Read Online Texas Homecoming by MAGGIE SHAYNE - Free Book Online Page A

hallway, then down the stairs. It was a nice house. It was a crying shame Rosebud hadn't lived to inherit it the way her mother had obviously intended. She would have loved it here. The staircase was old, too steep and too narrow, but the banister was heavy gleaming hardwood that had to be worth a fortune. She ran her hand over it slowly all the way to the bottom.
    "It's all one piece," Luke Brand said.
    Jasmine looked up, not expecting to see him standing just beyond the bottom step, staring up at her. "What?"
    "The banister. It's cut from one continuous piece of hard maple, all the way up and along the landing."
    "Oh."
    He shrugged, shifted his feet. "It seemed really important to the assessors when they were out here last month. I guess they don't make them like that anymore. Just thought you'd be interested."
    "It's...interesting all right."
    "Well, anyway. Food's out here." Turning, he walked beneath the wide brick archway into the dining room. It was different now, with the morning sun slanting through the place. The big French doors on the far side of the room looked like a giant wall painting of lush green meadows that rolled endlessly. For a moment she just blinked at it.
    "The...uh...drapes were closed last night, so you maybe didn't notice the doors then. I put them in myself."
    Turning, she looked at him with brows raised. "Did you?"
    "It was just a back wall. Dark as a dungeon in here." He pulled out her chair. "And I figured the place was as good as my own, so I didn't mind investing a little time and money in it."
    She looked at him, standing there, behind her chair. No one had ever pulled a chair out for her in her life that she could recall. She sat down and glimpsed the French doors again. Brass handled and hinged, the trim around them fit perfectly even at the corners. He'd done a good job. And there was a small, octagon-shaped deck beyond them. She would bet that hadn't been part of the original house, either.
    Luke Brand was fetching plates from the oven now, setting one in front of her, heaped with enough food for three women, at least. Then he sat down across from her with his own.
    "You didn't need to wait for me."
    He shrugged. "I eat alone all the time. Decided company for breakfast might be nice for a change."
    She pressed her lips together, then turned to catch sight of Baxter. He was wandering the house, pausing at every window to look outside. He wanted to go out. She knew he did. It was killing her to keep him so cooped up.
    "He can go outside and play, you know. The road's a hundred feet from the house, and even if it weren't, there's no such thing as traffic out here."
    She averted her eyes. "I'll take him out later on.
    "Don't let him out of your sight much, do you?"
    She looked at him quickly. "You have an opinion on my parenting skills, Mr. Brand?"
    He shrugged. "Guess you'd know more about that than I would. I've never had a kid. Don't know much about ‘em. Except that they need room to grow."
    She shook her head. "You're right, you don't know much about kids."
    He nodded at her plate. "You're not eating."
    She shoveled a bite into her mouth without looking first. It turned out to be a portion of omelet that just about melted in her mouth. It was all she could do to keep from closing her eyes in ecstasy. And though she tried to keep her expression static, he saw right through it and smiled that charming smile of his. "Good, isn't it?"
    She nodded, swallowing, and reached for the coffee. It was as heavenly as the omelet had been. "You're a chef or something, aren't you?"
    "No. I'm a trucker. Or...was. I sold my rig to buy this place."
    She lifted her brows, surprised by his answer. So he'd given up his livelihood to be here—and then she'd come along to claim the place. No wonder he'd been less than friendly last night. At least, until he'd met Baxter. "What are you going to do for a living now?"
    He shrugged. "I've got time to figure it out. There seem to be enough odd jobs in town to