But beyond the yard…oh, my. Carly stepped from be- neath the shade of the wooden porch into the blazing July sun and stared, entranced. Beyond the yard she saw… forever. A forever sky, bright turquoise blue, so big and clean it seemed impossible. A forever land, timeless, infi- nite in scope, dotted with sagebrush and stretching out flat here, rolling gently into low hills there, on and on as far as she could see to the east and south, and until the dark, looming mountains took over in the west. The occasional well pump didn’t detract one whit from the beauty.
“The mountains to the west,” came Tyler’s low voice, “make up the Wyoming Range.”
Her gaze strayed back to the sage-covered plains. Awe- struck by the sheer, stark magnificence of what she saw, Carry swallowed. “It’s so…powerful, so…breathtaking.”
“Not everyone sees it that way. To most, it’s just another high desert”.
She turned toward him then and saw his eyes, the war- iness, and knew instinctively he was speaking of his wife— ex-wife. “I pity them, then. They’re fools. This is… magnificent.”
Her gaze pulled away from Tyler back to the land as if drawn by a magnet. The utter simplicity and vastness sur- rounding her spoke volumes about the type of man who would call this place home. A strong man, and quiet. A private man, who wanted nothing more from life than what he could wrestle from it with his own two hands and the sweat of his brow. A stubborn, determined man, who would fight for his right to live on this vast open plain on his own terms.
She could only assume, from what little she knew and what lay before her, that Tyler Barnett was such a man.
“What have you got this time?” she asked with a nod toward the plastic bucket he carried.
He looked into the bucket, then pursed his lips. “After your reaction to the milk this morning, I don’t know if you’re ready for this.”
“Hey, after the milk, I’m ready for anything.”
He held the bucket out toward her, and Carly peered inside to find what looked to be more than two dozen large eggs. She grinned. “I wondered how you afforded break- fast around here. But what’s that brown stuff all over them? Looks like dried mud.”
Tyler laughed. “Guess again. And while you’re guess- ing, remember where eggs come from. Precisely where they come from, and I don’t mean egg cartons.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” He set the bucket in the shade of the front porch, then said, “Come on, Amanda. Let’s show Carly around.”
Carly wondered at the look of challenge in his eyes. Was he waiting for her to be offended over realizing there was a glob of chicken droppings on probably every egg in the bucket? Did he expect her to change her mind and decide she hated the ranch? She couldn’t help but wonder what Deborah Barnett’s reaction to the Bar B had been.
Tyler and Amanda led Carly around to the north side of the house. Here was an entirely different world from the rolling plains of sage to the south. Tyler pointed out enor- mous fields of hay stretching out on either side from a thick line of willows.
“Is that a stream?” she asked.
“Middle Piney Creek.” He pronounced, it crick. “The life’s blood of the Bar B.”
Yes, she thought, water would be scarce in this high, arid land, regardless of how green the nearby mountains looked or how lush the hay in the fields. With the house situated on a slight rise she could see irrigation ditches threading through the fields.
Two large barns, one for stallions and one for mares and geldings—”It’s quieter around here that way,” Tyler ex- plained—were separated by a maze of corrals that wrapped around three sides of each building. Beyond the corrals, horses and a few cattle dotted fenced pastures of short grass. Closer in, there were sheds, tractors, a large garage, a chicken house with enclosed yard and the small house Carly had seen last night.
“That’s the old house,” Tyler told her. “The men live there.”
Beyond the “old house,” Tyler pointed out his indoor arena. “It’s not huge,” he said, “but it lets me work the horses during the winter.”
Not huge? The red-and-white metal building looked enormous to Carly.
“And this gentleman,” he said, leading Carly to the only corral fenced in white steel pipe and cable, whereas the others were enclosed with wood, “is Prancer.”
“Tyler, he’s magnificent.”
And he was, in looks, in carriage. The bay quarter horse stallion’s coat “gleamed like polished mahogany as he pranced along the corral fence before them, head high, small ears twitching, his black mane and tail rippling like heavy silk with his every movement. Beneath that glossy coat, well-developed muscles bunched and flexed.
“I see where he gets his name,” Carry offered with a smile.
Tyler chuckled. “Yeah. His real name is Loves to Prance. And he does.”
Something over her shoulder caught Tyler’s attention.
Carly turned and followed his gaze to see a plume of dust snaking toward the ranch. A moment later the sun reflected off an orange pickup bouncing along the gravel road, dust shooting up behind it like a rooster tail.
“Tammy,” Tyler said.
Carly waited for further explanation, wondering at the soft affection in his voice. The way he said the name started an ache in her chest. Whoever this Tammy was, Tyler ob- viously cared about her.
“She’s probably coming over to meet you, show you around.”
“Why? Who is she?”
“Tammy Harris. She and her husband, Timmy—”
With the mention of a husband easing the ache in her chest, Carly smiled. ’Tammy and Timmy? You’re kid- ding.”
Tyler smiled. “Yeah, everybody teases them about their names. They’re our nearest neighbors, five miles back to- ward town. Tammy’s been looking after Amanda and tak- ing care of the house for the past few months.”
“And I just did her out of her job. Terrific. Does this Tammy person have any violent tendencies?”
Tyler laughed and shook his head. “She’ll be glad to see you. She’s got a baby due in a few weeks. Taking care of two houses was getting to be too much for her. She had to quit whether I found anybody to take her place or not. I called her from San Francisco and told her you were com- ing.” He eyed the pickup again. “Looks like Tim’s with her.”
Tyler led Carly and Amanda across the dry, hard-packed ground to the back of the house, where the orange pickup rolled to a stop next to Tyler’s truck at the back door.
Tammy Harris couldn’t have been a day over eighteen. Long, wavy red hair, freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks and a wide, friendly smile big enough for two.
Tim, who didn’t look much older, if at all, was tall and lanky, with a shank of sandy brown hair hanging down on his forehead from underneath his hat.
Tyler introduced them, and they all made their way into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
“Tammy was bound and determined to get over here today and meet the new woman,” Tim said with a shy smile for Carly. “But she’s not supposed to drive anymore till after the baby comes, so I knew I’d better get her over here before she nagged me to death.”
“Oh, go on with ya.” Tammy gave him a playful swat on the arm. “You were just as curious as I was, and you know it. Now that you’ve seen Carly, you’ll be hightailing it over to my daddy’s to tell all my brothers there’s a new woman in the county.”
Tim’s face turned the shade of a vine-ripened tomato. “I’ll not be doin’ any such thing.” Then he grinned. “Not without making sure Tyler hasn’t already got his brand on her.”
Carly choked on a mouthful of coffee.
“Way to go, Tim, you’ve embarrassed her.”
Carly coughed to clear her throat. “Yes,” she said. “I think you have.” She chanced a quick look at Tyler and found him staring at her with a look of amused challenge.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Tim said with an unrepentant grin. “But look at Tyler,” he told Tammy. “I was right. Looks like your brothers are
out of luck.”
Just when Carly thought it couldn’t get worse, Amanda tugged on Tyler’s arm.
“What is it, sugar?”
He let Amanda lead him to Carly’s side, where the girl pressed her finger to Carly’s hip and made a hissing sound between her teeth. Then she looked up at Tyler, her brow furrowed in wrinkles.
Tyler chuckled. “No, I’m not really gonna brand her. It’s just a figure of speech. Tim was only kidding.” But the look Tyler gave Carly just then was hot enough to sear flesh.
“Way to go, Tim,” Tammy muttered again.
Tyler spent the rest of the afternoon trying to forget the blush on Carly’s cheeks when Tim spoke of branding. He and Carly had walked outside to see Tim and Tammy off. The minute the orange pickup had driven away, Carly had hustled that shapely fanny of hers back into the house and set to work cleaning the kitchen as though her life depended on it.
Tim’s teasing had brought one thing home to Tyler, though. Carly was attractive, single and female—a rare commodity in Sublette County. Other men would find out she was here on the Bar B, and they’d come sniffing around.
The thought should have amused him. It didn’t.
“Feeling a little territorial, are we?” he asked himself beneath his breath.
Yeah. He was feeling a little territorial.
Before Tammy and Tim had arrived to spoil the moment, Carly had surprised him. Damn near knocked him off his feet, in fact. In his wildest dreams, he had never expected lively, city-bred Carly Baker to like this quiet land he called home, yet he couldn’t deny her reaction this morning. The look of wonder in her eyes had nearly stopped his heart. For a minute there, one fantastic, blood-rushing minute, he had thought—hoped?—that look had been for him.
“Dream on, buddy.”
At the harsh sound of Tyler’s voice in the quiet barn, the gelding whose hoof he was filing snorted and tried to jerk his leg free.
“Easy, fella. Just talking to myself. Almost through here. A little more, and…there.” He released the hoof and stood back, running a hand along the animal’s flank. “All done.”
He put his rasp away in the tack room and led the horse back out to the corral. The sound of his dad and the others driving in from a day of checking fences reminded him that it was suppertime.
After the way Carly had lit into his dad that morning, Tyler wondered what would happen when the two came face-to-face again. He guessed he didn’t need to worry about her. She could sure enough take care of herself.
Still, he didn’t want to give the pair any time alone to- gether. Given half a chance, if this morning was anything to go by, his dad and Carly were liable to snatch each other bald-headed.
Chapter Five
Carly stood at the kitchen sink and washed her hands, trying to think if there was anything she’d forgotten for dinner. But concentrating on the meal was next to impos- sible, knowing that at that very moment, Tyler was upstairs in the shower. Wet Naked. His muscled body slicked with soap.
Lord, what was happening to her? She never used to be obsessed with men. Even James had never occupied her mind the way Tyler did, and she’d been in love with James. Hadn’t she?
The sound of voices drew her gaze to the window. The rest of the men were closing up the barns and other build- ings for the night.
Beside her, Amanda looked up anxiously.
“It’s your grandad. He and the others will be in for sup- per in a few minutes. Is the table all set?”
Amanda gave her a glum nod.
“Hey, why so sad?”
The child’s eyes cut toward the window.
“You’re not still thinking about what your grandad said this morning, are you?”
With a small frown, Amanda nodded again.
“Ah, honey, I told you he didn’t mean it.”
Young shoulders lifted in an ancient sigh.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
No response, except for downcast eyes.
Carly held her breath and decided to gamble. It was noth- ing more than the old buzzard deserved for saying a nasty thing like that about his own granddaughter. She knelt in front of Amanda. “What do you wanna bet I’m right, that he didn’t mean it?”
A half shrug.
“Okay, here’s the deal. If you’re right, and he did mean it, I’ll make your bed for the next week.”
Ah-ha, a spark of interest. Well, okay, not interest, ex- actly. Amanda was looking at her as though she thought Carly had lost her mind.
“And if I’m right,” Carly went on, “you have to make my bed for the next week.”
Amanda’s eyes filled with doubt, but she nodded.
“So, it’s a deal?”
This time Amanda grinned.
“What’s a deal?”
The sound of Tyler’s deep voice had both females turn- ing toward the door to the living room. Before Carly could do more than acknowledge how her heart leaped at the sight of him, boots scraped on the step outside the back door. An instant later, the door opened and Arthur Barnett stepped into the mudroom.
He stood still a moment, just beyond the door to the kitchen, and eyed Carly as if he thought she might turn rabid and bite at any second.
Good. The ol’ buzzard ought to be a little jumpy around her. He could say what he wanted about her, but she wouldn’t stand for his mean talk about Amanda. Not while Carly had breath in her lungs.
Still, she’d already told him what she thought Her next move was for Amanda’s peace of mind. Carly waited until Mr. Barnett hung his hat on a peg in the mudroom, then, fighting a big smile—oh, he was going to hate her for this—she took Amanda’s hand and met him as he stepped into the kitchen.
“Good evening, Mr. Barnett. Amanda and I have a bet going that only you can settle.”
He cast a cautious, questioning glance at Tyler, who shrugged in return. “What kind of bet?”
Carly softened her voice and laced it slightly with sym- pathy. “It’s about this morning.”
Mr. Barnett stiffened. His cheeks flushed and the corners of his mouth turned down.
“I bet Amanda that you didn’t really mean what you said about her being just a girl, that it was only one of those things people say when they’re mad about something else. One of those things nobody really means. I bet her that you still love her.”
After casting Carly a sharp, narrow glance, the man squatted before his granddaughter. “She’s right, you know,” he said with a nod toward Carly. His voice was rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean a word of it. Ah, shucks, shortcakes, you know you’re my best girl, don’t you?’
Amanda gave him a shy smile.
“Come on then, and give your poor ol’ grandad a hug so he’ll know you’re not mad at him.”
After Amanda complied, he invited her to help him wash up for supper. As she headed out the door ahead of him, he turned back to Carly. “In the future, I’ll thank you to leave me to do my own apologizing.”
“In the future, I hope there’s no need,” Carly shot back.
Arthur Barnett glared at her a final moment, then left the room.
Carly waited, her breath held, for Tyler to comment on how blatantly she’d stuck her nose into family business.
He stalked across the room toward her, slowly, deliber- ately, his dark eyes holding her motionless. Oh, Lord, he must be too angry for words.
She clenched her fists at her sides. “I know I took an awful chance. I don’t Blame you for being upset. But I had to get him to apologize to her. I…I’m sorry.”
He stopped mere inches away. Dampness from his shower still clung to his dark hair. She smelled the fresh scent of soap, the clean woodsy fragrance of his after- shave. He radiated heat and power. If he wanted, he could probably pick her up and snap her in two with his bare hands.
“I—I’m…sorry.”
Those bare hands rose and clasped her shoulders, but gently rather than cruelly. His head dipped low, and before she realized his intent, his smo
oth, firm lips brushed hers.
Carly sucked in a sharp breath. A soft melting sensation started in the pit of her stomach and spread outward, taking her completely by surprise and stilling any protest she might have made, had she been capable of thought just then.
“Thank you,” Tyler whispered, brushing her lips a sec- ond time with his. Then he released her shoulders and straightened, his eyes never leaving hers.
She shivered at the sudden loss of his touch. “F-for what?”
“For handling that the way you did.” He stepped back, giving her room to breathe, to think. “He really does love her, you know.”
“I—I’d hoped I was right about that.”
Voices approached from just beyond the back door. The men were on their way in.
Tyler stepped casually to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. “So, what was the bet for? What did you win?”
Trying to ignore the trembling in her knees, Carly cupped out her bottom lip and blew a stream of air upward to fluff her bangs. “Amanda now has to make my bed for the next week.”
“You’ve got a six-year-old doing housework?” His voice was full of skepticism.
Carly carried the bowl of mashed potatoes to the table. “Making beds isn’t ’housework.’ Besides, it’ll give her something to occupy at least a little of her time until I can get her out of those dresses and into more practical clothing so she can play outside.”
“I wish you luck on that one,” he said with feeling.
“I’m not going to rush it just yet. She needs a little time to get used to me, and to recover from today, I think.”
Carly could use a little time of her own to recover, she thought as she loaded the dishwasher after supper. But she wasn’t getting it. Neither the kiss nor the man would go away.
The kiss lingered in her mind like a haunting dream.
No, more like an unsettling revelation. She hadn’t known she could feel so much from such a brief contact. And with a man she barely knew. A man who was her employer, no less.
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