Pine Country Cowboy
No Place Like HomeAbby Diaz longs to reestablish a relationship with her father, so she heads to Canyon Springs, her Arizona hometown, with a painful past she can't share with anyone. But then she's needed to care for her young nephew. The little boy takes a shine to a happy-go-lucky cowboy, a handsome man who's everything Abby can never have. The more time she spends with Brett, the more she realizes he's harboring a heartache of his own. As she works on repairing family ties with her father, Abby knows that opening up to Brett is key to forging a new future…together
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No Place Like Home
Abby Diaz longs to reestablish a relationship with her father, so she heads to Canyon Springs, her Arizona hometown, with a painful past she can’t share with anyone. But then she’s needed to care for her young nephew. The little boy takes a shine to a happy-go-lucky cowboy, a handsome man who’s everything Abby can never have. The more time she spends with Brett, the more she realizes he’s harboring a heartache of his own. As she works on repairing family ties with her father, Abby knows that opening up to Brett is key to forging a new future…together
“Are you in town for long, ma’am?” Brett’s voice drew her attention.
No. I’m leaving as soon as I drop Davy off at home.”
“That’s a shame.”
Why? Because he wouldn’t have an opportunity to weave his charming wiles around another susceptible female heart?
Abby glanced again toward her nephew, who was still talking with Trey. Come on, Davy, let’s go.
Brett motioned in their direction. “A bright boy, that one, and he has a natural way with horses. You may have an accomplished horseman in the family one of these days.”
“He wants a horse. Bad.” She smiled inwardly at the remembrance of her own childhood demands.
“Is your brother harboring any other pretty sisters?” Brett quirked a smile. “I may have to talk with him about holding out on friends.”
He’s a flirt. The women warned you. Don’t take his flattery to heart. Nevertheless, her breath came more quickly at the approving sparkle in his eyes.
GLYNNA KAYE
treasures memories of growing up in small Midwestern towns—in Iowa, Missouri, Illinois—and vacations spent in another rural community with the Texan side of the family. She traces her love of storytelling to the many times a houseful of great-aunts and great-uncles gathered with her grandma to share hours of what they called “windjammers”—candid, heartwarming, poignant and often humorous tales of their youth and young adulthood.
Glynna now lives in Arizona, and when she isn’t writing she’s gardening and enjoying photography and the great outdoors.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
—Psalms 34:18
Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up;
do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in a wasteland.
—Isaiah 43:18–19
To Uncle Ron and Aunt Kay…and in memory of my cousin Teri, who inspired those whose lives she touched as she courageously battled cystic fibrosis.
Contents
Chapter One
The last thing Abby Diaz needed was to be surrounded by little kids and pestered by a flirtatious cowboy.
At the moment, she had the misfortune of both.
She sucked in a steadying breath, acutely aware of the echoing chirp of sparrows in the indoor arena’s rafters, the smell of straw, hay and horses—and the engaging smile of the good-looking man patiently awaiting a response to his question.
At least she wouldn’t be in Canyon Springs much longer. In a few hours she’d be sailing her Chevy down the curving mountain road to Phoenix, then pushing farther southward through the desert to Tucson and home. It had been foolish to make the trip anyway, a futile, final grasping by her rapidly ebbing faith.
“So what do you say, pretty lady?” the sandy-haired cowboy with impossibly wide shoulders urged again, his low, mellow voice teasing her ears. Dressed in boots, faded jeans and a Western-cut shirt, he tipped back his summer straw hat as twinkling hazel eyes studied her with unconcealed interest. “It will take half a minute to lead another horse out here and get your lessons started right along with these kids.”
Was he out of his mind? “I’ll pass, thank you.”
He briefly dipped his head in acknowledgment, a smile twitching at his lips. Then he glanced at the half dozen grade-schoolers milling around them, including her brother Joe’s son. Since entering the arena, Davy had stuck gluelike to her side despite only having met her three days ago.
The seven-year-old had been excited about coming today, begging his almost-nine-months pregnant stepmother not to renege on his first riding lesson. But after another sleepless night of acute discomfort, Meg hadn’t been up to it. With his daddy working an extended shift as a regional paramedic and Grandpa Diaz seeing to an RV park crisis, Aunt Abby had been dragged into this family-oriented outing. She’d planned to drop Davy off and return for him later, but on the drive to the High Country Equine Center—which most locals still called Duffy’s after the original owner—the brown-eyed boy seemed to be having second thoughts about the adventure. She’d hung around for moral support.
Avoiding the cowboy’s assessing gaze, Abby rested her hand on her nephew’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring pat. “This will be fun, Davy—won’t it, Gina?”
