Page 106 of The Cowbears of Curvy Bear Ranch

A sliver of sun rose over the mountains to shine through the snow-crusted window. She groaned and glanced at the clock. Seven thirty. Ugh. Why did he have to die in the middle ofwinter?

She slid out of bed into her slippers and padded to the window. Sparkling sunlight danced across shimmering snow. Under other circumstances, she’d love to play in such a pristine winter wonderland, but this wasn’t a vacation. Farfromit.

A person wearing a tan hat, blue jeans, and a black jacket crested the hill that separated her property from the Curvy Bear Ranch. With that cocky swagger, it had to beLogan.

“Shit.”

She stumbled across the frigid wooden floor and yanked off her flannel pajamas. The last thing she needed was for him to catch her half-dressed. This whole thing was a dumb idea. She didn’t know why she hadn’t told him no yesterday. Maybe it was the daunting prospect of dealing with all the repairs on the ranch, or maybe she’d been lonely for too long. Either way, she’d clearly lost her mind when she’d agreed to let him work on thehouse.

As she rushed into the living room, a knock sounded at the door. Damn, she’d hoped she’d at least have enough time to put on a pot ofcoffee.

She stopped long enough to plaster a smile on her face before opening the door. “Goodmorning.”

“Morningma’am.”

God that voice! All gravelly and sexy. “I was just getting the coffeestarted.”

He held a grocery bag up. “I brought stuff to make breakfast. I figured you probably hadn’t had time to get to thestoreyet.”

“I haven’t. Thank you.” She took the bag and set it on the wooden picnic bench her father had used as the dining roomtable.

Logan scanned the room. “The inside’s not so bad. I haven’t been in here in a while. Your dad wasn’t one forcompany.”

No, because then he’d have to share his liquor. She busied herself making the coffee. “I don’t know where the pans are. Feel free to digaround.”

He opened a few cupboards and found them empty before locating a well-worn frying pan. “I brought eggs and bacon. That workforyou?”

“Of course.” She tried to keep her eyes on the can of instant coffee and off of his muscular arms, but was failingmiserably.

“You mentioned selling the ranch yesterday. You don’t have any plans to stay?” heasked.

“No.”

“Why?”

She looked up. “I have a life in Idaho. I’m not about to uproot it tolivehere.”

“What do you dothere?”

“I’m an interiordesigner.”

“So you pick out paint colors and pillows and stuff?” heasked.

“There’s more to it than that. I believe a home should reflect the kind of emotion you want in your life. If you’re high energy, I’ll choose bright colors and put lots of movement into the textures. But if you’re more traditional, then I’ll stick with classic colors like eggshell and smoky taupe. Then I’ll help you select an accent color,”shesaid.

“That sounds like an interesting job, although I can’t imagine workingindoors.”

She shrugged. “I guess I was always fascinated by color because we never had any when I wasakid.”

A knock sounded on thefrontdoor.

“I’ll be right back,”shesaid.

She wiped her hands on the last paper towel on the roll before walking to the door. When she opened it, a tall man wearing a gray pinstripe suit handed her abusinesscard.

“Ms. Wrangler?” heasked.

“Yes?” she asked as she tookthecard.