Nothing Sweeter (Sweet on a Cowboy) by Laura Drake

glistening on his chest and biceps. Even his torso, usually hidden from the sun, was a warm bronze, reminding her of his Native heritage.
    Tia pointed to something between the rows and Max set his hoe to it. Then, as if sensing her gaze, he looked up. He straightened, and leaning on the hoe, thumbed his hat back. Bree’s skin heated as a stab of lust shot through her.
Wow, that sun is hot.
    Except the sun didn’t touch the part of her that burned. She felt like a rabbit in a snare, unable to look away. Tia followed the line of Max’s interest, saw Bree, and waved. With effort, she returned the wave before she hurried to the house and a cold shower.
    Later, she lingered in the bathroom, hair in a towel, checking her face in the mirror. Thanks to the baseball cap, she hadn’t collected many more freckles. As she slathered on moisturizer, she wished for at least a cover stick for the dark circles, but her makeup had been gathering dust in the bottom of her suitcase since she’d arrived.She smoothed vitamin E cream over the scar.
Damaged goods.
She shook her head to dislodge the thought.
Only the guiltless get to whine.
The past was gone; all she could do was make better decisions for the future. She tied the scarf over the abomination and stuffed her discarded clothes into the laundry bag.
    After starting the first load, Bree wandered to the great room, intending to find a book to read from the shelves flanking the massive fieldstone fireplace. It was a handsome room. Sunlight streamed in the tall windows and French doors, highlighting the huge chocolate leather couches and bright Navajo rugs on the polished oak floor.
    She paused at the sight of Tia Nita sitting in an overstuffed chair, knitting.
    “Ah, Miss Bree, come sit.” She patted the arm of the chair next to hers. Bree crossed the room and sat. “Today you look like a
chica
—very pretty.” Tia touched Bree’s cheek, frowning. “Why you don’t sleep?”
    Bree’s conscience squirmed. “I sleep.” She glanced to the pile of yarn in Tia’s lap. “What are you making?”
    “I make scarves for the cowboys, for winter.” She picked up the needles, and her fingers flew.
    “The colors are beautiful.” Bree touched the soft strip of alternating copper and turquoise blue. “But why do you bother? The men can buy warm clothes in town.”
    “I do it for me. When I knit, my troubles go.” Tia glanced up from her needles. “I can teach you.”
    “Oh, don’t bother. I’m a klutz with that kind of thing.”
    Tia reached into the cloth bag at her feet and brought out another pair of needles and a ball of blue yarn. “It will give you something to do when you don’t sleep.”
    Tia had a point. She sure could use something to occupy her mind at night, when memories lie in the dark, waiting to pounce. She’d finished cleaning every piece of dirty leather in the barn and needed something else to do with the smallest hours of night.
    Bree picked up the needles. “Okay, but I hope this yarn isn’t expensive. It’s going to end up in a hopeless knot.”
    An hour later, Bree took a break and stretched cramped fingers. Following Tia’s careful directions, she’d produced a small swatch of uneven stitches. As long as she didn’t put it next to Tia’s, she was pretty pleased. “I was surprised to see Max gardening with you this morning, Tia. Can’t one of the hands help you?”
    As Tia looked up, her needles stilled. “My Maxie. He started gardening with me when he was little. I think he missed his mama, and it reminds him of her. When he was in school, it was something we did together. Now? I think he does it so I don’t work so hard.” A proud, maternal smile crossed her face. “He’s a good boy.”
    Not knowing what to say, Bree laid the needles beside her and stood. “I’ll get us some iced tea.”
    Rounding the corner of the kitchen, she saw the man himself, standing in front of the open refrigerator. He must’ve just come from the shower. His