Читать книгу Maddie Inherits a Cowboy - Jeannie Watt - Страница 13

IT WAS A FEW MINUTES after one o’clock and Madeline still wasn’t back. Sam hadn’t called, as he’d promised to do if he saw the blasted woman stuck somewhere, so she had to be off doing…something.

None of your business.

Ty headed out to the barn to check the cow. Dark clouds obliterated the top of Lone Summit. The snow would start falling soon. A headache started to throb near his temples.

It was a hell of a lot easier to tell himself that if she got into trouble it was none of his business than to believe it. She wouldn’t be here if Skip was still alive. If Madeline Blaine got herself into trouble, it was Ty’s job to get her out again. Like it or not, insulted or not, he owed it to Skip, so he felt a small surge of relief when Alvin suddenly went on alert while Ty was dragging straw bales close to the cow in preparation for bedding changes. The collie never barked at intruders, only at other animals, but there was no mistaking his message. Madeline was back.

When Ty left the barn a few minutes later, Alvin close at his heels, he found Madeline’s car parked next to Skip’s house, and he had to admit to being impressed. Not many people, including her brother, could have driven that little beast up Lone Summit Road. Madeline had a talent.

A few minutes after he was back inside, she knocked on the door. He kept his expression carefully blank as he answered, determined to keep it businesslike between them, regardless of any tactless accusations that might pop out of her mouth. Madeline stood on the top porch step, looking professorial in a dressy navy wool coat, white blouse and black slacks underneath it. Her straight dark hair just brushed her shoulders from under a classic beret. The only way she could have looked more out of place would have been if she was wearing a skirt. Or maybe a swimsuit.

She held out a new bottle of 409 cleaner. “Thank you for the loan.”

He took the bottle without arguing that it was a lot fuller than the one he’d lent her. “You’re welcome.”

One corner of her mouth tightened in an expression of uncertainty—the first he’d ever seen on her face. “I also have your mail. The postmistress suggested I bring it to you. I hope that was all right. It was hard to say no, and I was very careful not to lose any.”

As if she could. There were four rubber bands holding the catalogs, newspapers and magazines into a U-shape, with the letters and cards tightly sandwiched in the middle. He could see the colorful envelopes of Christmas cards in the bundle.

“Probably just junk mail, anyway.” He shifted his weight. “I think we should have a sit-down.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. What had she thought? That he was going to spend his days dodging her? Or that he needed more time to cook the books?

“When would be a convenient for you?” she asked politely.

“How about this afternoon?” The sooner he got this over with, the better.

“How about tomorrow?” The words shot out of her mouth and this time his eyebrows rose. “I have to get that house cleaned.” She sounded almost desperate. She may even have suppressed a shudder. Well, it wasn’t his fault she was living there.

“Tomorrow then. Ten o’clock.”

“Ten o’clock.” She glanced past him in the general direction of his home office, formerly the dining room, where his computer screen saver was flashing a slide show of Piedmontese cattle. “If you don’t mind me asking, what cellular company do you use?”