Not since his brothers lived at home had he had someone truly interested in talking with him about the daily problems, successes, and failures on the ranch.
“Not tonight, I’m afraid,” Harrison was saying. “As promised, I’ve looked over some tax forms for Melanie Gardiner at the bookstore, and I need to get them back to her.”
“I should make a run by the feed store. How about we take care of our errands and meet up for dinner at the diner on the square? Need to do our ‘daily recap,’ after all.”
“I don’t like missing it either. But . . .” She hesitated, a frown creasing her forehead.
“But?” he prompted.
“When I made my ‘look-at-me’ trip to town last week, Natalie, one of the baristas at Riva’s who’s become something of a friend, told me that most of the gossip she’d heard from the night at Buddy’s wasn’t about my spectacular failure in Dallas. Instead, people were commenting about how you’d brought me dancing and then seen me home. I . . . I don’t think either of us want to stir up that kind of speculation.”
He should have expected it—certainly after Brice had mentioned knowing about the night at Buddy’s too—but somehow Duncan had never thought much about the possibility that the town might start linking him up with Harrison.
“No,” he said slowly, “I wouldn’t like people watching us and making assumptions either. But it does chap me that we can’t have a hamburger at the diner together without stirring up gossip.”
“Lots to like about Whiskey River, but a small town is a small town. I don’t want people thinking I’m making a play for you, especially when it’s common knowledge that my boyfriend just dumped me.”
Though her tone was light, Duncan felt the raw pain beneath the comment, and his heart ached for her.
“Why wouldn’t they think it’s me making a play for you?” he said, wanting to make her feel better.
“Mr. Eligible Bachelor? I think not. I hear you’re a pretty hot commodity when you take the time to clean up and go out.”
“How would you feel about it if I were making a play for you?” Duncan found himself asking. He wasn’t sure where that question had come from. But now that he’d come out and said it, he really was curious to hear her answer.
Avoiding looking at him, she gazed into the distance. “I’d feel . . . conflicted. I do like you—a lot. And frankly, there’ve been several nights, after our wine-and-round-up-discussions, that I’ve considered asking you to stay. I’m very attracted to you. Too attracted, probably.”
Duncan found himself grinning. “No such thing as ‘too attracted.’”
“Why couldn’t you be ugly? Or inarticulate? Or have bad habits, like chewing tobacco or scratching your nose? Then I could just appreciate your kindness in helping me out and think of you as a dependable friend, without this sneaky pull that keeps making me want to be close to you and kiss you and . . . more.”
She heaved a sigh. “I’ve been burned, badly, by a handsome, charismatic man. And as you very well know, Duncan McAllister, you are a handsome, charismatic man. Not that I think you are like Parker. I know you’re not. But as certain as my head is about that, deep inside there’s this scared little girl who’s desperate not to get hurt again. Who isn’t ready to trust anyone—not even you. That’s the honest truth, and I’m sorry if it offends you.”
She still harbored even a smidgen of suspicion that he could be like Parker? Well, ouch. “That’s pretty harsh, but I’m not offended. I’d much rather have you be honest.”
“It really has a lot more to do with me than with you. My being ready to come out of hiding and be open with someone again.” She gave him a wry smile. “So, no rebound sex, and no quick rebound relationships.”
“Dang, are you sure about that rebound sex?” he teased, pleased when that got him a laugh.
“Yeah, pretty sure.”
“Good things worth waiting for, and I’m a patient man. Last time I checked, neither of us were in a hurry to do anything except run our ranches the best we can.”
“So . . . no diner and no hard feelings?”
“No hard feelings, and no diner, but how about dinner at the Triple A? Later, after we get back from town. I may not want to provide fuel for the gossips, but I sure don’t want to let the gossips determine when and whether we meet. And I’d still like to have that chat.”
“Did Isabella leave you an excess of chili again?”
“No, Ralph bought one of our steers and just had it butchered. He gave me some prime steaks. They’ll still taste fine after being in the freezer, but they’re even better grilled fresh.”
“That does sound delicious.”
“You can bring the wine.”
“A good prime steak would call for one of my favorite cabernets.”
“Sounds great. I’m even beginning to like your wine.”
“Now, that’s an accomplishment!” she said with a chuckle. “If I can wean you away from beer and hook you on the ‘gift of the gods that gladdens the heart of man.’”
Looking at her smiling again, the sadness and hurt he’d seen on her face when she mentioned being dumped by the man she’d loved and trusted now gone—that’s what gladdened his heart.
“It’s been a long day,” she was saying. “But if you’re still sure you’re ready to grill steaks . . .”
“Cowgirl, I’m always ready to grill a good steak.”
“Okay, my mouth is watering! Let me clean up, go talk with Mel, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way to the Triple A.”
“I’ll do the same. See you later.”
Giving him another smile, she headed off to the house while he climbed into his truck. Was he ready to make a play for her?
After Julie Ann, he’d shut himself off from everything female for months, until he felt he’d be able to enjoy the companionship of a woman again for her own sake, not as a substitute for the woman he’d lost. And he had enjoyed the times he’d dated and appreciated the satisfying sex some of the women had been happy to offer.
But he’d not felt any urge to be more to them but a very casual friend or lover. There’d been no inclination to have long talks with them or have them ride the ranch with him, performing routine chores in an easy camaraderie that sometimes saw them chatting along the way, sometimes driving from one pasture to the next in perfect, companionable silence.
Although talking to Harrison in great detail about how he ran the ranch had begun under the guise of teaching her what she needed to know to run her own, it had, he now realized, become more than just a teaching vehicle. He’d gone on to reveal his goals and aspirations, treating her more as a partner than a student. And rather than being alarmed by the realization he was . . . happy.
Maybe he was making a play for her.
He thought for a moment about what his life had been like a few months ago and how it had changed since Harrison had come into it. “Richer” was the only word that described it—warmer, fuller, more enjoyable. He’d always awakened every morning at the ranch excited about the work of the new day, but knowing he would see Harrison and share more of the things he loved with her made him even more impatient to begin.
He didn’t want their association to end when Juan got well or she decided she was ready to run the ranch on her own. He wanted them to stay together. And he wanted her to want that too.
Hell, he’d better tread carefully. Because Brice was right—he was falling for Harrison Scott.
*
Several hours later, Duncan heard the sound of tires on gravel and smiled. Harrison, the numbers geek, had been spot-on in predicting she’d be at the Triple A eighteen minutes after she texted him from her ranch.
He chuckled. “Eighteen”—not “about fifteen minutes” or “soon,” like most people would have said. He found her quirky exactness charming.
“In the kitchen,” he called as he heard her tap on the outside door. A minute later she came in bearing a salad bowl and a bottle of wine.
“For you
r prime beef, I broke out one of my heavyweights—a California red Bordeaux blend. Probably my favorite wine ever, though I don’t buy it anymore. Out of my price range now.”
“Sure you want to drink it? I hear red wine will keep a long time.”
“It will. But I’m not much for laying down wine for years. I buy what I like so I can drink it. Speaking of, if you’ll get me an opener, I’ll remove the cork and let it breathe.”
“Here,” he said, handing her the waiter’s friend. “I’ll put the steaks on. Thanks for bringing a salad.”
“Is that baked potatoes I smell?” At his nod, she said, “Yum! A feast! What are we celebrating?”
“Getting almost through the calving season with no losses. Believe me, that doesn’t happen every year. And our understanding.”
After popping out the cork, she looked over to lift an eyebrow at him. “Our understanding?”
“Trust takes time, and we’re in no hurry.”
She smiled. “If you’ll get out some glasses, I’ll drink to that.”
*
An hour later, Harrison sat back in her chair and sighed with satisfaction. “If I ever had any doubts that Daddy was performing a great service for mankind by breeding the best possible beef cattle, that meal just convinced me.”
“Glad you enjoyed it. We pride ourselves on our Triple A beef.”
“With good reason! This makes me even more excited to get back and review the records. I want to double-check which mamas produced the best calves this year, especially the heifers who calved for the first time.”
“Back to number-crunching?”
“I do enjoy it. And I really enjoyed working on Mel Gardiner’s taxes. Maybe I could do a little more of that for people who need advice once the calving season’s done.”
Duncan felt a frisson of misgiving. “Starting to miss your work in the big city?”
“Not exactly. I don’t miss the city at all, and my favorite cases were always the small businesses. Big firms often have enough income to cushion them from the economic hard knocks that come their way, but single proprietors usually operate on the slimmest of profit margins, doing something they love. Helping them get their money to stretch the furthest always makes me feel . . . useful.”
She paused, then said, “I hope you won’t get mad at me for saying this, but you might find it in your heart not to be so hard on Julie Ann. You’re one of the fortunate ones, you’ve known since you were a kid what you wanted to do with your life and where you wanted to be. Most people don’t find that out until much later. Sometimes they can be years into a career before they discover what they’d always thought they wanted wasn’t right for them after all. At least she did you the favor of being honest with you.”
“Eventually,” he said drily. “But I don’t want to talk about Julie Ann.”
“Understood.”
“Unless . . .” The potential implications hit him in a rush of excitement. “Unless you’re telling me that to say you’ve recently decided the career you set out on wasn’t the right one.”
“When I first came back to Daddy’s, I never meant it to be more than a temporary stop. But after living here and working the ranch . . . I know it’s only been about two months. I’m not positive, yet, that I’ll never do anything else, but I’m increasingly sure that if I do go back into accounting, it will have to be in a way that allows me to continue to live here.” She smiled. “I guess I’ve fallen for the Hill Country.”
Was that all she’d fallen for? Much as Duncan wanted to ask her that, he’d promised to go easy, no pressure. It was enough to know that having a taste of her old career hadn’t shown her she’d missed it and wanted to get it back.
Though, he needed to keep guarding his feelings. She hadn’t said she was completely sure she’d be staying. And he didn’t need to give his heart away again to someone who wouldn’t remain in Whiskey River and share this life with him.
But then, she had said she was mostly convinced, he reminded himself. And he hadn’t even begun to really romance her yet.
“It’s getting late. I should probably go,” she said as he reached that reassuring conclusion.
He stood as she did, walking her out.
“Thanks for dinner—it was terrific,” she said, pausing in the open doorway. “After all the help you’ve been, your boss really ought to let you reward yourself with an evening out. You’re much more sociable than I am. A dinner like this, a good wine, and some fine conversation is all I need after a long day of ranch work. It’s not exactly a night of boot-scooting at Buddy’s.”
“I like boot-scooting at Buddy’s. But an evening like this is pretty fine too. And I admit, I am developing a taste for your wine. I might even buy some myself.”
“Yes!” she cried, throwing a punch into the sky that made him laugh.
“Those Hill Country wineries ought to pay you a commission.”
“Maybe, once calving season is over, I can take you to visit some of my favorites.”
“I’d like that.” He’d like going anywhere she wanted to take him. He loved watching her light up, her pale face growing animated, her eyes shining, as she shared with him something that delighted her. Like numbers. Or wine. Or the trickle of a Pedernales creek over the limestone riverbed.
He met her gaze, letting his eyes say what he didn’t dare voice. “I’d like to tempt you to linger, but I won’t.”
“Thanks for that. I’m not very good at resisting temptation.”
He groaned. “Don’t tell me that, Cowgirl! Or I’ll consider it an invitation to kiss you.”
“Well . . . maybe just one.”
“Hot damn. I love temptation,” he murmured and bent down as she lifted her chin and closed her eyes.
He met her lips in another sweet, easy caress—and she let him linger. Despite the heat pumping through his veins, he made himself hold his hands rigidly at his sides, resisting the urge to pull her close and feel the softness of her breasts against his chest, the curve of her belly against his hardness.
Delighted as he was that she let the kiss go on and on, he was relieved when she finally stepped away. Another minute or so of having her that close and he couldn’t have been sure of maintaining control. He might well have pulled her against him for a kiss that was much deeper and more passionate.
Still, he was pleased to note that her eyes looked smoky and her breathing was just as unsteady as his.
“Thanks,” she murmured, lifting a finger to touch his lips. “For being such a gentleman.”
“No extra charge, Cowgirl. Sleep well.”
“You too.”
Good luck with that, he thought as he watched her walk to her truck. He’d probably need a cold shower and a good book if he had any hopes of finding sleep tonight.
Despite that, he grinned. This time, she had invited his kiss and prolonged it.
Trust, built slowly, one sweet kiss at a time.
Hell yes, he wanted more. But he could wait.
It struck him then that, though Julie Ann hadn’t made him wait for intimacy, she’d given him her body—but never really her heart. If she’d truly loved him, when she realized she wouldn’t be happy just working on a cattle ranch, she would have worked with him to find a way for them to stay together that met both of their career needs.
She hadn’t even bothered. Just given him an ultimatum to leave the ranch, a way to guarantee the relationship ended by insisting he do something she already knew he couldn’t.
So yes, he could wait. And hope that their promising beginning turned into the beautiful conclusion he was just now beginning to envision.
Chapter Eleven
In the late afternoon four days later, Harrison stood in a dusty pasture, completing the fix on what seemed the umpteenth fence break she’d discovered today.
She wished she were as expert at doing the repairs as Duncan, she thought as she twisted the last spiral into place and removed the fence stretcher. Even with her hand fully healed, she ha
d taken probably twice as long to finish them as it would have taken him.
Which meant, instead of being half-starved and short on water, she would have finished in time to return to the house for some lunch, make the necessary notes in her Red Book, and get a little rest before meeting him to do the tagging of the half-dozen new calves she’d found.
Now, she was going to have to text Duncan and ask that he pick up the tagging gear and meet her at the cattle gate that marked the boundary line between the Triple A and the Scott Ranch. He should be at her barn any minute, and there was no sense wasting his time asking him to wait until she could drive back and meet him there. Much more efficient to just have him grab the necessary supplies and come out here.
Carrying her gear back to the truck, she stowed it in the back and sent him a quick text, giving her location and asking that he bring along some water as well. At least she could sit in the truck, sip the last of what she had, and stretch out her sore back muscles until he arrived.
*
She was dozing on the front seat, hat over her face, when the sound of an approaching vehicle woke her. Scrubbing a hand over her face, she scraped her hair back, redid her ponytail, and climbed out to meet him.
He pulled up his truck and hopped out, handing her a bottle of water. After grabbing it with a quick “thank you,” she downed half the bottle before saying, “By the way, hello.”
“By the way, hello to you too,” he replied. “Watching the way you inhaled that water, I’m guessing you didn’t stop back at the house for lunch today. Did you get a late start?”
“Not really. Just encountered a larger-than-usual rash of damaged fences. It’s a good thing my hand has healed up, but it still takes me way too long to mend them. Is it normal for the cows to get feistier toward the end of the calving season?”
Frowning, Duncan shook his head. “Not really.”
“Daddy considered putting electric top wires on all the fences, but it was just too expensive. He had started to switch from barbed wire to high-tensile wire for all but the top strand, but most of the fences are still straight barbed.”
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