Small-Town Brides (10 page)

F
or a small gal she was a real firecracker. By the flash of those emerald eyes she looked ready to explode. And all because of him.

Watching her approach from her car, Trace Crawford swiped his Stetson from his head and prepared for the worst. It was no secret that he was the last person Paisley Norton would expect
or want
to find standing on her porch—his sentiments exactly.

He planted his boots and, as if to mock him, his spurs jingled cheerily—ha! Nothin' about the next few minutes promised to be cheerful.

There had been a time when he'd believed he had a pretty good head on his shoulders. Not anymore, and all of Mule Hollow was pretty much in agreement with that assumption. Applegate Thornton and Stanley Orr, the two old guys who hung out at Sam's Diner, letting everyone know their opinion about all things good, bad and just plum stupid, certainly did. They'd voted Trace's lapse in judgment as the “humdinger of all things
plum
stupid,” to quote Applegate verbatim. And Trace was in total agreement.

He wished like nothing he'd ever wished before that he could take back having asked Paisley's cousin to marry him.

Sure, he'd been in a panic, but still,
what
had he been thinking?

You were thinking about your two-year-old niece. And how you didn't and still don't have any clue how to take care of her.

True. But still…how had he messed things up so bad?

“What are
you
doing here?” Paisley snapped, stepping onto her porch and edging past him.

Not wanting to give her the opportunity to slam her front door in his face, he scooted in front of her, trying to block her path. “I need your help,” he said, causing her eyes to blaze with contempt. Her chin lifted.

“No!” The air vibrated with her anger. He started to speak but she pushed him in the chest and backed him up to the porch steps.

“It's not bad enough,” she gritted out through perfect white teeth, “that I have to see you on the streets in town. Now you're trespassing on my property!” She yanked her arm up and pointed toward the road. “Get off. Go away. Or I'll call Brady.”

Brady was the sheriff of Mule Hollow and a good friend. But in this instance Trace knew Brady would do his job and send him packing. And if this had been about himself alone, Trace would have stepped off that porch and been gone right then and there—he wouldn't have come here in the first place.

But this wasn't about him.

This was about his baby niece, and had been from the moment he'd first learned of her existence two months ago. Because she needed help he couldn't give her, and
because he was all she had in the world, he'd proposed to this spitfire's cousin almost immediately…and that ill-fated proposal had caused all of this.

But there was no turning back now and she was going to listen to him. “I'm not going anywhere,” he said firmly, knowing his eyes were flashing some steel of their own.

She glowered as her long-lashed eyes narrowed to slits.

“Look,” he snapped, reining in his frustration, fighting to remain level headed and losing. Couldn't she see reason? Couldn't she at least listen instead of acting like Rambo in a skirt? “Zoey has gone through more than any little girl should have to go through. I don't care if you hate my guts—I
need
your help—”

“If you came to ask
me
to marry you, I'm going to punch you!”

“Marry you? Whoa, lady.” His gaze slid down her battle-ready stance and he blurted out the first thing that came into his head: “That's the last thing I'd ever do.”

The words were more of a reflex than anything. After all, popping that question had started all this trouble! He had no plans to make that mistake again. Especially with Paisley. It was safe to say she'd rather see him dragged across a patch of prickly pear cactus.

He was caught off guard when she paled, two bright spots of pink on her prominent cheekbones her only color.

“Th…then why are you here?” she asked, the green in her eyes swirling with a surprising vulnerability.

Had he embarrassed her? He had the impulse to back up and attempt to clarify his words, but he'd lost all confidence in his ability not to flub things further, so he plunged forward. Laying everything out in the open was the best option. “I came to offer you a job for the summer.”

“A job,” she scoffed. “
Me
work for
you?
Ha!”

No surprise there. He'd had the same reaction when the ladies in town had suggested Paisley was actually the perfect person for the job—how? But there were no other options. Even if Mule Hollow had an abundance of teenage babysitters, which it didn't, a teen wouldn't do in this instance. And for reasons he hadn't figured out, all the older ladies were unavailable. “Circumstances have left me without options.”
So here I stand, not because I want to be, but because I must be.

Suffocating weight settled over him, as if he had the whole world on his shoulders—and it was true. He had a little girl's world sitting squarely across both shoulders. “The social worker on my niece's case is coming out to make her final field visit and then finally I get custody of Zoey. I'm down to the wire here. I need to show I have someone reliable to care for her. I need someone to teach me what to do, because I have no clue.”

Paisley's expression clearly said she would work for him the day pigs flew.

“Look,” he said, rubbing the cramping muscles in his neck, “I get why you're staring at me like that. But the ladies said you needed a job and, well, you are a schoolteacher. When you aren't talking to me, you do seem like you can be a fairly nice person.”

“Well, you're a charmer! A regular Don Juan.”

No, he was an idiot! “I didn't mean it that way.” He scrambled for the right words. “I'm sorry. Really, I am.”

“Well,” she snapped, her glare steamy, “at least you finally said something we both agree on. You most definitely
are
sorry.”

Trace nodded. “I deserved that.” She was right, after all.
He'd literally run her cousin out of town with his poorly thought-out proposal. “I get that you don't think much of me, but this is an innocent little girl we're talking about. And, the older ladies said that I've caused you to be in a financial bind since I am responsible for Rene leaving town.”

Way to go, idiot.
“I mean,” he tried again, “they pointed out that you being a schoolteacher and having the summer off—well, you'd be the perfect person to help me and Zoey.”

If his grandfather heard him right now, groveling, as he would have called it, the crusty old man would roll over in his grave. A man did not admit his shortcomings, especially to a woman. But all Trace could think of was Zoey and what a lousy guardian he would be. He had to get someone in his corner who knew about little girls—
really
knew about them. “I need someone to help care for her and teach me how at the same time.”

His insides curled up thinking about the mess his widowed grandfather had made raising him and his sister alone. Trace knew he wouldn't do any better by Stephanie's daughter if he didn't get help with his newfound parenthood.

He still had a hard time realizing that his sister was dead. Or that she'd never bothered to tell him he was an uncle. He'd stopped trying to understand Stephanie a long time ago and had thought she'd hurt him as much as she possibly could. But the fact that she'd given birth and not contacted him…it cut deeper than anything she'd ever done. Anything his parents had ever done, either.

If Social Services hadn't found him he'd have never known about Zoey. And he'd have never had the chance to help her.
What were you thinking, Steph?

Had his mixed up sister hated him so much that she'd rather her little girl believe she had no relatives at all?

His heart hurt at the thought. He'd regret for the rest of his life that he hadn't done more for Steph, but for Zoey things were going to be different. God had given him a second chance and he planned to do everything in his power to give that little girl a fair shot at life. Even if it meant begging the stubborn woman in front of him for her help. Taking a deep breath, he prayed silently for God to step into the equation and give him a hand. “Paisley, will you please help Zoey?”

 

For two months,
two months,
Paisley had been a big ball of anger and all because of this cowboy.
This
cowboy had ruined her and Rene's lifelong dream of settling down in a small town and raising their families together. He'd driven her cousin out of town—killing that dream with his callous insensitivity!

“This is preposterous,” she said in disbelief, ignoring the desperation in his smoke-colored eyes. “I can't work for you.”

Those smoky eyes mixed with his sand-colored curls and that chiseled jaw put the man in serious contention with good-looking country star Dirks Bentley. The combination of those boyish good looks and those unforgettable eyes had gotten them into this mess from the start. One look at him when she and Rene had walked into Sam's Diner and Rene had believed she'd fallen madly in love at first sight—it had taken several weeks before Trace even seemed to notice Rene. And then when he did start dating Rene, Paisley could tell there was no hope for the relationship. The man had been leading Rene on, but there was no convincing Rene of that…just remembering made Paisley's temperature rise.

“Please.”

“No. No way, actually,” she said. “You can't bring a child who needs to feel safe into a situation where two people dislike each other. What could you be thinking?”

“I know what you're saying, but I tried to find someone else and couldn't. Everyone already has commitments, while you have almost three months free until your teaching job starts. Zoey needs you.”

Paisley had become a schoolteacher because she'd always had a heart for kids. And kids who'd been given a raw deal in life really cried out to her. Not that this gave the maddening man any excuse for hurting her cousin. Poor Rene had thought when he'd suddenly asked her to marry him that he'd fallen in love with her, too! It had been devastating for her to realize he was only looking for a mother for Zoey. Rene had felt bad for the little girl, but she'd been devastated by the knowledge that Trace wasn't in love with her and she'd left town…and poof, just like that, no more side-by-side houses or family backyard barbeques or playtime for their future kids. Nope he'd killed that. But worst of all…he'd hurt Rene.

“Please,” he said. “I'm really sorry for hurting Rene. She didn't deserve the pain I caused her. But, my little niece doesn't deserve what's happened to her, either. Does she?”

Paisley had so many reasons to stay as far away from Trace as she could get—and then he touched her arm suddenly and every nerve ending in her body went on red alert. She yanked away from him, as if she'd just gotten tangled in an electric fence. To her horror her heartbeat sped up under his soulful gaze.

“No, she doesn't.” It was true, despite her roiling emotions.

“I'll pay you a good wage,” he added quickly. “I won't be around all that much—you know what it's like
during the summer. Keeping a ranch the size of Clint Matlock's going is sometimes daylight to dark. But I'm going to try and not work so late every day. I've already talked with him and the foreman about needing to be home some.”

She blinked as his words sank through the fog forming in her brain.
What was she thinking?
The man was basically asking her to work cowboy hours. But she did need the money, and there was the poor child, innocently doomed to his care…and
that
was the reason for her racing heart.

He'd latched onto his hat rim with both hands and his knuckles were white…seeing him suffer gave Paisley a moment of
great
satisfaction. She couldn't help pushing the issue. “You led Rene on,” she snapped. “Do you know for a brief moment she thought you'd actually fallen head over heels in love with her—which is all she ever wanted.”

No. No way could she work for this guy. Family loyalty mattered.

“I freaked out—I'm
sorry.
What more can I say? Have you never messed up?”

Frustration and desperation edged his voice, and Paisley didn't feel the satisfaction she'd hoped for, but she didn't like him any less, either.

“Look, Rene is a great woman. The best,” he continued in earnest. “She is. I respect her immensely and that's why I asked her to marry me—for Zoey's benefit. If that makes me a jerk, then I am. I fully admit it.” He paused, holding her gaze. “But this jerk could really use some help, and if I have to grovel I will.”

Shame infused Paisley. This macho, self-centered cowboy admitting for the sake of a little girl that he would
grovel made her animosity toward him seem misdirected—selfish. It wasn't a good feeling.