tugged at his collar. “I’ll let you decide.”
“But what do you think?”
Thankfully, Felicity appeared outside Bree’s open door, her face scrubbed clean and her hair pulled back. She wore black jeans and a white silk shirt, but he couldn’t banish the image of her in the skimpy nightie with her hair in sexy disarray.
He inhaled and drew in her teasing elusive scent. Grinding his teeth at his susceptibility, he introduced the two females, then turned to Bree. “You know my cell phone number and my pager,” he told his daughter. “Call me if there’s any problem.”
“Cell phone, pager,” Felicity echoed. “I didn’t know there was cell coverage in Texas.”
Brock’s lips twitched, but he didn’t quite smile. “We may talk slowly, but we have a few modern conveniences like running water and cell phones. What were you expecting?”
Felicity shrugged. “A bell?” she suggested.
“We have one of those, too. The cell’s faster and doesn’t upset everyone on the ranch.” He adjusted his hat, feeling an odd twinge of discomfort at the look of curious fascination on Bree’s face. “Call me if you need me, baby.”
Brock left the room, and Felicity felt his departure like a physical force. Odd, she thought, that a man’s absence could be so strong when his presence was so imposing. Shaking off her strange sensations, she glanced at Bree and found Brock’s daughter staring back at her. Felicity felt another little twist of inadequacy. She didn’t have much experience with children. She’d offered to help Brock because she could see as a single father and head of the ranch he had too much to do, and she’d added to the list by arriving last night. If she’d told him that, however, she suspected he would have died before he would ask for help, especially from her.
Okay, she might not have much experience caring for a child, but she had experience being one. Felicity returned Brock’s daughter’s gaze. The little girl’s cheeks were slightly flushed with fever, but her blue eyes were curious and assessing.
Felicity smiled. “You have your father’s eyes.”
Bree smiled and nodded. “I’ve got his hair, too,” she said, tugging at her long ponytail, “but you can’t tell because he won’t grow his long like mine.”
“And you smile a little more often?” Felicity asked.
Bree nodded again. “Uncle Tyler is always telling Daddy to lighten up and he takes himself too seriously.” She rolled her eyes. “My brother does that, too.”
“Your brother, Jacob,” Felicity clarified, immediately liking this warm, outspoken child.
“Yes ma’am. Jacob. We’re twins.” She cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. “You talk funny.”
“It’s because I’m from New York City,” Felicity said.
“Oh, well you can’t help it that you’re not from Texas,” Bree said sympathetically. “You’ll be much happier now that you’re here.”
Felicity couldn’t help chuckling. “What makes you so sure?”
“Texas is the best place in the world to live,” Bree said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Everybody wants to live here,” she said, then her face turned thoughtful and she rubbed her fingers over her quilt, “except my mom. She moved to California because she wants to be in the movies.” She lifted her chin, another gesture that reminded Felicity of Brock. “My dad says me and Jacob are more fun than movies.”
The mixture of pride and vulnerability in Bree’s eyes scored her heart, reminding Felicity of the dozens of times her own mother had sought a more exciting party or exotic trip in lieu of spending time with Felicity. She thought again of Brock. An honorable man? She’d believed that species was extinct.
She met Bree’s proud gaze. “You and Jacob are more fun than movies? I bet your dad is right.”
“He’s the best dad in the world,” she said, again in the matter-of-fact voice and gave Felicity an assessing glance. “Aunt Martina says all he needs is a good woman to drive him crazy on a regular basis. We don’t get many women around the Triple L. You wanna do it?”
Felicity blinked. Absolutely not, she thought, but managed a smile. “What an interesting idea. I’ll have to think about it. For now, let’s read a book.”
Two
“There’s another one ready to drop in the north pasture. I’ll check on her tonight,” Brock said to Chuck, his assistant foreman. His brother Tyler and son Jacob listened while they waited for Addie to put the dinner on the table. “Tomorrow, I need you to—” Brock broke off when he noticed none of them were paying attention. All three, instead, were gaping at something behind him. He frowned and turned around. “Hey, what—” Dressed in a pink sweater dress that caressed her curves the way every man would want to, Felicity Chambeau stood at the entrance to the informal dining room with a tentative expression on her face. “You said dinner is at six. May I join you?”
Her sophisticated appearance was at odds with the casual room. The oak dining-room table and chairs had served the Logans for at least three generations and bore crescent marks from teething babies, scars from forks jabbed into the surface, and though the table still gleamed, the polish wasn’t as shiny as it once had been due to countless spills of milk and juice. Currently it was set with stoneware plates and bowls, stainless flatware, napkins and a pot of coffee. With her cashmere dress and golden champagne hair, Felicity clearly didn’t belong here.
Brock watched Chuck suck in his gut while Tyler stepped across the room and offered his arm. “Please join us. I’m Tyler Logan. You must be Felicity Chambeau. We’re delighted to have you.”
Brock nearly barfed at his brother’s enthusiastic greeting. “Why doesn’t he just get down on his hands and knees and howl?” he muttered.
“If he doesn’t, I will,” Chuck said, his gaze still fastened on Felicity.
Brock exhaled in disgust. “You would think you two hadn’t ever seen a woman.”
“I haven’t seen any that looked like her in a long time,” Chuck retorted. “Just because you’re dried up, disinterested and bitter doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” He stepped forward and tipped his hat. “Howdy, ma’am. I’m Chuck Granby. Pleasure to meet you.”
Felicity smiled at both men, then looked at Jacob, Brock’s painfully shy son. “You must be Jacob. Bree told me about you this afternoon. She said you can already rope a calf.”
Jacob stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “My dad taught me.”
Grudgingly appreciative of her attention to his son, Brock glanced down and ruffled Jacob’s hair. “Bree would speak for all of us if you gave her the chance.”
“Oh, she did.”
Brock could just imagine the family secrets his daughter had spilled. “Great,” he muttered darkly.
“Don’t worry,” Felicity said. “She could easily be a PR person for the Logan family and the state of Texas. She’s determined to teach me how to
