Читать книгу My Montana Home - Ellen James - Страница 11

THE LEMONADE WAS COLD and tart. Cassie cradled her glass in both hands, telling herself she’d already spent enough time here on the porch with Andrew. Five minutes, to be exact. She glanced at her watch again.

“Relax,” said Andrew.

Relax…that was the one thing she didn’t seem able to do. Not with her family, not with her job, not with her son—and certainly not with Andrew Morris.

All she had to do was look at him to find her heart rate quickening, her skin heating up. If being calm was her goal, she’d chosen the wrong company. But that didn’t stop her from looking. He sat in the chair across from her, legs stretched out casually, the Montana breeze once again playing with his thick dark hair. Faded jeans suited him. So did his Texas Rangers T-shirt.