“Did he get loose or something?”
Clearly he didn’t follow her meaning, not right away at least, but then he glanced over at the sorrel. He shifted in his saddle in such a way that she wondered if he was embarrassed, like he’d forgotten the horse was there or something.
“Brought him in for you to ride.”
Good thing she’d worn jeans and work boots, then. “Okay.”
She didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic even to her own ears, but not for the reason he probably thought. She hadn’t ridden in a while, that was all. Who had time to do that while going to school, raising a kid and working full-time?
“Figure I can watch you tack up, too. Make sure you know what you’re doing.”
Who was he kidding? This was all about making sure she knew what she was doing. Didn’t he know who her family was, though? She’d grown up drinking horse milk. Okay. Not really. But rather than intimidate her, her stomach buzzed in anticipation. She’d missed riding ever since her forced exile, although she supposed if she’d really wanted to, one of her brothers or her uncle Bob could have saddled a horse for her.
“Cool.” She walked up to him, taking the lead from his hands. “Hey there,” she said to the horse, pausing for a moment to stroke the animal’s thick blaze. “You’re a pretty boy.”
She turned back toward the barn, wondering how he planned to watch when he was on a horse. She had her answer a moment later. He’d gone into the covered arena, where he had a perfect view of the grooming stall across a wooden fence that separated the barn aisle from the arena.
“What’s his name?”
“Zippy,” he answered, lounging in the saddle with a manner of extreme confidence, arm resting across the horn, shoulders slouched. She tried to project the same attitude as she clipped Zippy into cross ties—cotton leads that attached to the horse’s halter, one on each side. Then she turned and spied a basket of grooming tools hanging on a post.
He didn’t say a word.
If his intention was to intimidate her or make her nervous, then putting her to work with horses had the opposite effect. The nutlike scent of the horse’s coat made her inhale deeply, calming her racing heart. When it came time to pick Zippy’s feet, she’d forgotten all about Colby standing there, she was so engrossed in her task.
“Saddles are in the room to the left.”
She straightened, the blood draining from her head so that she had to rest a hand against the horse’s shoulder.
“Okay.”
He just stared. Suffice it to say, her first impression of him hadn’t improved much with time. He was like some kind of lord and commander sitting there on his horse, reins slack, legs relaxed. Like the picture of Ulysses S. Grant she used to study in her favorite horse book, the one about famous equines throughout history.
She found the saddle right where he said, in a beautiful tack room that would rival the one in the stables back home. Saddles sat on racks along the perimeter of the wall to her left. Bridles rested on horseshoe hooks on the back wall. Cabinets were on her right where she would bet sat a whole host of vet supplies.
It took a moment to choose one of the saddles that looked about her size. She picked a saddle pad from a heap of them atop a wooden rack. She examined the bridles, made her choice and slid it up onto her shoulder.
“I picked a bridle with a snaffle,” she said, emerging from the tack room. “That okay?”
“Fine,” he drawled softly.
She juggled the saddle, the pad and the bridle, grateful when she could set it all down along the groom stall wall. Damn things were heavy. She’d always grumbled that western saddles were made by men. If they were made by women, they’d be twenty pounds lighter and half the size.
“Okay, buddy. Here we go.” She tossed the pad onto the horse’s back, moving it forward slightly. Zippy didn’t move. She patted his sorrel coat. The saddle came next, and it was even heavier to lift than she’d anticipated. Or maybe she’d just been spending too much time in a classroom and at work. She somehow managed to get the job done, adjusting the stirrups after securing the girth. Zippy took the bridle easily, too.
“What a good boy,” she murmured, sliding the leather reins over the horse’s ears, all of it coming back to her like it’d been yesterday. She had to adjust the cheek pieces a little, but all in all, she’d gotten the job done in what she knew was a reasonable amount of time.
“Where to?” she asked.
He held her gaze for a moment. “In here.” He straightened up. “Safest place to test your abilities.”
Like she might fall off or something. Ha. Little did he know. She’d grown up on the back of a horse. She’d even tried jumping for a bit. She was, in her dad’s words, an expert equestrienne. That was high praise indeed coming from a man who’d won more team roping world championships than any other cowboy.
And you miss him.
Yes, she silently told herself, she did miss her dad. But he would need to apologize to her before she’d return to the family fold. That would never happen.
She led Zippy into the covered arena, the absence of sunlight chilling the air and making her shiver. Zippy seemed like a sweet old horse. When she stopped just inside the gate, he didn’t try to turn around and go back to his stall like a lot of horses would do. He stood quietly while she mounted, too, flecks of dust floating in the air through a beam of light.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, picking up her reins.
“Just trot around at first.” He turned his horse to face her. “You can do more if you feel like it.”
“Okay. As long as you realize it’s been years since I’ve been on a horse.”
“I don’t care.” It was like he’d used an eraser to wipe the expressions off his face. He sat there staring across at her. “I want to get a feel for how you ride.”
No encouraging smile. No nod of support. No nothing.
“Here we go,” she muttered, squeezing the horse forward.
She quickly realized that if horses were cars, Zippy would be a Ferrari. She barely had to do anything to get him to go. And she needn’t have worried about the passage of time, because it was like riding a bike. Staying centered over the horse’s back came naturally. When she pulled on her right rein, Zippy immediately turned that direction, head down, softly flexing his neck. She pulled him left next. Same response.
“Was he a show horse or something?” she asked, loosening her hips so she didn’t bounce as badly. When she glanced at Colby, she could see surprise in his face.
“He was.”
“Groovy.” She pulled the horse to a stop, then gave the cue to lope, Zippy instantly responding, Jayden laughing because it felt so damn good to ride again. Zippy was a dream. So smooth, even when she got him to run a little faster, doing a figure eight in front of Colby, asking for a lead change and getting one instantly.
“He’s amazing,” she said, pulling him to a stop in the middle and, just for grins and giggles, asking him to turn on the hindquarters. He spun around so fast it reminded her of her dad’s cutting horses.
“That’s enough.”
When she spotted the look on his face, she had to resist the urge to laugh. It was the same expression she’d seen on her professor’s face when she’d recited all the bones in a human hand without missing a beat. She clucked Zippy forward, coming to a stop alongside him.
“That was fun.”
“Where’d you learn how to ride like that?”
“I showed cutting horses when I was younger, then switched to jumping when chasing cows grew too boring. I gave it all up when I—” She almost said “Got pregnant,” called the words back just in the nick of time. “Started college,” she improvised, which was close to the truth. He didn’t need to know her pregnancy came first.
“You’re good.”
He said it like an accusation.
Like she should have told him she knew how to ride.
“I should hope so,” she said, patting Zippy on the neck. “I’ve been riding my whole life.”
They lapsed into silence. Up in the rafters she could hear a pigeon coo, then the soft rustle of feathers. A horse nickered in the distance.
“Look.” She straightened in the saddle, lifted her chin. “I know I’m not exactly what you were looking for in an assistant, but I’m a hard worker. I’m not afraid to dive in and do what needs to be done. And I take criticism well, so if I do something wrong, just tell me. I promise not to get in your way.”
The man was into long, unblinking stares. She could tell it would drive her nuts. She tried to do the same right back and just couldn’t. The smile slipped on her face without her bidding. That was her personality. Smile through the tough times.
“Just do your job.”
Chapter 4
He was grumpy, he admitted, un-tacking Ranger a half hour later. Not even putting Ranger through his paces had eased the tension in his shoulders. It wasn’t her fault she reminded him of his past, and that there were a million things he had to do before their first guest arrived in a week.
“Who do you want me to ride next?” she asked, motioning toward the arena.
That was part of the job sometimes—exercising the horses and taking care of the ranch. Their ranch manager, Derrick, always left this time of year to go visit family. If he were honest, though, it was a huge relief to know she could ride. That’d be a big help until Derrick came back.
“You done already?”
She nodded, stopping in front of the groom stall. He felt his brows lift toward the rim of his cowboy hat. There was a hint of something in her eyes, a twinkle that reminded him of a young colt just before it bolted away from him.
“I’ll show you in just a second.”
“Need help?” she asked.
He shot her a sideways look of impatience, counseled himself to take it easy on her again. “No, thanks.”
She stood there and watched him un-tack, and suddenly he felt like the one on trial. He fumbled the leather girth strap that looped around the rigging ring, his fingers suddenly clumsy, his cheeks blazing beneath his hat. Damn it. What was with him today?
“There’s a soda machine at the end of the aisle. Help yourself.”
He hoped she’d take him up on the suggestion and give him a bit of breathing room. He frowned, pulling the cinch strap free. He didn’t like how edgy she made him feel.
“That’s okay.”
He glanced over at her. She smiled, her blue eyes as bright as the hottest part of the flame of his welding torch.
“I don’t drink soda.”
“No?” he muttered, pulling the saddle from Ranger’s back. “Good for you.”
And there he went again, sounding as cross as his old man. That was why he’d moved away from Cardiff, Texas. Well, one of many reasons. He didn’t want to turn out to be like his dad, more concerned with his own selfish desires than his family. He’d thought he’d gotten away from all that when he’d joined the military. Had been proud of the life he’d carved out for himself, but then it’d all come to a screeching end.
“I can take the bridle.” She held out her hand.
He stared down at it for a moment, the saddle heavy in his arms, the bridle around the horn dragging on the ground. He’d forgotten he’d hooked the bridle on the damn thing. Something red caught his eye. It was on the back of her hand.
“What’s the matter? Couldn’t afford a tattoo?” He eyed the flower she’d drawn.
She snatched her hand away so quickly it gave him pause; so did the way she hid her eyes from him, her lashes sweeping down and covering the brief glimpse of—Was it guilt?
“I was just doodling.” She shrugged.
He hefted the saddle again, forced himself to look away before he headed toward the tack room. The reins got caught up in his legs and he damn near tripped.
“Do me a favor and put my horse back, would you?” he called over his shoulder.
“Sure.”
He heard the thud of the cross ties hitting the groom stall wall. Thank God she was leading Ranger through the stables toward his stall. He didn’t like having a damn human shadow. He wondered for a moment about what he’d seen in her gaze just before she’d shielded her eyes, but whatever it was, it was gone when she returned to the tack room.
“Is he yours?”
Took him a moment to figure out what she meant. “You mean Ranger?”
She nodded. “He’s gorgeous.”
“He belongs to the ranch.” He rested his hands on the saddle he’d just set on the saddle rack. “Listen. It’d be a big help if you started mucking stalls.” Liar. It’d be better if she kept riding, but for some reason, he didn’t want her to do that. “When you’re finished, I’ll give you a tour of the whole place.”
“Sure,” she said. “Where do you keep the rakes and stuff?”
“End of the barn aisle.”
And she was off. Liz would never have complied so easily. She’d have complained first and then batted those thick lashes.
And now he was thinking about his damn ex.
It’d been years since he’d thought about Liz, the woman who’d capped off one of the worst years of his life by driving a stake through the heart of the Kotch family. He refused to think about her now.
When he walked out of the tack room on his way to fetch another horse, Jayden was already pushing a wheelbarrow with a rake inside it. She didn’t seem the least bit cowed by the menial task he’d just assigned her, either.
“Where should I dump the stuff when I’m finished?”
There was warmth and light in Jayden’s blue eyes. It lit her up from inside, making it hard to look away from her.
“There’s a big pile out back.” He took a deep breath, pulled himself together. “We have a guy come in and pick it up once a week. Some kind of organic farmer or something. Just dump it on top.”
“Alrighty, then.” The words were almost a chirp, a cheerful warbling of her contentment with her lot in life. She didn’t seem to mind hard work. He’d give her that much.
He went to go get the next horse to ride before he could think too much about that. She was still hard at work when he peeked in on her an hour or so later.
“When you’re done, come upstairs. You’ll need to fill out some paperwork.” He tried to sound friendlier. He’d have to try to make this work, at least for now. “I’ll show you around afterward.”
She leaned up against her rake. “That’d be great.”
He scanned the stall she’d been cleaning, pleased by the job she’d done. But it remained to be seen if she could do the most important component of her new job—handle their patients. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told her some of them could be difficult. There were days when even he wanted to give up on some of them.
He heard her climbing the stairs to the second floor, glanced at the time and noted she’d taken less than an hour to clean the dozen stalls. He would add “efficient” to her list of attributes so far.
“Wow,” he heard her say from the other side of the glass doors. She’d turned to stare out the windows to her right. He’d done the same thing the first time he’d arrived and climbed the steps, simply gazing out at the view. Rolling hills led to taller, more rocky mountains in the distance. This part of Southern California had a steady stream of moisture thanks to the ocean less than a half hour away. It wasn’t that it rained a lot, just that the dew point was high. That meant lush green fields for a large part of the year and pastures dotted with majestic valley oaks.
“Come on in,” he called.
She turned, smiled, and with the left half of her face in shadow, she reminded him of the ads he’d seen in his mom’s fashion magazines. Beauty in sepia. He had to look away
because it still hurt to think about his mom.
“Nice digs,” she said, sitting down in front of his desk.
“Here’s the paperwork.” He slid her a packet of forms, knowing he sounded terse, angry with his inability to corral his wayward thoughts. He needed to stop kidding himself. The woman was gorgeous. It was hard not to stare at the luminosity of her eyes. They were like glass, they were such a crystalline blue. Add her thick black hair and her heart-shaped face, and she made him feel like a fumble-fingered boy. That was what had him so uptight. It wasn’t that he gave a fig about having to hire her. It was the damn sizzling attraction he’d felt from the moment he’d first met her.
“Can I bring these back to you later?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said, seizing on the excuse to get her out of his office. But wait. Damn it. He’d offered to give her a tour. “Just leave them there while I show you around.”
She had a face that showed her every emotion, as if she laid it all out there for everyone to see. It allowed him to read her expression so easily it felt somehow wrong. Right now her face and eyes told him she’d rather not spend any more time with him than absolutely necessary.
He knew how she felt.
“I can exercise more horses if you want.”
Her words made him feel even more of a heel. “That’s actually my job.” She had looked away, and he could tell she held on to her patience by a thread. She wasn’t angry. He tried to put a name to whatever emotion flitted through her eyes.
“It’s not that I can’t use the help.” He forced himself to smile, and he watched as her face dissolved into relief. “We had to buy some more horses, and I’m still trying to figure out which ones will work for our program and which ones won’t. And our ranch manager is on vacation. He’s usually the one in charge of care and maintenance of the place, so I really could use your help until Derrick gets back.”
“Well, when you’re ready, I’d love to take some of the load off of you there.”
She meant it. He could see the sincerity in her gorgeous eyes, and it sealed the realization that he’d made a huge mistake where she was concerned. She was not some spoiled rancher’s daughter. Far from it.
Home on the Ranch: Her Cowboy Hero Page 3