Cowboy Crazy (The Dalton Boys Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

pretty uncivilized and the heated awareness low in her belly said she liked him fine.
    If the man riled her sensibilities, the ranch and the hominess of the big house gave her a feeling of calm. The dog running across the field to greet them, Hank walking her to the door. Maybe next time he’d plant a big hand low on her spine.
    She refocused on her plate. By the time she’d finished a third of the heaping pile of food, she was bursting at the seams. She pushed back her plate and smiled at Mrs. Dalton. “Thank you. It was delicious.”
    “Why, you can’t be full! My boys could eat double that amount.”
    She gave a smile. “I’m sure working men require more food than a woman like me.”
    Mrs. Dalton had shrewd blue eyes and Charlotte wasn’t fooled by her simple cotton top and skirt. She was as savvy as any Phoenix society mother wearing Prada. Charlotte had encountered a few of those in her lifetime, usually ladies looking to hook Charlotte up with their sons.
    That’s how she’d met Stephen.
    She rubbed her palms on her thighs, trying to wipe away the sudden dampness.
    “What do you for a living, dear?”
    “Right now, I’m between jobs. I’m looking for a town to settle in.”
    Mrs. Dalton gave a hum. “Vixen has a corner market and a coffee shop. You might find work there.”
    “Is there a cheap room to rent there?”
    “Well, no. That’s a problem.”
    “That and the fact that I don’t have a car that works right now.” She drew a deep breath and caught it —the masculine soap and water scent of her rescuer. She pivoted on the stool to see Hank crossing the kitchen.
    He’d abandoned his hat, and his hair lay in thick dark waves against his skull. As her eyes drifted up to it, he lifted his long fingers and ran them through the mass, plowing little furrows.
    Her breaths came faster. Being around a gorgeous cowboy like Hank was hard enough. She was thankful his brothers weren’t home.
    “Mmm, is that chicken and potatoes I smell, Momma?”
    “Yes it is. I’ll get your plate. Take your seat.”
    Before he pulled out the stool next to Charlotte, he gave her a polite nod. Once he’d settled his denim-clad behind on the wood, he smiled at her. “I see you’ve tasted Momma’s down-home cooking.”
    She picked up her fork and nudged a potato. “It was excellent and beats fast food along the interstate.”
    “Oh dear. You do need some taking care of,” Momma clucked.
    Charlotte bit off a smile. It was doubtful the food she’d just eaten was healthier than fast food. It was saturated with gravy and butter.
    Mrs. Dalton placed a heaping dish in front of Hank. He gripped his fork tines down and attacked it like a hungry dog. Charlotte couldn’t keep from staring, but his mother just gave a maternal smile and went about washing up a few dishes.
    Hank gave her a crooked smile, and the gravy caught in the corner made him more endearing. Natural. Real. Stephen had been aware of appearances at all times, and he never would have sat down with dirty clothes and messy hair let alone with gravy caught in the corner of his lips.
    Using a big cloth napkin, Hank wiped his mouth. Several minutes later, he shoved away his empty plate. He’d finished it in record time. “Thank ya, Momma. It’s my favorite.”
    “I know it is, son,” she drawled without turning from the sink.
    “Got any pie?”
    She glanced over her shoulder. “You boys devoured it all. I might have some oatmeal cookies though.”
    Hank leaned back and covered his stomach with a big hand. “Also my favorite.”
    She gestured to the crockery cookie jar on the counter. Hank got up and gathered his and Charlotte’s plates.
    Stunned by his manners, she wondered if she’d landed herself in some Old West TV show. Men didn’t act this way where she came from.
    As he crossed the kitchen, his sexy swagger caught her gaze. As he scraped Charlotte’s into the trash, she grew fixated on his movements. Each muscle was poetry, flexing in ways