Page 5 of Cowboy Bear’s Hope (Motley Crewd Shifters #3)

“ M ama, it’s so cold Mr. Bunny Tail got frost on his whiskers,” Rosie said, jumping up and down and waving her favorite stuffed bunny in the air.

He was an old beat up toy with purple fur and painted buttons for eyes. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d operated on him, but she loved the silly toy, and it was always my pleasure.

“I see that, Rosie Posie. Just a few minutes longer, and Aunt Penny should be here to get us,” I said, sending a silent thank you into the universe for my best friend.

Penny was the bomb. I was so happy she’d finally met a man who deserved her in Maximillian Leeds, but I missed having her as a neighbor.

I hadn’t been able to find a replacement tenant yet, and losing the extra income was sadly noticeable in my meager savings account.

“Looks like Mr. Bunny Tail’s got another boo boo, Rosie,” I said, frowning at the gap in the seam of his right foot.

“Oh no! Can you fix it?” my little girl asked, her big brown eyes wide and guileless.

My heart squeezed inside my chest every time I looked at her. Logically, I knew perfection didn’t exist.

But even if she threw up on my infrequent gentleman callers, or had the occasional kerfuffle with a classmate, Rosie was the perfect little light of my life.

She was a wonderful child. And I’d punch anyone who said otherwise right in the nose.

“Of course I can fix Mr. Bunny Tail. Well, that is, I know I can do it if someone can be my good little helper,” I said, grinning at her.

“I’m a good little helper, Mama!” she said and raised her hand in the air.

“You sure are, Rosie Posie,” I said, and pulled her hood on.

She never seemed to get cold, but I was freezing my rather sizeable ass off while we waited for Penny to come fetch us.

Where is she?

My mind wandered to my sewing kit, and I knew I had the right needle and thread to fix Rosie’s favorite stuffie. I’d just ask Penny to stop by the house so I could grab it on the way to the ranch.

I’d gotten almost as good at mending dolls and stuffies as I was fixing boo boos on the kids at school. Only these patients weren’t quite so squirrely.

Thank God.

Word had somehow spread about my sewing talent, and students had started bringing me their toys and dolls to fix. Even Principal Jefferson had hired me to repair this antique rag doll she’d inherited from her grandmother.

It had taken a little bit of time to get the right material, authentic from the time period when the doll was made, but I managed it. She was thrilled with the results, paid me quite nicely, and a handy little side business was born.

I even had a one page website set up where customers could leave reviews and prospective clients could send inquiries. I called it Avery’s Care & Repair for Dolls & Precious Things .

It was long, but it got the point across.

My phone buzzed, and I frowned at the incoming text message from Penelope.

Penny

Hey Av,

Sorry I have a stomach bug, so I’m not driving.

I sent Dante to get you. Don’t say no.

Just get in the car and bring me my favorite niece.

I had to read it three times before panic started to set in. Leave it to Penny to try to play matchmaker, only she sucked at it.

Just for that, I did not bother replying to her text.

The prospect of being alone with Dante in a small, confined space was not pleasant. Like at all.

What if I did something stupid?

Like licked him.

Oh my God. I’m such a total dork.

The fact that my libido had been on life support ever since Rosalie was born was something I lamented. But I’d learned to live with.

Then I met Dante, and it was all hellooooo nurse , er, cowboy .

Seriously, it was like my pussy had received a jolt from a defibrillator on the highest setting.

Every night for months, I’d had dreams of the big guy. And when I said dreams, I meant the dirty, sweaty, waking up with a pulsating pussy kind of dreams.

I blinked my eyes and looked straight ahead, not really seeing anything. Then the rumbling of a big engine sounded. I jerked my gaze to the pickup truck that pulled in front of us, and startled at the pair of warm, velvet irises that seemed so intent on me.

Dante.

My entire body lit up like the fourth of July, and I wanted to curse and scream for all of my bad luck. But then Rosie caught sight of him, and it was too late to tuck tail and run away.

What was he doing here?

The answer was obviously Penny. She was trying to get me back for setting her up with Max. I mean, she thought she was doing me a solid.

But Dante didn’t want me, and I was too embarrassed by the situation to tell her what had happened between me and the big guy.

Looked like I’d have to, though, or she might never give up on her latest get Avery laid campaign.

“Danny!” Rosie shouted.

I couldn’t deny she liked the guy. I mean, she hadn’t puked on him, so that was a good sign.

Geezus. Lord, have mercy.

Did he have to be so tall? And wide? And just, fuck, I don’t know, hot as the sun?

Height could be subjective. I’d always been short, which meant everyone appeared tall to me.

But not Dante. He really was tall compared to everyone. The man had to be over six and a half feet.

I stood a not so towering five foot two inches. But what I lacked in height I made up for in being curvy.

Seriously, my boobs sometimes entered rooms seconds before the rest of me.

Same could be said for my ass if I was walking backwards, which, as the mother of a spunky six year old, I did and often.

Naturally, I had a thing for big men. Rosie’s sperm donor had been big. But even he had nothing on Dante.

The cowboy was just large and graceful, too. Effortlessly so.

Whenever I was near him, he commanded all my attention. I was rendered blind, deaf, and mute to all others when in his presence. Helpless to resist the compulsion to watch his every move.

He should have been awkward or robotic given his size, but he was anything but.

Watching him was like observing a dance, or a moving work of art. He had this smooth way about him that would have made other men cocky, but not Dante.

He wasn’t conceited, and he didn’t give off jerk vibes—believe me when I said I had first-hand experience with those.

Really, he was the perfect man.

And, of course, he wanted nothing to do with me.

FML.