Out by the school, when Ryan had asked whether or not she could hear a person’s voice, she had chosen to answer. In fact, she’d responded to all of his questions, even the ones that had thrown her off-balance—which meant most of them. He had the knack of asking things no one else had ever thought to, or of asking them in a different way than anyone had before.
He had the knack of making her think things she shouldn’t.
Right now, as she looked up and saw him crossing the yard toward her, he made her think she should have followed Tony into the barn.
Since that really would look like running, she stood her ground.
“Thought you were coming back to the office.”
“I thought we were done.”
He stopped in front of her, light from the lowering sun on his face but his Stetson putting his eyes in shadow. She could read his lips but missed the stormy-green of his eyes.
“Yeah, we were done.” Considering the set of his jaw, he had spoken grimly. “Lianne…about what happened—”
“Nothing happened,” she said quickly, “except that we both learned something new. I learned to keep a pencil out of my hand when I’m conducting an interview.”
His line. His turn now.
I learned to keep my hands off you.
But his lips didn’t move.
* * *
AFTER A MORNING spent with half his small crew in the far northern acres, Ryan headed back to the main house, letting the stallion take him home. He took a swig from the water bottle he’d learned to carry at all times to combat the dryness of the Southwest. No breeze moved the cotton-ball clouds. No air moved at all except for a shimmery haze generated by the heat of the sun.
It was only early May. What would things be like here in the dog days of summer?
A horse and rider came into view from the west, riding hard.
He swallowed against a sudden rush from the past….
Standing on the north ridge, where cell phone reception didn’t exist, spotting the horse and rider that would bring him the message no one ever wanted to hear. Making his own breakneck rush to the ranch and the pickup truck and the road into town. And finally, reaching the claustrophobic waiting room where a sad-eyed surgeon fought exhaustion and watched him fight back tears.
He blinked, sharpening his gaze.
This rider wasn’t headed his way. Judging by the angle, they would cross paths close to the ranch house. One of the hands, most likely, though he couldn’t tell from this far away. He’d given both crews his location today. They’d know where to find him in an emergency. But the rider hadn’t come from that direction.
He kept the stallion at a steady canter.
The other horse gained ground. Now he could see the rider more clearly, a slim figure with flowing hair.
Lianne.
A few days ago she had shied away from his touch like a frightened filly. He hadn’t misread her first reaction, though. The look on her face as she had fled the room only confirmed what her eyes had revealed. Interest. Attraction. And dismay.
He’d had no trouble recognizing those feelings in her expression; he’d been hit with a healthy shot of all three himself.
The days spent working in the north pastures had put some distance between them but not nearly enough. He wasn’t sure any amount of distance could take him far enough away.
He’d managed to keep himself from hanging around the barn, in view of the back porch, at daybreak. And now whenever they met in the office, he made damn sure to keep his hands to himself.
What was she doing out here?
The stallion overtook her horse with ease. Both animals pranced, ready for a competitive run. He reined in until they settled alongside each other, head to tail, leaving him facing Lianne.
Her cheeks looked rosy, either from fresh air or exercise—
He reined in this new vision as sharply as he had the stallion. “You should let me know if you plan to go off on your own.”
“I’m entitled to a lunch hour.”
“That’s not what I meant. Suppose your horse threw you? Or went lame? There’s plenty of good riding out here, but it pays to keep aware of the dangers.”
She patted the cell phone clipped to the waistband of her jeans. “I never go anywhere without this.”
“The damned things don’t always work.”
To his surprise, she simply nodded.
“Thought you didn’t know how to ride.” He’d managed to say the words mildly this time.
She ran her hand along her horse’s mane. “I’m not sure where you got that idea. You said, ‘You know about tending horses?’ And I said, ‘No, not a lot.’ I didn’t say anything about not knowing how to ride.”
“Good memory.” She’d replayed their statements word for word. “They have horses in Chicago?”
“I’m sure they have stables somewhere. That’s not where I ride.”
The stallion moved restlessly beneath him.
Ryan looked toward the pine-and pinon-covered ridge just past the western boundary. “I’m planning to check out that hiking trail Caleb mentioned. You game?”
Eyes gleaming, she nodded.
Hadn’t he known she would agree? She wouldn’t want to be left out of anything connected to her project.
He gestured to the west. “That way.”
She took off, not looking back to make sure he followed. He watched with a critical eye to see how she handled the mare. She had nice hands and a good seat.
He spent so much time checking out her riding form, he didn’t realize she’d left him in the dust—until he found himself choking on it.
Shaking his head, he followed.
Chapter Eight
As the trail narrowed, the man beside her moved to take the lead. Had she really expected anything else?
Swallowing her irritation, Lianne fell into step behind him.
When she had decided on an early lunch and asked Tony to saddle a horse for her, she hadn’t planned to have company on the ride. Hadn’t wanted company.
But despite everything she’d said to herself for days now about staying away from Ryan, the sight of him on the horizon had made her pulse race with pleasure.
Ahead of her he climbed over a tree limb that had fallen across the trail. He turned back, reaching out to her.
She shook her head. “I’ve got it.” She easily scaled the prickly branches and landed beside him.
He started forward again. For a long moment she stood there, staring after him. It pays to keep aware of the dangers, he had warned. Little did he know, all the danger she faced right now came from him.
As she had urged her horse into a gallop toward this ridge, knowing Ryan would follow, she’d hoped he would leave his doubts about her behind.
But what were the chances of that?
She sipped from her water bottle and resumed her climb.
A few minutes later he stopped and pointed ahead of them. “The incline’s getting steeper.”
“Bring it on,” she said, unable to hold back a grin. “If you think this little hill scares me, you can think again.”
He smiled, widely enough to make his eyes crinkle at the corners, as if he liked the challenge.
When he turned away, she fanned herself and continued onward. Or upward. The incline didn’t bother her, but the heat was climbing faster than they did. Or maybe Ryan’s nearness had raised her temperature. No matter how much he infuriated her—and, oh, he did infuriate her—there was a lot to like about the man.
As the ground leveled out near the peak of the mountain, she quickly slipped her hands beneath her hair to adjust her hearing aids. A conversation wouldn’t register, but the aids picked up other sounds.
They were at a designated lookout on the well-marked trail with a concrete picnic table and benches cemented into a solid base.
Ryan leaned against a rock outcropping near the table, close to a flowing stream.
“Oh, yes.” She went down on one knee beside the s
tream and used both hands to splash water on her face. When she stood, she wiped the back of her arm across her forehead, scattering drops. “Hot!”
“Yeah.” He looked down into the water.
Another tree limb had fallen or been dragged onto one of the benches. Avoiding the sticky pine, she moved to the other side and took a seat. To her dismay, he followed. He swung one booted foot over the bench and straddled it, looking in her direction.
She looked at the water bottle she had set on the table.
Yes, her hearing aids allowed her to pick up some sounds or, more often, vibrations. But she didn’t need anything to be aware of his nearness.
He touched her arm, probably trying to get her attention. Stray water drops scattered beneath his warm hand. Without thinking, she tilted her head just a bit, remembering that hand on her cheek.
After a moment, she turned reluctantly to look at him.
“We can’t talk if you can’t see me,” he said.
“I could have seen you just as well from where you were standing.”
“This is easier.”
Not for me.
If she talked, she wouldn’t have to stare at his lips, so close to hers. She brushed at the dampness on her arm. “Too bad it’s not monsoon season here yet. We could use a good storm. For the humidity.”
How stupid, to be talking of the weather.
Inane or not, it took her right back to that first day on Signal Street.
In the bright sunshine that morning, this cowboy’s eyes had been that odd stormy-green, the color of the clouds that sometimes rolled in over Lake Michigan, carrying with them the scent of rain and the promise of an electrical storm.
“I love a good lightning storm,” she said. “All those sudden crackles and brilliant spikes. I love thunderstorms even more. I can feel the vibrations in the air. Sometimes, I can hear the thunder when it booms.”
And that day, standing close to this man, she had heard the thunder in his voice and felt it vibrate through her. Somehow she had known he could bring more trouble to her than a lightning strike and cause more harm than the most violent storm.
How right she had been.
She looked around them, searching for something else to say. “This ought to be a good trail for the scouts. Not too tough. Not too dangerous.”
He touched her arm. “Good for the kids from the school, too, I’d think.”
She nodded and focused on her bottle.
He brought her attention back to him.
This was ridiculous. She couldn’t keep talking to the space in front of her just so she could avoid looking his way. And having him touch her again and again was more dangerous than their climb.
She turned slightly on the bench. Inches separated them, yet she could feel the warmth of him against her knees. She wouldn’t let that distract her from a simple conversation.
“How old were you,” he asked, “when you started going to the residential school?”
Maybe not so simple.
Half of her wanted to run. The other half wanted to get closer to him. None of her had the nerve to meet his eyes again. She focused on his mouth and gave him the answer she had long ago memorized. “I lived with my family till I was six. Then I moved to the school.”
He pursed his lips, maybe in a whistle, but she couldn’t tell. “They just sent you away? That young?”
The concern in his face made her throat tighten. “It wasn’t a bad thing. They did what they thought was best for me.”
She could see him turning that over in his mind. She could see the questions forming. He would ask her about her deafness. He would want to know how she felt about not being able to hear.
“Did you live in a dorm?”
Yet another question that threw her off-balance. She nodded.
“What was that like?”
She paused to think. No one had ever asked her to describe dorm life. “It was…crazy. Comforting. Definitely lacking in privacy. And a lot of fun.”
“You didn’t miss your family?”
“Of course I did. At first. Especially my sister, Kayla. She’s two years younger. But the longer I stayed at school and the more comfortable I felt communicating in sign, the more I wanted to be there. With people who could understand me.” Those were the days before she had focused on all those speech lessons. Before she had worked so hard to learn to read lips.
“But you went home for holidays. And in the summer.” His expression told her he had put these as statements, not questions, because of course he would assume she had gone to see her family on school breaks.
“At first I did,” she said again. “But as I got older, I wanted to stay with my friends. It was…” She ran her finger over the torn label on her water bottle. It was my choice, she planned to say, not my family’s.
Had she been going on too long? Babbling? Was this really such a good idea, to be sharing so much of her past with this man?
She made the mistake of looking into his eyes again.
Shrugging, she confessed, “It wasn’t a popular decision. They weren’t happy that I chose not to go home.” She didn’t want to talk about her father’s arguments and her stepmother’s pleas. She wouldn’t think about Kayla’s tears. “It was something I had to do. But when it was time to start high school, I went back to live with my family again permanently.”
“That was a long time away.”
“Yes.”
“After all those years, what made them bring you home again?”
“They didn’t. By that time, I wanted to go back. I loved my teachers and all my friends, but when I hit my teens, things changed, and I got the urge to experience something else.”
For the first time, she’d wanted a life outside that school.
“Sounds like you hit a rebellious streak.”
“Maybe. Though my teachers always said I knew my own mind too well. Like Nate.” She laughed. “Whatever you would call it, I don’t know.” Her smile slid away. Because she did know.
Another truth. This time one she had never shared with anyone.
She took a deep breath and let it out. “I started to feel restless and boxed in there. Closed off from the rest of the world.”
He swung his leg over the bench, resting his back against the edge of the table. He was facing her directly now. She couldn’t avoid seeing his lips. Or his eyes.
“A lot of the other kids probably felt the way you did.”
“It’s possible. I’m not sure. They all stayed on until graduation.” She shrugged and ran her fingers over the water bottle. “But I felt as though I didn’t belong there anymore. I could read lips with more accuracy than anyone at school, including some of my teachers, and that made me…different.”
“You are different.”
Straightening her shoulders, she waited for what always came next. Again his response surprised her.
“That stands to reason, doesn’t it?” He reached up and smoothed a strand of her hair. “No two people are exactly alike. No two people have your blue eyes.” Lightly, he touched her temple.
Her scalp prickled.
“No two people have this nose.” He brushed the tip of it with his finger.
She swallowed a nervous laugh.
“And definitely, no two people have these lips.” He outlined her bottom lip with his thumb.
No laughter now. She couldn’t even force a smile.
He cupped her chin with his hand.
A shiver ran through her. Pleasure? Caution? She couldn’t tell.
Along with all their run-ins and arguments and their up-and-down working relationship, hadn’t she been fighting her own attraction to him? When she accepted his offer to ride here, hadn’t she hoped something like this would happen?
His warm fingers supported her chin, holding her mouth ready for his. When she closed her eyes, he brushed his free hand across her cheek, his thumb rough yet gentle.
Their lips met, and the kiss was warm and sweet and filled with desire. His a
nd hers.
When she opened her eyes again, he stayed close. So close she could see every one of his long dark lashes. So close she could see the stormy-green she had known all along would bring her nothing but trouble.
Shifting on the bench, she sighed and shook her head. “We can’t do this.”
She rose and moved away, took another mouthful of water, hoped to wash away the delicious taste of him. Then she paced the length of the clearing beside the bench, knowing she didn’t have to look his way for him to get her message. “That was nice, Ryan. Very nice. I won’t deny it. But you know we can’t do this. After all, we can’t even get along with each other for more than two days in a row.”
She was babbling again, saying too much. Which of them was she attempting to convince?
Yes, they fought. And yes, he was her boss—sometimes too much her boss with his infuriating way of taking over. She’d be a fool to let this go anywhere.
Think about the future, about making the school a success. For Caleb. For the kids.
For me.
Giving in to this attraction to Ryan could jeopardize all that.
She stopped pacing and met his gaze. “We work together, Ryan. That—” She gestured toward him. “Nice as it was, that can’t happen again. We’ve got too much at stake.”
He nodded, his expression bleak.
Or did she only imagine that because she hoped he felt as disappointed as she did?
Turning away, she started down the trail on her own.
* * *
WHEN HE GOT up to leave the bunkhouse after lunch, Tony tagged along. It had become a regular habit of the old man’s.
“Talked to Caleb lately?” Tony asked.
“Yeah, yesterday.” He shut the door behind them and struggled to think. With…other things on his mind, he’d forgotten to tell the men at lunch. And breakfast. “He’s coming back for a while at the end of the month.”
“Sounds good.”
“We’re sticking to the short crew for the summer. He’s holding off on buying stock, wants to focus on getting the school up and running.” More reason to keep an eye on the construction. And they wouldn’t lack for chores to keep them busy, including that corral.
Rancher at Risk Page 8