Falling for the Rancher

by Tanya Michaels

  “Fantastic news.” Obviously Sierra wouldn’t have to push very hard to keep her patient motivated for the rest of the week. Plus, based on Vicki’s glorious mood, today would be the perfect time to tell her that Sierra had volunteered her to help organize the festival.

  Over dinner. Sierra had already decided to cook chicken and dumplings—a specialty she’d learned from her mother’s housekeeper—to soften up Jarrett. She hoped the meal made him as mellow as it usually did her father and brothers. The three of them could briefly discuss the festival, and then she would change the subject to what to cook while Aaron was here. Vicki would be too excited about the latter to protest the former.

  “Will you take me shopping?” Vicki asked. “We have my appointment at the hospital Thursday. Can we go to All That Jazz afterward? I want to buy something special.”

  “Sounds like a good plan. Kate recommended I check out the boutique while I was in town. Why not make a day of it? Your therapy follow-up, lunch—”

  “And the salon!” Vicki fingered the ends of her hair. “Maybe it’s time for a new hairstyle. Nothing insanely different, just...a change.”

  Sierra nodded encouragingly. “Change is good.”

  “You sound like Jarrett. He always used to say that to justify—”

  “To justify what?” Sierra asked, sitting next to Vicki at the table.

  “Nothing.”

  The urge to pry was strong. There were undercurrents between the Ross siblings that Sierra didn’t understand. On the one hand, she would swear that they were closer—or, used to be closer—than she’d ever been with her brothers. But the tension between them could be overwhelming. Sierra felt as if she’d wandered into a play during the second act, unsure of the story line. She’d gleaned that Jarrett blamed himself for Vicki’s accident. Did Vicki think he was at fault, too? Had they argued about it?

  “Jarrett promised he’d be joining us for dinner,” Sierra said.

  “Okay.” Vicki stared at her hand as she wiggled her fingers. She had the appearance of someone trying very hard to look as if she didn’t care.

  “Did the two of you talk much at lunch?” Sierra prodded.

  “I told him Aaron will be visiting and that we don’t need chaperones looking over our shoulders every three minutes.” She met Sierra’s gaze. “I want to keep up with my therapy so I can be walking on campus again as soon as possible, but when we’re not working—”

  “Make myself scarce. Got it. I promise not to cramp your style.”

  Vicki grinned. “You’re not completely heinous.”

  “Wow. Mind if I steal that for my résumé? Sierra Bailey, Licensed Physical Therapist, Not Completely Heinous. The job offers should come pouring in.”

  “You really don’t know where you’re going after this?”

  “Not a clue.” Which she was trying not to let terrify her. Now that she’d secured a project for Vicki, she needed to ramp up her efforts at looking for a job. If nothing else, maybe mailing cover letters and résumés would keep her too busy to have inappropriate thoughts about her boss.

  “We know some rodeo riders who bust up their ribs and get concussions and stuff. Maybe you’ll decide to stay and open a practice in Cupid’s Bow.”

  “Doubtful,” Sierra scoffed. “Cute town, but more a detour for me than a destination.” It was not her kind of place.

  Although, after an afternoon of laughing with Kate and enjoying scrumptious food, it was hard to remember why not.

  * * *

  “IF THAT TASTES as good as it smells, you may be in the wrong profession.” Jarrett appeared at the edge of the kitchen, barefoot in a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans fraying at the hems. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, a look of blissful anticipation settling over his face. “My plan was to keep working in the office until you called me for dinner, but I haven’t been able to focus on anything for the past ten minutes except the wonderful smells wafting down the hall. What are you making?”

  “Chicken and dumplings, roasted green beans, spinach salad with homemade bacon vinaigrette. And there’s an apple cobbler in the oven.”

  “Mmm. Is this to say thank-you for having the afternoon off? Because if that’s the case, you can take off every afternoon.”

  “Oh. Nice,” Vicki said as she rolled into the room. “So we’ve decided that me regaining use of my legs ranks slightly below fresh-baked apple cobbler?”

  Jarrett whirled around, the color draining from his face. “Of course not. I—”

  “Relax.” She sighed, her expression unreadable. “I was just giving you crap. You used to be able to tell when I was kidding,” she added, her voice barely audible.

  The pained silence that fell across the kitchen like a shadow made Sierra’s heart ache. She cleared her throat. “If you two are finished busting each other’s chops, how about you make yourselves useful and set the table? Vicki, you can get the silverware.”

  Dinner really did smell fantastic, but, once it was served, no one dug in with much gusto. Sierra was still pleasantly stuffed from a big lunch and the carrot cake Kate had talked her into sharing. Five minutes ago, Jarrett had been starving. Now he kept casting his sister searching looks while she mostly stared at her plate, lost in thought. So much for the food putting them in a jovial mood that would make them receptive to her festival news.

  Might as well get this over with. Sierra set her fork down and turned to Jarrett. “You remember my saying that sometimes it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission?”

  He hesitated with a forkful of dumpling to his mouth. “Yes.”

  “Good. I need you to forgive me. I told the Harvest Day Festival committee that they could hold the festival here at the ranch.”

  “You what?” Surprisingly, this didn’t come from Jarrett but from Vicki, who then burst out laughing.

  For his part, Jarrett looked as if he didn’t know what to say. He gaped at her, unblinking. “Huh. Well, you did warn me that was your approach. I just thought you were planning to ambush her with it.” He jerked his chin toward Vicki, who sobered quickly.

  “Wait, what? Ambush me how?”

  An equal opportunity ambusher, Sierra turned to beam at the other Ross sibling. “You’re going to be working with Kate Sullivan to figure out where to put everything on the ranch. They had a rough plan drawn out for the park, but since the creek’s flooded and more rain is coming...” She faltered under the combined weight of their stares. “Look, guys, the meeting didn’t go quite the way I imagined. I went with Kate hoping to find Vicki something to do so you’re not cooped up in the house and bored. You were envying Jarrett his ranch chores the other day—chores that involve mucking horse poo out of stalls! Working on the festival has to beat shoveling poo, right?”

  Vicki’s lips twitched as if she were holding back a laugh. “Manure,” she corrected her.

  “Potato, potahto.” Sierra waved a hand. Sensing that she’d appeased Vicki, she turned to Jarrett. “I had no idea they were going to need a different venue. The flooding problem came up and someone suggested the Twisted R, which Becca Johnston agreed was the best solution. After that, it’s kind of a blur, but everything she said made so much sense, and she said she was trusting me to clear it with you and...”

  “Oh my gosh!” Vicki’s eyes twinkled. “You got Becca’d.”

  “Becca’d?” They’d made the head of the committee a verb?

  Jarrett nodded, the humor dancing in his own gaze highlighting his resemblance to his sister. “Happens to the best of us. I’m still unclear on how she managed to rope me into the July bachelor auction, but there I was on stage.” He gave a philosophical shrug. “Becca’d.”

  “Last year,” Vicki said, “she talked me into making floats for the town Easter parade instead of going to Florida for spring break with my best friends. When they asked me why, I
couldn’t even really explain it. People in Cupid’s Bow just don’t say no to her.”

  “Congratulations, darlin’.” Jarrett winked at Sierra. “You’re one of us now.”

  Chapter Nine

  When Jarrett finished washing up at the sink in the mudroom and entered the house Wednesday evening, he found Sierra bustling around the kitchen, her manner harried and her expression contrite.

  “I know I’m the one who said it was important for you to show up for dinners,” she said, “and I appreciate your punctuality. But I’m afraid I’m running late. I had a phone interview with a clinic in Fort Worth that ran long.”

  “No hurry.” He took a seat at the table so that he was out of her way. If there was anything Sierra wanted him to do, she’d tell him. Otherwise, best not to interfere as she bounced around the room, her knee-length skirt swishing as she muttered reminders to herself.

  He felt guilty about all the effort she was putting in for such paltry pay. “I appreciate you keeping Vicki fed, but you’re not expected to spoil us rotten. You don’t have to go all out every night. Heck, I would have been perfectly happy with leftover cobbler for dinner.”

  “Yeah?” She smirked over her shoulder. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have finished it all at lunch.”

  “I regret nothing.”

  Her lips curved into a quick answering smile before she went back to her verbal checklist. “...sugar for the tea. Ooh, flip the fish!” She grabbed a spatula and opened the oven door. When she bent over, the silky material of her skirt lovingly hugged her butt.

  Damn, the woman had a nice backside. Which you have no business ogling. He chivalrously shifted his gaze. Eventually.

  But watching Sierra cook was a banquet of temptations. She reached above her head to grab a measuring cup from the cabinet. From the rise and fall of her breasts beneath her halter top to the smooth muscle of her calves as she stretched up on tiptoe, she was spectacular. He was fortunate enough to see breathtaking vistas every day, but the view right here was more stunning than anywhere else on the ranch.

  “Vicki’s watching TV in the living room,” she said. “The last half of Die Hard, which she said is one of your favorites.”

  A classic. Maybe he should seize the excuse and leave before anything got harder here in the kitchen. Against his better judgment, he refused. “Now that I’ve sat down, it’s nice to be off my feet. If you don’t mind the company, I’ll just stay put.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” She paused, stopping the three different things she’d been trying to do at once to smile at him. It felt like a gift. “I have to say, when I moved in, I worried about the loss of independence. I’m not used to sharing living space with anyone. But you guys make pretty good roommates. It’s a lot more rewarding to cook for other people. It’s really gratifying when you two compliment a meal. When I shower myself with compliments, it just feels self-aggrandizing.”

  He chuckled. “Even if you never lived with a significant other, haven’t you ever cooked an anniversary or birthday dinner for a boyfriend?”

  “Once or twice, I guess. My last serious boyfriend was a doctor, and his on-call hours were insane. Sometimes our ‘dates’ were watching DVRed shows together at two in the morning. Not an ideal time for a four-course meal.”

  She used to date a doctor. He slumped in his chair, wondering why he found that discovery so depressing. Because it’s a reminder that even if you could ask her out, Sierra is completely out of your league. She was a sophisticated woman who’d gone to medical school. He was a rodeo has-been who lived with his parents.

  It hadn’t mattered so much when he was on the road half the time. After the Rosses’ full-time ranch hand left, Jarrett and his parents agreed that it made sense for him to renovate the old bunkhouse into a place of his own. But with everything that had been happening, it was hardly the top priority.

  “What about you?” Sierra asked, grating cheddar cheese into the bowl on the counter. “I’ve heard all about Aaron. Do you have someone special in your life?”

  “No.” Did he sound abrupt? He couldn’t help it. His love life was the last thing he wanted to discuss. There was no version of it that wouldn’t make him sound like a first-rate ass.

  When the doorbell chimed unexpectedly, he took it for the reprieve it was and shot to his feet.

  “Expecting anyone?” Sierra asked. “I can hold off on dinner if—”

  “It’s probably just one of the boarding clients stopping by to visit their horse after work. Or it could be a package delivery.” Maybe one of his parents had ordered something online.

  “Or someone delivering a casserole,” Sierra grumbled.

  That was an odd prediction. Certainly lots of friends and neighbors had brought over food and get-well cards when Vicki and his dad were in the hospital, but that had stopped weeks ago.

  He crossed through the house to answer the front door and found Will Trent standing on the front porch.

  “Did we make plans I forgot about?” Jarrett asked. The other night at the bar, there had been a couple of times he’d caught himself thinking about Sierra and nodding along with no real idea of what Will had just said.

  Will shook his head. “Nope. I’m showing up uninvited like an ill-mannered lout. My mother would be horrified. But I brought these to make up for my rudeness.” He held up a six-pack of beer. “Thought I’d come see how you were doing. If you’re not too busy, we could watch a movie full of senseless violence or maybe call my brothers and play some poker. You gotta watch Jace, though. He cheats.”

  “Really?” That was hard to believe of a Trent.

  “Nah. But telling myself that allows me to keep some dignity when the little punk takes my money.”

  Jarrett chuckled. “Come on in.” He couldn’t remember Will ever dropping by out of the blue like this. Had Jarrett really looked that grim when they’d seen each other Saturday that his friend felt compelled to check up on him? “Tell me the truth,” he said, remembering how angry Denise Baker had been when she saw Will at the bar. “Did you drive all the way out here because you need sanctuary from some woman who’s mad at you?”

  “Pffft. Women love me,” Will boasted. But then he scowled. “Except for Megan Rivers. Dang female acts like I’m—”

  “Who is Megan Rivers?”

  “My next-door neighbor. She moved here a couple of years ago. Probably never got on your radar because she’s the mother of triplets.”

  Jarrett didn’t get involved with single moms. He’d preferred dating women whose lives were as uncomplicated as his. Because you’re a shallow SOB. “So Megan doesn’t like you? How come?”

  “Who knows? Maybe she’s a hopelessly bad judge of character. Maybe her ex was named Will.”

  “Or Trent.”

  “Or maybe living with three preschoolers just makes a person really, really cranky.”

  That certainly seemed plausible.

  “I’ve never seen her smile,” Will said. “Ever. I tried to make her laugh once, while we were both getting our mail, and she just glared like she wanted to throw her parenting magazine at me.”

  “It’s unlikely anyone here will pelt you with reading materials, but I can’t make any guarantees. Vicki has her moody moments, and Sierra, the physical therapist, is—”

  “Did I hear my name?”

  Jarrett turned to see Sierra at the other end of the hall.

  Next to him, Will straightened from his relaxed posture to full alert. “Hi, there. You’re Sierra?” When she nodded, Will pinned Jarrett with a knowing look. “So this is why we rarely see you in town,” he said under his breath. “I wouldn’t leave the house, either.”

  “It’s not like that,” Jarrett hissed.

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” Will strode forward, offering his hand. “Will Trent. A pleasure to meet yo
u, ma’am.”

  She shook his hand, glancing at the six-pack he carried. “Are you staying for dinner? I made plenty.”

  “My policy is never refuse an invitation from a beautiful woman.”

  Sierra grinned up at him and suddenly Jarrett understood exactly what it felt like to want to throw something at his friend.

  * * *

  FOR ALL THAT Sierra was coming to care about the Rosses, Will Trent’s arrival was a breath of fresh air. With his jet-black hair, the man was tall, dark and handsome—although not quite as tall as Jarrett. Not quite as handsome, either. But Will’s easy smiles and unrepentant flirting made him fun to be around. He didn’t seem the type for any charged silences or brooding guilt. He nicknamed Vicki “Hot Wheels” and entertained her with impressions of townspeople while he lent a hand setting the table.

  The only person who didn’t seem thrilled to see him was Jarrett, which confused her. She knew from a couple of mentions this week that Will was the friend Jarrett had gone out with last weekend. Had she overstepped by inviting the man to stay for dinner? It had seemed like the obvious course of action. Frankly, she welcomed the silly banter he provided. Will lightened the mood.

  Not everyone’s.

  She would have expected his buddy’s presence to engage Jarrett in conversation. Instead, he seemed withdrawn, hardly saying three words as Sierra filled glasses with iced tea. He leaned against the kitchen island with his arms folded, looking more like the stoic cowboy who’d hired her than the one who’d caught her rearranging the pantry last night and teased her about being a control freak.

  “Jarrett?” She called him to the corner of the kitchen, away from where Will and Vicki were joking at the table. “Can you help me get this serving bowl down?”

  He nodded, wordlessly crossing the tile floor to where she waited. The scent of the soap he’d used enveloped her, pleasantly mingling with the muskier, masculine smell of him. She should move out of his way. But since she’d engineered the moment to ask privately whether it was okay that she’d invited Will to join them, she needed to be close for Jarrett to hear her whispered question. So she remained where she was and found herself wedged between the counter and Jarrett, his body pressing lightly against hers as he reached above her. Her breath hitched and he looked down, capturing her gaze with his own.