Finding Kimber (Canyon Junction; Hearts In Love Book 2)

by Mary J. McCoy-Dressel

  He tapped the brim of his hat. “Sorry, I’ll try to remember, Ms. Sinclair.”

  Kimber scratched at her arms, a habit she had when frustrated. She hadn’t wanted to be. Too much had happened in a short time, and her fuse shortened by the moment. “What did you want to ask?”

  His chest rose in a sigh, which she took for frustration of his own. “What do you plan on doing with this place? You have two horses. That’s barely enough to keep a foreman around. I want something steady.”

  “Well—”

  “And by the way. If I’m a foreman, who the hell am I a foreman to? There’s nobody here but you and me.”

  “I don’t have an answer to either of your questions.” She knew nothing that was going on here and didn’t like being out of control like this. “Maybe I’ll start a rescue, but I haven’t given it much thought. I need time here. I know I have only two horses.”

  “A rescue ranch has already been done. A rancher at the Double Dutch started a horse rescue some years ago. Does good for him from what I hear. Hard to believe how many horses need rescuing so they don’t get slaughtered.”

  “Ooh, that’s awful. Well, can’t we have two in this town?”

  “Do you know how big this town is? No, probably not since you don’t even know what town you live in.”

  Son of a bitching smart ass. Kimber fisted her hands at her sides. His rock-solid chest in that blue t-shirt looked like something good to pound. She peered into his blazing green eyes, then nodded toward the barn. “I’ll be back when I finish shopping. I’m sure something around here needs worked on. The barn needs fresh paint. The interior could use some repair, including the inside of my house. I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.” She tromped back toward the house.

  “Don’t bother.”

  So, this is how it’ll be? Damn hardheaded Idaho cowboy.

  ***

  Kimber fixed a roast beef sandwich, coleslaw, and dumped potato chips into a serving bowl. At one o’clock he still hadn’t shown up. She piled one sandwich, an individual serving of homemade coleslaw into a bowl, and some of the chips on a plate, then she ate a couple chips. By the size of him, she figured he could eat two, so she put another sandwich together, adding one more handful of chips. Kimber put it all onto a tray she’d found in a cupboard. She folded a napkin then poured lemonade over ice, setting that on the tray, too, and strutted into the front door of the barn, stepping over a shovel handle.

  Listening, she didn’t hear anything. His pickup truck had been parked beside the barn. A rustling up top in the loft forced her to look up. “Um, Mr. Bryson, are you up there?”

  He peeked over the edge. “Yeah, what’s up?” He shook his head, and his gaze flicked upward. “What the hell is that you’re carrying?”

  “Lunch.”

  “I ate two hours ago.” He stepped onto the ladder to come down. Standing in front of her with his gloved hands on his waist, he gave another smug grin. “Didn’t you hear me tell you to forget it?”

  Kimber nodded. “I figured you had to eat.”

  His damn gorgeous eyes bore into hers. “You did it anyway?”

  So what. “I’ll wrap the sandwiches and you can take them with you.”

  He muttered under his breath, “It isn’t your job to feed me.”

  Handsome as all get out was one thing, but his personality sucked. “It isn’t your job to be a smartass, either.” On the way to the door, she tripped over the shovel handle and fell flat to the ground. The food tray and everything on it scattered. The plastic tumbler shot across the floor and lemonade with ice wet the concrete.

  “For crisssakes, woman.” Zach straddled her hips and put his hands under her arm pits to lift her, and he planted her on her feet. He turned her to face him, and grinned. “I’ll pass on the wrapped sandwiches, thank you.” Zach picked up the napkin and dabbed at the blood on her nose. “That had to hurt.”

  Kimber yanked it from his hand and set her jaw. “It does.” She held the napkin against her throbbing nose, but bent down to pick everything up with her free hand, which made her nose bleed more. She faced him, expecting to see him laughing, but he wasn’t. “I’ll clean that sticky mess up in a minute.” Kimber left to go back inside.

  Zach took a few broad steps to reach the door ahead of her, and he opened it wider. “I’ll take care of it.”

  She’d let him. Doing her best not to sniffle, she didn’t look at him when she thanked him for holding the door.

  “Hey, you don’t have to call me Mr. Bryson.”

  Oh, shut up. Inside the small foyer entrance, she kicked off her boots. The sloppy, too-large barn boots. Who guessed at her shoe size anyway? Who bought them? The tray of food went directly into the trash. Her knee stung. No wonder. A scrape bled on her right knee. “Idiot.” She should’ve kept her jeans on. The tray got tossed to the sink. So much for trying to be nice. His truck thundered down the driveway toward the road to the highway. “Good riddance!”

  She got out her laptop and searched online for a new pair of boots. Instead, she spotted a store in Canyon Junction. Kimber washed off the scrapes on her knee and heel of her hands then found a large adhesive bandage in the linen closet for her knee. Wearing a new pair of shorts and clean top, she grabbed her keys.

  The barn door had remained open. The door had been closed when she arrived here. Kimber shut the tool room and closed the barn up. She headed toward the western store. A couple flannel shirts and t-shirts wouldn’t hurt for barn and garden work. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and above her lip, so she kicked up the air conditioning. Flannel was the last thing she needed. Smartass cowboy could stay gone the rest of the afternoon as far as she was concerned. She liked it better when they flirted on the plane.

  ***

  Zach waited on the tailgate of his truck when she arrived home. The barn door was opened. He came over to her. “Why did you lock the back room? My keys to the workshop were in there. I couldn’t work on the air conditioning unit without the tools needed for the job.”

  Did she have extra keys? “Come inside and we’ll look for them.” She grabbed the handled shopping bag and abruptly walked away, but he caught up, taking her bag. “Look, you can stop making fun of me about not knowing what town I live in, if I have GPS, or where to shop.” She splayed her hand as she walked. “I only arrived last night without ever seeing this place. It’ll take me a while to figure out how things work. I’m not even familiar with the kitchen yet.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Kimber came to a halt at the word ma’am. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, especially if he said it to goad her. “There must be a special place for keys inside.”

  He held the door, then sat the bag down, and waited in the foyer while she looked around the kitchen. Peering back at him standing there looking too good to ignore, she caught sight of a board on the wall with keys hanging on assorted rings. “One of these must be what you need. Come see.”

  He came to the doorway without going into the kitchen but peeked around the corner.

  “It’s okay if you come in.”

  “Do you know what’s on my boots?” He removed two sets of keys, perused them both, and put one back. “Got it. I’ll return it before I leave.” Zach headed for the door.

  “Make a copy of the key if you get to town. Plan on lunch tomorrow. I promise not to trip if you promise to pick up the damn shovel.”

  “I have a key.” He smiled agreeably. “It was my fault the shovel fell over, and I didn’t pick it up. Sorry ‘bout that.” His gaze flooded over her. “Your knee okay?”

  She nodded, but her knees weren’t okay. In fact, they could buckle at any moment due to the way he’d peered at her. “I cleaned it up. My hands sting. I’ll live.” Kimber unintentionally returned his smile.

  He stood straighter. “I’ll let you know what I find out about the AC. It looks to be an old unit. If it is, you’ll have to get it fixed. Talk to your landlord. If not, Dane Carlson at the Double Dutch might let you board you
r horses there when it gets too hot. He’s the guy with the rescue horses.”

  Had he meant that as a slam or was he being kind? Nonetheless, she had to find a way to work with him. “You asked what I planned on doing with this place. I don’t have a clue. You’re familiar with ranching. Do you have any suggestions?” She hated asking, but if she wanted to make a go of it, she had to learn.

  “It depends on if you want to have a working ranch. You want more horses? What would you do with them?”

  Wait, he threw back what she already knew instead of suggesting anything. “What if I boarded other people’s horses? People from a bigger city like Phoenix might need a place to board horses? We aren’t all that far from there.”

  “That’s an option. Your barn is big enough. The horse rescue rancher? His brother boards a few horses. One woman who boards there is a professional barrel-racer.”

  A certain angle of light hit his face. She noticed a thread-thin scar below his lip. He lowered his gaze to hers and caught her staring. “Would I be competition for the rancher who boards horses?”

  “It would be for you, not for him. Tristan Carlson is well-established around here. It’d do you good to get to know the Carlsons. They have a lot of clout in the area.”

  She huffed. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “It’s not a bad idea, but first you’ll have to… Excuse me, I’ll have to get the stable in decent condition. You’ll have to stock up on hay, straw, sawdust, all kinds of food, and other necessities. I can put you in touch with a guy who sells ranching supplies. Later, ma’am.”

  “Hey.”

  “Uh huh?”

  “Any other brothers at the Double Dutch Ranch I need to worry about competing with?”

  “Yep.” Zach exited.

  “Oh, joy.” She’d scout the place when she went to the camp. Without income coming in, her savings would dwindle. She made a pot of coffee and brought her laptop to the kitchen table. Why couldn’t she board horses? Other than she had no clue as to what the upkeep would entail. She’d look into it once Zach got the interior of the barn repaired. However, maybe it’d be better to get boarders lined up before spending the money for repair.

  Chapter 5

  Zach gathered tools to look into the AC unit. While working, he questioned why someone as green as Kimber would move to a ranch. The woman looked familiar. He’d seen her before, or someone who resembled her. Instead of wracking his brain, he’d let it simmer. It’d come to him. After a little tinkering, he went back inside the barn to adjust the thermostat. The compressor kicked in, so he went back to cover the unit. His stomach growled. Now, he wished he’d had those roast beef sandwiches.

  “Hey? Where do you live?”

  The wrench slipped, and he bumped his head against the unit. “Make some noise when you come around, will ya?” Zach rubbed his head, closed his eyes, and sighed before facing her. “I told you where I’m from—”

  “Not where you’re from. I mean here in Canyon Junction. Where do you live?”

  Would she know if he told her? “The ranching supply guy lets me rent his barn loft. Jake Lawton’s his name.”

  “A barn loft? Eww, that’s nasty.”

  She heard only what she wanted. “No, it isn’t. It’s a nice apartment. Besides, I’ve had nasty before.”

  “So have I.”

  He doubted it. “Look, I have to check the fence line. Interested in coming along? Bring the coffee. I take it black with sugar, lots of it.”

  “It hasn’t much helped to sweeten you up, now has it? The sugar I mean.” Kimber snickered.

  She was real cute when she chuckled that way. It showed in her eyes, too. They shined, but her face became solemn., as if she hadn’t meant to laugh. “Two heaping teaspoons, please. I’d get it myself, but I don’t want to track inside. Do you mind?”

  “It’s all right if you get it yourself. No, I don’t mind. Are you ready to check the fence line now?”

  “Yep. Soon as I get this unit back together.” He didn’t expect her to stand there watching him work, though, he didn’t mind. After he finished, he strode in alongside of her, wiped his boots off on the mat outside the door, and again on the rug leading to the kitchen. He poured himself some coffee and opened the cupboard above the pot to search for sugar. She got it out of a cupboard across the room and set it beside his cup. “I’ll change into something fit for riding.”

  “We aren’t going on horseback. We’ll hop in my buddy’s four-wheel drive out there. My dually hasn’t arrived from back home yet.” He stirred in sugar then took a drink. “The AC is working for now. It might not last.” Zach set his cup down and leaned his elbow on the counter, stretching a leg out. “Do you have any roast beef left?”

  His gaze was all over her when she turned. Yep, it’d be fine if she stayed in those shorts. How would he get the image out of his head, of her sprawled out on the floor with her nice round ass facing him? She most definitely wasn’t what he’d expected in a boss. “Better talk to your landlord about the fence.”

  “It’s my understanding that I’m responsible for small repairs but not major things like fencing. I’m renting with an option to buy, which I’d love to do.” Kimber went to the fridge and then to a bread box. “I’ll make your sandwich if you want to wash up. The bathroom is at the end of the hallway.” She pointed in the general direction and proceeded to make two sandwiches. “This place could use some work inside. The faucet in there is leaking. You know there’s a library here?”

  “Nope.” He eyed her slim body while she worked at the counter. She was a pretty thing when she wasn’t acting all high and mighty. How long will she last here? “I’ll wash my hands in the tack room after finishing one more job out there. Wrap those. I’ll honk when I’m ready. If you have time, we’ll drive around. You’ll see how much property you don’t have here for horses. You have enough for about six or seven.”

  Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, “What do you mean? Have enough?”

  She might end up with “Green” for a nickname. “You need a certain amount of property per horse. In this area of the county, you should be able to board six, plus have two of your own.”

  “How do you know this if you’re new here? You know a lot about what is going on.”

  Zach blew out a breath when she made quote marks around new. “It’s my job to know. Lucky for you, huh.” He strode toward the door. “If you’re still coming, I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  He came to a halt and pivoted. “Okay. For the record. I have a buddy who lives here, and I’ve visited him many times over the years. He’s a damn horse whisperer.” Zach laughed. “I’ve lived here nearly a year and had a job giving horseback tours into the Superstitions. Any other questions? Do you need to know my shoe size? My inseam? Or the size of anything else.” He met her narrowed glare with the same. She’d picked up on his insinuation. Damn if she didn’t stick her hand on her hip and give him a shrug. Her eyes did a full body scan, which sent a warm glow straight to his groin.

  “What is your inseam?”

  Witch! “Thirty-three mostly with these boots, depending on the… That all, ma’am?”

  Her gaze journeyed over him again. “Feel free to warm up your coffee.”

  He strutted back to the coffee pot and topped off his cup. She shoved the sugar bowl toward him with a smirk. Zach gave a throaty chuckle without looking back at her. She might be fun, but the chance was slim.

  ***

  Zach tapped the horn. His gaze followed her around the front of his truck. Her sangria-colored hair captured the sunlight. “Thanks for the sandwiches. Are you Irish?”

  “Huh?” She slammed the door.

  “There is no need to slam the door. It shuts easily.” He reached over her to pull the handle, and he shoved the door open a bit, but pulled it closed without slamming it. “See?” Her face was close to his. God strike him dead, but he couldn’t resist lowering his eyes to her chest. Were
they real? They sure as hell looked good. It wasn’t until she plastered her back against the seat that he slid over to the steering wheel. She smelled good—reminding him of something warm and cozy—the opposite of what he’d seen of her so far.

  She straightened her crisp white shirt and rolled the window up. “Did you ask me if I was Irish? No, I’m not. Looks can be deceiving.”

  “NO. Shit.” He tromped on the accelerator.

  She took a band from her purse to pull her hair into a ponytail. “What time do you get off work?”

  With her hair up, or down, she looked attractive. Pulled back, it showed off her slim neck and aristocratic jawline. “Why don’t you tell me?” So, why did he have such an attitude toward her? Because, dammit, she seemed to stand for everything he didn’t like. Like some haughty city girl, but this one didn’t want to sample a cowboy because they never had one, like some of the other downtown girls he’d met.

  Kimber slid her hand over her thigh. “Why do you have to be fricking smart-alecky? It wasn’t a hard question.”

  “Neither was mine. You’re the boss. What time do you want me to go home?”

  “I’m not your boss. Make your own hours.”

  “I will.” He pulled off the road and headed out into the desert.

  “When you decide what time you get off, let me know.”

  I’m about to go off right now. He turned up the volume on the radio. “I’ll play it by ear. How do you want me to keep track of my hours?” He laughed to himself. This would be fun for a minute.

  “I’ll create a way to keep track of your hours. Have you already filled out the necessary tax forms? An application? Do you have a resume?”

  Zach’s blood boiled. “Aren’t you the one, boss, who takes care of all that kind of stuff?”

  “Look. I had help getting this place, and they took care of hiring you, okay, so stop asking me questions. I’ll create a spreadsheet for your hours. Give them to me by the end of each week.”

  “Fine, but I’m on salary. I have to be here regardless. Other than the logical reasons for needing my hours, was there something else you needed? By the way. I’m capable of taking care of a spreadsheet myself. I can email it to you weekly.”