A Cowboy’s Homecoming: The McGavin Brothers Read online

  A Cowboy’s Homecoming

  The McGavin Brothers

  Vicki Lewis Thompson

  A COWBOY’S HOMECOMING

  Copyright © 2019 by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  ISBN: 978-1-946759-80-1

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Ocean Dance Press, PO Box 69901, Oro Valley AZ 85737

  Cover art by Kristin Bryant

  Visit the author’s website: VickiLewisThompson.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  A Note from Vicki

  But Wait, There’s More!

  Also by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  A B&B located on the outskirts of Eagles Nest, Montana suited Seth Turner perfectly. He could hang his hat there for a few days without drawing attention. Better yet, it wasn’t owned or operated by a McGavin.

  He planned to introduce himself to his recently discovered relatives and use his Christmas break to get acquainted. Surprise! I’m the nephew and cousin you didn’t know you had.

  Could turn out great… or not. Either way, he had kinfolk he needed to meet. The prospect made his gut tighten, though. He’d prefer to ease into it.

  His mom, God rest her soul, had done him a favor when she’d chosen to give him her last name instead of his father’s. Flying under the radar, he could scope out the small town and announce his connection to its most prominent family once he had the lay of the land.

  Snow and holiday traffic had lengthened the drive and it was suppertime when he reached the turnoff to the B&B. He’d texted the owner, Maureen Stanislowski, to make sure she’d hold his room.

  His truck handled the entrance road to The Nesting Place fine, but the tires sprayed snow as he plowed his way through the drifts and finally parked in the small lot reserved for guests. The three-story Victorian looked mighty inviting with lights shining from the windows and a huge wreath decorating the front door.

  White lights along the roofline and the porch railing illuminated a woman in a lavender parka with a fur-lined hood attacking the snow on the walkway with a shovel almost as big as she was. She put her back into it, flinging snow off the path with admirable efficiency.

  Grabbing both of his tightly packed duffels, he hopped out of the truck and forged a path in her direction. “I hope you’re not doing that for me.”

  She paused and leaned on the shovel, her rapid breaths clouding the air. “Are…you…Mr. Turner?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and I—”

  She took a couple of seconds to steady her breathing. “Aunt Mo wanted the walk shoveled for your arrival. I volunteered.”

  “That’s hospitable of you, but I can manage. That’s plenty good enough.”

  “Now that I’m out here, I might as well finish.” She hefted the shovel. “Guests will be coming back from dinner in town and they’ll be grateful for a cleared walkway.”

  “Then let me do this last part for you.” He turned and started for the truck. “I’ll just put my stuff back in the—”

  “Oh, no, I can’t let you shovel.” The blade bit into the snow with a crunch.

  “Why not?” He set the bags in the truck and shut the door.

  “You’re a guest.” Snow flew in a rhythmic pattern.

  “That may be so, but I surely can’t stand around while you shovel.” He retraced his steps, packing the snow down with his boots.

  She paused and gave him a once-over. “You’re a cowboy, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And I’d be much obliged if you’d let me complete this job for you.”

  She smiled. Great smile. With dimples. “Aunt Mo’s been educating me about cowboys. She says you take the term gentleman to a whole new level.”

  “So you’re not from around here?”

  “No. And much as I appreciate your gallant offer to shovel the walk, that’s not how we treat our guests at The Nesting Place.”

  “But I—”

  “Sorry, Mr. Turner.” She moved the shovel out of reach.

  “Please call me Seth.” Since he’d just passed his thirty-first birthday, he was touchy about being called Mr. Turner by a woman who looked younger than he was, a woman determined to shovel her own snow.

  “Okay, then, Seth, there’s only a little more to do and I’m perfectly capable of handling it. In fact, I love shoveling snow.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, so you wouldn’t want to rob me of that pleasure, would you?”

  “No, ma’am, but I—”

  “Then why don’t you go inside and get registered? I’ll bring in your luggage when I’m done.”

  “Now that’s where I draw the line.” She’d outfoxed him. He couldn’t very well wrestle her for the shovel, but he’d be damned if she’d carry in his bags, especially since the one full of gifts for his relatives was heavier than a load of bricks.

  He retrieved them from the truck and returned to the scene of battle. “I still think I should—”

  “Please give it up, Seth.” Her response was breathy, but she didn’t break rhythm. “I’ve got this.”

  He heaved a sigh. “I can see that.” Might as well accept defeat gracefully. “I’ll go on in, then.”

  “Excellent. Welcome to The Nesting Place.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He strode quickly up the walkway.

  “Name’s Zoe!” she called after him. “Zoe Bradford!”

  “Nice to meet you, Zoe Bradford!”

  “Same here, Seth Turner!”

  He grinned as he took the porch steps two at a time. She was both self-sufficient and quick on the draw, a lethal combo that pulled him in. He wanted to know more about this snow-shoveling woman.

  After wiping his boots on the holiday mat, he slung one bag over his shoulder so he could open the door. Then he stepped inside and closed it behind him.

  “Mr. Turner! You’ve arrived!” The B&B’s owner came toward him, beaming.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He glanced around at the miniature Christmas trees, the staircase railings festooned with red bows, and the poinsettias tucked into every spare corner. “Beautiful place.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I surely do.” The interior of the house, coupled with the aroma of cinnamon and pine, wrapped him in a hug that nearly unmanned him. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. His mother would have adored this.

  Maureen Stanislowski didn’t look anything like his mother, which helped keep him steady. His mom had been tall and willowy, but Mrs. Stanislowski was short and compact with a
head of curly gray hair and a no-nonsense manner. That last part was like his mom, come to think of it.

  “Thank goodness you made it safely! Not a good night to be on the highway.”

  “It wasn’t all that bad. And I really wanted to get here.” He set down both bags and took off his Stetson.

  “So you said.” She waited, her expression expectant, as if there had to be more to it than that.

  The cheerful holiday surroundings and her kind gaze coaxed him to tell at least a part of the truth. “My mom loved Christmas and she… passed away fourteen months ago.”

  “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  “Last Christmas sucked.” He took a shaky breath. Admitting to his grief always required more air than he normally had in his chest. “I needed a change of scenery this year.”

  “I’m sure you did, son. Eagles Nest is a good choice.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I moved here after my husband died. I miss him like the devil this time of year, but I’m surrounded by cheerful folks who love celebrating the holidays. It lifts my spirits considerably.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Let’s get you checked in.”

  “I met your niece outside. She offered to carry my luggage in for me.”

  Mrs. Stanislowski laughed. “That sounds like Zoe.” She slid into the chair behind an antique desk and consulted the computer sitting on it.

  “She seems like a go-getter.”

  “No kidding. I keep telling her she doesn’t have to tackle all the physically demanding jobs around here.” She tapped on the keyboard and eyed the monitor. “But she does, anyway.”

  “She’s pretty good at clearing away snow.”

  “She’s from Wisconsin.” She said it as if that explained everything. “Can I have your card, please?”

  He dug it out of his wallet. “Are Wisconsin folks born knowing how to shovel?”

  She chuckled. “Feels like it.” After running his card, she handed it back. “Wisconsin kids, at least the ones in my family, are taught that snow happens and you need to move it out of the way. We counted the days until we were old enough to use the blower.”

  “Do you have one here?” He wouldn’t have been so determined to help if Zoe had been using a blower.

  “You know, I do, but it’s noisy. Ruins the ambiance so I don’t get it out often. Besides, my niece loves shoveling snow the old-fashioned way.”

  “She said that, but I thought she was kidding.”

  The door opened and Zoe walked in, pink-cheeked and triumphant. “Done!” She pulled off her gloves and tucked them in the pockets of her jacket. “I put the shovel around back, Aunt Mo.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. The Franklins and the Smiths will appreciate the effort.”

  “That’s the idea.” She flashed him a dimpled smile. “Keep the guests happy.”

  “You’re doing a great job so far, although I would have been even happier if you’d let me shovel.” He couldn’t stop looking at her. She was so full of life, so ready to take on whatever came her way. He’d never met someone who loved shoveling snow.

  “I’ll make a note of that. Since you’re a guest, I should try to accommodate you.” She threw back her hood to reveal wavy red hair cut short, almost like a guy would wear it.

  Except when he looked in those sparkling brown eyes, he’d never mistake her for a guy. The challenge in their depths was uniquely feminine. At first he’d taken her for early twenties, but she was probably a bit older.

  “Mr. Turner, here are your keys.”

  He broke eye contact with Zoe and accepted the keys.

  “The one with the blue fob unlocks the front door. The green one is for your room.”

  “Got it. And before I forget, where can I find a fast-food place with a drive-thru?”

  “The Burger Barn has a drive-thru, but they’re not particularly fast.”

  “And the burgers at the Guzzling Grizzly are way better.” Zoe unzipped her parka. “I was actually planning to invite my aunt to dinner at the GG tonight.”

  Her aunt blinked. “You were?”

  “Absolutely. My treat. It’s Friday night, so they should have music, right?” She turned to him. “Would you like to join us?”

  He took a quick breath. “I don’t want to impose.” Not to mention going to the Guzzling Grizzly meant potentially running into his cousin Bryce, who co-owned the place.

  “It’s not an imposition. It’s an invitation. You’ll love the food and the atmosphere is wonderful.”

  Maybe Bryce wouldn’t be around. And he’d certainly enjoy the company. “Then I accept. Thank you.”

  “And I appreciate the offer, sweetheart, but can I take a raincheck?”

  “Well, sure, but—”

  “I’m ready for a bowl of soup and a movie on TV.” She smiled. “You two go have fun. Dinner at the GG would be an excellent introduction to Eagles Nest. You can take my SUV.”

  “Beg your pardon, ma’am, but unless Zoe’s opposed to it, we’ll go in my truck.”

  “Fine with me.” Zoe slipped off her parka and hung it on a hook by the door. She was a slender woman. If not for that, the rounding of her belly might not have been quite so noticeable.

  He glanced away. Wouldn’t do to be caught staring.

  She turned and gestured toward the stairs. “I’ll show you to your room.”

  “That’s okay. Just tell me where—”

  “No worries. It’s right next to mine. While you settle in, I’ll freshen up and meet you downstairs.”

  “Sounds good.” He grabbed both duffels and followed her. He was no expert on the subject, but that bump sure looked like she was carrying a baby. And she wasn’t wearing a ring, either. Gave a whole new spin to this energetic woman’s story.

  Chapter Two

  Zoe changed into a yellow sweater her mom had sent last week. Hip-length and loose, it disguised her pregnancy, unlike the knit shirt she’d had on before. Seth had noticed her baby bump—no big deal—but she might as well keep her secret a little longer from the good folks of Eagles Nest.

  After putting on fresh lipstick, she headed downstairs. Seth hadn’t appeared yet, but Aunt Mo was still at her desk working on the computer.

  Her aunt glanced up. “That sweater looks good on you.”

  “Thanks. Are you working on something you can leave for me so you can go relax with your soup and movie?”

  “I’m almost finished.” She went back to typing. “I realized today I hadn’t ordered the favors for New Year’s Eve. There. Done.” She closed the laptop, rolled back her chair and stood. “I’m glad you came up with this plan.” She lowered her voice. “I’m sure he could use some company. He said his mom died fourteen months ago.”

  “Oh, dear. She must have been fairly young.”

  “Probably. He looks about thirty or so.” She glanced past Zoe to the stairs. “Ah, Mr. Turner. Is the room to your satisfaction?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I like it very much. And you’re welcome to call me Seth.”

  “I will if you’ll call me Maureen.”

  “It’s a deal.” He glanced at Zoe. “Ready?”

  “Just have to get my coat.” She started toward the door.

  “I’ve got it.” He beat her to the punch, lifting her coat from the hook and flipping it open.

  Her aunt hadn’t been kidding about gentlemanly cowboys. Turning, she slipped her arms into the sleeves and caught a whiff of shaving lotion. “Thank you.” She zipped up. “Aunt Mo, want me to bring you anything?”

  “A piece of pumpkin pie would be lovely, if they have any left.”

  “I’ll ask first thing. See you soon.” She whisked out the door Seth held for her and flashed him a smile. “I could get used to this.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.” He tipped his hat and called out a goodbye to her aunt before following her out and closing the door. “My mom was big on manners.”

  Her heart squeezed. “Aunt Mo told me that she passed.”

/>   He met her gaze. “Life doesn’t always turn out the way we want.”

  “It doesn’t, and some things hit harder than others.” Such sad eyes. “I hope this trip will help.”

  “I hope so, too.” As he descended the steps beside her, he turned up the fleece collar of his jacket. “Thanks for going with me tonight.”

  “You bet.” She pulled up her hood. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  “Worked up an appetite clearing the walk?”

  “Guess I did.”

  “Super job, by the way.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Your aunt confirmed that you love doing it.”

  “There’s a Zen quality to shoveling. It’s also a great upper body workout and good for the heart.” She left the walkway and took the narrow groove he’d created during their debate about snow removal.

  “That applies to mucking out stalls, too.” His boots crunched through the snow as he followed her.

  “I’m pretty sure I’d rather shovel snow.”

  “Don’t knock it ’till you’ve tried it.” He reached around her and opened the passenger door. “Come spring, snow won’t be an option. Horse poop is forever.”

  She laughed. “Words to live by.” When he helped her into the truck, she thanked him. His mom had probably taught him to assist ladies into his vehicle, and the physical contact was… lovely.

  He also might be treating her with kid gloves because he’d noticed her baby bump. Until last week, when she’d entered her fifth month, her body hadn’t looked much different. Only her folks and Aunt Mo had known. Well, and the OB/GYN in Milwaukee and the one at Eagles Nest General.

  Her folks had agreed to tell friends who asked that she’d gone to Montana to help her Aunt Mo at the B&B. But there would be no hiding the evidence from those who saw her on a regular basis here in Eagles Nest.