“How many horses do you have left to ride?”
“Two.” He tipped his head toward the two stalls on his left.
He reached for a brush, but she nabbed it first. “I still feel like I owe you some time. Let me take care of this mare, or I can get the next one ready. Your choice.”
“Really, I—”
She lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug, her eyes twinkling, and he suddenly couldn’t look away.
He’d never noticed, when she was just a kid, but her eyes were the exact shade of his late mother’s blue topaz ring, the one that had entranced him when he was young. Held in a sunbeam, it could send showers of diamonds dancing across a room.
The memory tugged at his heart.
“The buckskin, it is,” she announced, pulling him away from his memories. “Take the help while you can get it, cowboy. After this I’ll be working in my cabin 24/7.”
He watched her start brushing the mare, the silver bracelets on her wrist sparkling under the bright fluorescent lights overhead, and then he headed down the aisle to bring a paint gelding out to a second set of crossties.
The gelding threw his head high in the air and danced sideways, the whites of his eyes and his swiveling ears telegraphing his fear when Devlin hooked the crosstie snaps to his halter.
“Someone hasn’t been so good to you, have they, buddy,” he murmured as he began brushing the animal’s quivering hide.
He moved slowly and easily, talking to him nonstop. But when it came time to settle the saddle pad in place, the colt cringed as far away as he could.
Devlin resorted to sliding the saddle pad along the colt’s neck, flanks and hindquarters, and then did the same on the other side until the colt realized it wasn’t going to attack him and settled down.
Chloe came over to stand by the gelding’s head and stroked his sleek neck. “Has this guy been saddled before?”
“The owners said he’d been ridden a half dozen times. If that’s true, I’d hate to see how it was done. Pretty rough, I’d guess.” Devlin slid the saddle pad into place, then draped the cinch and flank strap over the seat of the saddle before lifting it high and gently lowering it into position. “They nicknamed him Crazy Pants, but I’m guessing that attitude isn’t his fault.”
She idly rubbed behind the horse’s ears now, and he’d dropped his head lower to rest his chin on her shoulder. “Has he been here long?”
Devlin glanced at her. “His owners dropped him off two days ago. I long-lined him in the arena for thirty minutes before saddling him yesterday, and just took it slow.”
“My guess is that some local know-it-all said he could break a horse fast and cheap, like some old-time, bronco-busting cowboy. What a mistake. It just means that a good trainer has to work harder to undo all of that harm.”
“My thoughts, exactly.” Devlin lightly snugged up the cinch, letting the gelding relax before tightening it up a little more.
When had he last stood around talking about ranch work and horses? Not since he’d taken off in a hot, furious rush to join the Marines at nineteen, probably. He hadn’t missed all of this when he’d been away. He’d been relieved to be gone, away from the anger and tension and impossible expectations this ranch represented.
Yet strangely enough, some old memories—the better ones—were starting to sift into his thoughts, and it almost felt good to be back. And who would’ve thought he’d ever find any point of agreement—much less feel such a connection—to his old childhood nemesis?
He shoved those thoughts away.
He had no plans to stay forever, no plans to stir up old relationships or find anything new. Montana was only a brief stop on his way to a new future, if only he knew what that should be.
Chloe gave him an uncertain smile, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “I’ll just put the buckskin in her stall, then. Can I saddle your last horse before I go?”
“No,” Devlin said, a little too sharply. “Uh...no thanks”
“Accepting a simple favor doesn’t mean you’ll be shackled into some big commitment, Dev.” She rolled her eyes. “Believe me, there’s absolutely no risk of that. But take my advice—you might want to start resurrecting your social skills. As a civilian, you’re really gonna need ’em.”
Taken aback, he watched as she turned on her heel and strode out of the barn door. A burst of laughter rose from somewhere deep in his chest that he couldn’t hold back.
His pesky little shadow of old had certainly grown up since she’d left the ranch all those years ago, and she’d just neatly put him in his place.
The more he saw her, the more she intrigued him and the more he wanted... But what did he want exactly? An evening of dinner and dancing, and hours of conversation over a candlelit table? The chance to run his hands through that beautiful long mane of rich auburn hair? The chance to hold her in his arms and never let her go?
It was nothing that he could even think about right now. He couldn’t afford to be sidetracked, and he should be relieved that she was flat-out not interested in him, because that would make their mutual time here at the ranch far easier.
But was that what he really wanted?
Chapter Five
Of all the nerve.
Pretty sure that steam might start coming from her ears at any moment, Chloe grabbed the baking soda, measured out two teaspoons and dumped them into the mixing bowl.
She’d felt she owed Devlin a debt of gratitude, so she’d tried to be helpful and make his day a little easier when they got back from the vet clinic yesterday.
Yet when he finally gave in and let her do the chores, he’d made it seem as if he was doing her a favor—and he’d even seemed edgy about it. Like he thought she was setting her sights on him or something. As if.
And when she’d finally made it clear that—unlike all the other women who probably flocked to his side—she was not the least bit interested, he’d had the audacity to laugh.
Granted, he’d waited until she was out of the barn, but his short burst of laughter had followed her as she headed toward the trail leading to the cabins. Fortunately he wasn’t around to see her cheeks burn bright with mortification.
It had been eighteen years since she’d lived on this ranch. Eighteen years since she was a little girl who followed him around like a devoted puppy, and in the interim she’d graduated from college. Gone back for her master’s degree, held a steady job. Granted, that last little detail of her life had gone terribly wrong, but she was certainly a grown, independent woman.
And yet the dynamic between them was no different than when she was eleven.
Resting her palms on the countertop, she took a deep breath, studied her grandmother’s recipe for chocolate cake once more and then groaned as she caught her latest error. She dumped the contents of the mixing bowl in the trash.
Second try, second time she’d mixed up teaspoons and tablespoons or grabbed the wrong ingredient. At this rate she would need to make that fifteen-mile trip into Pine Bend by tomorrow, and hopefully the little grocery store would have everything she needed.
Her cell phone announced a text message with a chime.
Sidestepping along the counter, she tapped the screen. Devlin.
Vet called. Dog had surgery this morning. Doing fine. Said we can stop in at clinic to see her. Wants her there until at least Monday or Tuesday.
The good news erased her frustration. She thought for a moment, then texted back.
I need some things in town anyway, so I’ll stop in to see her today.
She started her recipe over. Thank you, Lord, she thought as she creamed the room-temperature butter and sugar. That poor dog deserved a good life after all she had been through, and Chloe was going to give her that loving forever home.
Today was Friday. She counted up the days until Tuesday, trying to guess just how much the vet bill woul
d be, then realized she didn’t want to know. Not yet. But whatever it was, she would pay Devlin back, once she started her job in Kansas City.
Her phone chimed again.
I’m heading for the feed store in town. You can come along if you’d like. I’ll go to the vet clinic first.
Practicality warred with her pride as she turned the mixer on high. She really did want to see how the dog was doing. But the thirty-mile round trip meant more gas and more miles on her old SUV. Was it worth spending that money just to avoid another awkward encounter with Devlin?
Her bruised heart said yes, but her practical side said no.
With a sigh, she texted back.
Be down at your truck in five.
Then she took off her denim apron and went to change from her faded Mickey T-shirt into a lightweight cranberry cashmere sweater that was old, supersoft and comfy, but did nothing for her auburn hair and complexion.
No problem there. She certainly didn’t care about making a great impression where Devlin was concerned. After dabbing away a dusting of flour on her chin, she locked the cabin door behind her and jogged down the hill.
Hiding away in her cabin only delayed the inevitable, right? Devlin was living at the ranch and so was she, an unfortunate coincidence that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. She might as well do her best to be friendly and upbeat, no matter what he thought.
It didn’t matter a bit.
* * *
Chloe smelled so good.
The moment she climbed into his truck, he could detect vanilla and chocolate, which made him long for her incredible cookies all over again.
He glanced at her a second time before putting the truck in gear, just in case she had a plate of something delicious in her hand and he’d missed it.
“What?” She flipped down the visor to look in the mirror, then flipped it back up and gave him a side-eye. “Is something wrong?”
“Just checking. I didn’t want to miss seeing any cookies you might have over there.”
“Sorry.” She held up her empty hands, her dimples deepening as she smothered a grin. “I started working on my Grandma Lydia’s chocolate cake today—though I kept making mistakes and didn’t get very far. If and when I succeed, I’ll try a sliver and give the rest to you. I...I try to watch my calories.”
“I’ll be happy to dispose of any extras, anytime.” Turning onto the highway, he considered what he knew about her life after she and her dad had moved away from the ranch.
Very little, except that now he knew she liked to bake but didn’t want to eat what she made. Which made little sense, but it certainly worked for him. “Just curious... Why do you bake when you don’t want to eat any of it?”
She fidgeted in her seat and looked out at the Montana landscape. “Well, promise you won’t laugh?”
“Why would I?”
“My mom did,” she said glumly. “Moms are supposed to be positive and supportive, or so I’ve heard. Mine thinks I’m wasting my time. She thinks I should just concentrate on my new job, after what hap—”
She broke off sharply, which piqued his curiosity even more. After what? And how any of that could relate to making cookies and cakes, he had no idea. He shot a quick glance at her. “Now you have me in suspense.”
She took a long time to answer, as if choosing her words carefully. “I could’ve gone straight from Minneapolis to my new job in Kansas City. But I figured I had enough savings to cover a few months of total concentration on something I really want—and need to get done—before being caught up in a boring nine-to-five job. And coming out here—to the ranch where I spent so much of my childhood—seemed like the perfect place. Sort of like a working vacation.”
At her grim tone, he had so many questions that he didn’t know where to begin, but she seemed so guarded that he suspected there were things she had no intention of sharing. “It’s a little hard to imagine you taking a job you already dislike.”
She sighed heavily. “It’s even hard for me to imagine it, honestly. But after college I...um...really need the money to pay off my debts. My sister and brother-in-law want me to manage their income properties, and they offered me a salary I just can’t refuse.”
“What job would you love more? Does it involve cookies?” That earned him a wistful smile.
“That and a bit more.”
But after driving three more miles en route to Pine Bend, she still hadn’t elaborated.
“I did promise I wouldn’t laugh,” he reminded her.
“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “I told you about my creative-writing major. I’ve always wanted to be a writer, but working full-time and finishing graduate school at night never left enough time. I did complete a young-adult novel that I worked on for my creative-writing thesis, and I’ve also completed my first draft of a cookbook. Now I figure a few months of total concentration will give me a good start on my revisions.”
“Why would your mom laugh at that?”
“Yeah, well...do you remember her at all? She didn’t stay at the ranch very long when we first moved here. She’s a very practical woman. She hated my dad’s transient lifestyle, moving from one ranch job to the next. So when she left us, she got herself an office job that she doesn’t enjoy, but she’s plowing through anyway, just to reach retirement. Can you imagine? Sixteen more years of a job she hates, while her life is ticking by. So to her, my writing is a foolish waste of time. She wants me to focus on a regular job and forget about anything else.”
“And not be happy.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter. Dad wasn’t exactly a consistent provider, so life is all about security to her.”
“I don’t know anything about being a writer, but I’d expect most of them need regular jobs while chasing their dreams.”
“That’s what I tried to tell her. And that’s what I’m planning to do. But at this point it isn’t a topic she and I can even discuss. At twenty-nine, I’m old enough to make my own choices, don’t you think?”
“Yes, you are.” Devlin pulled into the vet clinic parking lot, turned off the ignition and rested a wrist on the top of the steering wheel. “I hope this goes well...and that you won’t be disappointed.”
She followed his gaze to the front of the clinic. “I want whatever is in the dog’s best interest. I guess only the vet can tell us what that is.”
He started to open his truck door and winced as a sharp pain arrowed down his neck.
“What’s wrong?” She twisted in her seat to look at him, her eyes opened wide. “Are you all right?”
“Just a little sore. No big deal.”
“You look like you’re in a lot of pain. Did you get bucked off or something?”
Affronted, he shook his head. “That hasn’t happened since I was six. I’ve started some weights and running.”
“And target practice. I heard you again yesterday. How did it go?”
That was a topic he didn’t plan to discuss. Not until he was far, far more accurate. He’d been a better shot with his BB gun in kindergarten.
He unbuckled his seat belt and glanced over at her. The red sweater she was wearing brought color to her cheeks and seemed to highlight the ruby tones in her hair, but it also brought back memories of much happier times...and sad ones. “That cashmere sweater looks good on you.”
“How in the world do you know it’s cashmere? What guy would even know that?”
He shrugged. “Good guess.”
“No, really.” She looked completely fascinated, now. “I’m impressed.”
“My...my girlfriend wore cashmere whenever she didn’t need to be in uniform. Gina always said it felt soft as a cloud.”
“What a perfect description. I totally agree with her, though cashmere wasn’t in my budget until I started finding vintage sweaters on eBay.” Chloe unbuckled her seat belt. “So, is she s
till in the military?”
“No.”
She angled a bright smile in his direction. “Will she be coming to the ranch?”
She could not have asked a more painful question. He felt a shard of ice pierce his heart.
“She died.” He opened his door and strode into the vet clinic, though he could feel her shocked gaze fixed on his back and knew the topic wasn’t finished.
Why on earth had he said that? He instantly knew he’d made a grave tactical error when Chloe’s eyes had opened even wider, and wished he could call his words back.
She’d always been like a determined beagle on the trail of a rabbit, and now he could see the days and weeks ahead, with Chloe peppering him with questions about Gina that he didn’t want to answer.
Some things were too private, too raw to share. Especially about a tragedy that had been all his fault.
Chapter Six
His girlfriend. Of course he’d had a girlfriend. Probably a lot of them over the years. So why did the thought feel like a volley of arrows hitting her square in the heart?
For a drive that started so well, things had certainly taken a turn for the worse on the way to town.
Given his obvious brush off last night and the way he’d laughed at her after she’d left the barn, she’d figured they would have cool interactions at best from now on. Yet he’d really been rather sweet to ask about her baking, and he’d seemed sincerely interested in her writing.
But the moment she’d innocently asked about his girlfriend, his voice had turned cold as ice. He’d said Gina wore cashmere whenever she could be out of uniform. Chloe had thought that meant she was simply out of the military, out of his life or that it had been just a slip of the tongue.
Whatever the circumstances of the poor woman’s death, Devlin had made it crystal clear that their relationship was not a topic for discussion, and it was none of her business. Perhaps he was still grieving deeply for her and the topic was too wrenching to even discuss?
High Country Homecoming Page 5