the attention Grandpa gave to you.”
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