A Cowboy To Call Daddy

Chapter Two

Eden flipped through her file on Dr. Archer Boone and the Boone Ranch Refuge. After four hours of sorting receipts—and making a slight dent—she deserved a rest. She was just as impressed as she’d been the first time she’d read his file. Renowned veterinarian and animal behaviorist. Studied internationally, devoted to environmentally friendly and ecologically minded practices. Graduated early. Went on to get several specialty certifications. But horses were his true gift. Clearly, the man was passionate about his work.

She respected that. And already well versed with his résumé, she expected that. She hadn’t expected him to be so abrupt. Intense. Or condescending. Of course, he didn’t know who she was—that would impact the way he treated her. Not yet.

The biggest surprise was how ruggedly attractive he was. Eden found him exceptionally handsome. More than once she’d found herself watching him out the window in the tiny makeshift office. He had a presence, one that made an impact. And watching him made a few things immediately clear.

Archer Boone did not like people. At all. Sitting in her lumpy office chair several hundred feet away she could hear the snap to his words and impatience in his voice when speaking to the men who worked there.

But everything about Dr. Archer Boone changed when he was working with his horses. He went from rigid and tense, impatient and frustrated, to fluid and graceful. She couldn’t hear him, but there was no denying he spoke to the animals. Their ears pricked toward him, their gazes riveted. They seemed almost mesmerized by him. It was no wonder. He cared about them. Deeply. And the horses knew it.

“Are you the new bookkeeper?” A tall woman stood in the door. Jeans, worn brown boots, a sun-faded checkered blouse and a straw hat hung around her neck by a cord. “You don’t look like you’re ready to run. Yet.” She had a nice smile. And vibrant blue eyes.

“Should I be?” She tried to look nonchalant as she pulled another file on top of the one she’d been reading. A temp would not have a file on her employer.

Eden glanced at her, but the other woman just shrugged.

“Sorting papers isn’t the most exciting way to pass the time, but I have no complaints.” Eden was cool, her heels were off, and she’d refilled her bottle with cold water and washed the dust and sweat from her hands, face and neck. Considering the way her day had started, sitting here sorting receipts in uninterrupted quiet was a welcome relief.

“The last four he brought out here did. I’m not sure it was the paperwork. Or if it was my darling brother and his...way with words.” She pushed off the door frame and stuck out her hand. “I’m Renata Boone—the sister.”

“Eden. Eden Caraway,” she murmured, shaking Renata’s hand. It wasn’t a complete lie. Her married name had been Caraway—which she’d dropped as soon as the divorce was done. But after what Dr. Boone had said, she couldn’t admit she was a Monroe.

Oddly, she had no knowledge of the review letter Archer Boone received. Odd, because she was the one who sent the review letters. Alarm bells were ringing. Why hadn’t her father told her about it?

But the alarm bells weren’t new. They’d started ringing when he’d been so eager to send her off on her “long-overdue vacation.” Her father was a workaholic. He didn’t do vacations, not in the traditional sense. Vacations always mixed business with pleasure, turning a Mediterranean cruise into the ultimate networking opportunity. That was why she was here, changing her reservations from the Palm Springs spa he’d booked to an extended stay in Stonewall Crossing. She would show him she was capable and indispensable and worthy of respect.

“The savior,” Renata tacked on. “You might not know it, but you’re important. Archer’s freaking out over the dreaded Monroe visit, worrying they’ll decide his request for funding will be denied—even though they’ve never denied him. I say he’s being paranoid. He says it’s a feeling.”

Renata’s blasé delivery was almost callous, but Eden stayed quiet. Renata’s words hit a little too close to home for her liking. Her father had all but said those very words. He’d made up his mind that the Boone Ranch Refuge no longer needed the funding, that it was time to give other worthy nonprofits a chance. And even though going against something her mother had been so passionate about was hard, Eden knew this was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. If she helped her father pull funding here, maybe he’d finally see her as the asset she was. Please, God. Getting out of bed already feeling like she’d failed was mentally exhausting.

The tension headache she thought was gone began to pulse slowly at the base of her skull.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother.” Renata frowned. “And I support him one hundred percent. But I worry over how consumed he gets by this place sometimes. He holds on so tight. This review thing has turned him into high-stress, grumpier-than-ever Archer. Which makes for miserable family dinners.”

She glanced out the window at Archer Boone. He was nose to nose with a skin-and-bones red horse. The horse was blowing into his hands, looking exhausted—defeated.

“Surely the refuge doesn’t rely on the Monroes for all its funding?” Eden asked, needing to ease the guilt choking her. She knew the answer: the refuge received funding from a variety of places. The real question was: Why was Monroe funding so important? “It doesn’t make sense for a nonprofit to rely on one source of support. Or for a foundation to agree to be a sole funding source, for that matter.”

Renata perched on the edge of the beat-up table. “It’s the whole tradition thing. Mrs. Monroe only visited twice, but she cared about this place, my father, my family and the people who live here. She’d talked about starting an endowment but then... Well, Mrs. Monroe’s death was tragic and unexpected.” Renata glanced out the window at her brother.

Eden was reeling. Her mother had visited—been actively involved in—the refuge? She’d cared about this place, enough to form an endowment? She swallowed, still processing. “Is there a reason Monroe would pull funding?” she asked, hoping Renata might shed more insight.

Renata shrugged. “Not on paper, no. Archer’s work is hard to argue with. I have my suspicions, though.”

Eden waited, wiping her palms on her skirt. “Suspicions?” Why was she encouraging the woman? She should ignore her and pretend that the pile of invoices in front of her was riveting. But she waited, holding her breath, to hear what Renata Boone had to add.

Renata smiled. “Chalk it up to being the only girl in a house of men, but I think it’s a personal thing. Am I assuming a lot here? Yes, yes I am. But my mother had hinted that things weren’t good between Mr. and Mrs. Monroe, that Mr. Monroe and my father had a falling-out, that she’d stayed here to clear her head. Maybe now that his wife is gone, he wants to remove painful reminders?” She shook her head. “I could be way off. I’ve never met the man. He could be great and one hundred percent behind Archer, just like his wife was. For all we know, Archer is sweating over nothing.”

Eden tapped her pencil on the pile of papers in front of her. She and her mother had been close, sharing secrets and dreams. But Eden hadn’t known any of this. Her mother had come here to clear her head? When? Had her parents fought over the refuge? Her death had robbed them all of closure and healing. Where there had been happiness and merriment, now there was only anger and resentment. Her baby girls would never know the beauty of their grandmother’s smile or her infectious laugh. It had been three years since her passing but sometimes Eden missed her so much, the pain was inescapable.

“Sorry. Too many television movies or epic family novels. You should have stopped me before I went overboard.” She shook her head. “I should have said the name Monroe puts Archer on the defensive and left it at that.” She laughed, her blue eyes inspecting Eden closely. “I’m thinking you’re not a country girl?” Renata asked, reminding Eden where she was and what she was doing here.

“No, I’m not.” Eden shook her head. What the hell was she doing? She had a plan, one that didn’t need to get muddied by the unfounded speculation of a stranger. But Renata’s words eased some of Eden’s guilt over lying. Being Eden Caraway would make her job easier. And that was why she was here, period—to find justification to pull funding from Boone Ranch Refuge.

Renata seemed to be waiting for additional information—

“Renata?” Disapproval colored Archer’s tone. Not as sharp as when he was speaking to his employees, but definitely not welcoming. “She’s working. You’re interrupting.”

Archer seemed incapable of speaking to a human without condescension. But somehow, Renata didn’t let it get to her.

“You caught me.” Renata stood, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “I had to see the new recruit. People are talking, bets are being made, big brother.”

Archer’s blue eyes were glacial.

“Bets?” Eden asked, watching their interaction with interest. “What sort of bets?”

Renata glanced back and forth between them, smiling. “How long it’ll be before he chases you off.”

Archer continued to stare down his sister. “Is it too much to ask for a little professionalism, Renata?”

It was easy to empathize with him. His sister had come in and shared far too much information with her—a complete stranger. It was hard working with family. Even harder if one of them gets all chummy with the new employee, undermining authority. She knew exactly how that felt. Her brother, Greg, had tirelessly pursued Loretta, her first assistant. And once they’d gotten close, it hadn’t been pleasant.

She took in the pinched look around Archer’s blue eyes, the tightness bracketing his mouth, the posture that was anything but relaxed. Something about his stance resonated with her—a defensiveness, a vulnerability.

“Try?” One word, an order—and a plea. When he wasn’t being rude, he had a very nice voice.

Eden slid her reading glasses on, using them to shield her inspection of the man. The man on paper was so different from the man in front of her. The man on paper was well-researched fact, and countless achievements. An academic with years of fieldwork and expertise. The man in front of her was broad and thick. Muscled yet lean, appearing more inclined to do the labor than study or research. Clearly he was capable of both. Which was something new. The men in her life were more likely to pick up a phone and call a repairman instead of picking up a hammer and making the repair themselves.

“Fine.” Renata laughed. “I admit it, I heard about Fester and my curiosity was piqued.”

Archer’s blue eyes slammed into hers. He had piercing eyes that were...unnerving.

Hopefully he’d missed her thorough head-to-toe inspection. “What?” Her voice was tight and wary.

Archer shook his head, once.

“He didn’t even try to bite you?” Renata was watching her just as closely.

Eden glanced back and forth between them. “He followed me.” She shrugged. “And when I stopped, he’d push me forward with his nose.” Whether or not that was relevant, she didn’t know. Fester had seemed interested in her well-being. And after the initial fear had subsided, she’d appreciated his companionship.

“That’s all?” Renata asked.

“He...he clicked his teeth at me,” she mumbled.

Archer ran a hand over his face. “Clicked his teeth?”

“He did?” Renata’s surprise was obvious.

She nodded. Clearly it meant something. “Is that bad?”

Archer crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. The silence, and Archer’s unflinching gaze, had her shifting in her chair. She hadn’t done anything wrong. I lied. Well, not where the horse was concerned, so why did she feel guilty?

“What did you do?” Archer’s voice was surprisingly soft. “When he clicked at you.”

“I...I talked to him.” She stared at the yellow invoice on the table.

“Talked to him?”

She glanced up at him. He seemed lost, working through some foreign concept or equation. When his gaze met hers again, his hostility was gone. But there was something equally unnerving in its place. Something warm and vibrant and heavy. She stared blindly at the papers in front of her.

Renata laughed. “I told you he’s a woman’s horse, Archer.”

“No,” Archer argued. “You’re a woman. He bit you.”

“Then maybe Fester has a crush.” Renata tapped the table. “Which means you, Miss Caraway, just got yourself a horse.”

Eden looked up then, startled. “Me?” That was the last thing she needed—more responsibility. Between her work, her family and her kids, she was shouldering enough. “No, thank you.”

“She’s teasing, Miss Caraway.” Archer was using that soothing tone again, and it was having an odd effect on her.

“I am. You’ll get used to it,” Renata agreed. “But now I have to run. Fisher and Kylee are finally going on a date and Tandy and I have twin duty. Can’t be late. Knowing Fisher, he’ll use it as an excuse to cancel—again. I know our brother so well.”

Eden saw Archer’s eye-roll, heard his mumbled, “It might help that you’re his twin.” She smiled before she could stop herself.

“You’re probably right. You could come with me? Help with diaper duty and bath time?”

Archer’s eyebrow arched sharply.

“Oh, come on Archer, if you could pretend your nephews were horses, you might actually like them—”

“I like them,” Archer interrupted.

“I know.” Renata pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You love us all, even if we drive you crazy.” She waved at Eden. “Nice to meet you, Eden.”

“You, too,” she answered.

Archer stayed where he was, his gaze sweeping the room. “Progress?”

“I think so.” She patted the four stacks she’d made, color-tabbed and neatly clipped, with accounting tapes affixed to the front.

“It’s almost eight.” He glanced at her.

“It is?” She looked around. No clock. “I had no idea.”

“Where are you staying?” he asked.

“The Lodge.” She met his gaze. “Since there is no time to waste, it made sense to stay close.”

“I can drive you.” It wasn’t an offer, it was a statement. Considering she had no way to get there, there was no point in arguing with him. Even if something deep inside her chest protested.

“Thank you,” she said, collecting her things—sliding his file between two packets—and tucking it all back into her briefcase.

He nodded, his expression rigid, and studied her. And while his gaze made her feel wobbly and unsteady, she had no idea how to read Dr. Archer Boone.

* * *

ARCHER HELD THE door open for her. She was limping as she stepped out onto the front porch. “You hurt?”

“Didn’t have the best hiking shoes.” She stopped at the edge of the porch, gripped the porch rail and took a deep breath. “It’s cool. I hadn’t expected that.”

Her hair was slipping from the clip on the back of her head; one long strand blew in the breeze. He cleared his throat, that peculiar tightening pressing in on him again. “Where is home for you?” He knew nothing about this woman except he was paying her very well for her time and expertise. And that he seemed to be allergic to her—perhaps it was her perfume? Whatever it was, his throat seemed to tighten whenever he was close to her.

“Houston,” she said. “Crisp evenings are a rarity.”

“Clear night,” he said, looking up. With the sun almost gone, the navy and black bled into the pale horizon. Overhead, the sky was already sparkling. Among the chirp of the crickets, the who-who of an owl rang out. “Hear that?” he asked.

She looked at him, eyebrow cocked in question.

“An owl.” He nodded into the dark but watched her.

She closed her eyes, perfectly still. She was listening, a line forming between her brows and her lips parting.

Eden Caraway was...odd. In his experience, women talked. Too much. But Eden didn’t volunteer information or reveal what she was thinking. She was reserved in a way that unnerved him. Her features were controlled, her voice neutral, yet she didn’t shy away from eye contact. But now, the slight flicker, some hint of an unchecked response, piqued his interest.

Her smile was disconcerting. It grew, erasing the furrow from her brow and bringing her to life. When her eyes opened, met his, his throat grew tight and his lungs empty.

“I hear it.” She stared out into the dark, leaning forward on the rail. When she looked up, she gasped. “So many stars.” Her whisper was so faint he wasn’t sure he’d heard her. She brushed past him, descending the stairs to stand and stare up at the night sky overhead.

He frowned, forcing his attention elsewhere. It was late and he was tired. His curiosity was solely because she was new—nothing more. The fact that she was here to help ensure his success most likely played a part in it, as well. He didn’t like relying on others. His motto, If You Want Something Done Right, Do It Yourself, served him well in life. But he had to put some trust in this unusual woman. Perhaps the fact that she was so attractive was the problem.

He cleared his throat.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who had noticed. His cousin Toben was already making plans to show the temp a good time with a cowboy. He glanced at Miss Caraway...Eden, hoping she wasn’t interested in having a good time with his cousin—or any man, for that matter. He needed her undivided attention and time.

“Is that Fester?” Eden asked, pointing.

Sure enough, Fester was at the fence, head up, ears pricked forward, nickering sweetly—at Eden. He glanced at the woman, then the horse. “He’s talking to you.”

She looked at him. “How do you know?”

“Animals communicate just as clearly as people,” he said. “More so. There’s not as much room for misinterpretation. A horse nickers, he’s saying ‘Come talk to me.’ He snorts or blows, he’s excited—”

“What if he...if he sort of...” She glanced at him. “Hugged me?”

Archer looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“I...I caught my shoe between a couple of rocks so I stopped to free it... He stepped close so his chin was on the back of my shoulder and leaned his head against mine.” She used her hand and arm to clarify as she was talking.

“He did?” Archer sighed, pleased and frustrated at the same time.

She nodded.

“And he followed you back? Behind you?” he asked.

She nodded again. “It might sound strange, but I think he was watching over me.”

“Not strange,” Archer argued. “Intuitive. He was watching over you.”

Fester kept up the nickering, tossing his head a little.

“May I?” she asked.

Archer nodded, walking down the fence line to turn on a few lights. He hung back, curious to see the exchange between Fester and the only human the horse had acknowledged favorably.

“Should I do anything?” She glanced back at him, hesitating.

“No,” Archer said. “There’s a fence between you. He just wants you close.”

“Do you?” she asked Fester, her voice soft and calm—not high-pitched or affected but inviting and warm.

Fester stretched his head out, and Eden stepped closer.

Archer was in shock. Not only did Fester clearly adore the woman, Eden seemed to understand exactly what Fester needed. She didn’t reach for him, she simply stood and let the horse nicker and blow against her chest and neck. She didn’t try to touch his nose or rub the horse’s face. She might not realize that was significant, but he did. A person didn’t like a stranger touching their face. Neither did most horses. Somehow, Eden Caraway understood that.