The Cowboy and the Princess by Myrna Mackenzie

Bigsby and the Second Chance wasn’t a part of your plans.”
    “And I know all too well that having a princess disrupt your life and the sanctity of your calm household wasn’t a part of your plans, either. Andreus asked a lot of you.”
    “Andreus could ask for whatever he wanted, and I would give it.”
    Delfyne studied him. “I—as a sister who loves her brother, I’m grateful to hear that. Andreus and you…I know your friendship dates back to college, but such loyalty as that…to offer everything—”
    “Don’t make it out to be something noble. I owe Andreus.”
    “Why?”
    Even if she hadn’t said it, the question in her eyes let Owen know that she didn’t understand what he was talking about, and why should she? Andreus wouldn’t have spilled Owen’s secrets. Realizing that he had said too much, Owen turned away. Despite his friendship with her brother—and partly because of the friendship—he couldn’t get too personal with Delfyne. Exposing himself to that kind of risk when the barriers that separated them were so impassable…He’d have to be ten kinds of foolish to go there.
    “I’d better get to work,” he said. But work wasn’t the reason he was running. There were so many reasons. The woman he shouldn’t be tempted by, the memory of his son’s tragic death, which still brought him to his knees, and…he didn’t want to talk about what had happened to forge an unbreakable bond between himself and her brother. He didn’t want to remember, and he didn’t want to see pity in Delfyne’s eyes. That was more than a man could take.
    He strode toward the door as if he could chase down his problems and conquer them if only he moved fast enough.
     
    “You’ve done it again, you fool,” Delfyne muttered to herself after Owen had gone. “Always just rushing in without thinking about what you’re doing.”
    Owen had opened his house to her. He’d inconvenienced himself and he’d allowed her to lead him into lies she knew he hadn’t wanted to tell. He had been the perfect host, but she had not been the perfect guest. Even if she hadn’t spoken her questions out loud, her curiosity had been clear by her tone and her demeanor. She’d stepped over a line.
    Not that she hadn’t stepped over lines before, but this time,her reason was unnerving. Owen fascinated her. He was so obviously strong, a leader, a respected man of the community, and yet despite that strength, that air of machismo, he’d allowed her to mess up his kitchen. He’d played along with her playacting. There had not been one word about her duty.
    That was heady stuff for someone like her. She had let it go to her head, and she’d wanted to know more about him even though keeping a barrier was the smart thing to do. Owen obviously wanted that barrier, too. She owed him an apology for even thinking about breaching his privacy.
    But it soon became apparent that she wouldn’t be able to apologize. Owen didn’t come near the house all day. And night fell without his return.
    Lying in the inky darkness at three in the morning, tossing in her bed, Delfyne knew she had to make amends, to apologize for pushing Owen.
    So, long before dawn, Delfyne arose, pulled on clothing and waited for Owen. The minute she heard him moving around, she went to his door and knocked.
    When he pulled open the door, he was wearing jeans and no shirt, as if he’d rushed to answer her knock, and he looked worried. She realized probably no one sought him out this early unless there was a problem, so she held up one hand.
    “Nothing’s wrong,” she said quickly. “That is, I just wanted to apologize, to tell you I’m sorry about trying to wheedle out information about your relationship with my brother yesterday and also…about everything. I’m sure this whole experience has been an irritation, to say the least, and definitely an imposition. You’ve been a wonderful host. I’m grateful, and I won’t push again.”
    She was intensely aware of