Frisco Joe's Fiancee

“Why do you say you don’t want women around, then pick up a baby the first chance you get?”

“She was crying. I wanted you to be able to finish your shower,” Frisco said defensively. “I didn’t know Emmie would fall asleep on me. Now I don’t want her awakened, because she’ll start crying again. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. I just wonder why you’re working so hard to be tough when you’ve got a soft heart.”

Frisco snorted. “No one says I’ve got a soft heart.”

“You’re letting me sleep in your room.”

“You made yourself at home!”

Annabelle smiled. “I think you’re more softhearted than you care for anyone to know.”

Frisco didn’t like this little lady looking at him so directly. Her big eyes took him in as if she knew him. Annabelle was getting to him. Tomorrow she had to go.

Frisco Joe’s Fiancée

Tina Leonard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tina Leonard loves to laugh, which is one of the many reasons she loves writing Harlequin American Romance books. In another lifetime Tina thought she would be single and an East Coast fashion buyer forever. The unexpected happened when Tina met Tim again after many years—she hadn’t seen him since they’d attended school together from first through eighth grade. They married, and now Tina keeps a close eye on her school-age children’s friends! Lisa and Dean keep their mother busy with soccer, gymnastics and horseback riding. They are proud of their mom’s “kissy books” and eagerly help her any way they can. Tina hopes that readers will enjoy the love of family she writes about in her books. Recently a reviewer wrote, “Leonard has a wonderful sense of the ridiculous,” which Tina loved so much she wants it for her epitaph. Right now, however, she’s focusing on her wonderful life and writing a lot more romance!

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Prologue

“You need help,” Mimi Cannady told Mason Jefferson as they peered at each other with some distrust. Outside, a storm brewed over Union Junction, Texas, crackling and vicious. “You’ll thank me for this later, Mason. I just know it.”

He turned his head to stare at the want ad she’d typed on the glowing computer screen. The room was dim, almost dark, as the February night had fallen swiftly, obliterating the cold light of winter. Mimi was right: he did need help at the ranch. Woman help.

His family: the Jefferson brothers of the Jefferson Ranch, better known as Malfunction Junction. Twelve men, each on a mission of survival in a family that loved each other, but like an old piano, had become woefully out of harmony.

Still, he wasn’t sure Mimi’s unconventional idea was the way to get the help he—or the family—needed. “I don’t like it,” he said for the tenth time. “What if the woman we get is…” He searched for a word that wouldn’t irritate the woman he’d known ever since their childhoods on neighboring ranches. Mimi was spunky, witty, a veritable handful of laughter and quixotic temperament—always into everything. As the daughter of the town sheriff, she’d made a habit of skirting the law, just for fun. “What if the woman we get is not useful to my situation?”

Mimi’s gaze turned from the computer screen to his face, touching every feature, it seemed, in a strangely searching manner. This childhood friend of his had gotten him into trouble more than once—he’d desperately like to know what was behind her blue eyes now. Thunder rumbled, ever closer to Malfunction Junction, the only home Mason and his eleven brothers had ever known.

Eleven wild, almost Grizzly Adams–types.

From Mimi’s point of view, Mason was little better than his younger eleven.

I need help.

“The ad goes through the agency, you can always send her back,” Mimi said, her tone reassuring. “It’s like using a nanny service. If you don’t like her, you let the company know. But my friend, Julia Finehurst, who runs the Honey-Do Agency, has made a reputation matching up the right people to the right situations. I’m sure you’ll get exactly what you want.”

Mimi had told him many things over the years, and, infrequently, she was right on the money. But infrequent was the operative word. He read the overly specific, purposefully careful ad one more time:

Middle-aged man requires live-in housekeeper to cook and clean for family of twelve cowboys on a thousand-acre ranch. Must like ranch living, not be offended by occasional swearing, not be afraid of snakes, large animals, extreme heat, insects, loneliness. Applicant must be forty-five or older, mature, able to cook real well. Best time to interview after nightfall.

“I don’t like the part about me being a middle-aged man,” he protested. “You’ve always said thirty-seven was just right for the picking.”

Mimi cleared her throat, clearly trying to think of a rebuttal. Mason raised a brow, curious to hear what she came up with.

“No female is going to come all the way out here if she suspects she’s going to be man prey. At least no serious job applicant,” she stressed. “We don’t want anyone to misunderstand what kind of position you’re looking to fill.” For a half second, she examined her fingernails, seeming to consider other points of argument. “Besides, that was my only line in the ad, Mason. You added all the other drawbacks that are sure to run off good women. You practically want her to be a goddess.”

“Maybe you should put in something about law-abiding. I don’t want any wild women on the property,” he said, eyeing Mimi’s long blond tresses. Her hair hung to her waist, hardly ever curled or styled, though occasionally she tortured it into a braid so that she could pull it through the back of a baseball cap.

It was hard to believe she was thirty-two.

It was harder to believe that he was the sole caretaker of younger brothers and a family ranch. There was simply too much to do, and while everyone pitched in with the ranch work, the three houses with four brothers each pitifully lacked a woman’s touch to make them homes.

An older woman’s touch, as Mimi had pointed out. A calming, settling influence.

An older woman, even a motherly figure, was fine with Mason, because none of the Jefferson males had expressed the least desire for a wife—mainly because they were all satisfied to continue sowing their wild oats. A younger woman might prove a distraction to their work, and they had enough of those. Plus, a young woman would want a family eventually, and they had more family than they could handle.

“It’s now or never,” Mimi said softly as the trees whipped around the two-story house. “It’s going to take Julia some time to find appropriate applicants.”

Strong wind cried through the branches, and lightning lit the room, showing Mimi’s gaze on him. “Though I’ve attached a picture of you to this e-mail, it’s going to be tough to find a decent woman to want to come out here and live in hard conditions. The cattle sale is in two weeks, and I’m not coming over here to cook and clean up after your crew while you’re gone. I’ve got enough on my hands as it is.”

“I wouldn’t want you to. You might lead my brothers into avoiding their duties.”

The last time Mimi had gotten a harebrained idea, they’d all gone picnicking at the lake. Mimi had brought along some cousins of hers from Idaho, and four of his brothers had proceeded to fistfight over the two girls. Mason had never been so ashamed of his family—a female was no reason to fight! But then Mimi had jumped into the fray, and he’d had to pull her out before she got herself hurt—and she’d slapped him soundly before she realized it was only her good friend rescuing her as a gentleman should. She’d apologized, but on certain days, he was certain his head still rang from the blow she’d landed on him.

His head was ringing now as he stared at her, and he decided maybe it was the storm. “This won’t be the first goony thing you’ve talked me into, Mimi.”

“And it may not be the last. But I promise you this is a guaranteed winner of an idea. You couldn’t do any better if you were betting on a champion thoroughbred on race day.” She smiled at him. “Press Send, Mason. Help will be on the way before you know it.”

It had fallen to Mason as the eldest to rear the unholy bunch of brothers—and lately the situation was about out of control. Frisco was surly. Fannin was talking crazy about packing up and heading out to find out whatever happened to their dad, Maverick, who’d been gone since Mason had turned eighteen nearly twenty years ago. Laredo had mentioned he was thinking about moving east to ease his wandering feet, while his twin, Tex, was cross-pollinating roses with the contentment of an early settler. Calhoun had been eyeing riding the rodeo circuit. Ranger had briefly mentioned enlisting, while his twin, Archer, had taken to writing poetry to a lady pen pal in Australia. Crockett was painting pictures of nudes—from memory, as best as Mason could tell—and his twin, Navarro, was considering going with Calhoun on the rodeo circuit, which would mean the wild boys wreaking havoc on themselves and every female within eyesight. Bandera hadn’t slept in a week and was spouting poetry like Whitman, and Last, well, Last was bugging Mason about when they were going to get some womenfolk and children at the ranch. Lord only knew, with the way Last adored women—and they returned his affection—it was a wonder there wasn’t a small city’s-worth of children at the ranch already.

Something had to be done. The weight of responsibility bore down on Mason, urging him to stay at the helm and not jump ship the way Maverick had. Mason was the father figure, the decision-maker, the authoritarian.

Only with the woman sitting next to him did he relax from the pressure of his life. She gave him other things to go crazy about, giving him a break from thinking about his family’s problems. If he was the captain of the Jefferson ship, she was the storm breaking over his bow, threatening to send him to unknown destinations—and sometimes, her storm seemed safer than the fraternal quicksand under his feet.

He always felt on the edge with Mimi, Mason acknowledged, as he reached out slowly toward the keyboard. Frankly, she scared him just a little, always had. There’d been stitches in his head when he’d fallen from a tree she could climb better than him; there’d been a scolding from his dad when she’d skipped school and he’d gone looking for her. More times than he could count, he’d gone along with the schemes she conjured—and he’d always rued them. Every time, he thought, but like a piper’s music calling to him, he could not resist Mimi’s sense of fun and lightheartedness. His finger trembling, knowing there’d be hell to pay for listening to her, he hesitantly reached out to touch the send key.

Fierce lightning burst over the house, cracking as if it was striking the old stone chimney. Mimi screamed and grabbed for Mason, flattening his hand against the keyboard. Message Sent flashed briefly on the screen as the computer died and the electricity went out, but Mason didn’t notice. It felt so good to have Mimi in his arms—under cover of safe, secure darkness—that he just grinned to himself and held her tight.

Chapter One

Home is what a man feels in his heart

—Maverick Jefferson to his second son, Frisco, when Frisco had boyhood nightmares that the ranch might blow away like Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz

“I want you to get your butt over here right now and fix this problem,” Frisco Joe Jefferson said to his older brother, close to cursing before deciding the heck with keeping his anger to himself. He had a crisis on his hands, and Mason could darn well share the misery. “Damn it, Mason, these women say you put up an advertisement for a housekeeper. If you did, then I suggest you come pick one out.”

A moment passed as Frisco listened. Furious, he hung up the phone, turning to stare at his ten younger brothers, all of whom were close to the window in the kitchen of the main house so they could spy on the approximately twenty women gathered shivering on the front lawn. The women were all shapes and sizes, all races, all ages. Luggage dotted the frozen grass. Frisco, as eldest during Mason’s absence, was supposed to be in command. “Mason said to call Mimi.”

“Typical,” Bandera said. “What’s Mimi supposed to do about it?”

Frisco shook his head. “Unless she can make all those ladies disappear, I’m not sure.”

“I’d hate for all of them to disappear,” Fannin said, his gaze longing. “Most of them are pretty cute.”

“And one of them has a baby,” Last said. “I’ll take that one.”

“We’re not taking any of them,” Frisco said with quiet determination. From the window, he could see Shoeshine Johnson’s school bus rumbling back to the bus depot after depositing his travelers. “I’m calling Mimi.”

The brothers went back to their surreptitious peering through the window while Frisco dialed Mimi Cannady’s number.

“Mimi,” Frisco said abruptly when she answered, “I need your help.”

“Uh-uh,” she responded automatically. “No. I told Mason before he left on this two-week business trip that I unequivocally could not be responsible for his responsibilities. It takes up too much time, Frisco. I have my dad to think about.”

What bull-malarkey. Sheriff Cannady was as fit as an untried rodeo rider. So what Mimi had told Mason, then, was best put as “Wake up, buddy. I’m not just the girl next door. I’ve got a life of my own, and I’m not content to be treated like a convenience anymore.”

He sighed, unable to blame Mimi. “Listen, Mimi. I certainly understand how you feel. Mason just seemed to think you might be best able to pick through the housekeepers, in order to choose one he might like. He mentioned you helped him write the advertisement. I’ve got to admit, the rest of us are in the dark about what you two were thinking.”

“Housekeepers?” Mimi echoed, clearly dumbfounded, much as Mason had been. Mason had sounded as if he hadn’t known what Frisco was talking about—initially.

“I guess they’re wanting to be housekeepers,” he said. “There’s about twenty of them out front. It seems as if they came together.”

“Oh, my stars,” Mimi breathed. “Twenty?”

“I’m just estimating. Did you send out an ad for a housekeeper? Because I gotta be honest with you, the rest of us don’t think we need woman help on the ranch.”

“Woman help,” Mimi murmured. She fully remembered writing that ad with Mason. She’d typed the e-mail address to her friend at the Honey-Do Agency. But Julia would have called her before sending out applicants to the ranch, and she would never have sent twenty. Twenty!

Something was wrong. “I did type an ad for Mason, but we never sent it. That bad storm came, the one that toppled the old oak tree, and the lights went out—” She blushed, remembering clutching Mason and loving the feel of his muscles beneath his crisp denim shirt, and the smell of him, and the sound of his heart pounding against her ear.

After that momentary let-down in her facade of just-friends, Mimi had vowed to stay clear of Mason. One day he just might figure out how she felt about him, and then, most certainly, she’d lose his friendship.

Friendship was all she had of him, and she was going to keep it. “We must have accidentally sent it out somehow.” Dimly she remembered one of them hitting the keyboard before the electricity went out, but at the time, she’d blindly grabbed for Mason and forgotten all about housekeepers and other trivial things. Obviously, one of them had smashed incorrect letters, and sent the e-mail to the wrong address.

Now they were all sitting square on top of a huge dilemma. And yet, it would be good for Mason to see that he needed her…in spite of what he said to the contrary, his life would be so much better with her in it.

But he’d have to learn that on his own. It was said that one could lead a horse to water but couldn’t make him drink. Lord only knew, she’d waited so long on Mason that it felt as if her watering can was nearly dry. “Can’t you interview them, Frisco?”

“Seeing as how none of us here think we need a lady at the ranch, I’m not interested in that job,” Frisco said.

“I think you could use a housekeeper. The place is never clean. Or tidy.”

“Then it’s our job to clean our houses better,” Frisco said sternly. “When there’s as much to be done as a property this size requires, we’re not too worried if the dishes stay in the sink an extra day.”

“Precisely my point. You could use the help.”

“But not the aggravation a woman brings. We have you, Mimi, and that’s enough.”

Laughter, not unkind, in the background nettled her. “What does that mean?”

“It means when we need something, you’re kind enough to help us out.”

That was the problem. Mason and all his brothers had the luxury of her jumping whenever they needed something. No wonder Mason saw her as an extension of his family. Not that it was a bad thing to have the Jeffersons looking out for her—it had come in handy over the years.

But it was now or never. The tie that bound them had to be cut on both ends, or she’d always be little Mimi Cannady, almost-sis, tomboy-next-door, for-a-good-gag-call Mimi. Toilet-papering houses, tying cans on goat tails, painting rural mailboxes with smiley faces—they’d done it all.

Together.

“Not this time, Frisco,” she said. “I have a lot going on in my own life right now. Thanks for calling.”

She hung up the phone and went to check on her father.

“SHE’S NOT COMING,” Frisco said, hanging up the phone.

“Mimi is abandoning us in our hour of need?” Last asked, his tone surprised.

“See if we ever go fix her sinks when they back up again,” Laredo grumbled.

“She’d be over here in a snap if it were Mason calling for help,” Ranger grumbled. “That woman’s a jill-in-the-box when it comes to him, popping up like crazy whenever he decides to wind her crank.”

“I’ve never known exactly which one of them was winding whose crank,” Navarro commented.

Calhoun laughed. “She’s been real prickly ever since you drank too much champagne at the Christmas party two months ago and sang that stupid Mimi-and-Mason, sitting-in-a-Christmas-tree—”

“Shut up,” Archer said loudly, the author of the musical ditty.

“Yeah, she has been different since then,” Last said. “Maybe if you’d act your age and not your hat size, we wouldn’t be struggling with this right now. She’d be over here—”

“No.” Frisco shook his head. “No, this is our problem. We can take care of it ourselves.”

The brothers glanced at each other, then huddled around the window. It looked like a garden party on the lawn. There were more women than the ranch had ever seen on the property at one time, and considering there were twelve brothers in the family, that was saying a lot.

Frisco cleared his throat and drew himself up tall, realizing that the mantle of family was clearly on his shoulders. He was determined to bear it well. “I’ll explain that this is a simple miscommunication problem.”

Laredo looked at him. “Do you want us for backup?”

“I think I can handle this. The ladies might be intimidated by all of us.” He was somewhat intimidated by all of them—he hadn’t expected twenty anxious women to show up today. No doubt there would be some initial disappointment that there was no position available, but he could get money out of the Malfunction Junction Ranch’s petty cash to give them for the return bus trip.

“You go, bro,” Bandera encouraged. “We’ll be cheering you on from in here.”

“That’s right,” Tex agreed.

“Couldn’t we keep just one?” Last asked. “Maybe the little blonde over there, holding the baby?”

Frisco peered out, immediately seeing what made Last pick her out of the crowd. “She’s not a puppy. We can’t just ‘keep’ her. Anyway, she’d get lonely out here. Even Mimi gets lonely, and she was born in Union Junction.” He frowned for a second, thinking that the petite blonde would be more tempting as a date than a housekeeper. In fact, he wasn’t certain he’d get any work done at all if he knew she was in his house, cooking his meals, making a home for him.

His mouth began to water at the thought of home-cooked food, prepared by caring hands. A strange humming buzzed in his ears as he watched her press the baby’s head against her lips in a sweet kiss. The baby was crying, probably cold from being outside in February’s brisk chill, despite the bunting encasing the small body. “What would we do with a baby out here, anyway?” he murmured.

They all looked dumbfounded at that.

Fannin shook his head. “Definite drawback. I guess.”

“Maybe we could have them in for a cup of cocoa before we take them to the station,” Last suggested, his tone hopeful.

“No!” Frisco knew exactly where his youngest brother was heading with that idea. Once the ladies were in the house, maybe Frisco would soften his stance…. Last had a sensitive heart where other people were concerned. He had reason to be a bit delicate—too young to really remember when their mother, Mercy, had died; too old not to question why their father, Maverick, had left them for parts unknown. He would sympathize with a single mother and her child.

But this was no place for a woman, a baby or soft hearts. “We can’t, Last,” he said firmly, meeting his brother’s eyes. “I’ll go tell them.”

He went outside, his shoulders squared. “Ladies,” he said loudly, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re not looking for a housekeeper at this time. We’ll be happy to pay your return bus fare to wherever you came from.”

A middle-aged, not-unattractive woman stepped forward to be the spokeswoman. “How come you placed an ad, then?”

“It was a mistake. We’re terribly sorry.”

“You’re not the man who placed the ad. We saw his picture.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “We came all the way to apply with him. Where is he?”

“He’s gone for the next two weeks,” Frisco said, determined to be patient, not meeting the blonde’s gaze, though he realized she was staring up at him as he stood on the wide porch. Trying not to look back at her made his scalp tighten and prickle as if he were sweating all over his head. “We’ve contacted our brother, and he said the e-mail was sent in error. As I said, we are happy to take you to the bus station in town. Now, if you all will load into the trucks my brothers will be bringing around in a moment, we’ll get you started on your way back home.”

They didn’t like it; grumbling rose among them, but there was nothing he could do about that. A mistake was a mistake, an honest one.

But he’d handled it, and handling twenty women was easier than he thought it’d be, he decided, opening truck doors and helping them into various seats. He didn’t see the little blonde and the baby; they weren’t among the passengers who jumped into his cab, but he’d be willing to bet Last had eagerly escorted the two of them to his vehicle.

Better him than me.

It was a motley, somewhat sad procession as the brothers drove six trucks to the bus stop, but it was the right thing to do.

They left them in the station, having paid for tickets and making sure they had enough money for snacks. He handed the clump of tickets to the woman he dubbed the spokeswoman, tipped his hat to their silent faces, and feeling guilty as hell, slunk out with his brothers.