“That’s the idea.”
It was her turn to apologize. Her horrible words had been eating at her ever since she’d stormed off his ranch. “I’m sorry I said so many rude things.”
“I reckon I deserved it.”
“Maybe a little...” She couldn’t resist.
He acknowledged the teasing with a brief smile and rushed on. “But I hope you can help me with something.”
“What do you need?”
He flushed a little. Swallowed hard. “Look, I’m new at this ranching thing. I mean, growing up, we had animals pass through, but mainly my dad was stealing them from one person and selling them to another, so they never stayed around long. I have no idea what I’m doing. Seeing your ranch running so smoothly... How do you do it?”
Wade asking her for ranching tips? Not what she’d expected when she’d seen him standing there. “Well, part of it is that I’ve been doing it forever and I studied it in school, and part of it is that I’ve been trying out some new management practices. As you can see—” she inclined her head slightly to where a group of men were standing around Jim with bemused expressions on their faces “—it’s going over really well with the staff.” Sarcasm couldn’t mask her frustration.
“They may give you grief about it, but I’d bet deep down most of them are pretty impressed.”
She swung down from Dakota, since evidently Wade was here for a long chat, and tossed the reins over the mare’s neck so she could go get a drink at the trough. “I hope you’re right. Those are calf weaners they’re holding. Calves weaned with this method retain thirty percent more body weight because they’re not panicked and pacing everywhere.” Wade was staring at her, mouth slightly open, looking stunned. She flushed, realizing she’d probably stupefied him with her love of data. “I’m sorry. I can go on about this kind of thing for hours.”
To her surprise, he smiled. A first since she’d seen him again. Dimples cutting into his stubbled cheeks, lines crinkling his dark eyes—it was all as knee weakening as she remembered.
“That’s exactly why I need your help,” he said.
She studied his eyes, trying to understand his meaning. Bad idea. They were too much for her—all dark and potent like strong coffee. Only they made her a lot more jittery than coffee did. “My help?”
“I know you’ve been angry at me. And for good reason. I shouldn’t have dug my heels in about the water. And now here I am, asking for...” He paused, turning his hat in his hand. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, but she could hear the edge in it. “Honestly, I’m desperate. I need to learn about ranching. When I got my first bunch of heifers a few months ago, I didn’t know they’d need a booster vaccine...”
“...and they’ve got respiratory illness,” she finished for him.
His eyes went wider. “You know your stuff. But I don’t. The vet showed me how to give them shots, but it’s just not going that smoothly. I was hoping you’d consider coming by and giving me a hand.”
He was in trouble if he didn’t know how to do such a basic task. But help him? As in, spend time with him? Lori turned to retrieve Dakota, who’d finished drinking and was starting to wander off, gathering her thoughts as she gathered the horse’s reins. She wanted to be someone who helped her neighbors, but working with Wade wasn’t a good idea.
“Look, if you can help me, I’ll give you first pick when we make our irrigation schedule. I’ll hire Bill Cooper, and you can set everything up with him so it suits your needs. But in exchange, I’m asking for your help. Teach me how to give the shots. How to handle the cattle well. I’m reading books all the time, but I have so many questions, so many gaps in what I know. I need a mentor, Lori. I need you.”
Damn him, he made begging look noble—and sexy. And when he added first priority on irrigation to the mix...well, how was she supposed to resist? But mentoring meant a lot more time together. “I don’t know, Wade. I’m happy to help out with the injections, but I’m new at running my own ranch. I honestly don’t have much time. Isn’t there someone else you can ask?”
“Who’s going to want to mentor a Hoffman?”
There was pain and truth behind his words. She looked at him for a long moment. What he was proposing was dangerous. To her heart, to the regrets she tried hard to lock away so they wouldn’t overwhelm her. But he was trying to make something of himself. Trying to prove himself. She understood that. She was living that.
“All right. We’ll try it.”
“Thank you,” he breathed, relief written stark across his face. “I promise I’ll take as little of your time as possible.”
He reached over the fence and put a light hand on her shoulder. “I’m truly grateful, Lori.”
He was looking at her like she was his guardian angel. His salvation. And then the reality of this, of them, tensed every muscle. How would he look at her if he knew what she’d done? With hatred? Disgust? Pity? Certainly not like this. “No problem,” she muttered through clenched teeth. Ducking out from under his hand, she turned, put her foot into Dakota’s stirrup and swung onto the mare’s back. “I’d better get going. I’ll come by later today.”
He was studying her face, obviously puzzled by her sudden change in mood. Well, let him wonder. When you slept with someone and then disappeared, you lost your right to explanations.
“See you this afternoon, then.” His voice was quiet, his reserve back.
“Yup” was all she could get out. She turned Dakota away, trying to breathe through the whirlpool of feelings. Regret, shame, old anger and the newest, unwelcome addition to the general chaos of her emotional life: excitement. This partnership meant they’d be spending more time together. And against all common sense, a part of her was happy about that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CANCELING THE WATER truck was a huge relief. But driving onto Wade’s ranch to help with the injections brought on a whole other kind of stress. How was she going to handle seeing him regularly? The rutted driveway jolted some sense into her. You’re a mentor. So just treat him the way you’d treat any other rancher in the area who needed some help.
Ha. Maybe she could pull it off on the outside. She could talk cattle and keep it professional. But that wouldn’t stop her insides from churning with nerves. Or keep her traitorous heart from noticing his beauty and remembering all the things she’d loved about him when they were young.
She parked her truck and grabbed her tool belt from the back, buckling it tight around her hips. Shoving her hat on her head to block the afternoon sun, she headed toward the dilapidated barn. Wade was around the side of it, leaning on the fence, staring at his cattle. They were a sorry lot. Listless.
He turned when he heard her footsteps, giving her a weak smile. “Thanks for coming. Here are my sick girls.” He frowned and turned back toward the heifers. “I hate that my ignorance did this.”
His ignorance. She had a lot of experience with the damage that could wreak. But he looked grateful, which put a pathetic sweetness onto his usually severe face. No. No noticing sweetness. “It’s no problem.”
He looked down at her waist. “You brought your tool belt? For injections?”
“We’re not injecting yet. We’re taking a look at your cattle chute first.”
“What’s wrong with my chute?”
“I don’t know.” She glanced around the run-down property. “Probably a lot. Trust me?”
“Sure. But I worked on the chute already. Take a look.” He walked her over. She could see where he’d replaced boards and pounded in loose nails that could tear hide. Maybe a year ago she’d have said it was fine. Now she knew better. “Do you have any plywood?”
“Sure.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Why?”
“If you want them to go in for injections calmly, we should board up the sides of your chute so they can’t see out.
Want to try it?”
“Lori Allen, Cow Whisperer. Is that what it says on your business card?”
Her own laugh surprised her. She had no idea he could be funny. “I don’t have a business card. I just took a few classes.”
“I’ll get the wood.” He headed off around the side of the barn, whistling. She tried to remember if he’d ever teased her like this, or whistled like this, when she’d known him years before. He’d been serious, hard and mysterious. That was probably why she’d been crazy about him. He’d been different. Opposite. A better kid than his brothers, but always teetering just on the edge of the dangerous cliff they’d plummeted down years before.
She’d been drawn to him, recognizing his softness and intelligence under that tough veneer during the rare opportunities they’d had to talk. And that wildness—that edge he walked—had been so compelling. Maybe because sometimes she wished she could do something a little wild.
Stop it. She wasn’t here to think about Wade, or the past. She was here to look at his cattle chute. And she could see a few problems already. An old wire dangled from the barn eaves, right before the chute ended in the stanchion. A piece of corrugated metal had been nailed to a post for some reason. She jumped up onto the rail and pulled out her hammer, using the claw end to pry it off.
Wade leaned a few sheets of plywood against the chute. “Why are you worrying about that?”
“The sun is hitting it.” The last nail popped out. “The glare can scare the cattle when they come into the chute. You have to remember that they’re prey. Anything out of place frightens them.”
Lori showed him how to nail the plywood sheets along the sides of the chute, and he got to work. She listened to the rhythm of Wade pounding nails as she made her way to the wire. Climbing up the side of the chute, she pulled wire cutters out of her belt to remove the dangling ends. A simple fix for a potentially big problem. She wished all her difficulties could be solved with a quick snip of her wire cutters. One small cut and Wade and his ranch would disappear. But the thought made her sad—she didn’t want him to disappear again, which was why this was all way too complicated.
Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she went to help Wade, holding the boards steady while he nailed. It was the first time in years she’d been so close to him, their bodies almost touching. She could almost feel his muscles flexing under his flannel shirt as he drove the nails in. It wasn’t possible. They weren’t touching. But the strength of him seemed to emanate with a tangible force. Maybe this was why she’d never dated much. What guy had she ever met could match Wade in sheer masculinity?
She shifted position so she was still holding the board but standing as far away from him as she could. He must have noticed, because he glanced her way with a wry smile curling his full lower lip. “I won’t bite.”
Heat crept across her face. “I hope not,” she retorted. “But just in case, maybe I should work on the next board.” She turned away, grabbing a new piece of plywood and a handful of nails. It was better to work on her own section of the chute. Preferably one far away from Wade.
She positioned the wood and slammed the first nail in. She needed to be careful. Her heart had been trampled by this man, and here she was, ogling him the first moment they were alone together. She had to remember that all of the attraction she felt for him belonged to the stupid girl she’d been long ago. The woman she was now knew trouble when she saw it, and had the sense to keep her distance. Sure, she could notice he was good-looking. Who wouldn’t? But she had to remember that it was like noticing a pretty desert wildflower or a nice view. It was easy on the eyes, but had no other significance whatsoever.
* * *
HE’D FORGOTTEN HOW sassy she could be. He liked it. He’d never met anyone like Lori—who could dish out smart comments and run a ranch and refurbish a cattle chute in half an hour. She had sweat on her face and dirt streaked across one cheek, and she was still gorgeous. And there was something about her in that tool belt. The old, worn leather, slung low on her hips, emphasized her curves there, her tiny waist above and the faded, fitted jeans below. But he didn’t just admire how she looked. The sexiest part about Lori in a tool belt was the way she handled the tools with the confidence of someone who’d been using them all her life
He had to keep in mind that she was here because she was kind. The type of person who’d always try to help out a neighbor. And she was here because she needed the water in his well. Whatever he felt were just his feelings and had nothing to do with hers. It was a shame, but reality often was.
He walked over to where Lori was hammering in the last board. He held it steady for her, making sure to give her the space she obviously wanted.
“Ready to bring one through?” she asked, shoving the hammer back into her belt.
“Ready if you say we are.” No way was he even going to pretend he was in charge. She was here to work her magic, and his job was to stand back and learn from the master. And that was okay. He had a lot to learn.
It was ridiculously easy to get the cattle through now that the chute had solid sides. Lori showed him how to walk just outside a heifer’s flight zone, using small motions to guide her. Just enough to keep her moving, not enough to frighten her.
Once a heifer was in the chute, Lori demonstrated how to slide the needle below the skin to deliver the medication. She made it look easy. Her comfort with it, and her calm, clear explanations, soon had him relaxed enough to do it on his own.
The setting sun lit the paddock in a rosy glow, but they kept working. By the time they sent the last heifer back to the pasture and threw out piles of alfalfa in hopes of tempting their appetites, it was deep dusk. Wade walked Lori back to her truck. He didn’t want her to go. Ever since he’d left the army he’d sought solitude, but it was easy to be in her company. She was so confident, making all the ranch chores that were new to him seem commonplace. For the first time he felt like he might have a real chance to make Marker Ranch a success. With her help, at least he wouldn’t totally mess it up.
Plus, there was the total miracle that she was actually here with him. Beautiful, perfect Lori Allen. She was like a clear, crisp spring day. The kind you wanted to go on forever.
She’d always been that for him. An oasis where he could escape from his Dad’s anger and conniving, cowardly way of life. When they were young she’d been the only person, besides Nora, who’d seen the good in him. Nothing much, just small gestures when their paths crossed at school. He’d kept her as his oasis—or maybe his haven—when he’d been in Afghanistan. When he’d seen so much bad that it seemed there wasn’t anything good left in the world, he’d think of Lori. Remembering her smile, with her pink lips parting over teeth like pearls. Or the way she’d squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a little higher when something needed to be done. He’d picture her tenderness toward her little sister. Mostly he’d think about how she looked at him with dark blue eyes that seemed to hold a bit of the dusky mountain sky inside. And the way it had felt to spend a night in her arms.
Living with the prospect of death around every corner put things in perspective. In long nights lying in his bunk, or on the ground when he was out on a mission, he’d had time to think about what he wanted in life. And he’d narrowed it down to three things. His family’s ranch, time with his sister, Nora, and a chance to show Lori Allen the man he’d become. And for some reason, he was lucky enough that all three of those things might be coming true.
“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” The words were out before he’d realized he was going to say them.
“No.”
He shouldn’t be surprised. But her answer was so quick, so definite, that it stung. She didn’t even need a moment to consider.
“I mean, no thanks, Wade.” He could hear the apology and something else in her rushed tone. “Mandy’s cooking. I wouldn’t want to be rude and make an
other plan.”
“It’s no problem,” Wade assured her, glad the deepening night hid the flush he was sure was on his cheeks. He wished there was a way to take the question back, because now it hung there, making things awkward when they’d been so good just a moment ago. “Thanks again for your help tonight.”
“You’re welcome.” She shrugged. “Hey, I need that water.”
“Right.” He had to remember that this was a business arrangement for her. Not a friendship. That she didn’t see him the way he saw her. She’d never needed him for an oasis or a haven or anything.
“So is it okay to have Bill start working on the well?” she asked. “I’ll have his guys start laying the pipe down.”
“Sure.” Her eagerness to get started was one more reminder that her help today had been a simple trade.
She climbed lightly up into her pickup, and he closed the door behind her. The window was down. She leaned her forearm on the frame, gazing up at him. “Look, Wade. I’m glad things are a little better between us. I’m fine helping you out with your ranch, and I’m glad that we’re solving the water issue.”
She paused and he filled in the silence. “I’m glad, too.”
“When you left Benson, you said some really hurtful things.”
He winced at the memory. “I have wanted to apologize for them ever since.”
She held up a palm to stop him. “Look, it was years ago. I don’t need that. But I got hurt then. It was hard for me. And I don’t want to go back there. I mean, I guess what I’m trying to say is that going to dinner...well, it would be too much.”
“I understand.” And he did. He’d hurt her. How could he blame her for wanting to keep that door closed between them? “I just appreciate you being willing to help me out like this.”
She sat up a little straighter, reached for the ignition. “All right, then.”
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