“You’ve Never Held A Baby?”

Logan shook his head. “Nope.”

Suddenly Cassie walked around the opposite end of the table and placed her daughter against his wide chest.

The baby squirmed, and Logan automatically shifted her to sit on his left forearm, while he splayed his right hand on her tiny back for support. He wasn’t sure, but it must have been what she wanted, because she flashed him a grin. He couldn’t help himself. He smiled right back. As far as babies went, Cassie’s kids were the cutest he’d ever seen. And the one he held certainly seemed happy enough.

“For a man who’s never been around babies, you’re a natural. I bet you’ll be a great father someday,” Cassie said. “Babies sense whom they can trust and whom they can’t. If Chelsea didn’t trust you completely, she’d be fussing instead of snuggling against you.”

Logan suddenly felt the need to run like hell. If Cassie thought she’d charm him into accepting the situation by having him hold a baby and flashing her killer dimples, she’d better think again.

What did he know about babies? Absolutely nothing. He most definitely was not father material. Not by a long shot. And that’s just the way he intended it to stay. The way it had to stay…

Cassie’s Cowboy Daddy
Kathie DeNosky

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KATHIE DENOSKY

lives in deep southern Illinois with her husband and three children. After reading and enjoying Silhouette books for many years, she is ecstatic about being able to share her stories with others as a Silhouette Desire author, and writes highly sensual stories with a generous amount of humor. Kathie’s books have appeared on the Waldenbooks bestseller list. She enjoys going to rodeos, traveling through the southern and southwestern states, and listening to country music. She often starts her day at 2:00 a.m., so she can write without interruption, before the rest of the family is up and about. You may write to Kathie at P.O. Box 2064, Herrin, Il 62948-5264.

Special thanks to Melissa Henke for sharing her knowledge and answering my endless questions about Wyoming and the Laramie Mountains. Thanks, Lissa!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

One

Cassie Wellington explored the upper level of the large two-story Victorian, her enthusiasm increasing with each new discovery. The Lazy Ace ranch house was perfect, and all she’d ever dreamed of for herself and the girls.

The bedrooms were spacious, with beautifully detailed cherry woodwork, wainscoting and built-in window seats. But the most attractive thing about it was the fact that half of it belonged to her.

Everything from the molding on the ceiling to the hardwood floor needed a good dusting, and there was enough clutter downstairs to warrant the use of a shovel, but that could be excused. Her business partner was at least eighty years old and obviously no longer capable of simple household tasks. She’d whip this place into shape, and in no time she’d make a comfortable home for all of them. Then once everything had undergone a thorough cleaning, she’d start redecorating.

Preoccupied with ideas for window dressings, color combinations and where she intended to place each piece of furniture, she wandered into the hall bathroom and stumbled over something in the middle of the floor. She glanced down at a pile of boots, jeans and briefs at her feet, then to the long bare leg dangling over the side of the old-fashioned, claw-footed bathtub. The small space was filled to overflowing with an impressively big, undeniably masculine body.

Her gaze followed the limb into the water.

Clear water.

She clapped her hand over her mouth to hold back her startled gasp and quickly averted her eyes to the safer territory of the man’s torso.

Safer?

She’d never seen so many well-defined muscles on one body in her entire life. Covered by a thin coating of dark hair, his ridged stomach looked as hard as a rock and his corded shoulders seemed to span the entire width of the bathtub.

Her gaze traveled to his face and a shiver ran the length of her spine and made goose bumps pop up on her arms. Even in sleep, the man was dangerously handsome.

Thick black hair fell across his forehead much like that of a naughty little boy’s, but the dark growth of beard shadowing his lean cheeks and the mustache framing his mouth were undoubtedly those of a man in his prime. The tiny lines fanning from the corners of his closed eyes attested to the fact that he spent the majority of his time working outside. Instead of detracting from his looks, they added a ruggedness to his overall appeal that Cassie found absolutely fascinating.

But when she looked more closely, her heart lurched, then started hammering at her vocal cords for an immediate response. Intense blue eyes gazed back at her from beneath thick black lashes.

“Go ahead and look your fill, sugar,” the man offered. His sexy grin made her heart skip a beat. “I’m agreeable, even though we haven’t been properly introduced.”

“Oh, I’m so…I mean, you’re…” Cassie clapped a hand over her mouth again to keep from making matters worse and started backing from the room.

“No need to leave, sugar.” He pulled his leg back into the tub and sat up. His bluer-than-sin eyes twinkled and he had the audacity to wink at her. “You’re just in time to help wash my back.”

She took another step backward, but her foot came down on top of a boot. To her horror, she lost her balance and sat down hard on top of the pile of clothes.

“Are you all right?” the man asked, concern replacing his teasing grin. He braced his hands on the sides of the bathtub as if he intended to stand.

Cassie scrambled to her feet. In her haste to put as much distance as possible between herself and the man getting out of the tub, she stumbled over the other boot. This time she managed to stay upright, but just barely.

“Please don’t get up. I’m fine. Really.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Now, what kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t stand when a lady enters the room? Just let me get out of here and…”

Logan saw it coming just as surely as a bubble rises to the surface of a boiling pot. But there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop the pretty young woman from looking him square in the eyes and screaming bloody murder, before she spun around and ran for the stairs.

He’d been aware of her presence the moment she’d stepped into the room and, like any good poker player, he’d tried to size up the situation before showing his hand. But he couldn’t think of one single reason this little filly would be wandering around his home. He laughed, realizing, in this particular situation, he’d been revealing a hell of a lot more than just his hand.

“Damn,” he muttered when he tried to get out of the tub.

The stiff muscles in his back protested his every move and his leg had gone numb from hanging over the side of the tub. Every time he attempted to stand, he slid back into a sitting position. Ignoring the pins-and-needles sensation in his leg, he finally managed to get the limb to support him and splashed out of the water with a muttered curse.

Knotting a towel around his hips, Logan took off in the direction the woman had fled. He chuckled as he limped down the stairs. He hadn’t meant to scare her, but he’d bet a steak dinner the little lady thought twice before she wandered into another house unannounced.

Of course, that wasn’t to say he found her presence offensive. On the contrary. A man would have to be out of his mind to object to a woman like this one keeping him company while he took a bath. Shoot, he wouldn’t even have minded having her join him.

Although she was shorter than the women he usually found attractive, she for damn sure had all the right curves in all the right places. And that strawberry-blond hair of hers made his hands itch to touch it, to pull off that puffy little pink thing holding it in a ponytail and see if it felt as soft and silky as it looked.

“What’s your name, sugar?” he asked, catching up to her in the kitchen.

When she spun around to face him, a rosy pink colored her cheeks and anger sparkled in her green eyes. “It doesn’t matter who I am. Who are you?”

Logan propped his hands on his hips, anchoring the towel in place. Smiling, he shook his head and took a step forward. “I asked first.”

She held one hand in front of her as if that would stop him. He almost laughed. She sure had her share of spunk. He liked that in a woman.

“Stay right there,” she ordered. “Don’t you dare come any closer.”

She tried to step away from him, but the cabinets stopped her retreat. Never taking her eyes from him, she put her hand behind her back and Logan heard her rummaging around in one of the drawers. Now, what in hell did she think she’d find in there?

“Don’t take another step,” she ordered, jerking her hand from behind her.

He frowned at her defensive stance and the pancake turner she brandished. He was in his own home and, even though she had to be the best-looking intruder he’d ever laid eyes on, she was still trespassing. And, he decided, staring at the flimsy utensil under his nose, a bit unstable.

“Look, lady, I don’t know what your problem is or where you came from, but around these parts, barging in when a man’s taking a bath could only be considered one of two things—an invasion of privacy or an open invitation.”

He reached out to take her weapon, but let out a yelp when she used it like a flyswatter to smack him right square on his bare chest.

Logan quickly took hold of her upper arms before she had a chance to take aim at something a lot more sensitive than his chest. His gaze locking with hers, he drew her to him.

The pancake turner clattered to the hardwood floor. They both ignored it.

“You weren’t supposed to do that,” she said, her voice shaky and her expressive green eyes as wide as half dollars. “You were supposed to jump back so I could escape.”

“But I didn’t,” Logan whispered close to her ear.

He heard her suck in a sharp breath a moment before she went perfectly still. Then with renewed vigor she started squirming like a worm on a hot sidewalk. “Turn me loose.”

“Not until you calm down, sugar,” Logan drawled. He stared down at her perfectly shaped lips. Lips just made for a man’s kiss.

Lord help him, but she felt good pressed against him. She was small, delicate and soft. Really soft. He inhaled deeply, and the sweet scent of her made his body feel as if his skin had suddenly grown way too tight. Where had he smelled that exotic scent before?

He didn’t have long to ponder the matter because suddenly everything seemed to be happening at once. Her fidgeting caused the knot to come loose. Gravity pulled at his towel. And his foreman, Hank Waverly, and a tall blonde woman chose that very moment to come crashing through the back door.

Logan barely managed to maintain his hold on the woman and grab the towel before anyone’s sensibilities were offended. “You’d better stand still. That was too close for comfort, sugar.”

“Stop calling me that,” she retorted. “And please let me go.”

“Why on earth did you scr—” The blonde with Hank stopped short and stood there staring as if she’d never seen a man in danger of losing his towel.

The woman Logan held struggled to free herself. “Throw this exhibitionist off the property, Hank.”

“Dammit, lady, if you don’t stand still, there’ll be an exhibition we’ll all remember for some time to come,” Logan growled.

“Oh, pul-lease,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t say your attributes are that memorable.”

She increased her attempts to free herself, sending pain shooting through his knotted muscles as he struggled to hold her and the towel. His curses could have blistered paint, but he didn’t care.

For a minute there, when he’d gazed into her sparkling eyes and felt her soft body pressed to his, he’d forgotten all about his sore back. And he’d come damned close to kissing her, he thought incredulously, trying his best to hold both the woman and the towel.

Taking advantage of his predicament, she jerked free and stepped well out of his reach. He caught the terry cloth just in time to keep it from exposing his nether regions.

“Does Logan Murdock know you use his bathtub when he’s away?” she demanded.

Hank threw back his head and laughed like a hyena. “Oh, this is good. Real good.”

Logan barely suppressed his own grin. He’d been wrong. She wasn’t “a bit unstable.” She was downright loco. Securing the towel before it revealed more than he cared to show, he raised a brow. “You and Murdock close, are you?”

“Close enough,” she replied.

“Do tell.” It took everything he had to keep a straight face at her confident expression. She really was a few steers shy of a full herd.

“From now on, you can bathe in the bunkhouse with the rest of the men.” She pointed toward the hall. “Now, get your clothes and get out of my house.”

“Your house!” All traces of amusement gone, Logan shot a suspicious glare at Hank when the man doubled over and slapped his knee. “Just where the hell did you come up with a harebrained idea like that?”

“My lawyer.”

Apprehension plucked at the hair on the back of his neck and he narrowed his eyes. “Just who are you, lady?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m Logan Murdock’s business partner, Cassie Wellington. I own half of the Lazy Ace.”

“You’re the Widow Wellington?” Logan shook his head. He wasn’t buying a word of it. “You can come up with a better story than that, sugar.”

Barely able to speak, Hank said cheerfully, “Welcome home, Logan.”

A keening wail suddenly sliced through the tense silence. A second cry soon joined in.

Goose bumps rose along Logan’s arms and a tight knot formed in the pit of his belly. “What the hell is that?” he demanded, afraid he already knew.

Cassie’s world came to a screeching halt. Logan? Hank had called the man Logan.

Studying him, she felt the color drain from her face. His black hair didn’t have so much as one strand of white, and the only wrinkles he had were the tiny ones at the corners of his deep blue eyes.

Instead of the frail, elderly gentleman she had envisioned, Logan Murdock was drop-dead handsome and only a few years older than herself. Her gaze traveled to his wide bare chest. His physique for darned sure wasn’t that of a man in his golden years, either.

No bags. No sags. Just warm, incredibly firm muscle.

Remembering the feel of being pressed against all that hard sinew made her cheeks burn and toes curl inside her tennis shoes. “Logan? Murdock?”

“In the flesh,” Hank said, dissolving into another fit of laughter.

Cassie’s best friend, Ginny Sadler, stepped from behind Hank to stare at the man claiming to be Logan Murdock. “Oh, dear heavens! I thought you said he was as old as your uncle Silas.”

“You can’t possibly be Mr. Murdock,” Cassie insisted, hoping this was some sort of joke. “He’s away from the ranch and I happen to know he’s elderly.”

“Well, you couldn’t possibly be the Widow Wellington,” he said. The man’s gaze traveled in a leisurely way from the top of her head to her well-worn shoes. “You don’t look old enough to be married, let alone widowed.” Frowning at the continued wails of her unhappy daughters, he asked, “Is that yours?”

“Yes.” Cassie turned to Ginny. “Would you mind checking on the twins for me?”

His disbelieving gaze zeroed in on her waist. “If you’ve had twins, I’m the king of Siam.”

“Aren’t you a little far from home, Your Highness?” When a dull red flush made its way from his neck to the roots of his hair, she smiled, satisfied that the “king” was as royally disconcerted by the whole situation as she was.

Hank laughed so hard he had to lean against the cabinets. “This is better than the time we greased down Gabe’s saddle with axle grease and watched him go shootin’ off the other side when he tried to mount up.”

Eyeing his foreman, Logan breathed a heavy sigh and began to chuckle. “I have to admit, you really outdid yourself this time, Hank. You really had me going there for a minute.”

Hank glanced at Cassie, her obvious displeasure erasing all traces of his amusement. Logan felt the knot in his gut tighten considerably.

“Uh…Logan, she is Cassie Wellington, your new business partner.”

Logan’s smile vanished, but he refused to give up hope. “You’ve had your fun, but the game’s over.” He pointed to the woman calling herself the Widow Wellington. “As soon as they’re ready, drive all of them down to Bear Creek. They can play jokes on someone else.”

She shook her head. “This is no joke. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“My partner’s name is Cassandra.” He knew as soon as he blurted out the irrational statement he was grasping at straws. But desperation was beginning to claw at him.

“Everyone calls me Cassie. My full name is Cassandra Hastings-Wellington.”

Logan felt his control of the situation take a nosedive, and that sinking feeling that always accompanied a lost cause began to settle in his gut. The Widow Wellington wasn’t at all what he’d expected when he first heard about Silas Hastings’s death and the naming of the man’s heir.

She was supposed to be a widow, for Pete’s sake. Logan had naturally envisioned a matronly, grandmother type with a big heart and a girth to match.

But the woman’s light pink T-shirt, tucked into snug-fitting jeans, emphasized a waist he could wrap his hands all the way around. And the enticing flare of her slim hips was light-years away from matronly. He had a hard time believing she’d had one baby, let alone a set of twins.

The stranglehold he had on the towel made his fingers cramp. He’d judge her to be somewhere in her mid-twenties and much too pretty for his peace of mind. Those green eyes of hers were the color of new spring grass—all fresh and sweet. And her creamy complexion just begged for his touch.

His palm started itching to do just that. He rubbed his hand against the plush towel in an effort to make the sensation go away.

There were two kinds of women—free spirits and nesters. A free spirit lived for the moment and demanded no more of a man than he was ready—or willing—to give. And that was just the type of woman Logan preferred.

But a nester was an entirely different breed. They wanted stability and long-range promises. They wanted a home that wasn’t to hell and gone from civilization and all the conveniences that went with it. Unfortunately, his new business partner had nester written from the top of her pretty little head all the way to her tattered tennis shoes.

Sweat beaded Logan’s forehead. The Widow Wellington represented a little over five feet of sexy temptation he’d rather not have around testing his willpower. Or reminding him of what he had to deny himself for the Lazy Ace.

He’d learned the hard way that the land was just too harsh for the fairer sex. Too remote. After making a fool of himself ten years ago, he’d successfully avoided Cassie Wellington’s kind and the commitments they put such stock in. And come hell or high water, that’s just the way he wanted it to remain—the way it had to remain.

“I don’t give a damn what you say, lady. You will be leaving as soon as possible.”

She propped her doubled fists on her shapely little hips. The action once again drew his attention to the narrowness of her waist, the fullness of her breasts. He almost groaned.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said stubbornly. “My daughters and I will stay as long as we darn well please. My uncle’s will plainly stated that I own half of this ranch and half of the ranch house. It’s as much mine as it is yours, buster.”

“Like hell!” His stiff back forgotten, Logan spun around and once again had to grab the towel as he headed for his office. But when he reached the hall, he stopped abruptly and turned to glare at Hank. “If you can tear yourself away, I’d like to see you in the study. You owe me some answers. And they’d better be damned good.”

Cassie stared at Logan’s retreating back a moment before she leveled her own irritated gaze on Hank. “When I called last week to inquire about moving here, you said Mr. Murdock had been alone for so many years that our presence would be good for him, that we were just what he needed to give him a new lease on life. That and the photo I have led me to believe he was an older gentleman. Why didn’t you tell me he was younger than Uncle Silas?”

Hank’s smile faded and he shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m…uh, real sorry if you feel I misled you, ma’am. I sure didn’t mean to. I just figured you knew he was a lot younger than your uncle.”

Cassie shook her head and walked over to the cabinet where she’d set her handbag when she’d first entered the house. Searching inside the leather tote, she pulled out a picture of two men standing under the Lazy Ace Cattle Company sign that hung over the entrance to the ranch. She handed it to Hank. “Read the caption on the back.”

“Logan Murdock and Silas Hastings. Joint owners. Fall 1954.” Hank nodded. “This explains the confusion. Logan was named after his grandpa. That’s him in the picture with your uncle. They were both in their early thirties when it was taken.”

Cassie tried to swallow the panic threatening to break through. Logan Murdock wasn’t the kind, elderly gentleman she’d envisioned. He’d turned out to be a ruggedly handsome, thirty-something hunk with an attitude.

Ginny returned from checking on the twins, her eyes wide. “What on earth are you going to do now, Cassie? You and the girls can’t possibly stay here.”

Dazed, Cassie looked around the room. The house was perfect for raising children and so much nicer than the cramped apartment they’d left behind in St. Louis. It was everything she’d ever dreamed of for the twins.

She straightened her shoulders. She’d fought one man for their very existence. She wasn’t afraid to fight another for their future.

“Come on, Ginny,” she said, walking to the door. “We need to unload the car.”

Her friend hurried to keep up with her. “You can’t mean—”

“Yes, I can,” Cassie said, determination filling her soul.

“He’s not going to like it,” Ginny warned.

“That’s his problem.” Cassie stepped out onto the porch and watched an eagle flying high above the valley. “I’m not letting some arrogant cowboy deprive my daughters of what’s rightfully theirs. We’re staying, and Logan Murdock will just have to learn to live with it.”

Two

“Dammit all, Hank!” Logan glared at the man closing the office door. “How the hell did this happen?”

Hank calmly walked over and sat down in the leather chair in front of Logan’s desk. “Not more than half an hour after you took off for that campin’ trip last Friday, she called to say she and her babies would be movin’ here.”

Unable to sit still, Logan rose from the desk chair and stalked over to the huge picture window. Pride filled him as he surveyed his land. Bathed by the early-autumn sun, the dried grass spread out like a golden carpet and the aspens ringing the valley shuddered from the winds of the changing season. He watched a bald eagle trace lazy circles in the cloudless blue sky. Dammit, this land belonged to him.

“You didn’t even try to discourage her, did you?”

“Nope,” Hank said, sounding unrepentant.

Logan felt a vein in his temple begin to throb as he glared over his shoulder. “Why not?”

Hank stared at his boot tops, then, shrugging, met Logan’s gaze. “She sounded so happy about it, I couldn’t tell her not to move here.”

“She’s happy, all right.” His hands propped on his hips, Logan turned to face his friend. “Happy to get her hands on my ranch.”

“It’s as much hers as it is yours.”

Logan winced as his sore muscles tightened further. “I didn’t see any of the Hastings family anywhere near here when the temperature dipped down to twenty below last winter and we had to chop holes in the ice for the cattle to get water.” He pointed toward the window. “Or two years ago, when lightning touched off the fire that swept down the mountains into the valley. There wasn’t one of them here busting their asses to help us save the house and barns.”

“I know,” Hank agreed. “But, legally, she is an equal partner in the Lazy Ace.”

“I don’t give a damn about legalities,” Logan said through gritted teeth. He ran his hand over the aching knot at the back of his neck.

Hank had no way of knowing Logan’s plan, or that if Logan was successful in his bid to obtain all of the ranch, then Hank would gain an interest in the enterprise. Logan owed it to him for the loyalty and years of hard work Hank had invested in the Lazy Ace. But if Logan couldn’t get Cassie Wellington to sell him her share, all his carefully laid plans would go to hell in a handbasket.

“I have to figure a way to get her to sell out and leave,” he muttered.

“I like havin’ ladies and babies around,” Hank said happily. “It dresses up this old place right nice.”

Glaring at his lifelong friend, Logan tightened the towel at his waist. “You know, old buddy, the only thing softer than your heart is your head.”

“I can’t help it,” Hank said. The man’s wide grin irritated the hell out of Logan. “When it comes to women and cute little kids—”

“Your common sense takes a hike.” Logan marched back to his chair and plopped down. Propping his elbows on the desktop, he buried his head in his hands. “What the hell could old Silas have been thinking when he left his share of the ranch to a woman? He knew how remote this place is. And how dangerous it can be at times.”

“Maybe the old codger wanted the two families to merge,” Hank suggested.

Logan jerked his head up. “Before that happens, Murray Parkinson’s jackass will sprout wings and fly. You know how I feel about having a woman underfoot all the time.”

“Especially one as pretty as Cassie?”

Logan ground his teeth, then lied right through them. “She’s not that good-looking.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s not,” Logan insisted.

“If you say so,” Hank said, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

Before Logan could decide whether to defend himself further or just give up and choke Hank, a soft female voice outside the closed door announced, “Gentlemen, dinner’s ready.”

Surprised, Logan and Hank looked at each other, then at the closed door.

“Are you sure you don’t want her stickin’ around?” Hank asked, jumping to his feet. “We ain’t had a decent meal around this place in a month of Sundays.”

“Don’t let Tucker hear you say that,” Logan said, heading for the door. “He might just up and quit.”

“I don’t care if he does.” Hank shouldered past Logan to bolt out the door into the hall. “Ol’ Tuck used to be pretty fair as bunkhouse cooks go. But since he got too vain to buy himself a pair of glasses, we’ve been eatin’ stuff a starvin’ dog would turn down.”

Logan nodded and started toward the stairs. “The other day I caught him trying to make a cake from a feed-store receipt. I had the devil’s own time trying to convince him it wasn’t a recipe.”

While Hank headed for the kitchen like a man possessed, Logan took the stairs two at a time. After quickly exchanging the towel for jeans and a chambray shirt, he entered the kitchen a few minutes later.

Stopping abruptly, he barely managed to keep from gaping at the unfamiliar sight. It looked like an all-out female invasion. Bright clothing added splashes of color to the normally somber room as the Widow Wellington and her friend milled around his table and fussed over the girl babies riding their hips. Feminine voices replaced the usual silence and Logan was more than a little irritated that he found the sound a pleasant variation.

He shook his head when he watched Hank set up two high chairs. The man looked disgustingly happy.

Hank glanced up and grinned as he set the chairs at the end of the table. “It sure was nice of these ladies to fix our supper after bein’ on the road for the last two days. Wasn’t it, Logan?”

All eyes turned to solemnly stare at him. Even the copper-haired babies.

When he walked to the head of the large oak table, the widow set a plate of sandwiches on the recently polished surface. “Mr. Murdock, this is my friend, Ginny Sadler. She’ll be staying with us for a few days.” The look she gave him clearly challenged any objections he might have. Then she pointed to the identical babies, adding, “And these are my daughters, Kelsie and Chelsea.”

The blonde she’d called Ginny smiled weakly and edged her way toward Hank.

Logan nodded his acknowledgment, but his grim stare remained fixed on the widow and the domestic picture laid out before him. She looked at home in his kitchen, and she’d apparently already started nesting. He wouldn’t have believed the old table could shine up that nicely.

He flicked a frilly piece of cloth from his spot at the table, sending it skittering across the shiny surface. “Where the devil did that come from?”

“I brought it with me,” she replied, returning the offending object to its place. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a linen napkin.”

“Not on my table,” Logan growled. He seated himself, then once again pushed the cloth aside. “You’re on a working ranch in the middle of Wyoming, lady, not some fancy restaurant.”

“I’m well aware of that,” she said calmly.

He watched her place the babies in their chairs. Then in one smooth motion she replaced his napkin and plopped a set of silverware on top of it, as if that ended any further protest he might have.

Logan knew he was being unreasonable, but with each passing second he could feel his blissful bachelor existence slipping further away. He wasn’t accustomed to having females, and especially one with babies, in his home. And the Widow Wellington appeared to be one of the worst of her gender.

He could tell by just looking at her that she’d make demands and all kinds of things would change. For as long as she and her brood stayed on the Lazy Ace, she’d expect him to watch his language when a graphic, heartfelt cussing would feel good—help him put things in perspective. And he for damned sure wouldn’t be able to sit around in his underwear and watch television anymore, either. Not that he practiced that particular habit all that often, but just knowing he couldn’t had him lamenting the loss.

Good thing the master bedroom had a half bath. At least he wouldn’t have her glaring daggers at him when he left the toilet seat up.

Frowning, Logan took a bite from his sandwich and watched the women laugh at something Hank said. Unlike his friend, Logan had no intention of letting some woman lead him around like a puppy on a string. He’d seen that happen to some of his neighbors in the Rancher’s Emporium down in Bear Creek. While their women tried on clothes in the dressing rooms, the men stood around holding prissy little handbags in their big brawny fists, discussing the advantages of artificial insemination over a good breeding bull. The big galoots didn’t even have enough sense to look as if they found the experience humiliating.

“Logan?” Hank waved his hand in front of Logan’s face. “I asked if you found any signs of the cougar Ray reported seeing up in the high pastures while you were on your camping trip.”

Snapped out of his dismal speculation, Logan shook his head and swallowed what tasted like sawdust slapped between two slices of bread. “I tracked him all over the northwestern quadrant, but never did catch sight of him. When I reached the waterfall at the end of Shadow Valley, the tracks disappeared.”

“Do you have a lot of trouble with wild animals?” Cassie inquired.

He watched her spoon some of the nastiest-looking green stuff he’d ever seen from small jars and into the babies’ eager mouths. It looked as if their supper wasn’t any more palatable than his. So much for the widow’s cooking.

“Well, do you?”

“Huh?

“I asked if you have a lot of trouble with wild animals.”

He studied her curious expression. Maybe if he mentioned a wild animal or two, she’d decide it was far too dangerous for her and her kids and take off like a coyote with a buttful of buckshot.

“Sometimes,” Logan said slowly.

“Oh, speaking of wild animals, Samson paid us a visit while you were gone,” Hank said, as if on cue.

“Who or what is Samson?” Ginny asked.

“One of the biggest black bears you’d ever care to see,” Hank answered, leaning back in his chair.

Logan couldn’t have been more pleased with the turn of conversation. Knowing Hank and his aversion to the bear Logan had raised from an orphaned cub, Samson would no doubt grow at least two feet in height and gain a couple of hundred pounds by the time Hank finished describing him.

“When that bear stands on his hind feet, he’s every bit as big as a grizzly,” Hank said.

Logan took another bite of his sandwich to keep from grinning. He couldn’t have asked Hank for a better job of exaggerating the bear’s size.

“Do you think he’ll be back any time soon?” Cassie asked, continuing to spoon the unappealing mush from the jars and into the little girls’ mouths.

“It wouldn’t surprise me.” When Ginny scooted her chair a little closer to his, a pleased expression lit Hank’s face. “Old Samson has been known to hang around for days before he heads back up into the mountains.”

A sense of contentment surrounded Logan. The widow and her entourage would be off the ranch, out of his life and headed back to St. Louis first thing in the morning.

Unable to resist adding a little fuel to the fire Hank had kindled, Logan tried to keep his tone pragmatic. “Wild animals are just one of the hazards of living in this part of the country. At times, the weather can be more dangerous than the wildlife.”

“You might as well give it up, Mr. Murdock,” Cassie said, setting the baby-food jar on the table. The clatter of the spoon inside the empty glass echoed throughout the suddenly quiet room. She knew what he was up to and the sooner he realized it wasn’t going to work, the better off they’d both be. “You’re not going to scare me away from what’s rightfully mine. Whether you like it or not, the twins and I are here to stay.”

The shroud of stillness that descended on the kitchen was deafening as she and Logan glared at each other across the big oak table. It reminded her of the unnatural calm before a huge storm.

“Hank, why don’t you help me with the twins?” Ginny asked, finally breaking the tense silence. She rose from the table and began unfastening the safety straps on the high chairs. “I think these two need to talk.”

“But it’s just startin’ to get interestin’,” Hank protested. When Ginny leaned down to whisper something in his ear, Hank’s face brightened and he left the table so fast his chair tilted precariously. “You’re right. They don’t need us. It’s a fairly warm evening. Why don’t we take the babies for a walk?”

Hank took Kelsie, while Ginny removed Chelsea from her high chair. “We’re going to show the babies Velvet Lady’s new colt.” He waited for Ginny to wipe the twins’ faces, then helped her wrestle matching yellow sweaters on them. They each held a baby as Hank ushered Ginny toward the door. “You two take all the time you need.”

At any other time, Cassie might have found Hank’s haste to be with Ginny quite comical. But considering that their departure left her alone with Logan, Cassie didn’t see anything funny about it.

The man was raw virility personified, and from the moment he’d walked into the kitchen, every one of her senses had homed in on him like some type of feminine radar. The lingering scent of his masculine soap, the sight of his corded forearms beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves and the sound of his slightly rough baritone had her remembering the feel of his callused hands on her upper arms. The memory of his nude body in the bathtub sent a shiver snaking up her spine that had nothing to do with being chilled.

“Ginny’s right,” Cassie said, her tone sharpened by the sudden tension gripping her body. “We need to discuss the terms of our partnership.”

The harsh sound of Logan’s chair scraping along the hardwood floor echoed through the room. “I couldn’t agree more. There are some things we need to resolve, Mrs. Wellington. And I’d say now is as good a time as any to get it done.”

“Since my children and I are going to be living here, don’t you think it would be a good idea if we were on a first-name basis?” she asked, rising to face him.

He stared at her a moment before he nodded, stepped aside and motioned toward the hall. “All right, Cassie. Let’s go into my study.”

She normally hated confrontations, but she looked forward to this one. Logan Murdock needed to be treated to a few home truths. And the sooner, the better. She’d been around one too many selfish, self-centered men to let this one get the best of her.

She only wished his deep baritone hadn’t sounded so sexy, or that she hadn’t preceded him down the hall. His voice had that rough bedroom quality that sent a tremor passing through her when he said her name, and she could feel his gaze on her backside as surely as if he touched her there.

The man was, without a doubt, the most infuriating, obstinate soul Cassie had ever met. But he made her knees wobble and her lungs forget to take in air.

Logan brushed past her to open the door, and a tingle raced the length of her. Reminding herself to breathe, she entered the study and looked around in an attempt to distract herself from the unsettling reaction. To her disappointment, it was no different than any of the other rooms in the house—cherry wainscoting, massive pieces of leather-and-walnut furniture and neutral, nondescript drapes. It appeared Logan Murdock was stuck in a decorating rut.

“Does it meet with your approval?” he asked from somewhere behind her.

Cassie turned toward the sound of his voice, but instead of the snappy comeback she’d intended, she let loose a startled squeak. A huge bear in the corner loomed over Logan, mouth agape, claws extended, and after all the talk about Samson, it took a moment for her to realize the beast was poised for all eternity in the ferocious, battle-ready stance.

She shuddered and turned away. Instead of her gaze settling on something innocuous, she came face-to-face with the largest snake she’d ever seen outside the confines of a zoo. It was sitting in the middle of the mantel above the fireplace, four inches of rattles protruding from the tan-and-brown-blotched coil, the raised head promising a deadly bite from its enormous, bared fangs.

What sort of man kept such hideous works of taxidermy in his home? she wondered, spotting a lynx on the shelves beside the fireplace. The animal was frozen forever in what looked to be a really lousy mood.

“No wonder you keep this door closed,” Cassie said, her voice slightly shaky. “No one in their right mind would want to come in here.”

It was all Logan could do to keep from laughing out loud at Cassie’s shocked expression. Her face had paled to a pasty white and she looked ready to bolt for the door. She had no way of knowing this room had scared the hell out of him when he was a kid. Or that the stuffed animals were a lot older than he was.

“They threatened the welfare of the Lazy Ace,” he stated, lowering himself into the chair behind the desk. “When they attacked the livestock, my family had no choice but to deal with them.”

“You see me as a threat.” Cassie turned to glare at him. “Is this your way of telling me I’m the next to be stuffed and mounted?”

Logan watched her cheeks color a pretty pink as the double meaning of her words registered with both of them. He swallowed hard and his body responded in ways he’d rather not dwell on as a very provocative scenario flashed through his mind. This wasn’t going the way he’d planned. He was supposed to be discussing her departure from the Lazy Ace, not trying to hide the fact that her remark excited the hell out of him.

“I…uh, never said you were a threat.”

“You didn’t have to.” She sat in the leather chair in front of his desk, her arms crossed beneath her breasts, her expression defiant. “Once you found out who I was, you turned off the charm and turned on the hostility.”

“You weren’t exactly Miss Congeniality yourself.” He leaned back in the high-backed chair and sighed heavily. “Look, taking potshots at each other isn’t going to get us anywhere. What do you say we start over?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” she agreed. “I think that might make our living here more tolerable.”

Every time she mentioned staying on the ranch, the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up and his gut felt as if he’d been punched.

Logan squared his shoulders. He knew beyond a shadow of doubt he wasn’t going to like what she had to say, but he’d always been of the opinion that a situation should be dealt with head-on.

“Why don’t you tell me why you want to live here, then we’ll go from there,” he suggested.

“All right.” She took a deep breath, then met his gaze. “Uncle Silas bequeathed money to my cousins, but his last wish for me and the twins was a new way of life. By leaving me his half of the Lazy Ace Cattle Company, he’s provided me the opportunity to stay at home to raise my girls.” Her relieved smile made the knot in Logan’s gut twist even tighter. “I remember hearing Uncle Silas repeatedly say the unhurried pace of rural Wyoming was the perfect place to raise children. And he was right. It’s much safer here, the girls will have a healthy atmosphere away from the smog and fumes of an overcrowded city, and I’ll be with them to watch and enjoy every moment of their lives, instead of hearing about it from a baby-sitter.”

By the time she finished telling him about her desire to be a full-time mother and how important it was for her to raise her kids in a safe, wholesome environment, Logan felt as if he’d been blindsided by a steamroller. If he insisted she leave now, he’d feel like a low-down, sorry excuse for a skunk.

“Wouldn’t you rather live in town?” he asked hopefully. He knew all too well the dangers the area posed to women and children. But if he tried to explain that to her now, she’d think it was nothing more than a ploy to get her off the Lazy Ace.

She shook her head. “I’ve analyzed it from every angle and arrived at the same conclusion each time. It was the nicest thing Uncle Silas could have ever done for us. I want the girls to grow up here where they can run and play.” She gave him a pointed look. “And I want to be here to oversee my share of the ranch.”

Logan left his chair to pace back and forth behind the desk. “I could keep you informed of all business transactions in a quarterly report when I send a check for your part of the profits. Like I did for Silas.”

“Nothing against you, Mr. Murdock, but it’s my inheritance and I think it would be in my best interest to be here in order to watch over it.”

“The Murdock and Hastings families have been in business together for over a hundred years….”

“I know,” she said, nodding. “I’ve heard the story since I was old enough to listen—first from my father and grandfather, then after they passed away, from Uncle Silas. Your great-grandfather, Jake Murdock, and my great-grandfather, Ned Hastings, left St. Louis with nothing but their six-shooters and a deed for a large piece of prime ranch land they’d won in a poker game.”

“That’s right,” Logan agreed. “And it was your great-grandfather who lost interest and moved back to Missouri thirty-five years later,” he said pointedly. “He and the rest of your family have been perfectly happy as silent partners in the ranch. The Murdocks were the ones who stuck it out and made the Lazy Ace what it is today.”

“I’m well aware of that,” she said, her patience beginning to wear on his nerves. “But when Uncle Silas willed me his share of the ranch, I made a firm decision to become an active partner. It’s not fair that you and your family suffered all the hardships, while my family sat back and did nothing. Besides, I want to have firsthand knowledge of how you’re handling our livelihood.”

Logan stopped to glare at her. “I’m a man of my word. If that was good enough for your uncle, it should be good enough for you.”

“I’m not my uncle, Mr. Murdock. Put yourself in my shoes. Would you trust someone you didn’t know with the stakes this high?” When he remained silent, she smiled and rose to leave. “I’m no different. This is my children’s future we’re discussing and I’m not about to leave anything to chance.”

“But what about your family?” Logan asked desperately. “Won’t you miss seeing them?”

She shook her head. “There’s no reason for me to ever return to St. Louis. My parents are both deceased and I don’t have any brothers or sisters.” Opening the office door, she advised, “You might as well accept the fact that, from now on, my daughters and I will be calling the Lazy Ace home.”

He watched her close the door with a quiet click. “Not if I have anything to do with it, lady,” he muttered.

Three

Cassie stood at the foot of the stairs, feather duster in one hand and a bottle of furniture polish in the other. Where should she start?

Yesterday, after finding Logan in the bathtub, she hadn’t given cleaning the house a second thought. A warm shiver coursed through her. She doubted there was a woman alive who could think of dusting and polishing woodwork after seeing Logan Murdock in the buff.

And she’d told a real whopper yesterday when she’d said his body was unremarkable. Just the memory of all that masculine skin and the feel of those rock-hard muscles pressed against her had kept her awake most of the night. Which was about the dumbest thing she’d ever let happen. She wasn’t the least bit interested in Logan or his impressive muscle groups.

Shaking her head to dislodge the memory of his impressive assets from her traitorous brain, she stared at the living room. The man might have a gorgeous body, but he was a slob. Plain and simple. And the reality of the monumental task before her was almost enough to make her rethink her decision to move to the Lazy Ace.

That’s probably why he’s not married. Any woman in her right mind would take one look at the condition of the house and run as hard and fast as she could to get away.

A saddle draped the back of one armchair, while an odd assortment of jeans, shirts and white cotton briefs graced the back of the other. Newspapers, magazines, cups and glasses covered the tables beside the chairs and the coffee table in front of the big leather couch.

Dazed, Cassie turned her attention to the stone fireplace on the far side of the room. The moose head hanging above the mantel sported a Colorado Rockies ball cap, a pair of oversize sunglasses and a necktie screen printed with popular cartoon characters.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Ginny said, walking up beside her. “It looks like a war zone.”

Cassie nodded as she walked over to the fireplace to run the feather duster over the mantel. The cloud raised by the simple action made her sneeze. “When I called last week, Hank said the place needed a woman’s touch.” She picked up a pair of stiff socks from the stone hearth and held them at arm’s length. “But he failed to mention I’d need a bulldozer to clear out the clutter. It’s going to take me weeks to get this place into shape.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Ginny said, grinning. “Hank and I were talking just this morning about how much you’ll have to do to get things straightened up.”

“Tell me about it,” Cassie said dryly. She sneezed again. “This place has dust bunnies the size of buffalo.”

Ginny nodded. “And you’re going to need help. If you don’t mind putting up with me for another week or two, I think I’ll call the office and ask for more time off.”

“Oh, Ginny, I hate for you to use your vacation helping me clean.” Cassie took the cap, tie and sunglasses from the moose’s head. “But I’m not going to turn you down if you really want to stay.”

“Good.” Ginny’s grin was a little too bright, considering the task before them. “I’ll go find Hank and ask him if he’d mind moving some of this heavy furniture so we can clean under it.”

Ginny couldn’t hide the color in her cheeks or the sparkle in her eyes that had nothing whatsoever to do with thoughts of cleaning. It did, however, have everything to do with finding Hank.

Cassie truly felt sorry for her best friend. An incurable romantic, Ginny still believed in finding her knight in shining armor and living happily-ever-after.

But thanks to her late husband, Stan, that was a myth Cassie had abandoned a long time ago.

A knot of disappointment formed in her stomach at the thought of the man she’d vowed to cherish until death. When they married, Cassie had taken for granted that Stan would settle down and work with her to build a future. Unfortunately, that hadn’t been the case.

They’d been married only a few months when Cassie realized that it had been Stan’s self-centeredness, not immaturity, that prevented him from accepting the responsibilities of marriage. Even if he hadn’t died, they wouldn’t have stayed together.

She blinked back tears and shook her head. No, happily-ever-afters happened only in fairy tales.

Cussing a blue streak, Logan pitched a bale of straw over the side of the loft. Four more followed in rapid succession. When each one burst open from colliding with the dirt floor below, he gritted his teeth and barely suppressed the urge to growl. Instead of lessening the frustration burning in his gut, he’d only created more.

“Logan, you’re bein’ a real pain in the ass. I wish you’d get off your high horse.” Hank propped his fists on his hips and nodded at the broken bales at his feet. “Now I’m gonna have to get the wheelbarrow so I can get this bedding down to Nicoma’s stall.”

“Maybe it’ll keep you busy enough to avoid making a fool of yourself over the blonde,” Logan shot back.

“Somebody in this barn is makin’ a fool of himself, all right. But it ain’t me.” Hank laughed. “At least I’ve got the good sense to admit the scenery around this old place has improved a hell of a lot since yesterday.”

Logan gripped the ladder and started down. “But for how long?”

He knew he was being irrational. But after tossing and turning all night from the memory of Cassie’s soft body pressed against his, being reasonable wasn’t an option.

Skipping the last two rungs, he jumped to the ground and jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the open doorway. “Just how long do you think it’ll take before the boredom sets in with those two?”

“Maybe it won’t. Not all females are like Andrea.” Hank shook his head. “I never could see the two of you together. I doubt she would survive living anywhere that didn’t include a mall and a four-star restaurant.”

Snorting, Logan ignored the man’s comment about his lapse in judgment. He didn’t intend to waste time thinking about the past. It was Cassie Wellington and the present that bothered him. A lot.

“Once the widow and her friend figure out just how remote this place is, they won’t be able to get away from here fast enough,” Logan said, marching to the end of the barn. He grasped the wooden handles of the wheelbarrow and rolled it next to the broken bales of straw. “Just think how they’d react when winter hits and we’re all snowed in for days at a time.”

“That’s when it starts to get interestin’,” Hank said, his grin wide.

The thought of himself and Cassie stranded for several days, alone in the house with all those bedrooms to choose from, made Logan’s mouth go dry.

Disgusted with himself for giving the notion a second thought, he spoke as much for his own benefit as for Hank’s. “Stop thinking with your hormones and start thinking with your head. I doubt either one of them could make it to the first frost without going stir-crazy.”

“Then what are you worried about?” Hank asked. He grabbed a pitchfork leaning against the wall and forked straw into the cart. “If what you say is true, Cassie and the babies should be packed up and on their way back to St. Louis by the last of the month.”

Logan shook his head and guided the wheelbarrow to the end of the barn. “It’s not that easy.” Stopping at the open stall, he turned to face Hank. “I always thought Silas was a few cards shy of a full deck, but I never realized the old codger had a mean streak to go with it. He knew about my mother dying because we couldn’t get her to the hospital in time and the hell that broke loose afterward. But before he died, he filled Cassie’s head with the idea that this place is some kind of Shangri-la for raising kids.”

“Well, it’s where I intend to raise my kids,” Hank said, shrugging.

“Hank?”

Logan watched Hank’s face split into a wide grin at the sight of Ginny walking down the center aisle of the barn.

“And here comes the mother of those future kids,” Hank said, his voice low.

“You just met the woman,” Logan muttered.

“Doesn’t matter.” Hank handed him the pitchfork and headed toward Ginny. “I know what I want.”

Logan stared as Hank met Ginny halfway up the long corridor, took her into his arms and kissed her like a soldier returning from war. An image of Cassie in his arms, clinging to him as he kissed her, flashed through Logan’s mind, and an unfamiliar feeling twisted his gut.

When Hank finally let her up for air, Ginny sounded breathless. “Cassie…and I…have been…cleaning the living room. Would you…mind helping us move some of the furniture?”

“Not at all.” Hank tucked Ginny to his side and, staring down at her, added, “I’d be more than happy to help you do anything, honey.” He kissed her forehead. “All you have to do is ask.”

Logan felt the knot in his stomach tighten further when Ginny giggled and wrapped her arm around Hank’s waist. Following the enamored pair into the house to see what the two women had done to his home, Logan refused to acknowledge the sensation as anything other than hunger. It was getting close to lunchtime and he’d skipped breakfast.

Envy for the freedom Hank had to give his heart to a woman was an emotion Logan didn’t feel. Ever.

Cassie watched the men pick up the massive couch as if it weighed nothing and move it to the far side of the room. They’d both rolled up their shirtsleeves, and she found herself fascinated by the play of muscles on Logan’s forearms, the bulges tightening the fabric around his biceps.

Ginny walked in from the kitchen, and her brown eyes sparkled with admiration as she whispered, “Well, I’m in love.”

“It takes more than bulging biceps and brute strength to impress me,” Cassie said just as quietly.

Ginny gave her a knowing look. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Really.”

“Whatever you say, Cass.”

Saved from further defending her little white lie by the distant cries of her unhappy daughters, Cassie looped her arm through Ginny’s. “Come on. You can go back to enjoying Hank’s brawn later. Right now I need help getting the twins downstairs for lunch.”

“I don’t know what Hank has, but if he could bottle and sell it, I’d buy a whole case,” Ginny said, looking over her shoulder at the men while Cassie pulled her along.

“I don’t think you’ll have to,” Cassie whispered. “Unless I miss my guess, you’ll get all the free samples you want.”

“And I’ll take all I can get.” Grinning, Ginny added, “Just remember, I saw Hank first.”

Climbing the stairs, Cassie laughed. “You’re welcome to him.”

I’m more attracted to Logan.

The unwarranted thought made her stumble. Now, where had that come from?

She shook her head to dislodge the silly notion. She was about as interested in Logan Murdock as she was in rotating the tires on a car.

Ten minutes later, Cassie had Chelsea and Kelsie strapped in their high chairs and had just removed the warmed baby food from the microwave when she turned to find Logan standing in the doorway, watching her.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he said, referring to the huge bowl of beef stew on the table.

Cassie shrugged as she spooned the baby food into divided plates and set them on the table. “We had to eat, and I like to cook.” Turning back, she took a towel from the counter, opened the oven door and bent to remove a pan of freshly baked bread. “I hope you like what we’re having.”

“Uh…yeah, it’s fine.” The air in Logan’s lungs stalled and he had to force himself to exhale.

Oh, he liked what she had, all right. Her loose khaki camp shorts were by no means tight, but bent over as she was, they clung to her shapely little backside and caused a certain part of his body to come to full alert. Damn! As bottoms went, the Widow Wellington had the best-looking rear he’d seen in a month of Sundays. Maybe ever.

When the babies slapped their trays and let out high-pitched squeals, she turned to grin at them. His heart stopped right then and there. Dimples. Cassie had tiny little dimples denting her porcelain cheeks. Why hadn’t he noticed them yesterday?

Damn! Ever since he’d sat next to Rosie Collins in second grade, he’d been a sucker for females with dimples. And that didn’t bode well. Not well at all.

The toothless grins the twins flashed back at their mother revealed they both had dimples, too. As far as little kids went, they were cute. Real cute.

Logan felt a chunk of the wall he’d carefully constructed around his heart fall away. The little girls almost had him wishing for kids of his own. But that was ridiculous. Having kids wasn’t, and never would be, an option for him.

Sliding into the chair at the head of the table, he felt sweat pop out on his forehead and he cursed himself as nine kinds of a fool. So Cassie had a pretty smile, a shape that would tempt a eunuch and cute little kids. So what? She was trying to take over his ranch. He’d better not forget that.

“What do you lovely ladies have planned for this afternoon?” Hank asked, entering the kitchen with Ginny.

“I have to return the rented trailer before I’m charged for another day,” Cassie answered. Logan watched her tie bibs around the twins’ necks, then seat herself in the chair facing them.

“I’m driving down to Bear Creek for supplies. I could take the trailer back for you,” Hank offered, holding Ginny’s chair. He sat next to her. “By the way, do you think you could spare Ginny for a few hours this afternoon? I’d like to show her around town.”

“I really should help Cassie,” Ginny said. “She’ll need me to watch the babies while she finishes the living room.”

As distracted as he was by Cassie and her killer dimples, even Logan could detect the lack of enthusiasm in Ginny’s voice.

He watched Cassie spoon lumpy-looking orange stuff into one twin’s mouth, while she held a bottle for the other. No wonder the babies were slapping their trays. He would, too, if he had to eat that unappealing stuff.

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