The Cowboy Finds a Family by Anne McAllister

Author:Anne McAllister
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance
ISBN: 9781953647078
Publisher: Tule Publishing Group, LLC
Published: 2020-09-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Mace was not having a good day.

“You start out with a chip on your shoulder,” his mother always told him, “and it won’t be long before someone knocks it off.”

Mace didn’t think of that at the beginning. At the beginning he simply showed up at Taggart’s. It was a bronc-riding school Saturday. He’d weathered the cold shoulders of bull-riding school and then all the more active interference that his friends could throw at him.

What else could they possibly do?

It didn’t take him long to find out.

He’d only been there half an hour, had just helped Jed and Tuck sort out the horses for the first round of rides while Noah was in the classroom with his students, when Taggart came out of the house with a man Mace didn’t know.

Jed took a look at Taggart and the man who was accompanying him across the yard, took another at Mace, who was just shutting the last gate, and said, “uh-oh,” under his breath.

“What? Didn’t you get ’em all in?” Mace said, glancing around for a stray horse.

But before Jed could answer, Taggart said, “Hey, come meet my brother-in-law.”

Mace heard the words like a blow to the gut. He drew a careful breath, then finished putting the chain through the clasp before turning to take his first good look at the new man in Jenny’s life.

He’d thought of him as “the professor.” A sort of weedy, balding, goateed nearsighted jerk. And those were the kindest terms Mace considered him in.

The guy beside Taggart was taller than Mace, an inch or so over six feet. Lean, but not really weedy. Clean-shaven, not bearded, with a healthy head of straight blond hair brushed back from his forehead. If he was nearsighted, he had the misfortune to wear contacts.

But as far as Mace was concerned he was still a jerk.

Mace’s jaw tightened. His gaze narrowed.

Taggart cleared his throat, giving him a steely look—one that warned him to act like a grown-up. Mace tried.

Taggart smiled. “Tom, this is Mace Nichols whose ranch runs alongside ours. Mace, I want you to meet Felicity’s brother, Tom.”

Mace waited to see if Taggart would add, “The man who’s dating your wife.”

Taggart, for once the soul of tact, did not.

The two men stood assessing each other. Sounds of conversation around them rose and fell and stuttered . . . and stopped.

Tom stuck out his hand. “Mace. I’m pleased to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

From my wife? Mace wanted to say. But he, too, could manage a bare minimum of tact. He gave Tom’s hand a brief clasp. “Likewise.”

“Taggart says you’ve done the very nearly impossible, building a ranch up from scratch in this day and age.” Tom’s tone was warm and admiring.

Mace might have basked in it if he hadn’t wanted to punch the guy’s lights out. He shrugged. “I’ve done all right.”

“You’re doing very well,” Taggart said.

Mace thought it sounded more like a comment on his present behavior than on his ranching ability. He shot a dark look in Taggart’s direction and tugged down his hat down a little tighter on his head.

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