A Creed in Stone Creek by Linda Lael Miller
By Linda Lael Miller
When unmarried legal professional Steven Creed turns into dad or mum of an orphaned five-year-old boy, he trades his big-city legislations company for a ranch close to his McKettrick relatives within the close-knit neighborhood of Stone Creek, Arizona. taking good care of little Matt and solving up his run-down ranch residence with its previous barn loosens whatever tightly wound within him. but if Steven takes at the seasoned bono protection of an area teenager, he meets his fit within the opposing counsel—beautiful, by-the-book county prosecutor Melissa O'Ballivan. it will take one grieving little boy, a candy followed puppy and a girl who by no means anticipated to win any man's middle to make this Creed in Stone Creek understand he is really chanced on home.
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Sample text
Far be it from you to break any rules,舡 he said, remembering Zack. Matt舗s father had lived to break rules. In the end, it seemed to have been that trait that got him killed. The kitchen was worse than Steven remembered. Cupboards sagged. The linoleum was scuffed in the best places, where it wasn舗t peeling to the layer of black sub-flooring underneath. The faucets and spigot in the sink were bent. The refrigerator door was not only dented but peeling at the corners, and the handle dangled by a single loose screw.
Chuckled and advanced into the room, pushing the door shut with a jaunty thrust of one heel. He set a cup before Melissa and sipped from his own after pulling up a chair facing her desk. P. announced. He wasn舗t much for preambles. Melissa frowned, confused. 舡 she asked, watching the judge over the rim of her cup. P. leaned forward a little way, and dropped his voice to a confidential tone. 舠Steven Creed,舡 he said. Melissa舗s mind flashed on the drop-dead gorgeous man she舗d encountered at the Sunflower that morning.
Off to the left, the house loomed like a benevolent ghost hoping for simple grace. They had camping gear, and the electricity had been turned on. The plumber Steven had sent ahead said the well pump was working fine, and there was water. Cold water, but, hey, the stuff was wet. They could drink it. Steven could make coffee. And if the stove worked, they could take baths the old-fashioned way, in a metal wash-tub in the kitchen, using water heated in big kettles. Shades of the old days. 舠Yeah,舡 Steven said in belated answer, getting out and rounding the truck to open the door and help Matt out of his safety gear.