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busy here, Mom.”
“I can see that.” Doris’s full lips thinned into a stern look that dredged up childhood memories of getting into trouble with his brothers. “Garrett...” she began.
“You want the office?” Ty offered. “We’re ’bout done. I can leave if you two need to talk.”
Doris hesitated a second longer. With a sigh, she said, “Don’t bother. I’m not going to stay long. I just wanted to let you know I met someone in town today. Lisa Rose. She used to sing with that group, ’Skeeter Creek.” Doris pulled a folded piece of paper from her back pocket. “I invited her to join us for dessert tomorrow night.”
The Circle P was so well known for its hospitality that Ty only took the yellow sheet Doris handed across and studied it. The tiny line between his eyes deepened when he finished. “I remember her from the party at the Barlowe place. Tall, slender, great voice. You say she’s moved to Okeechobee?” He scratched his head.
“She took over that empty space on Parrot. You remember the one?” At Ty’s nod, Doris continued. “I hear she’s spiffed up the place. Gave it a new name. Strummin’ Time.” She pushed a loose strand of hair off her face. “Something like that.”
Garrett scanned the paper Ty passed along. “Pickin’ Strings,” he corrected. He glanced at the photo of a fair-haired woman with angular cheekbones set in a heart-shaped face. A frown tugged at his lips. “She seems a little citified for our parts. Probably won’t stick around.”
“She’s a bluegrass singer,” his mother countered. “I’m sure she’ll fit in.”
Garrett took a second look at the image of a woman with long wavy hair and dark eyes. Whether the newcomer stayed or moved on was really no concern of his. Standing, he clamped his hat back on his head. “Let me have a chance to look over my notes about the roundup and I’ll catch you later, Ty. If you’ll excuse me now—” he nodded to his mom “—I have some chores to finish before supper.”
And as he had every night for the last ten months, he left his young son in his mother’s capable hands while he made himself scarce.
* * *
LISA’S SANDALS SLAPPED against the planks of the wooden porch. From somewhere nearby, night-blooming jasmine added its fragrance to a heady, sweet smell that drifted down from flower pots hung along the eaves. She sniffed, her head filling with images of islands and swaying palm trees. She stood for a minute while uncertainty tugged at her. Had she done the right thing by accepting an invitation from a complete stranger?
She glanced around, her unease fading. The Circle P looked like exactly what it claimed to be, a working ranch. A summer sunset reflected off an unpainted barn that had aged to a graceful gray. Sturdy pens and corrals spread out on either side of the large building like wings. On the porch, comfortable rockers and chairs invited people to stay and sit a while. Cedar logs and tall picture windows lent the ranch a sense of permanence that was so different from her own experiences she felt a little misty-eyed.
When she was a kid, she used to dream of living in a house like this one. Of playing Little League or having sleepovers. Instead, she’d climbed into an RV so loaded down with instruments and equipment there was barely room for her parents, brother, sisters and the dog. Crowded cheek-to-jowl, her family had spent months on the road, playing in an endless succession of one-night gigs and music festivals. She’d met Brad on one of those long tours. Their time together had been more of the same. So, no, permanence, wasn’t part of her vocabulary. She flicked her braid behind her and wondered if, now that she’d moved to Okeechobee, it could be.
Not at all certain that was what she wanted, she rapped on the front door. She’d barely had a chance to count out four beats when a slim redhead answered. “You must be Lisa Rose. Doris said you were coming. I’m Sarah Parker. Welcome to the Circle P.” The pert hostess pulled the door wider.
“You have a beautiful place,” Lisa said, meaning every word. She gestured toward the hanging pots. “Someone has a green thumb.”
“Don’t they smell divine?” Sarah’s smile deepened. “We raise plumeria and orchids in the greenhouse. It’s a side business I started soon after Ty and I got married. Now we ship all over the country.”
Lisa held out a plate she’d wrapped in plastic. “I’m not much of a gardener. Or a cook.” Boiling water was the extent of her culinary skills. “I picked these up from the bakery near Pickin’ Strings. I hope they’re all right.”
Sarah studied the small mountain of cookies. “Oh, my favorites. Oops.” She clamped a hand over her mouth as equal parts humor and concern danced in a pair of hazel eyes. “Better not let any of our cooks hear me say that.”
“It’ll be our secret,” Lisa said, warming to the woman who pushed past her outstretched hand to wrap her in a light embrace. She caught a slightly deeper fragrance of tropical flowers before the slim figure withdrew, carrying both the scent and the plate with her.
“Come on in,” Sarah said. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the family.” Leaving the cookies on a nearby table, Sarah led the way across polished cedar floors to a pair of comfortable-looking leather couches that flanked a massive stone fireplace.
“Lisa, this is my husband Ty Parker,” Sarah said as the group seated in the chairs stood.
Reading a warm welcome in the dark eyes of the man with sandy hair, Lisa smiled in return. “Thank you so much for letting me come tonight.”
“We’re glad to have you.” Tiny crows’ feet at the corners of Ty’s eyes deepened as he prodded the young boy at his side forward. “This is Jimmy. Say hello, son.”
“Hi!” The freckle-faced kid aimed a toothy grin her way. Somewhat awkwardly, he reached out. “Pleased to meet you.”
“What a handsome young man,” Lisa said as they shook hands.
When Jimmy’s cheeks reddened and he stepped back, Ty clapped a hand on the back of the man beside him. “Lisa, meet Garrett Judd, manager of the Circle P. It was his mom you spoke with in town yesterday.” He turned to the taller man. “Where is Doris?”
Garrett’s lips thinned. “She’ll be down in a minute,” he all but growled.
“Hi,” Lisa said, and gave herself points for keeping her bright smile in place despite the man’s dark look. “You must be Bree’s dad. She’s a sweetie.”
Garrett’s scowl only deepened. “Bree’s my niece. My brother Colt’s daughter.”
“Oh.” Lisa searched the other faces in the room for clues to the reason for this man’s curtness, but Jimmy had Sarah’s attention, while Ty only gave the manager a bland stare. She pressed forward. “And LJ?”
“He’s mine,” Garrett announced plainly.
Lisa tried to ignore the longing that stirred whenever the conversation turned to babies. “He’s adorable. But I’m sure you and your wife hear that all the time.”
Like an awkwardly constructed song, silence stretched out for several beats before Garrett stuck out his hand. No warm hugs from him, Lisa thought. The guy had attitude written all over him. Which didn’t keep her from appreciating the thick black hair that drifted onto his forehead, the clean lines of a square face, or the fact that, even at five-ten, she had to look up to meet his blue eyes. Blue eyes that pinned her with an icy stare.
She swallowed as her palm met his. A single pump and Garrett broke the contact, making her wonder why the long fingers and rough calluses of such an obvious grouch sent a prickle of awareness up her arm.
Jimmy broke the tension that swirled through the room by tugging on his dad’s shirt sleeve. “Can I go say goodnight to Niceta now?”
Glad for the excuse to look away from Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding, Lisa turned her attention to the boy. “Niceta? That’s a pretty name.”
“She’s