“But can you jump a ditch and cross a bridge?”
“Please.” She pretended to be insulted. “Piece of cake.”
“A woman of many talents.”
Maybe so, but no way could she have managed four horses at the same time. Ryan continued to impress her and she couldn’t help asking him about his expertise. “Where’d you learn to lead a pack string? Surely not on your family’s farm.”
He grinned again. Maybe she’d impressed him a little by knowing what a pack string was.
“I worked for an outfitter in the Colorado Rockies shortly after high school. One of the best years of my life. Also one of the hardest. We took groups of people on three-, seven- or ten-day trips and were in the saddle from sunup to sundown. A lot of packing and rough terrain and a lot of scary situations. The wranglers were required to carry knives in case we had to cut a horse loose when they fell and got tangled in their gear.”
“Any of the people ever fall?”
“Oh, yeah. Once, a woman had to be airlifted out by helicopter when she went down the side of a cliff and broke both her legs.”
“Did her horse throw her?”
Ryan shook his head. “She was taking pictures and didn’t watch where she was going.”
They quickly reached the trailhead, which was clearly identified by the marker attached to a post.
“This is the easiest trail to start with,” Bridget said. “A nice hour-long ride with easy hills. I can show you more trails another day.”
“A second outing.” He’d donned sunglasses, which hid the spark she knew must be dancing in his blue eyes. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Show you on a map,” she clarified. “Competent as you are, I’m sure you’ll be able to explore on your own.”
“You think I’m competent?”
“Is that what I said? I meant egotistical.” She ignored him for a full five minutes before finally breaking the silence. “A farm in Texas. An outfitter in Colorado. Team penning somewhere in there. How did you wind up in Arizona and buying the Chandler place?”
“There wasn’t much to keep me in Texas. Two of my sisters still lived at home while they were going to college. My folks were also helping to raise my brother’s three kids. Tough situation there—his wife left him. I figured one less person to feed and clothe would be a lot easier for everyone.”
“I can’t imagine being brave enough to strike out on my own at eighteen.”
“I won’t lie, it wasn’t always easy. I learned a lot along the way. Met a bunch of nice folks and made some good friends. I scraped together what money I could when I could. Tried a few things that paid off, like team penning.”
“How’d you come to buy the Chandler place, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I passed through Mustang Valley last winter while delivering horses for a buddy of mine.”
“Really?”
“I saw the property and thought it had a lot of potential so I called the real-estate agent. The seller was willing to lower his price and, as the saying goes, the rest is history.”
Bridget couldn’t help feeling there were large chunks missing from Ryan’s story. The Chandler place may be run-down, but he hadn’t gotten it for free. His salary from Sweetheart Ranch couldn’t possibly cover the monthly mortgage payments and pay for expensive renovations. Not to mention annual taxes and insurance.
What little Ryan had revealed about himself, however, was telling. The man didn’t stay in one place long and went from job to job. Perhaps that had changed, seeing as he was now a homeowner. More than likely, he craved adventure and excitement and would soon grow bored with a small, quiet town like Mustang Valley.
“Why did you agree to go riding with me today? Was it because your grandmother twisted your arm?”
His question roused Bridget from her musings. She glanced briefly over her shoulder at him, debating if she should answer honestly or not. She decided on the former.
“Partly, yes. I did have the most free time today and am the logical person.”
“Tell me about the other part.”
“If I said I feel it’s my duty to get to know employees better, would you buy that?”
“I would if you dropped the it’s-your-duty part.”
Bridget held back a laugh. He was what Grandma Em would call a smooth talker. “I liked how you were with that little girl last night at the campfire. She was scared, and you were gentle with her and reassuring. I’m curious how a single man gets to be good with children.”
“So much for me thinking I’d impressed you with my manly wagon-driving skills.”
He had impressed her. In Bridget’s opinion, it took a real man to be comfortable and relaxed with children, though she didn’t admit that to Ryan. For all his outward charm and good-old-boy mannerisms, she suspected there was a lot of depth to him. A peek at that depth was why she’d ultimately agreed to show him the trails.
“Most guys I know without kids don’t have the first clue what to say to a distraught two-year-old.” She could feel his smile without having to look.
“I’m the youngest of eight, remember? I have a lot of nieces and nephews and have done my share of babysitting.”
That, or he was a natural. An intriguing idea, considering his roving lifestyle.
They spent the next hour talking mostly about his job duties at the ranch, with Ryan quizzing her on the daily routine and what to expect. Eventually, they moved to the subject of town. He was very familiar with the small market, as he did most of his shopping there. The auto-parts store was a regular stop—his truck was in constant need of replacement parts. He liked the specials at the Cowboy Up Café, but the hardware store left a lot to be desired. He bought the majority of his building supplies in north Scottsdale at the home-improvement store.
Again, she pondered where he got his money.
“I can unsaddle and put the horses away,” he said when they reached the stables. “You’ve got things to do.”
Bridget found she wasn’t quite ready to leave. “You sure? I don’t mind staying.”
“Go on.” He swung down from the saddle and tied his horses to the trailer before leading the other two to the hitching post.
She marveled at how they docilely followed Ryan, one after the other. It had been like that on the trail. Not a single hiccup or moment of panic the entire time. She couldn’t imagine riding a horse while leading three others. They’d likely start bucking and kicking, and Ryan would have to cut them loose, like when he’d worked for the outfitter.
“He’s not Superman,” she mumbled under her breath.
“What’s that?”
“Oh!” She hadn’t heard him come up behind her and gave a quick jerk. Composing herself, she said, “You’re, um, going to do just fine leading the trail rides.”
“Bridget.”
He was suddenly close. Very close. He’d removed his sunglasses and his cowboy hat, and she could see the tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Smell the brisk scent of sunshine and outdoors on him.
Alarm bells started clanging inside her head. “Ryan, I—”
“How ’bout you and I have dinner soon? There has to be an evening we’re both free.”
He was asking her on a date. Expected, she thought, and yet unexpected.
“I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Is there a rule against employees dating? Because your grandmother eloped with your staff minister.”
“No, there’s no rule. That’s not the reason.”
“Another man? The doctor at the clinic?”
He had heard Bridget discussing Dr. Hall with her grandmother. “No.” Not yet, she silently added.
“Then what’s stopping you?”
“I don’t think we have the same objectives when it comes to relationships.”
“It’
s just dinner.” Ryan’s voice had dropped to a husky level that made concentrating hard.
“And therein lies the problem.” Drawing on her willpower, she straightened. “I’m not interested in just dinner or hanging out or friends with benefits. I’m looking for a guy who’s ready now to commit to me and to having a family and who’s content making Mustang Valley his home. I don’t believe that describes you.”
“I understand.” He shrugged, seemingly unfazed by her rejection. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
With that, he returned to the horses, leaving Bridget in a state of mild shock and annoyed rather than relieved.
CHAPTER FOUR
RYAN FELT A trifle guilty rummaging through the pantry shelves, but Emily had insisted he make himself at home in the ranch kitchen and to avail himself of anything he needed or wanted. In this case, it was the first-aid kit she’d mentioned was stowed there should an emergency arise.
One had, although it wasn’t work-related—which triggered a second stab of guilt. Ryan shouldn’t be misusing his employer’s resources.
Except if he didn’t apply a dressing to the angry red puncture wound on the heel of his right palm, he’d have difficulty saddling the horses for the ranch’s first trail ride and holding the reins of his horse.
“Aha!” he exclaimed, spotting a white plastic box with a large red cross tucked away in the far corner of a shelf.
Taking the box with him, he returned to the still-empty kitchen. He’d called out when he first entered through the back door and briefly surveyed the parlor when his greeting wasn’t returned. He went no farther, feeling peculiar about traipsing through the house’s first-floor rooms by himself even though he’d been told they were open to the public.
He stood at the counter to tend his injury rather than sit at the table. Naturally, he couldn’t help thinking about Bridget as he picked through the contents of the first-aid kit and selected the items he’d need.
“You’re an idiot,” he mumbled to himself, recalling how he’d asked her to have dinner with him the previous morning.
She’d turned him down. No surprise there. The invitation had been spontaneous, which was no excuse. He’d known better but had been caught up in the moment. Bright sunlight reflecting off her hair and the slight scent of cinnamon clinging to her skin had temporarily short-circuited his brain function.
The lapse was compounded by him liking her. She was fun and easy to be with and he’d enjoyed those quick glimpses of the more interesting and complex side of her personality.
Recalling her reaction, he wanted to kick himself. What if Bridget complained to her grandmother that Ryan had behaved inappropriately and Emily got mad? Even though Bridget hadn’t appeared offended or insulted, he shouldn’t assume.
From this moment on, he vowed to be on his best behavior. Joking around was acceptable. Flirting, completely off-limits. Any next move—and he doubted there’d be one after her not-happening warning—would have to come from Bridget. He wasn’t holding his breath. The odds of them going on a date were pretty much zero.
As if his thoughts had magically conjured her, she suddenly appeared in the doorway. Coming to a stop, she straightened and said, “What are you doing here?” a bit more abruptly than he would have preferred.
Great. Now he’d gone and made things uncomfortable between them. Way to go, numbskull.
“Borrowing the first-aid kit.” He flashed what he hoped was the friendly smile of a coworker and held up a bandage. “Hope that’s okay.”
“Are you hurt?” Concern replaced wariness in her eyes, and her entire demeanor softened as she hurried toward him. “What happened?”
“I wasn’t looking where I put my hand and accidently leaned on a nail.”
“Let me see.”
“I’m fine. Nothing a little antiseptic ointment won’t fix.”
“Puncture wounds are serious. They can easily become infected.” When he didn’t move, she held out her hands and insisted, “Come on. Don’t be a baby. Let me see.”
Baby? Him? Hardly. The reason for his reluctance had to do with proximity. Hers to his. It was hard being mere inches apart. Her touching him would send him into...
“Ryan.”
He slowly revealed his palm.
“That looks awful.” She cradled his hand in both of hers, inspecting the wound. “When was your last tetanus shot?”
“I have no idea.”
“More than ten years ago?”
He shrugged. “I was a kid.”
“You need another one. And possibly antibiotics.”
He didn’t know what he liked more, the warmth in her voice or the warmth of her skin brushing against his as she fussed and fretted.
Cementing his teeth together, he willed himself to remain still while she continued examining his wound. With her head bent low like that, her hair fell forward and formed a curtain of red and gold that concealed her face.
“Where did you do this? Are there exposed nails in the stables?”
He couldn’t lie to her. Not with her smooth fingertips tenderly prodding the inflamed and sensitive flesh on his palm.
“In the attic at my house. I was clearing away debris in order to install new insulation.”
“You’re lucky you only got a puncture wound. It’s probably a death trap up there, considering how long that house has sat vacant.”
He didn’t mention the various animal droppings he’d found, the black-widow spiders and the wasps’ nest hanging from a beam near the broken window.
“Sorry. That wasn’t nice of me.” She peered up at him, and the curtain of her hair parted to reveal a smattering of freckles across her nose.
Ryan was captivated and had to literally shake himself to regain focus.
“You’re right,” he said. “The attic is a death trap. But if I don’t install decent insulation soon, the whole place will become a furnace by next month.”
Temperatures in central Arizona regularly reached the high nineties by May. Before long, the ranch would start restricting trail rides and hayrides to early mornings or evenings after the sun went down. They couldn’t take the risk. Heatstroke and related conditions were a serious problem in the desert and mountains, for people and animals alike.
Bridget tsked as a mother would to an errant child. “You should be careful.”
He’d endure all the scolding she dished out as long as she continued to hold his hand. “I should have gone to the market and bought my own first-aid supplies. I have no business using yours for something that happened on my own time.”
“Nonsense.” Without asking him, she moved his hand to the sink, where she turned on the water. “You can’t possibly take couples on trail rides without first treating this. In fact, I think you should visit the urgent-care clinic in town.”
What better care could a doctor provide than what he was already getting from Bridget? His pain had vanished, and he felt like a million bucks. “That’s not necessary.”
Fiddling with the faucets, she adjusted the water flow until she was satisfied. Picking up a pump bottle of liquid soap, she instructed him to wash his hands thoroughly.
He inhaled sharply when the water hit his palm. Not because it was hot but because she’d pressed up right next to him. So close, their hips bumped and their arms brushed.
She didn’t seem to notice or didn’t feel the sparks. Though how she could remain indifferent was beyond him. He was about to spontaneously combust.
Drying his hands on the clean white dish towel she’d retrieved from a drawer, he watched her open the tube of antiseptic cream. When he finished, he obediently showed her his palm. She liberally applied the antibiotic ointment, then covered the wound with a gauze pad and medical tape, which she wrapped around several times.
“You need to get a proper dressing,” she announced, inspecting her
work with the same attention to detail he imagined she gave each dish she prepared. “This won’t hold long.”
“It’ll do for now.”
He took a step back. The next second she looked at him and bam! Not just sparks. A whole entire light show erupted.
“I’d—” She quickly averted her head.
Not fast enough, however. Ryan saw realization dawn on her face and heard her stifle a soft gasp. This wild attraction he had for her wasn’t one-sided.
Great! Wait, not great. Probably bad. Bridget was right about them having different relationship goals. And, unlike Ryan, she was levelheaded enough not to act impulsively or give in to temptations.
She promptly turned away, establishing boundaries. “You need to see the doctor.”
“I’ll be all right. Besides, the first trail ride starts in less than an hour. I have horses to saddle.”
“We’ll postpone it.”
“I don’t want to cause a problem. Your guests are expecting a ride. I’ll go to the clinic later, when I’m off work.”
“By then you could have blood poisoning.” Refusing to take no for an answer, she walked over to the wall phone, which Ryan had learned was connected to the cabins as well as having an outside line. Pressing a series of three numbers, she waited, then said brightly, “Hi, this is Bridget O’Malley. Am I speaking with David? Oh, good. How are you and your bride enjoying your stay?”
She conversed for another minute before rescheduling the trail ride for five that evening. “Yes, you’ll get to see another gorgeous sunset. This time on horseback.” After saying goodbye, she hung up and addressed Ryan. “The other ride’s at noon. That gives us plenty of time to visit the urgent-care clinic.”
“Us?”
“I’m taking you, of course.”
She was? “I can drive myself,” he insisted.
Her exasperated expression conveyed better than words how much she doubted he’d go if left on his own. Two days in her company and she’d already figured him out.
He tried another approach. “I’m sure you have much better things to do.”
“We can’t have our brand-new wrangler unable to perform his job duties, regardless how you hurt yourself and whether or not the accident occurred on ranch property. We’re depending on you.”
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