âItâs Mr. Cowboy,â Beth yelled, racing to the door.
Then to Sophieâs utter dismay, her daughter said to Tanner, âHouston, we have a problem.â
Tall, lanky and lean, with wide denim-clad shoulders that looked perfect for leaning on, Tanner Johns was every womanâs fantasy cowboy.
Not her fantasy cowboy, of course, butâ
âWhatâs the problem, er, Houston?â His gaze rested on Sophie.
Sophie couldnât explain because there was something wrong with her breathing. As in, she couldnât. Then Davy came racing down the stairs, tripped on the perpetually loose runner at the bottom tread and tumbled headlong into the cowboyâs arms. Tanner caught her son and held on just long enough to make sure Davy could stand on his own.
âSomething I said?â he joked, winking at her.
The man winked at her! The control Sophie had almost recovered vanished. She figured she probably looked like a beached fish, gulping for air. Stupidly, she wished sheâd had time to fix her hair.
Whereâs your independence now?
Chapter One
âMr. Cowboy!â
Lost in thoughts of his upcoming meeting, Tanner Johns barely registered the call of the child standing outside the door of the Tucson grocery store heâd just left.
âHey, Mr. Cowboy!â
When the call came a third time, Tanner realized the girl had to be addressing him since there was no one else in the parking lot wearing cowboy boots and a Stetson, no one else who could even remotely be called a cowboy. He walked toward the child, taken aback by her extraordinary beauty. The piercing scrutiny of intense blue eyes enhanced her ivory skin and flaxen hair. He was a few feet away when he noticed the obvious signs of Down syndrome.
âWere you calling me?â Tanner glanced around to be certain.
âUh-huh.â Her smile made her skin glow.
âWhy?â Tanner automatically smiled back. This little cutie was a looker with a grin that would melt the most weather-beaten hide.
ââCause youâre a cowboy and cowboys have ranches.â Her bell-like voice carried on Januaryâs breeze as it whispered across blacktop shimmering in the Arizona heat.
Several people turned to study them. After a glimpse at Tanner their focus veered to the child, benevolent smiles widening when they spied the big cage at her feet. Wait a minuteârabbits? How had he missed that?
âA ranch is a good place to keep bunnies,â she said.
âUh, how many are there?â Tanner couldnât decipher one ball of fur from another.
âOnly eight.â She was probably five or six, he guessed. Sadness filled her voice as she explained, âWe canât keep them anymore.â
âI see.â In spite of Tannerâs reluctance to get involved, her innocence evoked a memory long buried inside him. Had he ever been that guileless?
âWhat happened to your face, Mr. Cowboy?â The question was open and honest. Tanner liked her steady stare better than othersâ quick gawks. Empathy beamed out from her blue eyes. âDoes it hurt?â
âA little,â he admitted. âI scratched myself on a wire fence.â
âPeople stare at you.â She nodded. âThey stare at me, too. Itâs âcause weâre different.â
âThey stare at you because youâre beautiful.â Affection for this spunky child flared inside him. âAnd because youâre special.â He meant her Down syndrome.
âIâm not special.â She shook her blond head firmly. âIâm just me. Mama says Iâm exactly the way God made me.â The happiness wreathing her round face made Tanner wish heâd had a mother like hers. His brain skittered away from that sensitive subject.