Free The Cowboy's Saving Grace, an erotic western novella (Taming the Cowboy) by Emma Jay Page A

called Child Protective Services and accused Teresa of all manner of child neglect and abuse, repeatedly, until Teresa's daughter had been taken away and her mother-in-law stepped in to take her. Teresa was working now to get her back, and sure as hell didn't need Grace's problems on top of that.
    Grace tossed the cleaning rag she was using into the sink and lowered her head. "I know my job is shaky grounds for a mom. I know that. But I don't know what else to do to make the same amount of money. I mean," She lifted a hand in Teresa's direction. "I can't get a job at a school with a GED. I don't have money to go back to school. Don't have money to hire my own lawyer. I don't know what I'd do without Noah."
    Teresa crossed the room to put an arm around her. "You do what you have to do to keep your child."
     
    ***
     
    Liam paced outside the lawyer's office in an industrial area off the highway and watched the traffic go by, willing Grace’s  battered little sedan to turn into the parking lot. He didn't know Grace well enough to know if she was habitually late or early, which was a sad commentary on their relationship. He called her cell but there was no answer. He hadn't seen her last night, had been too pissed at her overreaction to go to the bar, though hell, he'd missed her, the first night he hadn't seen her since he'd been in town.
    Finally her car turned in. For a moment he didn't recognize her, with her hair twisted back, subtle make-up lining her eyes. When she got out of the car, she was wearing a button-down shirt, a slim-fitting skirt and close-toed heels. Holy shit, hot secretary. All she needed was a pair of sexy glasses. He got instantly hard. Yeah, that was a good impression to make on a lawyer.
    She adjusted her purse on her shoulder and straightened to meet him. "Let's do this."
    Okay, so he got the feeling she would not respond well to him telling her how much he wanted to shove that skirt up around her hips and bend her over a desk somewhere.
    "Whose clothes are these?"
    "Claire's. I wanted to look respectable."
    "Grace. I'm not looking to take him away from you. I just want parental rights and to get child support squared away."
    "The cowboy and the stripper," she muttered when he held the door open for her. "Sounds like a bad porno."
    "Or a good one." He tried to ease the tension by flashing a smile at her, but she was wound up pretty tight. "Noah at daycare?"
    She nodded.
    "Did you work last night?"
    She nodded again.
    "Sorry I couldn't make the appointment later. I kind of wanted to get in while I could."
    She nodded, like a damn bobble-head doll.
    The brick building was likely built in the 1970s, and was lined with flimsy paneling and rooms were separated with hollow doors. But the phone book had said they took care of child support, and they'd had an opening before Liam was leaving town, so he'd grabbed it. Now, as he opened the door with the cheap plastic nameplate, he wondered at the wisdom of his choice.
    The secretary was an older lady wearing a flowered polyester dress and glasses on a chain. "Can I help you?"
    "I'm Liam Delaney, this is Grace Bertrand. We had an appointment with Mr. Richaud."
    "Have a seat. He'll be with you shortly." She motioned to the sagging plaid couch against the wall with the buckling wood paneling. Liam motioned for Grace to precede him, then sat beside her, not too close, and looked straight ahead at the crooked Venetian blinds on the foggy window. Grace held her purse in her lap as if it was a shield. He wanted to reassure her again, but she wasn't listening to him. So he sat in silence, wondering how badly this lawyer guy did that he still had shag carpet in his office.
    "Mr. Richaud will see you now," the secretary announced after hanging up a phone and motioning to the door.
    Liam heaved himself off the couch and turned to offer a hand to Grace, but she was already on her feet, purposely straightening her purse so it was at her side, no longer her shield. He held