by Hope Navarre
“Shouldn’t your job take precedence over your hobby?” she asked, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
“It’s a little more than a hobby.”
“How so?”
“I make pretty good money.”
“How good?” she asked suspiciously.
“I paid cash for my truck.”
She seemed reasonably impressed, to the point that it took her a thoughtful moment to say, “You’re not dependent on the ranch for your income.”
“I didn’t say that. It costs a lot to do what I do. Especially during the early season when I fly to the rodeos. Right now it’s a decent second income, but it won’t last forever. Shoulders and knees wear out.” Horses fall on you. Things like that. “The ranch is my first priority.”
Ellison shook her head and leaned back in her chair. The gap in her blouse closed with the movement...not that he was looking. “I have to admit that circumstances here are different from those I’m used to working with. Not that there’s any excuse for Walt’s behavior.”
“Circumstances have to be different, because this is the type of job that entwines intimately with people’s lives. They don’t work here and go home. They live here.”
Just as Ellison was living here....
One corner of Ryan’s mouth twisted slightly as the thought struck him. Maybe it was time for her life to become intimately entwined with the ranch.
* * *
SOMEHOW ELLIE WASN’T surprised to hear that Ryan made good money roping. He had an air of competence about him, the assuredness that comes from knowing you do something well. This explained it. He made another circle with just the tips of his long fingers, the palm of his hand staying planted, his expression thoughtful. “How will you know if the ranch consultant is blowing smoke or making decent recommendations?”
The out-of-the-blue question surprised her. “Like I said before, he comes highly recommended.”
His fingers stopped moving. “How can you judge what you don’t understand?”
“Meaning?”
“You should learn about operations.”
“That’s why I’m here,” she said on a note of confusion. She’d thought she’d made that clear.
“I mean really learn. As in, instead of holing up in the house, come out with us and work.”
The kettle went off and Ellie instantly got to her feet, glad for the interruption. “I have my own work.”
“Judging us from a distance?”
Ellie lifted the kettle off the burner. “I can evaluate performance without going shoulder to shoulder with you,” she said without turning to look at him.
“Afraid of getting your hands dirty?” he asked on a note of quiet challenge. “Because I promise you will.”
Ellie hated backing down from a challenge. Especially since it was fairly obvious that he didn’t think she would do it—spend the day with him.
“I suppose you’d take me along for your most obnoxious chores,” she asked, dunking the tea bag with a bit too much vigor and splashing water on the counter.
“Nope. Just a week of regular days.”
“A week?” She looked over her shoulder at him. His intensity made her breath catch, and because of that her voice was more acidic than she intended when she said, “Will you be here for a whole week?”
“Okay. Four days. And maybe a couple more once I get back from the next rodeo. Then you’ll be in a better position to judge.”
“Evaluate,” she corrected, wondering why he was making such a point of keeping his eyes on her face, never looking away, as if he was trying to stare her down.
“Whatever. A few days with me, a few with Francisco.”
“And Walt?”
“Maybe an hour or two with Walt.”
Ellie sucked in a breath, prepared to argue, and she then realized that all of her arguments were based on her being out of her comfort zone. She hated not knowing what she was doing, and if she went to work in this foreign environment, she would truly be out of her element.
No, make that further out of her element. She put her hand on her stomach, a movement that was becoming habitual when stressed, then casually let it fall to her side.
“When do we start?” she asked calmly.
His expression didn’t change when he said, “Today?”
“I, uh—” she saw a hint of victory light his gray eyes and shifted course “—can be ready in about fifteen minutes, after I grab some breakfast. Will that be all right?”
“That would be fine. I’ll meet you at the barn. And don’t worry about lunch. I’ll bring enough for two.” He got to his feet, his gaze finally dropping lower, toward her chest, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, then he put on his hat and said goodbye.
Ellie stayed where she was, waiting until the door had closed behind him before she looked down to see what had caught his eye. A lot had caught his eye. Ellie could almost put her entire hand in the gap at the front of her shirt.
Damn it all. That’s what she got for throwing on clothes, trying to look as if she’d been up for ages after he’d knocked and caught her in bed. What else could she have done after so snottily insisting on a meeting?
She unbuttoned the shirt as she walked down the hall and then took it off. She’d wear a T-shirt and hoodie for “work.” And jeans instead of the khakis she’d thrown on after he’d knocked. Thankfully she hadn’t left the fly open.
She shook out the denims she’d bought just before the trip and grimaced. Too bad she didn’t have jeans with her that cost less than a hundred bucks, because she had a feeling from the look on Ryan’s face as he’d issued his challenge that these jeans were going to suffer. Despite what he’d said, Ellie assumed that she was going to spend a few days watching him do the worst jobs on the ranch. But he’d said she’d get dirty. Doing what? Except for tending the garden at boarding school as part of the science curriculum, and cleaning house, Ellie hadn’t partaken in a lot of manual labor. And she was pregnant. She hesitated for a moment, then continued dressing, sitting on the bed to pull on her new hiking boots.
She didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to do. Everything she’d read had said that if a pregnancy was healthy, it would continue regardless, but if she felt she was doing anything that would hurt her kid, well, Ryan and Walt could simply have to consider her too good to get her hands dirty. She wasn’t going to endanger the baby.
* * *
“HOW’D IT GO?” Walt asked as he screwed on the gas cap of the four-wheeler. His dogs, Betsy and Clive, were already on back, tongues lolling as they waited to begin the day’s work.
“She’s coming to work with me today.”
Walt frowned ferociously. “What the hell for?”
“Think about it,” Ryan said. “The more she knows, the more likely she might not blindly buy what George tells her.”
“I don’t think it’ll do any good.”
“Can’t hurt.”
“So what will you and the princess do today?”
“We’re going to reset some fence posts.”
“Sounds like a good day.”
“Yeah. I gotta go put some lunch together.” Ryan headed off to his house, where he slapped together four peanut-butter sandwiches and set them in a cooler along with apples, granola bars, a bag of M&M’s and a bag of jerky. Figuring that should be enough to feed them for the day, he filled up two water jugs and set everything in the bed of the old Chevy ranch truck.
Ellison came out of the main house just as he was loading the tools in the back. Her chin was set high enough to indicate discomfort, but her expression was all business. She was wearing brand-new jeans, a hooded sweatshirt and boots so new he was surprised they didn’t squeak. Her hair was, of course, neatly twisted up and pinned to the back of her head.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Ready,” she replied, walking around to the passenger side of the truck. “My shirt’s buttoned and everything.” She opened the stubborn Chevy door with a hard yank then drilled a look into him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know how to broach the subject,” he said truthfully, getting into the truck.
“Plain speaking is the best way. ‘Hey, your bra is showing.’”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Ellison frowned at the dusty interior before gingerly climbing into the cab. “You can’t go wrong with honesty,” she added as she twisted around, apparently looking for the seat belt that had been stuffed into the cracks between the seats for at least a decade.
“Oh, yes, you can.”
Ellison shot him another look. “All right, you can, but I want honesty.”
“All right,” he said, hoping she never asked him if her butt looked big. It didn’t, but all the same.... “You’re not going to find a seat belt,” he said, dragging his thoughts away from her butt.
“Oh.” Ellison gave up the search, clasping her hands loosely in her lap and turning her profile to him. She looked jumpy as hell.
“You don’t need to be nervous, you know.”
“I’m not nervous,” she said in a scoffing tone.
Ryan shook his head and put the truck into gear. So much for honesty. “Hang on,” he said, putting the vehicle into gear.
“It’s going to be a bumpy ride?” she asked, her gaze still fixed straight ahead.
He cut her a quick sideways glance. “Yeah. I have a feeling it could be.”
* * *
WALT APPEARED FROM the direction of the barn as they approached the pasture. He opened the gate and they drove through. He made no eye contact with either her or Ryan, focusing instead on something in the distance. Ellie braced a hand on either side of her seat as they bounced along a rutted road that crossed an expanse of tall pasture grass.
Ryan stopped at the gate that led out of one pasture and into another and for a moment they sat facing it until he said, “The passenger opens the gates.”
“Oh. Of course.” Somehow she’d figured the guy that knew what he was doing opened the gate. It only took a few seconds to figure out the weird spring latch, and then Ellie swung the gate open. They drove on through a belt of trees and into yet another pasture. She got out and opened and closed gates, figuring out the chains and latches as Ryan waited patiently in the beat-up truck. After the last gate, number three, they drove to the far side of the pasture where Ryan parked and then started pulling out tools from the back of the truck.
“What’s on the agenda?” Ellie asked, looking around blankly.
“We’re pulling fence posts.” He took a pair of leather gloves out of one of the buckets and handed them to her. “These are for you.” Ellie took the gloves and pulled them on. Her hands swam in them. “You might want to pick up a pair of your own when you go to town,” he added.
“I’ll do that.”
He picked up one of the buckets and gestured for her to grab the other. It was empty except for an odd pair of pliers lying in the bottom. They crossed the short distance to the fence line and then Ryan set down his bucket.
“See how some of the posts are leaning?”
“Yes.” It would have been hard to miss.
“We’re going to jack those out of the ground and set new ones.”
Jack them out of the ground? “What happened to them?”
“The soil. They’re old and they weren’t treated properly, so they rotted off.”
“Do you have to do this often?”
“On a place like this, we’re always working on the fences. They sag in the winter and have to be tightened in the spring. Wildlife walk through them, wires snap. Sometimes cows jump and don’t quite make it.”
“Cows jump fences.” Right.
Something in her expression made him smile. “I’m being straight with you, Ellison. You asked for honesty.”
“Call me Ellie,” she said automatically. “And I believe you.” Kind of.
She was still getting her bearings with this guy. He was different from the other men she’d worked with. Evaluated. Found herself attracted to at a gut level.
She wasn’t going to lie to herself and say there wasn’t a lot about Ryan Madison to notice, because there was. Hard body. Fascinating face. Kate would love him. She’d always gone for the outdoor types, while Ellie preferred business professionals with jobs and hobbies she understood. Like Nick. She’d understood his life—she just hadn’t known everything about it.
She cleared her throat. “As you’ve probably guessed, I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Fencing?”
She gave him a withering look. Of course she’d never fixed a fence. “Or much of anything involving tools. So I’d very much appreciate it if you didn’t laugh at me.”
“What makes you think I’d laugh at you?”
She snorted. “Gee. I wonder. City girl learning to do ranch stuff. Sounds like sitcom material to me.”
“Yeah,” he agreed as he took hold of a post and moved it back and forth, testing its give. “It does.”
“Is that why you asked me out here? To get me out of my comfort zone and thus gain a position of advantage?”
He smiled at her. A breathtaking smile that faded too soon, leaving her wanting more. “Pretty much, yes. But I also want you to understand what we do. I figured you could ask questions as you think of them and get an appreciation for the job.”
“I could probably do that sitting in the truck and watching you work.”
“But then you wouldn’t really appreciate what we do.”
“Touché,” she said. Although she thought she could work up some appreciation as she watched him, but it wouldn’t be for ranch work. “What am I going to do?”
“We have to drop the wires, so you’ll take out staples. Like this.” Ryan shoved the pointed part of the tool beneath the staple that held the barbed wire to the post and pried the staple until it popped out of the wood. He leaned down, picked it up and dropped it into the bucket. “Don’t want the animals driving these into their feet.”
“I’ll be careful. Where should I start?”
“The first post after the gate. Bottom wire first,” he said. “I’ll start at the far end and we’ll work toward each other.”
Ellie walked over to the post, took her pliers and worked the pointed part under the edge of a staple. She could do this. How hard could it be, popping staples out of rotting wood?
Really hard when the wood wasn’t rotten and she couldn’t get good leverage with the tool.
“Put a rock under the head of the pliers,” Ryan called from where he was watching a few yards away.
“What?” Ellie asked, dropping the hand carrying the heavy tool to her side.
“Like this.” He searched the ground until he came up with a flattish rock, which he carried over to her. “Put it under the head of the pliers as a fulcrum.”
Ellie did as he said and the staple eased out of the wood with a sharp metallic squeal. Ryan gave a nod as she dropped the staple—the first of many—into her bucket and then headed off to his end of the fence.
And Ellie, heaven help her, watched him go.
You’re pregnant.
But you’re not dead.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RYAN LEFT ELLISON—no, make that Ellie—awkwardly prying out staples, thinking it was good to put some distance between them and let her work out her own method for removing metal from wood. He just hoped she didn’t hurt herself doing it. At first she pulled one staple to his three or four, but she kept at it, getting faster. After a while, he noticed that she kept glancing over at him, as if
judging his speed, and then it hit him that she was trying to pull staples as fast—or faster—than he was. He slowed down a little, but if anything she worked even faster. Finally, he stopped for a short break. Ellie kept right on working. So the Ice Queen was a competitor. He wasn’t surprised.
“Want something to drink?” he asked.
“Not yet.” Her hair was falling out of the twist on the back of her head and as he opened the water bottle, she dropped the pliers, yanked the clasp out of her hair and shoved it into her pocket. Her hair tumbled down past her shoulders in loose waves and Ryan watched over the top of the bottle as she shook it back and gathered it into a ponytail, fastening it with an elastic band she slid off her wrist. Then, sensing he was watching, she turned toward him.
“What?” she demanded.
“Nothing.” Slowly he tilted the bottle up, holding her eyes as he drank, just because.
Her gaze didn’t falter. “Maybe I will have some water,” she said, picking up the fencing pliers and putting them on top of a post before walking to where he sat on the tailgate. He pulled the other water bottle out of the cooler and held it out to her, feeling a ripple of awareness as she took it from him.
“What happens after we pull out the staples?” she asked before removing the cap and drinking. Water dribbled down her chin and spotted the front of her T-shirt. It was sexy as hell.
“We jack the posts out of the ground.” Ryan tore his eyes away from her shirt and put his bottle back in the cooler. He held the lid open and Ellie did the same. Without another word they went to their respective ends of the fence and continued to release the wire from posts until meeting close to the middle. Ryan pulled the last staple, then stepped back, wiping his arm over his forehead before returning to the truck where he lifted the handyman jack out of the brackets. He grabbed the chain and, after shouldering the heavy jack, walked back to where Ellie stood next to the first post. Her arms were crossed over her midsection, her expression cautious as she waited to see what was going to happen next.