by Julie Benson
Powell Ranch, four generations strong, looked down on Mustang Village from its place on the mountainside, a witness to the wheels of progress.
“You grew up in this area,” Dallas commented as they pulled into the diner’s parking lot. “Does it seem strange to you, seeing all the changes?”
“Sometimes.” He grinned affably. “When I was twelve, Gavin’s dad started letting me go with them on cattle roundups. The corrals were over there.” He pointed to the park a block down the street. “The loading station just beyond them. We’d drive those cows from all over the valley right past this very spot.”
“What a sight that must have been.” She imagined the pictures she’d have taken. Hundreds of cows on the move. “I bet you loved it.”
“Are you kidding? It was dirty and sweaty and backbreaking work.”
“You did love it!”
He grinned again. “The only thing more fun was the night we captured Prince.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it.”
“For the book?”
She shook her head. “I’m only responsible for the photographs. I just want to hear any stories you have from the days before Mustang Village was built. For inspiration.”
They entered the half-empty restaurant and were promptly seated.
“If I do, you’ll fall asleep,” Conner said, opening his menu.
“I doubt that. The last thing you are is boring.”
He looked up at her.
When their gazes connected, a zing went through Dallas, half warm and pleasant, half...
Wow!
So much for keeping their relationship professional.
Was he feeling it, too? Did he also sometimes think about what might have been?
Attempting to distract herself, she perused the diner’s daily specials and waited for her unpredictable stomach to protest. It didn’t. Whew. She wasn’t going to embarrass herself in front of Conner.
After giving their orders to the waitress, he removed a pen from his shirt pocket and began making notes on a paper napkin. “I was thinking of Saturday for our trip into the mountains. Unless you have plans for the weekend.”
“No plans.” She peered at the list he was making, tilting her head and reading upside down. Water, snacks, twine, a tarp, a map, GPS, first aid kit, rain ponchos.
“Is eight o’clock too early?” He continued to scribble as he talked.
“No. I’m up at six most days.”
“Any preference on a mount?”
“Just something broke. Very broke. Like, if there’s a freak earthquake while we’re out, the horse won’t so much as swish his tail.”
Conner’s brows drew together. “You’re an experienced rider, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I’d rather not take any chances.”
“If you’re worried about the trails being rugged, we can always take the easier ones.”
“It’s not that.” She set her fork down, suddenly nervous.
“What then?”
She hadn’t planned on making any announcements until she started showing.
“Well.” She mustered a smile while rubbing her damp palms on her slacks. “I’m pregnant.”
Conner spilled several drops of coffee onto the table before managing to steady his mug. “Pregnant! Wha...when?”
“When did I find out? A couple weeks ago. And to answer both questions you’re too polite to ask, yes, Richard knows about the baby and no, we didn’t discover I was pregnant until after we’d called off the engagement.”
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IMPRINT: Sweet
ISBN: 9781743647387
TITLE: COME HOME, COWBOY
First Australian Publication 2013
Copyright © 2013 Julie Benson
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Harlequin Mills & Boon®, Locked Bag 7002, Chatswood D.C. N.S.W., Australia 2067.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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