Wish Upon a Cowboy by Maureen Child, Kathleen Kane Page A
Authors: Maureen Child, Kathleen Kane
Tags: Romance
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muttered quietly.
"If you can't do this," he said, giving them both one last chance to escape this situation—although if she backed out, he didn't know what the hell he would do about finding another cook—"say so now."
She actually appeared to be thinking it over and Jonas wasn't sure what he'd prefer she decide. If she left, Lord knew, he'd sleep easier at night, though he surely wouldn't be eating well. If she stayed, his stomach might be satisfied, but another part of his body wouldn't be happy.
What in the hell had happened to his legendary luck?
A long moment passed and he counted several heartbeats before she looked him dead in the eye and said quietly. "I can do it." Hearing her own words seemed to put some steel in her spine because she straightened up and lifted her chin. "I'm not leaving until I've finished what I came here to do."
Which brought them right back where they'd started, he figured. Tightly, he reminded her, "No more talk about—"
"I promised I wouldn't say the word marriage," she said firmly. "Not until you have."
He snorted a tired laugh. "Then you'll have a long wait, lady."
"I'm patient, as well as stubborn."
"So am I," he warned her.
She smiled at him and it felt as though someone had slugged him in the stomach. All of his air left him in a rush. Fighting down the feeling, he said, "Keep a pot of coffee going on the stove all day, every day. The men will come in and help themselves when they want some."
She nodded and set the broom down to lean against the wall. At least, he told himself wryly, she hadn't expected it to put itself away. He could almost see the wheels turning in her befuddled brain as she tried to decide where to begin her new job.
Dislodging the cat again, he walked across the room, poured a cup of coffee, and headed for the door. He had to take a couple of pretty fancy steps to avoid the blasted cat, but he managed. Before he went outside, though, he couldn't resist adding, "See you at breakfast."
Then he stepped into the yard, closed the door, and tried to put Hannah out of his mind.
* * *
Hannah had never been sorrier that her witchcraft abilities were so dreadful. She'd only meant to give Juana a cold, or some other small malady that she would recover from fairly quickly. She winced, thinking about the poor woman wracked with pain.
On the other hand, she thought as she did a slow turn, inspecting the disaster of a kitchen, perhaps Juana had gotten the better end of this deal. After all, that woman was lying in bed being waited on by a doting sister. While Hannah, on the other hand… She groaned quietly and shook her head.
"It's a wonder, Hepzibah," she said on a sigh, "how men manage to run the world when they can't seem to pick up after themselves."
Briefly, she thought about using her powers to help her with the day's daunting tasks. But in the next instant, she recalled Eudora's most frequently used admonition: Witchcraft is not to be used lightly. The older woman herself didn't rely on her abilities in her everyday work, and those abilities were far superior to Hannah's.
Besides, she thought as she tossed a quick glare at the broom, it was obvious that being so close to a powerful warlock hadn't improved Hannah's witchcraft in the least.
Then, because she really didn't have time enough to stand around and complain about the very situation she'd worked to put herself in, she got busy.
Chapter Four
Two hours later, she was seriously rethinking her plan.
If breakfast was an example of what life with the Mackenzie would be like, she didn't know if she was strong enough to survive it without killing him.
As soon as that thought presented itself, she wondered absently how one would go about doing away with a warlock. Her musings ended as she became caught up in the unbelievable scene unfolding in front of her.
Hannah stood open-mouthed at one end of the long table. She watched as the ranch hands rushed into the kitchen like a swarm of locusts.
"If you can't do this," he said, giving them both one last chance to escape this situation—although if she backed out, he didn't know what the hell he would do about finding another cook—"say so now."
She actually appeared to be thinking it over and Jonas wasn't sure what he'd prefer she decide. If she left, Lord knew, he'd sleep easier at night, though he surely wouldn't be eating well. If she stayed, his stomach might be satisfied, but another part of his body wouldn't be happy.
What in the hell had happened to his legendary luck?
A long moment passed and he counted several heartbeats before she looked him dead in the eye and said quietly. "I can do it." Hearing her own words seemed to put some steel in her spine because she straightened up and lifted her chin. "I'm not leaving until I've finished what I came here to do."
Which brought them right back where they'd started, he figured. Tightly, he reminded her, "No more talk about—"
"I promised I wouldn't say the word marriage," she said firmly. "Not until you have."
He snorted a tired laugh. "Then you'll have a long wait, lady."
"I'm patient, as well as stubborn."
"So am I," he warned her.
She smiled at him and it felt as though someone had slugged him in the stomach. All of his air left him in a rush. Fighting down the feeling, he said, "Keep a pot of coffee going on the stove all day, every day. The men will come in and help themselves when they want some."
She nodded and set the broom down to lean against the wall. At least, he told himself wryly, she hadn't expected it to put itself away. He could almost see the wheels turning in her befuddled brain as she tried to decide where to begin her new job.
Dislodging the cat again, he walked across the room, poured a cup of coffee, and headed for the door. He had to take a couple of pretty fancy steps to avoid the blasted cat, but he managed. Before he went outside, though, he couldn't resist adding, "See you at breakfast."
Then he stepped into the yard, closed the door, and tried to put Hannah out of his mind.
* * *
Hannah had never been sorrier that her witchcraft abilities were so dreadful. She'd only meant to give Juana a cold, or some other small malady that she would recover from fairly quickly. She winced, thinking about the poor woman wracked with pain.
On the other hand, she thought as she did a slow turn, inspecting the disaster of a kitchen, perhaps Juana had gotten the better end of this deal. After all, that woman was lying in bed being waited on by a doting sister. While Hannah, on the other hand… She groaned quietly and shook her head.
"It's a wonder, Hepzibah," she said on a sigh, "how men manage to run the world when they can't seem to pick up after themselves."
Briefly, she thought about using her powers to help her with the day's daunting tasks. But in the next instant, she recalled Eudora's most frequently used admonition: Witchcraft is not to be used lightly. The older woman herself didn't rely on her abilities in her everyday work, and those abilities were far superior to Hannah's.
Besides, she thought as she tossed a quick glare at the broom, it was obvious that being so close to a powerful warlock hadn't improved Hannah's witchcraft in the least.
Then, because she really didn't have time enough to stand around and complain about the very situation she'd worked to put herself in, she got busy.
Chapter Four
Two hours later, she was seriously rethinking her plan.
If breakfast was an example of what life with the Mackenzie would be like, she didn't know if she was strong enough to survive it without killing him.
As soon as that thought presented itself, she wondered absently how one would go about doing away with a warlock. Her musings ended as she became caught up in the unbelievable scene unfolding in front of her.
Hannah stood open-mouthed at one end of the long table. She watched as the ranch hands rushed into the kitchen like a swarm of locusts.
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