Read Online Blame It on the Cowboy by Delores Fossen - Free Book Online Page B

you. No school today,” the woman said as if that explained everything. “I’m Cassie Weatherall. Please come in.”
    Cassie as in Lucky’s soon-to-be fiancée. Reese recognized her from some TV talk shows, the sort where the host and his or her guests attempted to solve some huge problem in the span of an hour. Minus the commercials, of course. There were usually shouts and paternity test results involved.
    Cassie looked around outside before she shut the door. “Where’s your car?”
    â€œI don’t have one. I walked.”
    She shook her head. “If you need to come out here again, just call the house, and someone can come and get you. Mia, don’t touch Mackenzie’s makeup again,” Cassie warned the younger girl without even pausing to take a breath.
    â€œSorry,” the little girl said as she flew past them. A little boy was chasing her with what appeared to be a magic wand and a chocolate-chip cookie.
    The meager apology was apparently enough to get the teenager to whirl around and disappear into the hall off the top of the stairs.
    â€œThis way,” Cassie said after she shouted for the children to settle down.
    Cassie might look like the prim and proper therapist, but her shout was all mom. According to the gossip Reese had heard at the diner, Cassie had fallen right into that role. Had fallen into the role of being a McCord, too. Cassie had given up her job as a celebrity therapist and had opened an office in Spring Hill. Considering the divorce rate was almost nil, the crime rate as well, it was possible she wouldn’t get a lot of business. Then again, there could be a lot of skeletons jangling in closets.
    Reese didn’t mean to dodge Cassie’s gaze, but she couldn’t quite look the woman in the eye. She had no idea if Lucky had actually cheated on Cassie, but if so, it was a little stomach-turning to think that Reese could have been the other woman.
    Cassie led Reese to the back of the sprawling house to an equally sprawling kitchen where a woman with pinned-up gray hair was at the stove.
    â€œYou’re here,” Della said, smiling.
    But she wasn’t alone in the kitchen, and the person at the table definitely wasn’t smiling. Even though Reese couldn’t be certain, she thought this might be Logan.
    â€œYou’re late,” the man said.
    Yes, Logan.
    The brusque tone caused Reese to freeze. Not Della, though. The woman popped him on the shoulder with a wooden spoon. “What kind of welcome is that?” Della scolded him.
    Reese suspected Della was one of the few people on the planet who could get away with that question. Or the spoon pop.
    Cassie shot Logan a glare. “Reese had to walk here,” Cassie informed him.
    Logan didn’t look exactly pleased with that explanation or the spoon popping. Or with Reese.
    â€œLogan’s mad because I said I wasn’t going to ask you for references,” Della explained.
    Oh.
    Well, that told her loads. He was suspicious of her. Unless Logan was this careful about everyone who crossed paths with his family.
    â€œWe need to talk,” Logan told her, and he took hold of Reese’s arm.
    â€œShe’s here to go over the party,” Della protested, but she might as well have been talking to the air because Logan didn’t listen. And he was out of spoon range now.
    Reese didn’t put up any resistance whatsoever. She’d come here hoping to have a private word with either Logan or Lucky, and she was apparently going to get it. Though it still didn’t mean he was the one she’d slept with. This little chat could be a warning for her to stay away from his brother. Or away from his family’s kitchen if he was truly concerned about her references.
    Logan led her to the side of the house to a sunroom that overlooked one of the white-fenced pastures. Reese hadn’t smelled the poop in the main part of the house, but she certainly did