The Rancher And The Redhead

by Leigh, Allison

  He slammed an iron door over that notion. He sliced into the waffle and shoved a huge bite in his mouth. Nice.

  The storm door squeaked and he looked up when Daniel entered. “Figured you’d be gone all day,” he commented when his brother pulled out a chair and reached for a waffle. “You get that load over to Jefferson’s?”

  Daniel nodded. “Ran into Joe on my way back. He was heading out to check the south section for calves. Said the one you brought in yesterday is still holding on.”

  “Fed him about two hours ago. He took a little more this time.”

  Dan nodded as he folded the waffle in half, then wolfed it down, plain, in three bites. “Good,” he commented and reached for another. “You know, Matt, you oughta marry the girl. We could eat like this every morning.”

  Matthew glared at Dan. He slid the second egg onto his plate before his brother could reach for it. Daniel pointed at the last waffle. “You eating that, too?” He reached for it when Matthew shook his head. “Saw Bill Pickett the other night at Colbys.”

  Matthew knew Daniel was waiting for a reaction at the mention of BethAnn’s widowed husband. “So?”

  “Had a hot game going. Old Bill was winning, too. Bragging about how he won that car off you.”

  “Pretty pitiful if Bill has to brag about a poker game that happened more ’n fifteen years ago.”

  “Joe was there, too.”

  Matthew eyed his younger brother. Daniel’s grin was gone. He knew his brother didn’t much care for Joe, though Matthew had yet to figure out why, and Daniel had yet to say. The two men usually steered pretty clear of each other. It didn’t matter much to Matthew how they acted, as long as the work got done. “Were you playing?”

  His brother nodded.

  “Thought pool was your game.”

  Dan held up his hand and reached into his pocket before Matthew could vent his opinion. He took out a wad of bills and tossed it on the table.

  “Guess you won.” Matthew studied the money spilling across the empty waffle plate.

  “Bill didn’t go home empty-handed either,” Dan said. He jerked his chin toward the money. “But that there is most of what Joe lost.”

  Matthew flicked the bills. “Must be close to his entire paycheck there.”

  “Yup.” Dan pushed back his chair and stood. He headed for the door. “Make sure Maggie gets the money back,” he said quietly. He jammed his hat on his head and pushed his arms into his battered coat. “Might be best if she...keeps it to herself.” Daniel’s eyes skipped past Matthew. “Morning, Jaimie,” he greeted, his usual, devilish grin back in place. “Mighty fine waffles.”

  Her eyes were glued to the pile of money sitting in the middle of the table. “Glad you liked them,” she said faintly, unaware that Daniel had already gone outside.

  Matthew scooted back his own chair. He scooped up the bit folded them and shoved them in his front pocket. He wondered if Jaimie knew her brother had a penchant for card games. He wondered what he was going to say to Maggie when he gave her back the money.

  He realized that Jaimie’s eyes were on the pocket where he’d pushed the money. And he wondered what Jaimie would do if he yanked those bunched up sheets out of her hands and carried her back up to his bed. “Jaimie.”

  “Hmm?” Her eyes jerked upward. “What?”

  “Do you...would you—” He broke off when the phone rang. Had he really been going to ask her out? Out where? Colbys? The place was a dive. Ruby’s Café closed in the afternoon Swallowing an oath, he yanked the receiver off the hook. “Double-C,” he barked. “Oh. hi, Donna.”

  Jaimie passed him with a rustle of sheets, and the door to the mudroom closed behind her resoundingly. He heard the washing machine start and forced himself to pay attention to what Donna was saying. He quickly provided the information she’d called for, then yanked open the door to the mudroom. The room was empty.

  He raked his fingers through his hair. It was just as well. He was supposed to stay away from her. Not encourage this madness between them. He returned to his office in time to see Jaimie through the windows as she trudged across the road. Her chin was tucked into the upturned collar of her coat, and her long hair streamed behind her on the breeze.

  The never-ending paperwork spread across his desk held even less appeal than usual. Maybe he should go ahead and see if Emily really was interested in taking over the Double-C’s books. At least a portion, he modified. It wasn’t his nature to give up complete control, but spring was getting closer by the day and he would soon be hiring on more men. It would be nice not to have to divide his time so much between the pain-in-the-butt bookwork and the real work.

  He found himself at the window again. Jaimie was leaning over the top rung of the fence. The trio of horses inside the corral trotted toward her, jockeying for first crack at whatever treat she was offering them on her outstretched palm. He glanced at the computer sitting on the corner of the desk. The cursor blinked steadily, waiting for him to start punching keys.

  Ah, the heck with this.

  Without further thought, he reached over and shut off the computer and that annoying cursor.

  His bootsteps seemed to echo throughout the quiet house as he walked back toward the kitchen. He paused by the foot of the staircase. The wood banister gleamed. The living room off to his left was as neat as a pin. When he passed through the kitchen, he wasn’t surprised that Jaimie had already restored it to order.

  She didn’t even give him a fleeting reason anymore to complain about her housekeeping. In fact, these days she didn’t give him a reason to complain about anything.

  Except her sass, which had been noticeably absent this morning.

  Obviously he was suffering from cabin fever himself. Why else would he find himself missing it?

  Must be those infernal dreams he kept having about her.

  His shoulders moved restlessly. What he needed was some fresh air. That was all. Some fresh air, and he’d be able to rid himself of this impossible...attraction.

  He checked the new calves again, giving another round of feeding his best efforts, before heading over to the horse barn and saddling up. He could’ve driven a snowmobile out to check on the small cluster of stock that habitually found themselves stuck in Dawson’s bend, but he would rather ride.

  During the winter, the acreage near the border of the Double-C and Jefferson’s spread was a headache. The terrain was rougher than usual. Cattle effectively got snowed in. They were forever trying to knock through the fence rather than figure their way through the snowdrifts blocking their way to lower ground, unfrozen water and ready feed. He spent an hour rounding them up, forcing them through the narrow, rocky passage, toward the lower pastures.

  Stupid cows.

  Not as stupid as sheep, of course.

  Not as stupid as he was. The snowmobile would’ve been faster.

  Maybe he oughta just transfer that land over to Jefferson and Emily. Originally it had been owned by George Dawson, the man Jefperson and Emily had bought out, but the land had been transferred to the Double-C years ago.

  He ducked his head beneath a bare, gray-tinged tree limb. Squire had never admitted it, but Matthew was pretty certain the transaction had had a lot to do with a certain poker game.

  Jasper’s hooves clopped and scrabbled across a patch of rock, but Matthew barely noticed. His pocket, and mind, were still heavy with the money Daniel had given him.

  Poker.

  One of the most insane things Matthew had ever gotten himself involved in had been poker. He’d been far too good with the cards. He’d been young and cocky, and thought he would never lose. He had. But not until he’d watched Bill Pickett haul in the pot that Matthew had confidently tossed his precious car keys into, had he realized that sooner or later the odds caught up. His pride had taken quite a beating. It hadn’t helped that BethAnn, who’d run off and married Bill only a month before, had been sitting in that room, watching. He remembered thinking...wondering...whether BethAnn fel
t strange after that, riding next to her brand-new husband in that car that she and Matthew had made love in more times than he could count.

  As for poker, Matt had dragged his obsession with it under control. For a long time, he hadn’t even allowed himself to touch a deck of cards. As time went on, though, he’d learned that he could still enjoy the game without the added edge of gambling.

  Too bad he was plagued now by dreams of the poker game he and Jaimie had played.

  He felt Jasper gather beneath him and launch himself over a fence. Then he was racing along the snow-plowed road leading to the stable. Matthew settled his hat, and slowed the wild ride. Jasper snorted impatiently, but he complied, eventually settling into a walk. By the time Matthew returned Jasper to the stable, he was cooled and settled, contemptuously ignoring Matthew’s grooming for the feed which he dove into with gusto.

  Finally Matthew couldn’t put it off any longer. He shoved his heavy gloves into the pockets of his coat and headed on foot toward Joe and Maggie’s house.

  Jaimie, sitting on the kitchen counter in the big house, saw Matthew pass by the window. She leaned across the sink, almost pressing her nose against the glass. His coat hung loose around his narrow hips, and she sighed faintly when he was no longer in sight. She looked down at the grocery list she’d been making.

  She wondered what it would be like to be writing such a list for her very own family.

  Then she snorted. She was an employee. A temporary one, at that. She would do well not to imagine anything else. Matthew and she might click on a physical level, but that’s all they did. If she needed proof of that, all she had to do was remember that Matthew was still seeing Donna Blanchard.

  She renewed her efforts and scratched down a few more items. It wasn’t as if they needed any staples. But if she didn’t get some fresh vegetables soon, she would go crazy. A person couldn’t very well freeze salad greens.

  Maybe she could borrow Joe’s truck and drive into Weaver. No way was she going to ask Matthew. Not for the first time she wished she still had the little compact car she’d owned in Phoenix. It had been a clunker, true, but it had made her mobile. Then she’d found herself out of a job. Again. And Maggie had coaxed her to move to Wyoming, reasoning that Jaimie would surely be able to find work.

  And there had really been nothing keeping her in Phoenix any longer. Her engagement had been off for more than three years. The circle of friends she’d thought she shared with Tony had drifted away after the breakup.

  They probably would never understand why Jaimie had called off the engagement. And, once the initial shock of it all had worn off, Jaimie found she didn’t care. She wasn’t the prim and proper wife-to-be that Tony had tried to mold her into. She wasn’t cut out for tennis lessons at ten and doing lunch at noon. She hadn’t wanted to quit her job at the children’s center because he told her it wasn’t in a decent area of the city. She hadn’t wanted to cut her hair into a smooth, controlled bob, and she had refused to sell her lucky bracelet just because Tony told her it would be more financially responsible to take the funds and invest it in blue-chip stocks.

  So Jaimie had sold the little car that Tony had never liked, paid off the rent she still owed and bought a one-way ticket to Wyoming. And she still didn’t have a car, the salary she’d earned from Bennett Ludlow had barely covered the essentials, much less a car and auto insurance.

  She didn’t have many expenses now, working for Matthew. But this job was only temporary. Once Maggie was back on her feet, she would have to hit the pavement again, looking for more steady work. Perhaps she would try Gillette. She wouldn’t be too far from the ranch then. Not so far that she couldn’t visit Maggie and Joe and the baby on weekends or something.

  Or catch a peek at Matthew, either.

  She hopped down from the counter and tucked the pen above the message pad by the telephone. Pulling on her coat, she headed back to the foreman’s cottage. Her nose was frozen and showing a distinct tendency toward running when she scurried into the snug warmth of Joe’s house. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and tossed her coat onto the couch.

  Just when she’d blown her nose, she realized that Matthew and Maggie were sitting at the table, watching. She barely contained a groan, feeling her cheeks fire. She mumbled a greeting, spun and headed for her bedroom. Why did it seem as if she couldn’t go anywhere these days without tripping over that man?

  Because he runs the place, idiot.

  Because you can’t last two hours without needing to see him. Even if only from a distance, watching from the house or the gravel road, while he headed out into the range, disappearing into the gray dawn.

  She’d never once stood rooted in place watching Tony drive away, nor had Tony ever suggested that Jaimie “sniff the air” to catch a whiff of the coming weather! And if he had done so, she would have wondered what on earth it was that he’d been “sniffing.”

  Shaking her head impatiently, she threw away the used tissue and looked at herself in the small mirror over the dresser. Her hair looked like a band of gypsies had been dancing in it She didn’t have on a speck of makeup. Her nose, as expected, was still rosy from the cold, and her lips were red and chapped.

  It was enough to scare Frankenstein’s monster. She tamed her hair back into a neat French braid, then quickly smoothed on lotion. A touch of mascara, blush and lip gloss and she looked more like the self she was used to.

  She flattened her palms on the dresser and stared for a moment at the box of unopened Cracker Jacks that sat in a position of honor in the center of the small bureau. Stifling a sigh, she carefully tucked the box into her lingerie drawer.

  Then she noticed her fingernails. She had healthy, strong nails. But her work on the Double-C was definitely taking its toll. She contented herself with smoothing the jagged edges with an emery board. One of these days she would give herself a proper manicure. Then she replaced her shapeless sweatshirt for a bright blue turtleneck that hugged her figure.

  Definitely better.

  Nothing like a touch of makeup and colorful clothes to brighten a person’s outlook on life.

  Yeah right. That’s why she was pressing her ear to the bedroom door, trying to decide whether she’d killed enough time for Matthew to leave. As far as she could tell, not even a mouse was stirring out there.

  She opened the door and peeked out. “All clear?”

  Maggie’s head jerked up. “What?”

  There was no sign of Matthew. Her sigh was one of relief, she told herself. She walked into the living room. “Matthew left.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Maggie leaned against the counter, rubbing her palm over her swollen abdomen.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Just a few false labor pains.”

  “How can you be sure they’re false?” Jaimie asked. “With the problems you’ve already had...maybe I should find Joe?”

  Maggie shook her head. “My OB warned me about them. They’ll go away in a few minutes. And Joe’s in Weaver, anyway.”

  “You should be lying down.”

  With a grimace, Maggie nodded and slowly returned to her bedroom. Jaimie watched, still concerned.

  “I’m fine,” Maggie called through the open door.

  In other words, stop hovering. She could take a hint. She quietly let herself out of the cottage. At loose ends, she wandered into the barn, thinking that she would look at the calf she knew Matthew had brought in. Then she would go back and check on Maggie, no matter what her sister-in-law said.

  Inside the barn she stopped in surprise at the sight of Matthew sitting on the hard-packed ground. A small calf sprawled across his lap. all gangly legs and mouth. Captivated by the sight, Jaimie walked over to the stall and folded her arms across the top rail. “How is she doing?”

  The brim of his hat tilted up, and his eyes skipped over her face. “He.”

  “How is he doing, then?”

  The calf lowered his head to Matthew’s knee. Milk dribbled from his fuzzy mouth. Matth
ew tried unsuccessfully to get the calf to drink more. “Not great,” Matthew finally said. “He should be drinking all of that.” He jerked his chest toward the small pail of milk.

  Jaimie slipped into the stall. “Can I try?”

  He eyed her, then shrugged. “Can’t hurt.”

  “Such faith,” Jaimie murmured, lowering herself to the ground several feet away from where Matthew salt “What do I do?”

  “See if you can get him to drink.” He smiled faintly at the look she gave him and moved closer to her, bringing the calf with him. “Go ahead and touch him,” he encouraged softly. “He won’t hurt you.”

  Jaimie touched tentative fingers to the calf’s head. He looked at her, his eyes soft and brown, and Jaimie’s heart melted. “Oh, Matthew, he’s so sweet.” She scooted around until she lay on her side with the calf cuddled next to her. His little body sighed, and more like a puppy than a calf, he nudged his head against her stomach.

  Matthew propped his wrist on his bent knee and shook his head. “I should’ve known,” he muttered. Naturally she would react like the calf was a beloved pet. “He’s probably not gonna survive.” She gave him a look of such horror that he felt like a heel. But facts were facts. “Sweetheart—”

  “He is going to make it,” Jaimie stated firmly. She lay right down with the calf, presenting Matthew with a close-up view of her denimcovered derriere. Dipping her fingers into the milk, she touched the calf’s mouth.

  And darned if that little beggar didn’t follow her fingers right back to the pail of milk like he’d never eaten before. Like Matthew hadn’t been trying that very same thing.

  A short while later, she set the empty pail aside and sat up, her eyes sparkling. “Sometimes it takes a woman’s touch.”

  Loose bits of straw clung to her bright blue shirt, and strands of her vibrant hair had worked loose from her thick braid, curling along her throat and temple. “Sometimes,” he agreed, feeling something old and tight start working loose in his chest. He reached over and brushed away the smudge of dirt on her cheek. She went still, her eyes darkening.