The Cattleman (Sons of Texas Book 2) by Anna Jeffrey

panting, her tongue lolling. The two cats sat down beside her.
    “Mrs. Lockhart told me I could take pictures of this ranch,” Miss What’s-Her-Name said.
    Fancy whined and twisted, pulling against Dad’s grip on her collar. “Drake’s wife? You’re friends with Drake’s wife?”
    “Drake?” Miss What’s-Her-Name said, a puzzled expression on her face.
    Since Dad and Mom were separated and had been living in different locations for years, obviously Dad thought the visitor meant the oldest Lockhart son’s new wife. “Dad, I think she means Mom,” Pic said.
    Dad released Fancy’s collar, straightened and jammed his fists against his waist. “My wife told you to come here and take pictures?”
    “Well…yes….She said you wouldn’t mind.”
    “I guess that depends on what you want to take pictures of. And for what reason.”
    “Oh….Well…” Miss What’s-Her-Name looked around. “Is there someone I can speak to about it?”
    His father’s gaze traveled down and up the new arrival in a thorough assessment. The man had a refined eye for a good-looking woman. “Dad, she’s got a flat tire back on the driveway. Can you get Smoky or somebody to go fix her up?”
    “Smoky’s not here right now,” he said, continuing to study the visitor. “Won ’t be back for a couple hours.”
    “Oh,” Miss What’s-Her-Name said again. “Well, that isn’t a problem. I don’t mind waiting. I’m planning on being here a few days. Mrs. Lockhart told me I could stay as long as I need to.”
    “Is that right,” Dad said. A statement, not a question.
    Evidently, Mom hadn’t clued him in about sending a photographer. Nevertheless, Pic knew his dad . If the visitor said Mom had sent her, Dad would go along with it. He gestured toward the front door. “Then I guess you’d better come on into the house and tell me what’s going on. It’s a little cooler inside.”
    “Let me put my shoe on,” she said, sliding her foot into her sandal.
    Pic’s eye continued to burn and water. As Miss What-s-Her-Name squatted and dealt with the buckles on her shoe, Pic thought of Johnnie Sue. She would know what to do for his eye.
    After Miss What’s-Her-Name was ready, she and Dad walked toward the front door chatting. Pic lagged behind, Frissy and Fancy and the cats trotting beside him. Even with slightly blurred vision, he couldn’t keep from admiring how well Miss What’s- Her-Name’s heart-shaped bottom filled out her shorts and the sexy sway of her hips.
    Inside the house, he left Dad and her in the entry and found Johnnie Sue in the kitchen. She stood on her tiptoes and closely examined his eye through the lower half of her bifocals. “I don’t think it’s hurt bad. Probably just irritated. Sit down and I’ll get something to put in it.” She left the kitchen and returned with a small bottle. “Sit down and let me squeeze a few drops of this into it. It’ll make it feel better.”
    Though the housekeeper hadn’t been with them long, she mothered him and Dad as if they were her kids. Following her instructions, he sat down at the breakfast table. After a few drops of the liquid from the little bottle, his eye did feel better and he could see better.
    He picked up his hat and walked into the living room where Miss What’s-Her-Name and his dad were talking. The old man was showering her with his country boy charm. Pic wouldn’t put it past him to try to get in her pants.
    She turned and smiled up at him, sans sunglasses and he was captured. Her eyes were the color of coffee, the irises indiscernible from the pupils, a different shade from Mandy’s light brown eyes. Black, thick spidery lashes framed them. It happened again—that unsettling shift in the world.
    “Thank you so much for your help,” she said and it dawned on Pic where he had heard that breathy little voice. She sounded like Marilyn Monroe in old movies he had seen on TV.
    He mentally regrouped. He had to get to town. “Uh, you’re welcome,