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Why hadn’t he kept driving when he’d had the chance?
“I’ll go put in our lunch order. You can stay here and help Rori,” his father said.
“No, Dad.” If it were anyone else—anyone—he’d have done it before his father could volunteer him.
“Justin, you might as well go with your father.” Rori spoke up, clearly not comfortable being left alone with the likes of him. “I can do it myself.”
“That’s not the way we do things, little lady. Justin, you can catch up with me at Clem’s.” Frank hopped in behind the wheel, looking pleased with himself.
He’d seen that mischief in his dad’s eyes before. Playing matchmaker, was he? What, did he think that Rori, with her model good looks and college education, was going to take a shine to the same cowboy she hadn’t wanted years before? Justin shook his head, vowing to give his dad a piece of his mind later.
“I’m really sorry about this.” She did look sorry. Sorry about being forced to see him again.
That made two of them.
JILLIAN HART
grew up on her family’s homestead, where she raised cattle, rode horses and scribbled stories in her spare time. After earning her English degree from Whitman College, she worked in travel and advertising before selling her first novel. When Jillian isn’t working on her next story, she can be found puttering in her rose garden, curled up with a good book or spending quiet evenings at home with her family.
The Rancher’s Promise
Jillian Hart
MILLS & BOON
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My voice You shall hear in the morning, O Lord; in the morning I will direct it to You, and I will look up.
—Psalms 5:3
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
“Justin, I finally got a call on the housekeeper job.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s a shock.” Justin Granger hefted the feed sack, settling the fifty-pound weight easily onto his shoulder. As a rancher, he was used to heavy lifting and in his line of work, this wasn’t considered heavy. He followed his dad out the open front door of the feed store, waved goodbye to Kit behind the counter and squinted in the hot late May sunshine. “I was beginning to think that putting an ad in the paper was a waste of time and money.”
“I figure we got lucky. Not many folks want to cook for the likes of us.” His dad, Frank Granger, swung two feed bags into the back of the white pickup parked curbside. “I made the interview for later today. If that doesn’t fit your schedule, then I can interview the gal on my own.”
“A gal?” That meant a woman. Not promising, not at all. Justin tossed the sack into the back and closed the tailgate. “I wish Aunt Opal hadn’t gone to Arizona. She’s about the only female I want to trust.”
“Not all women are like Tia or your mom.” Frank gave the keys a toss. “I’m sure there’s one trustworthy gal around these parts, at least enough honest to cook three squares for us and wash our socks.”
“You’re more optimistic than me, Dad.” Justin hopped behind the wheel and turned over the engine. Cool air breezed out of the vents, a relief from the intense summer heat that had hit hard and early. Not the best thing for the crops. They mostly ran cattle, but they grew their own alfalfa, corn and hay. “I don’t see why Autumn and Addison can’t do it.”
“Hey, if you want to tell your sisters to do housework instead of ranch work, be my guest. I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole. I’d rather wrestle a rattler bare-handed.” Frank buckled up. “No, it’s better we hire someone. I got a good feeling about this one.”
“I hope you’re right. I don’t want to wind up with another closet drinker who falls asleep on the couch instead of fixing our supper.” Justin checked the mirror. No traffic coming for as far as he could see, which wasn’t a surprise. In a town the size of Wild Horse, Wyoming, it would have been a shock if there had been a car. He pulled onto the main drag, scowling. “If I remember, you had a good feeling about the drinker, too.”
“Try to be more optimistic, son.”
Justin rolled his eyes. Optimism was for birds and fools. He’d tried it once and hadn’t liked it. He’d gotten his heart crushed and his illusions shattered because of it. In his view, it was wiser to expect the worst. Hard not to get disappointed or hurt that way.
“Looks like everyone’s gettin’ geared up for the festival.” His dad sounded pretty glad about that.
“Guess so.” Justin frowned, slowing down when the mayor held up a hand and walked into the road. Wild Horse was a small town with a handful of necessary businesses
