Heath nodded. “I’m certain you will.”
He moved the cows out of the barn and into the pasture. After the cows were cleared out, he wrangled the three large hogs into a separate penned area, away from the cattle. The man spent an hour mucking out the stables and refreshing them with clean straw. While he worked, Josie minded the chickens, hunted for eggs and milked her dairy cows along with the two goats that rounded out her animals. Heath lunged for the metal buckets when Josie made a move to lug them toward her house.
“I got them.” He scooted over and made a grab for the pails.
“I’m perfectly capable of bringing them in, Officer Grayson.”
“Heath. And while I know you’re capable...remember...my dear old mother.” He winked at her.
She rolled her eyes, but moved out of his way. “Fine, then. Follow me, Heath.”
“Lead the way.” Heath grabbed the pails and inclined his head. “I’ll follow you wherever.”
I’ll follow you. He’d meant it about the pails, but the words made her heart speed up just the same. Foolishness. Josie had only ever dated Dale, and Dale didn’t believe in chasing a woman in order to win her. She’d never been followed...pursued. Not when they were dating and definitely not after they had married. Dale had referred to romance as a “mind game.”
But as Josie made her way toward the cabin with Heath trailing her, the Ranger’s hard-won smile and teasing wink flashed through her mind.
Oh, this was bad. Very bad. Mayday bad.
Most mistakes started in the form of a good-looking man.
She peeked a glance at him over her shoulder.
Definitely a mistake.
In those leg-hugging jeans, boots and with his sleeves rolled up until they were snug around his tanned forearms, the man was far, far too handsome for his own good. And when he’d taken off his hat and invoked his mom, his almost-black hair, messy and sticking out at weird angles from wearing the hat, about did her in.
Josie had always been attracted to the tall, dark and handsome type. Heath Grayson definitely fit the bill. He had dark, wide eyebrows, and his eyes were black coffee—hold the cream.
Don’t forget tall. The man had a foot on her, maybe more.
Josie had met her late husband, Dale, when they were in high school, and they’d started dating soon after. He’d never grown beyond the five foot seven he was when they’d met. And Dale’s face had been rounder—softer around his edges. Whereas Heath had sharp lines, as if his face had been chiseled from stone by some great, ancient artist.
She shook her head, releasing her wayward thoughts.
There was zero reason to compare the two men. None whatsoever. So they were both in law enforcement? Big whoop. That didn’t mean she needed to pull out a chart and make a pros-and-cons list of whom she was more attracted to. Goodness... Dale was her husband. Her husband. At least, he had been her husband and he hadn’t passed away that long ago. She was still working through the grief of losing her first love, losing the man who would have been the father to the child kicking in her stomach.
The attraction she felt for Heath—a man she’d only just met—had to be her pregnancy hormones talking. The doctor had said her emotions would do silly things in the next few months leading up to the birth. That must be the reason for her rapid heart palpitations, and the way her gaze kept tabs on Heath all morning and memorized the way his dress shirt pulled across his shoulders... It was crazy pregnancy stuff. End of story.
Besides, Heath Grayson was a lawman. Not just any lawman—he was an officer who worked the most dangerous and high-stakes cases in the state. A Texas Ranger. If Dale, who had been a sheriff’s deputy, could die in the line of duty, Josie imagined the target on a Ranger’s back was even bigger.
Especially these days.
Her front porch made a horrible moaning sound under their combined weight and Josie grimaced. The old fishing cabin had belonged to her father and had fallen completely out of use after his passing several years ago. Dad had left it to her, and Dale hadn’t wanted to care for the property. Once she’d moved out of her and Dale’s old home, the fishing cabin was all she had to her name. She’d been proud of the little space. It was hers. One hundred percent hers. It was the first time ever that she’d lived alone, which she discovered she didn’t like, but that was a different issue altogether. The fact was, now she knew.
But for as much pride as she had in the small patch of land that she was trying to turn into a functioning ranch and the tiny two-bedroom cabin that was going to be the perfect amount of space for her and her baby, worry lanced through her. She tried to see the place through Heath’s eyes. Would he consider it shabby? Think her poor and tragic?
Josie lifted her shoulders, filled her lungs and held up her chin as she opened the door. This was her home. She refused to care what anyone else thought about it. She was determined to craft this cabin into a welcoming place filled with love. One her baby would enjoy growing up in. She wouldn’t waste worry on what a passing-through Texas Ranger thought. No matter how much the muscles in his arms popped when he carried in her milk pails.
Josie stepped around Heath and opened up her green secondhand refrigerator. “Just set them in the bottom there.”
He did so and then turned to face her, almost as if he was waiting for her to issue his next marching orders. She couldn’t allow him to work on her ranch for a few hours and then send him on his way. That wasn’t good manners. Besides, she still needed to fill him in about the incident she’d witnessed at the boys ranch.
Josie clasped her hands. “Why don’t you wash up and have a seat? After that many chores, I have a feeling you’ve worked up an appetite.” She rubbed her palms together, hesitant. Was this a good idea? Too late. “Bathroom’s the second door in the hall there.”
“Ma’am, there’s no need—”
She held up her finger in that scolding way she used to do when she worked as a nanny years ago. “Ah. I won’t hear it. Now’s my chance to invoke my mother on you. She wouldn’t hear of me sending away an honest, hardworking man without so much as offering a scrambled egg or two, so I won’t listen to any arguments. Scrub your hands and have a seat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tipped his hat.
“And no more ma’am stuff,” she called after him as he made his way to the washroom. “I’m probably younger than you are.”
“I’m sure you are,” he called back.
Josie mentally cataloged what ingredients she had and settled on biscuits and gravy with a side of cheesy scrambled eggs. She’d made a batch of her favorite biscuits from scratch the other night and there were plenty left over. They were always a huge hit when she shared them at the boys ranch. She popped a bunch of them onto a pan and set her oven to warm.
After she wiggled the knob on the stovetop, it finally clicked and the flame went on. She set a skillet over the flame and crumbled breakfast sausage into the pan. Grease sizzled and popped. Josie licked her lips. She was hungry and loved cooking. These days, though, she often skipped making what she considered real meals because there was only her.
Making food for one was no fun.
She scraped the skillet and then sprinkled in the flour, keeping an eye on it while the grease soaked it all up. Next the milk and then the rest of the flour and seasonings. The mixture would have to be stirred frequently now so it didn’t get too thick or burn on the bottom. Josie juggled cracking the eggs and starting to scramble them along with stirring the gravy with finesse.
When breakfast—she glanced at the clock and saw that it was ten in the morning, so it was closer to brunch now—was done, she