LITMIR.BIZ

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the wasp?”

      “What wasp?”

      “The skinny, stinging female with her feelers out.” Chili shot him a disgruntled look.

      “Oh, Deenie. Gone off to build her nest somewhere else, I hope.” Michael moved the two cowboys aside and put his arm under Fred’s for support. “Slow and careful, Fred.”

      He fit his pace to the older man’s. “Are you sure you don’t want me to run you down to the quack shack? Maybe you ought to have a doc look at it.”

      There was some swelling of Fred’s toes, but the cowboy gamely shook his head. “Nope. Bailey didn’t mention I oughta go, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

      “Maybe Bailey isn’t a doctor.”

      “Maybe Bailey’s just as good as that quack in town,” Fred shot back. “She’s been coping with kiddie emergencies since she was old enough to help Polly out.”

      It was a bit of a raw spot with Michael. When his mother left, the cowboys began slinking over to Polly’s whenever they had something that needed more tending than they could handle. Polly Dixon had a never-ending supply of ointment, bandages, good humor and compassion. “Doc Watson’s a fine doctor. And Deenie was right. You’re crybabies,” he said, helping Fred into the truck bed. “You just want your ouchies kissed.”

      “Damn right,” Fred shot back, “and if you was smart, son, you’d let Bailey kiss yours.”

      The cowboys murmured their agreement. Michael hesitated. Then he decided he didn’t want to know whatever was going around in their white-thatched heads. “You fellows don’t have enough to do,” he said crustily. “Tomorrow I want you to check every inch of the fence and make sure it’s secure.” He gave them all a baleful glare. “Particularly the area around the Dixon pond. I don’t want any of my cattle getting mixed in with Gunner’s or getting spooked by the Dixon sheep.”

      The large pond was the only valuable thing the Dixons owned. It lay in a liquid, undulating circle at the top of their property. It was the only nearby water source, and both Sherman King and Michael Wade Senior had eyed it for their cattle. Because Elijah said he couldn’t trust either of the feuding ranchers to behave like gentlemen, he’d allowed them both the use of it, but insisted that they each run a separate fence divider through the portion he allotted them. Therefore the pond was evenly split three ways. He charged the ranchers a yearly fee for the use, a pittance compared to what they’d pay to have city water pumped in. Elijah had said it was worth using the clear, clean water to cool off the hotheads living on either side of him.

      Then old Elijah had got him a few sheep, which stared at the big-horned beasts on either side of them but otherwise paid no attention. The hands said Elijah was so bone-idle he kept the sheep so he wouldn’t have to mow his yard. Indeed, the sheep did keep the grass short clear up to the porch. Michael suspected the old man had been less lazy than a peacekeeping dreamer. Sheep were quiet and gentle, and the Dixon children played with them as if they were dogs. Everybody was happy.

      Except his employees right now. They stared at him accusingly.

      “Every inch,” he reiterated. “I don’t need any more reasons for you to be running to the Dixon house.”

      They were silent.

      “Of course, if you like it over there so much, if you’ve become so shiftless that you need a woman constantly fussing over you, I’m sure she’d be more than happy to take you in.” He knew he was being cruel, but the comment about letting Bailey kiss his hurts had stung—worse than Deenie’s waspiness.

      “Hardheaded sourpuss like his old man,” one of them whispered.

      “No, I’m not.” Michael straightened indignantly.

      “You are! And the minute that rhinestone cowgirl gets her hooks in ya, she’s going to put us out!” Fred cried.

      “Neither Deenie nor Bailey is going to become part of the Wade household,” Michael stated with a firm edge to his tone. “If that’s what’s got you all riled up, let me be the first to assure you that you are going nowhere, and I am not headed to the altar.”

      They frowned but said no more. Michael nodded and moved to get into the truck cab.

      “Michael,” Chili called.

      He paused. “Yes?”

      “Did you know Gunner’s offered Bailey a secretarial position at his place?”

      Michael’s mouth instantly dried out. Her short, faded skirt appeared in his mind, and all that smooth skin, which shouldn’t have been exposed to such cold weather.

      Gunner’s stately home would be very warm inside.

      The cowboys stared at him, their eyes bugging and curious in the darkness as they sat in the truck bed. He forced himself to shrug.

      “Everybody’s gotta do what they gotta do,” he said noncomittally.

      But his heart was hammering inside him like a town pep rally parade drum. Not a date, then! Gunner was too smart for that—Bailey had rarely dated anyone. Employing Bailey was even more insidious than just asking her out, which she most likely would have refused. She needed money, and Gunner had given her a way to get it without costing her pride.

      It was very slick.

      If his rival had his eyes on a new acquisition, Michael’s territory would be encroached.

      There was no fence he could secure to protect what he considered he should have some kind of claim on.

      I am not jealous, he reminded himself. Bailey’s always done what she wanted to do, and nothing’s going to change that now.

      He blew out a breath, glared at the cowboys, stiffened his shoulders and got in the truck cab. Gunner King had always been a burr in his sock, only he couldn’t pick him out and throw him away like a burr. Looked like he planned on sticking to Bailey like a burr.

      Michael’s blood pressure soared. There was no hope for it. He was going to have to do something.

      He had to match his rival for slickness and stickiness.

      Maybe the cowboys were right. After all, they were a study in slick and burr sticky! If he needed a crash course in charm to keep Gunner from stealing his woman, then Michael had three good-luck charms riding in his truck bed right now. Maybe all it took was playing on Bailey’s sympathetic, warm nature to lure her to his side.

      He opened the small window that separated the cab from the truck bed. “Hey.”

      “What?” They craned their necks to see him.

      “I don’t think Bailey working in Gunner’s home would be the best thing for her.”

      “Eh?” Chili cocked his head.

      “I was thinking maybe there was a better way she could spend her time.” He eyed them, taking note of their interest. “After all her family’s done for you, I know you wouldn’t want Bailey’s situation taken advantage of by the Kings or anyone else. Maybe ya’ll could come up with something and sort of suggest it to me.”

      The three studies in slick and sticky grinned. “You just let us be your suggestion box, boss,” Chili informed him. “But you gotta promise to go along with our ideas. If you butt heads with us at every turn…well, Gunner’s gonna make his move.”

      Michael hesitated, wondering just what he was getting himself into.

      “Ya snooze, ya lose, boss,” Fred told him.

      “He’s got a point,” Curly chimed in, “you gotta admit you’re kinda short on sensitivity to the garden-variety female.”

      “You ain’t had much practice,” Fred said more forthrightly. “You’re kinda like a grumpy ol’ mule. Got the stuff, but ain’t quite sure what to do with it.”

      “All

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