What a Man Needs by Patricia Thayer Page A

and led her to the stand where Patrick was ready to take Davy off.
    The boy gripped the saddle horn. “I don’t want to get off.”
    Patrick hesitated, but remained stern. “We’ve talked about this, Davy. Other kids need a turn.” He reached for the child, but Davy pulled back. Cynthia hurried around the platform.
    â€œHey, Davy, why don’t you come with me? I’ll show you Daisy’s stall.” She gave a sideways glance at Patrick and saw that he wasn’t happy about her stepping in. “We’ll make sure that it’s all clean for her when she goes to sleep tonight.”
    The boy brightened. “’kay.” He gave Patrick a winning look.
    Cynthia helped him from the saddle. “I’ll watch him.”
    â€œYou’d better,” Patrick warned. “Don’t let him talk you out of anything.”
    Cynthia wouldn’t believe that a small child could be such a handful, but Davy certainly was. He asked question after question, and insisted on knowing about anything and everything, Patrick being his favorite topic. No doubt a lot of hero worship there.
    â€œSometimes Patrick gets mad at me, but he never yells or hits me.” The boy sat on a bale of straw just outside the stall while Cyndi did the cleaning. She lifted the pitchfork and dumped the contents into the wheelbarrow.
    â€œEven if I do bad things, he doesn’t hit me,” Davy said.
    â€œThat’s because he’s a nice man.”
    â€œHe doesn’t have any kids, either. Like you.”The boy lowered his head as he twisted a piece of straw. “I wish I could live here.”
    â€œIt’s pretty,” she agreed. “I wouldn’t mind staying here all the time, too. But we can’t always have what we want.”
    â€œThat’s what Nancy says. She’s my counselor.” He smiled. “She took me away from my house.” Those big brown eyes bored into hers. “I can’t see my mom anymore. She was bad and went to jail.”
    Cynthia put her pitchfork down and sat beside the boy. “I’m sorry, Davy.” She hugged him close, feeling tears gather in her eyes.
    He finally pulled away, then climbed off the bale and carried some handfuls of fresh straw into the empty stall. “If I lived here, I would work all the time and take care of the horses, and I’d never say another bad word ever.”
    Cynthia fought a smile. “Do you say bad words?”
    â€œSometimes when I get really, really mad.” He looked at Cyndi. “I didn’t say any today.”
    Cynthia stood and caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. Patrick was leaning against the next stall. His expression didn’t tell her how much he’d heard.
    He walked over to them. “Hey, Davy. Everyone is up at the house. Nora made some cookies.”
    The boy’s eyes widened. “Peanut butter?”
    â€œPeanut butter,” Patrick agreed.
    â€œOh, boy,” he said and took off running toward the house.
    Cynthia looked at Patrick. “He’s a great kid.”
    â€œYou’ve only seen him on a good day.”
    â€œAfter the life he’s had, I can understand why he’s angry.”
    Something flashed in Patrick’s gaze. “Life isn’t perfect for a lot of kids. Davy’s had it worse than most, but he’s in good hands now.”
    â€œI know.” She came out of the stall. “You act real tough, but you’re a good man, Patrick Tanner.” She started toward him. She couldn’t seem to stop herself as she reached up and placed a light kiss on his lips. Before she could get away, he grabbed her and pulled her against him.
    â€œYou better be careful. A man could get the wrong idea.”
    Oh, she wanted him to get the wrong idea, but knew it would only make matters worse between them. “I’ll try to restrain myself.” With the last of her willpower, she pulled back