His Hired Bride. Susan Fox P.

      She hoped she at least had a nicer personality than some of Hoyt’s women. He’d always seemed to like her well enough. But then, he also liked his housekeeper, Miss Ed, so his liking wasn’t proof of anything in particular. Miss Ed was no beauty herself, but Hoyt hadn’t hired her to hang around his house looking beautiful.

      Though the very sour Miss Ed was a good woman, she had anything but a Miss Vivacious-Never-Met-A-Stranger personality. Hoyt had hired her because she took care of his house the way he liked and she was a peerless cook, so she got along with him fine.

      Eadie got along with him fine, too, despite his prickly moods. He seemed to enjoy talking to her, venting his complaints, getting her opinion, and he appreciated the way she handled the things he’d hired her to do for him. Beauty and sparkling wit were irrelevant, though Hoyt sometimes seemed at least charmed by her.

      Eadie suspected he’d enjoyed their little exchanges today, and in retrospect it was more than a little flattering that he’d made her a part of everything after he’d got hurt. She ignored the idea that he currently had no adoring beauty to call on, and because it had been nearing closing time at the doctor’s office, most of his beauties wouldn’t have had time to come to the ranch to demonstrate their sympathy anyway.

      And Hoyt had asked her to come over tonight. There was no getting around the fact that she’d grown even more excited about the out-of-the-blue opportunity the past three hours. Despite her effort to keep her head, Eadie just couldn’t seem to keep from losing it yet again over Hoyt. Hope probably did spring eternal because she was surely the most hopeful—and hopeless—ninny on the planet.

      Even picturing a disappointing scenario didn’t seem to put much of a damper on the lighthearted way she felt. She had no business expecting anything but more crabbiness from Hoyt tonight, and she was certain to face a complete and utter letdown over how ho-hum it would all turn out to be.

      But for now, she felt happy. She checked the clock about a half dozen times before she figured it was late enough to start for Donovan Ranch. She went out and got in her little green pickup and once she’d made it up the ranch road to the highway, she had a hard time keeping the little truck enough under the speed limit to avoid getting a ticket on the ten-minute trip down the pavement.

      When she finally pulled up to the front of the massive, single-story adobe-style Donovan Ranch house, she noted that Miss Ed’s ancient little car was indeed gone. Though it was just before sunset, a few lights were on here and there in the house.

      She went to the front door and pushed on the doorbell, then waited for Hoyt to answer it. When he didn’t, she pushed the button again, then waited even longer for a response. Finally she realized he might have taken the painkiller and fallen asleep somewhere in the house. He couldn’t have gone to bed and left the lights on, so she debated whether or not to just go on in.

      Though she’d worked for Hoyt for years now, Eadie never simply walked into the house unannounced, though she’d had permission to do so. She regularly arrived just after noon, so she always went around to the kitchen and tapped on the big glass patio doors to get Miss Ed’s attention before she came in.

      Could Hoyt be in trouble? She certainly didn’t want to startle him if he just hadn’t heard the doorbell, but she was squeamish about just walking in. Leery but concerned, Eadie tried the knob and the door opened easily, so she walked in and called out a light “Hello.”

      When she got no response, she closed the door, then crossed the stone floor of the foyer to the long, carpeted hall that spanned the length of the big house.

      “Hello, Hoyt. I’m here now,” she called out, then hesitantly started down the hall toward Hoyt’s office, peeking in doors on her way past only to find that the big den was empty. She went in and turned off the lights, then came back out and started through the house.

      The kitchen and dining room were immaculate, but empty, as was the living room. She glanced out to the big patio in back, but there was no sign of Hoyt. Then she saw his black Stetson hanging on a wall peg in the dim kitchen, and was certain he had to be in the house. Eadie started toward the bedroom wing.

      The only light in this part of the house was coming from Hoyt’s bedroom, so she stopped just short of the doorway to rap her knuckles on the door frame without looking in. If he’d just stepped out of the shower in the altogether, she didn’t want to compromise his privacy. There was no response, but she heard what sounded like a soft snore.

      Eadie cautiously peeked in and saw Hoyt sprawled on his back on the big bed. He had on a fresh shirt that he hadn’t tucked in and a different pair of jeans than he’d had on that day, but he was fully dressed. His boots were on again, so perhaps he’d laid down earlier because he was drowsy then had fallen asleep. Surely Miss Ed didn’t know about this, because she might have given him heck for putting his boots up on the beautiful bedspread.

      Eadie couldn’t let him sleep the night in his clothes, so she started across the carpet to the big bed to touch his shoulder.

      Her soft, “Hoyt, can you wake up?” was a whisper. She gave his shoulder a gentle nudge. “Hoyt? It’s Eadie. You need to wake up and get ready for bed.”

      That seemed to rouse him and he began to stir. But the unguarded movement must have hurt because he drawled out a swearword. Eadie decided she had to be a little more firm and spoke in a more normal tone.

      “Hoyt? You need to wake up. Be careful of your stitches, but wake up.” She gave his shoulder another nudge. “Hoyt?”

      His low moan was more a resistant growl than an indication of pain, so she reached for his fingers and, careful not to brush his injured side, which was facing her, she chafed his hand between her palms.

      And…oh, Lordy! The feel of his big, callused hand between hers was a guilty pleasure she didn’t dare indulge too long.

      “Come on, Hoyt,” she coaxed, almost as much to get him to wake up so she could let go of his hand as to spare him an uncomfortable night. “You can’t sleep in your clothes. Wake up so you can take them off and get under the covers.”

      The low growl that answered her was a shock.

      “You take ’em off.”

      Eadie stared down at Hoyt’s sleep slack face, stunned. She’d stopped chafing his hand between hers and that next second she realized her mouth was hanging open. Had she heard right?