You look nothing alike. She stepped back, afraid for a second she’d uttered the words aloud. She spotted a slight family resemblance in their facial bone structure, but Austen’s gaunt cheeks sported casually chic stubble—the kind made popular by pop stars and big screen heartthrobs—and his blue-green eyes shared none of his brother’s cheerful, positive candor. This man spoke from his mind, not from the heart.
He stood—no grunting, no wincing, no complaining because his knees were shot—each a complaint she’d heard at one time or another from her previous boyfriends.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the phone.
Their fingers touched. Was it possible to exchange something as a small and slim as a phone without touching, she wondered the instant a charge of warm sizzle shot through her hand and up her arm?
She nearly dropped the phone, but he grabbed it securely.
“I don’t want to break another.”
Another what? Phone? Or heart? With looks like his, the man should have the word ‘Heartbreaker’ tattooed on his forehead.
He fiddled with the phone a moment, his long, beautifully manicured fingers dancing across the keypad. An all-female reaction—the hot, damp, tingle type—took place, leaving Serena bemused. She’d put her love life on hold after her last epic fail of the dating kind. And at the moment, she didn’t have time for men, dating, sex… and all the emotional drama that came with each of those things.
Nope. She had fifty-four sweet souls under her care, counting Gandhi and Dolly, her llamas, and Beau and Brutus, her dog and cat, respectively. The last thing she needed—or wanted—was the complication of a man in her life. And one didn’t need to be a Great Pyrenees to spot a dangerous complication when it hopped over their fence.
Chapter Two
Austen punched in the only number he could remember but hesitated before putting the cheap, old school phone to his ear. Her hand was small and not very clean, despite the glove she’d been wearing. Her hands reminded him of his mother’s. Mom had complained for as long as he could remember about her ugly hands. Fingernails she couldn’t grow long enough to paint like all her friends.
“These are the hands of a Montana pioneer woman with ten kids,” Sarah Zabrinski would wail from time to time. “I only have four. How did this happen?”
Serena James didn’t have any children, according to his brother.
She wasn’t married, either. At least, he didn’t see a ring. And despite her grubby cut-offs, Lady Bug rubber boots, and faded, men’s denim work shirt tied at her waist, she was hot. Really hot.
He’d always been a fan of auburn hair, and the deep reddish-brown ponytail bouncing over her shoulder looked thick and wavy. Her bright orange tank top showed just enough cleavage. Her long, shapely thighs were athletic without being too muscular.
He may not have been a fan of barn smells and dirt, but something about this woman intrigued him. Her equally frank appraisal of him, maybe? The women in Helena had coy down to a science.
Or, possibly, she was staring because she was waiting for him to make his call so she could have her phone back. He punched in the only number that came to mind and raised the phone to his ear.
“Big Z’s. Your full service hardware center. Can you hold?”
“No—”
The woman on the other end didn’t wait for his answer before starting the God-awful canned sales spiel featuring his brother’s peppy, uber-positive voice. “Give a man a hammer and a nail and he’ll hang a photo. Poorly. Give him a Do-It-Yourself class taught by a Big Z professional and he’ll have a skill his wife will put to good use for years to come.”
Austen looked up. “I’m on hold.”
He touched the speaker button, bringing Paul’s mainstream Country music to the background.
He examined the green camouflage plastic case. “Heavy duty. Burly, even.”
“Lost my iPhone in a steaming pile of ’paca poop.”
“Oh.” He flexed his fingers gingerly.
“The guy at the phone store in Billings called this model invincible.”
It wasn’t an iPhone but it did seem rugged… or a bit butch. Was that the reason she wasn’t married? She batted for the other team?
Paul’s voice came on the line again. “Have you heard about Big Z’s plan to add an outdoor living center to our Marietta store? Look out, Cabela’s, the Fish Whisperer will teach fishing enthusiasts how to tie the best flies in western Montana.”
“The Fish Whisperer,” Austen muttered, forgetting for a moment he had an audience. “Trying to impress his fiancé by putting her father to work is more like it.”
“Your brother’s engaged? He didn’t mention it.”
Austen felt his cheeks flush. Loose lips, idiot. “Just happened. At the Big Marietta Fair. Were you here in time to check it out?”
“I made it the last day, for a few hours. Next year, I hope to set up an alpaca exhibit. My parents did that for years at our county fair. It’s really good for business.”
The music resumed.
“What exactly is your business?”
“I breed and sell alpacas.”
“Alpacas? I thought you had llamas.”
“I have two. Gandhi and Dolly. They’re bigger and more aggressive by nature. They help guard the alpacas, along with Beau here.”
Before he could comment, a non-recorded voice said, “I’m sooo sorry. It’s a little hectic here today. How may I direct your call?”
“Paul Zabrinski, please. This is his brother.”
“Oh, hi, Austen. I thought that was your voice. He’s not here. The kids are leaving for Disneyworld in the morning so he and Bailey went to Bozeman to tell them good-bye.”
He looked at the newest addition to Marietta. Welcome to the town where everybody knows your business. Her pretty, rueful smile gave him the impression she understood even if he hadn’t spoken the words out loud. A funny sensation faintly reminiscent of pleasure passed along his spine.
“Okay. I’ll try my mom.”
“She’s not home, either. She and your dad just stopped by with Mia’s kids to grab some bug spray. They said something about hiking to Coffin Lake.”
Austen grimaced. His city-raised niece and nephew wouldn’t be thrilled, he was certain. “O…kay. I guess I’m SOL. Thanks…” For the life of him, he couldn’t recall the name of his brother’s secretary. “For the update. I’ll catch you later.”
He tapped the end button.
“Forgot her name?”
“Yes.”
“Best part of moving to a new town. Nobody expects you to know anybody.”
She held out her hand and quickly checked her messages. “Damn it. Where are you, Jason?”
“Jason?”
“I hired a local kid to help me today. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. I have his name and number on a post-it in the house, but I keep thinking he’ll show up if I wait long enough.” She bit her bottom lip in consternation.
Damn, she was cuter than he first thought.
“I really need him today.”
“Maybe I—” He stopped. He didn’t volunteer for grunt labor. “What’s so important you have to do it today?”
“Betty Lou has the runs.”
He opened his mouth but no words came out. This, he realized, might very well be the first time in his life he was speechless.
“I know. Big deal, right? But the fact is, alpacas have very delicate digestive systems. If you don’t nip this sort of thing in the bud, you could lose an animal within a couple of days.”
He checked his watch. Stuart, his foreman, wouldn’t be back from Livingston for another hour. He’d text him to pick him up, but he didn’t have his number memorized—or anybody else’s, for that matter. Like everyone he knew in the city, Austen relied on his phone’s contact list to keep him in touch. He was stuck here, or he’d have to walk back to the ranch, across open range populated by rattlesnakes, or he had to help her treat an animal with diarrhea. What a choice!
“If I h
old your lla—alpaca’s head, will you give me a lift home?”
She appeared surprised by his offer, but she didn’t hesitate to accept. “Absolutely. Normally, you could borrow Paul’s quad, but someone picked it up yesterday. Said Paul was trading it for a bigger model.”
Naturally. How comforting to know his little brother’s life was going gangbusters while his own sucked eggs.
“If you’re in a hurry, you can ride one of Paul’s horses. I had to move them to the back pasture until—” She paused and looked at him. “Did you say your horse bolted from a snake?”
“I didn’t see one, but I assume so.”
She shook her head. “More likely it was the ’pacas.”
“Pardon?”
She shrugged, her hands out in a what-can-I-say gesture. “I don’t know why, but horses seem to hate alpacas. We had a 4-H leader buy two to use for training purposes for his students’ horses. Even really experienced riders get dumped because they don’t expect their horses to react that way.”
“If you know this was a problem, why’d you agree to exercise Paul’s horses as part of your lease agreement?” An arrangement Austen had vetted with severe reservations. A similar trade hadn’t worked out so well with Paul’s previous renters, Jack and Marla Sawyer. One was dead, the other in jail.
“Time and money.” He liked her lack of bullshit. “I was in escrow on a place near Livingston. We were three days from closing when the bank backed out. They used the excuse that I hadn’t been employed a year with my new employers—a fact they knew going in.” He heard the frustration in her voice. “I had to scramble to find a place because the truck with the animals was already in transit. I figured I could pay to stable five horses easier than finding shelter for fifty alpacas.”
“Is that what you’re going to do this winter?”
She worried her bottom lip a moment. “I haven’t figured that out. Right now, I ride in the early evenings. It’s beautiful around here.” Her gaze lifted to the mountain peaks visible in the distance. Her expression softened, losing herself a moment in the grandeur of the Gallatins.
He knew that look—a first time Montanan’s awe usually mellowed over time. He loved his state, but he saw its flaws a little more clearly these days.
She glanced from the barn to Austin and back. “Skipper’s a little feisty until you let him know who is boss, but I think you’d be okay.”
She doesn’t think I can do the job. He shook his head, a little put out to be dismissed so easily. “No, thanks. I think I’d prefer the truck. One hard landing was enough.”
“Okay. Well, let’s get started. I have everything laid out.” She led the way into the barn.
The moment he crossed into the shade, barn smells assailed him. Not all bad, he realized. She’d brought in sweet, new hay. Mellow country music emanated from a small blue cube sitting on a shoulder-high ledge in one of the stalls.
“I brought Betty Lou into the barn last night so I could keep an eye on her. The whole herd is still getting used to their new home. I was afraid they’d all wind up sick from the transport, but so far, so good.”
He wondered if the slight tremor in her voice was forced optimism or denial. Hadn’t his sister accused him of hiding out on the Flying Z instead of taking a proactive approach to reclaiming his old life? For weeks after the hoopla, he told himself the storm would blow past and people would forget. He’d be fine.
The firestorm passed, but he hadn’t been fine.
Not by a long shot.
* * *
He’s too pretty for this kind of job. Pretty boys don’t like to get dirty.
Serena ignored the voice in her head. She had no choice. She needed help and he was the best—the only—option on her plate at the moment. She could almost hear her educator father saying, “When choosing between bad and worse, take bad. But don’t complain later. It was your choice and it could have been… worse.”
“She’s in the middle stall.”
His size made the large barn feel smaller. She was still getting to know her space and make it her own. Having someone as dynamic as Austen Zabrinski on site made her edgy. Luckily, the procedure would only take a few minutes. Then, she could run him home and get back to work.
So. Much. Work.
Her parents kept a herd twice this size running like clockwork for years. Serena hadn’t questioned her own ability to manage a breeding operation until she figured out what was missing from the equation—a partner.
Fat chance of finding one of those. She sized up Austen again. He’d make a good one, if he weren’t so darn pretty.
“Generally, alpacas are very sweet-tempered and friendly, but when annoyed or stressed they do spit. And kick,” she added.
“Good to know.”
She opened the wooden stall door.
He followed her in after a slight hesitation. “Whoa. Two. Is the bigger one her mother? Or a male?”
“Betty is the black. Jezebel’s a rose gray. Alpacas are herd animals. They get very distressed alone. And we keep the males separate. My boys are clear on the other side of the barn. I take the breeding part of this job very seriously. Bloodlines are important, and keeping good records is imperative. No accidental pregnancies allowed.”
He made a garbled sound, as if he’d swallowed a fly. But when he failed to comment, she walked straight to the pair. Arms at her side, she leaned forward, nose first. Jezebel gave her a friendly sniff and nibbled on her hair. Betty took a step closer but didn’t touch her. “Betty Lou’s a little shy. She’s just three. Jezebel is an old hand at this sort of thing.”
Austen closed the gate but didn’t advance. “They’re really cute, aren’t they? It almost looks like they’re smiling.”
A common comment.
“The under bite. Gets you every time. My parents bought a pair—one for me and one for my brother—when I was fifteen. It was love at first sight for me. My brother… not so much. But one of the first computer programs he wrote was for cataloguing each animal by its genealogy. Every alpaca sold has to have a DNA test to prove its bloodline,” she added, acknowledging not for the first time the irony in her choice of hobbies-slash-professions.
Serena considered raising and breeding alpaca to be of equal importance if not more intrinsic to her soul with her day job. She would quit being an auditory specialist in a heartbeat if she could make a living from breeding, selling cria—alpaca offspring—and fiber sales.
One reason she’d moved to Montana was to lower her feed costs. With proper grassland management, she hoped to show a profit in the next couple of years.
“I didn’t know that,” her new helper said stepping closer.
The girls huddled together, nervously glancing at the newcomer. Serena stepped between the two creatures to grab Betty around the neck. Every animal in her herd was used to be touched. Some played hard to get, but most were tolerant and accepting of human hands. “It’s okay, beautiful. This won’t take long and you’ll feel better soon. I promise.”
She motioned Austen to join her. “Hang your hat on that peg. It’ll just be in the way.”
He followed her directions then walked closer, eying the two animals with a mix of curiosity and caution. “Aren’t you going to use a halter?”
“Alpacas are mouth breathers. If the halter slips and obstructs their breathing, they’ll panic. Then I’ll really have a problem on my hands.”
Once Austen stood directly across from her—only a skinny alpaca neck separated them—she realized the magnitude of her mistake. He was far too big, sexy, and his blue-green eyes were so unusual and intriguing. She wanted to map them in her memory.
He reached out to touch Betty. His long manicured—manicured? Really? Maybe just impeccably clean—fingers gently stroked Betty’s shorn back and shoulders. “You clip them? Like sheep?”
“Once a year. Money in the bank.” She didn’t have time to explain that alpaca fleece was one of the softest, warmest, most desirable fibers on the market.
Jezebel adroitly hopped sideways and abandoned her friend the moment Austen got close. Her nervous reaction was to pee. She straddled the communal potty spot and let go.
Serena saw Austen’s nose crinkle in disdain. Pee and poop were part of her daily routine. He probably had people who cleaned up his stalls for him. She intended to hire regular help once school started but even getting a day-helper had proven a challenge.
“Like this?” He put his arms around Betty’s neck, overlapping Serena’s arms momentarily. Betty let out a little hum of concern.
“Less tentatively. You want her to think you know what you’re doing.”
“Instead of being the virgin I am?”
His humor surprised her.
She liked it. “First times can be awkward. But don’t worry. This shouldn’t be painful.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
The rawness in his tone hinted at some pain or disappointment she never would have guessed from his Photoshop perfect smile.
“A little closer to her shoulder. She’s stronger than she looks.” She put her hands on his wonderfully muscled upper arms and turned him slightly. His warmth permeated her skin; his scent—something piney and deliciously masculine—filled her senses.
She blinked quickly, trying to maintain her focus. “Cozy up nice and tight. Let her snuggle against you and get a feel for you. I’ll tell you when to tighten your grip.”
Jezebel’s curiosity got the better of her and she stepped close enough to sniff Austen’s ear.
“No nibbles,” Serena told the elder alpaca.
Jezzie blinked her long curly lashes like an innocent coquette. Serena’s heart expanded with love. Her last boyfriend had called the alpacas Serena’s obsession.
“So?” she’d countered, like a five-year-old. “They’re my family. They’re part of the package. You either take them or leave me.”
Montana Cowboy Page 2