Her hand balled into a fist, and she raised her head to meet his penetrating gaze.
“What?” His brows furrowed. “What took your smile?”
He seemed truly concerned. He leaned toward her.
Her head shook slowly back and forth. Hating whatever feeling—jealousy, maybe, or bitterness—pecked at her chest, she tried to push it aside. Her mother always said happiness was a choice.
“Tell me,” he whispered. His fingers closed around her fist.
Her mouth opened. “You’re choosing a wife in just a few weeks. We both know it’s not going to be me. You shouldn’t be here.”
A white line appeared between his pressed lips, but his eyes continued to bore into hers. “This is where I want to be.”
He didn’t deny it. She knew he wouldn’t.
“I don’t want to tell you no.” Her words were barely a thread of sound in the big barn.
“Then don’t.” He leaned closer, and his free hand cupped her cheek. She couldn’t keep from pressing her face into it, and he slid it back into her hair, holding her head as he closed the distance between them.
Her heart beat against her ribs.
“I want your smile back.” Low and deep, his voice rumbled between them like a faraway freight train.
“Then let me go.”
“You don’t really want that.” There was just a whisper between them.
“No.”
He lowered his head.
The barn door opened.
They jerked apart.
Annoyance flashed across his face, chased by regret and something that looked a lot like wistfulness.
“Ryder?” Michelle’s cultured voice called out. “What are you doing in here?”
She stepped into the barn, leaving the door open behind her.
Ryder’s hand slipped from under Nell’s, and he straightened. “Roxie took the boys who were helping Nell, so I came in to take their place. What’s the problem?”
“Do you really think you need to be in here, working in the dirt with the hired help?”
Nell wanted to say, “hey, I’m right here, and I can hear you,” but she picked up a pot and started scooping soil into it. She could feel Ryder’s eyes staring at the back of her head.
Her hands shook, and her heart twisted painfully in her chest.
Ryder lifted a hand. “There’s a job that needs to be done. Why would I not help?”
“Because we’ve hired her to do it for us.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Nell could see Michelle thread her arm through Ryder’s and tug. As always, she was dressed impeccably in trouser-type slacks, a wraparound shirt, and a matching scarf. Her kitten heels were cute, but definitely out of place in the barn. Her hair was arranged in artful waves that shone even in the dim barn lighting.
In contrast, Nell felt shabby and ugly. She resisted the urge to run her hand through her short hair. Even if she did have time to spend on her hair and was able to tease it into something that looked half decent, it wouldn’t last five seconds in the North Dakota wind.
Ryder hadn’t allowed Michelle to pull him away. Nell quit trying to watch. She wished she couldn’t hear, either.
“Did you need something?” Ryder asked.
“Yes, of course. Come to the house, I need your help.”
Nell didn’t miss the subtle emphasis on “I,” emphasizing that Ryder should be helping Michelle rather than Nell.
Ryder turned and looked at Nell as she set a plant down in the pot, carefully loosening and spreading the root ball.
Nell spoke without looking up. “I told you I was fine. Go ahead and go.”
She could feel his displeasure with her radiating off him in strong waves. She didn’t care. He knew she was right. Twice now, whatever was between them had almost overcome her good judgment. Making the right decision was easy. As long as he wasn’t around. It’s when he looked at her with those dark eyes and touched her that she melted.
“You heard her, Ryder. She’s fine. It’s what we’re paying her to do.”
They disappeared from her peripheral vision, and not long after, the door closed.
Chapter 12
The next evening, Ryder knocked off a little earlier than usual and took a shower.
In business almost every day, he forced himself to do things he didn’t want to do. Phone calls, meetings, even entertaining people he didn’t really care for, all to make his business successful and profitable.
But since Michelle came, he’d struggled to pay attention to her when his whole focus was on Nell. Where she was. What she was doing. If she needed help. He knew he was supposed to be charming Michelle so when he proposed his marriage and money arrangement, she wouldn’t turn him down.
But earlier when Preacher had asked if Ryder wanted him to take Nell and Vinton home, he’d declined. He hadn’t even thought about it. He’d been looking forward to the hours-long drive with Nell beside him. He’d have her to himself without her being able to avoid him, which she’d done all day today, or without Michelle interrupting them, like yesterday.
He’d wanted to talk to her, get to know her, what she thought and how she felt. He’d never had this all-consuming desire to know everything about someone. But he felt it with Nell.
He knew she was right. He had to choose Michelle, but that wasn’t for several weeks. And right now, he really wanted to know what it was about Nell that made him unable to stop thinking about her. She couldn’t be any different than any other girl. If he spent more time with her, he’d get his brain to figure that out.
After checking in with Brandon, who didn’t answer his phone, Ryder picked up his normal polo, his gaze landing on a pack of unopened t-shirts on his dresser. He set the polo down and ignored the dress pants he’d gotten out.
Five minutes later, wearing jeans and a tee and carrying his boots, he walked out of his room. Nell was just leaving hers, her bag slung over her shoulder.
Her eyes widened when she saw him. She froze.
He felt guilty that instead of being happy to see him, she almost seemed nervous. Maybe he could change that on the ride home.
There was no reason they couldn’t be friends.
“Hey. I’m driving you home.”
“Oh.” She looked at the stairs between them as though judging the distance to get away. “I thought Clay would be.”
Ryder was fairly certain Nell wasn’t the woman Clay was writing to. Her name didn’t start with “A” for one. But Clay was a nice guy. He would be perfect for Nell. There wasn’t any call for the surge of jealousy that pushed against his heart.
“No. Me.” He closed the door to his room. “Is that okay?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I hate that we’re inconveniencing someone.”
“I’ve been looking forward to doing it.”
Her eyes snapped to his. He couldn’t take the words back, and he didn’t really want to.
Before she could say anything, he walked to the stairs and stopped, not going over onto “her” side of the hall. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. What you said yesterday was right—I have to choose Michelle at the ball.” He waited a few heartbeats, tilting his head. “But we can be friends.”
“Friends don’t kiss,” Nell said softly.
“I haven’t kissed you.”
She lifted her brows, waiting.
Wow. Why were the words she was waiting for so hard to say? He shoved a hand in his pocket. “I won’t kiss you.”
Her expression eased, becoming thoughtful, like she was weighing whether or not she could trust him.
He could accept that. She didn’t know him, didn’t know that he’d never break that promise. Not without her permission.
If he really only wanted to get to know her, really only wanted to be friends, why did that promise seem like such a huge mistake? He wished he hadn’t made it.
But her lips turned up, and the smile that he’d grown to crave stole over her face.
“Okay. I can
do friends.” She laughed a little and walked down the hall, meeting him at the top of the stairs. “I’ve never had a city businessman as a friend before.”
“Glad I can do my duty in diversifying your life experiences,” he said with a grin.
She laughed.
He liked the sound; it wrapped around his heart and felt better than midnight and velvet. He wanted to hear it again.
Everything in his life had been so serious and competitive. Giving the reins up to Brandon while he came here for a year had been hard. But laughing with Nell was easy.
They started walking down the stairs together.
“I think I’m diversifying your life experiences, too. You’ve not changed many tires along the interstate.”
“True.” He glanced over at her, and she grinned at him.
“And, maybe I’m making assumptions here, but I’m thinking you don’t have many North Dakota farm girls as friends.”
“You’re the first.”
“So we really are friends?” She said it like she really wasn’t sure.
“Yes.” He spoke as firmly as he could.
They reached the bottom of the stairs. “Gina’s with Clay, but Spencer and Vinton were out back. There was a mini track hoe here today, and they were going to be allowed to run it for a few minutes each before we left.”
He tried not to look alarmed, although he desperately wanted to ask if Roxie knew about this. “That could be interesting.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t the one who gave them permission.” She gave his still damp hair a pointed look. “It could be a good thing that you got a shower. Who knows what kind of water or electric lines they’ll dig up.”
Nell set her bag beside the front door. Ryder waited then walked beside her down the hall and through the kitchen to the back door. Her scent, clean and fresh, with a little tone of something sweet, drifted to him, and he breathed more deeply.
Her shoulders drooped a little. She’d worked hard all week, putting in twelve-hour days at least, and he was glad she was headed home to take a break.
He opened the back door, and she walked out, murmuring, “Thank you.”
Roxie already stood on the back porch. She hadn’t been standing still much this week, either, but she definitely wasn’t moving now. Her hand was pressed over her mouth, as though to keep herself from screaming, and her eyes were wide open, as though the most horrific of crimes was taking place directly in front of her.
Immediately, Nell went over and put her arm around Roxie.
That pretty much impressed the pants off Ryder, since he could count on two fingers the number of people who he’d ever seen hug Roxie. And she’d turned and punched one of them in the mouth. That had been a few years ago. Maybe she’d had enough therapy to overcome her violent tendencies.
Roxie laid her head on Nell’s shoulder. “I don’t think I can watch.”
Ryder looked across the yard. Spencer was in the mini track hoe, with the landscaper that they’d hired from Ohio hanging onto the side, showing him the controls.
Even from this distance, through the angled glass, Ryder could see the mile-wide grin on Spencer’s face.
“Vinton already had his turn,” Roxie said, lifting her head but allowing Nell to keep her arm around her. Nell’s hand patted her back gently, like calming a wounded animal.
“Oh, no? We missed it.” Nell sounded truly distressed.
“He did really well.” Roxie blew out a breath. “I know Spence will be okay, but I just can’t keep from worrying.”
“He’s having a great time,” Ryder offered.
“He’s too young to have a well-developed sense of danger.”
“I don’t think men ever get a well-developed sense of danger,” Nell said, giving Roxie a little bump with her shoulder.
“You know, I think you’re right.” She looked down at Nell. “Where did you learn so much about men?”
Ryder listened intently, more curious than he cared to admit about her answer, but a shout and the revving of the track hoe’s engine made everyone turn to look at Spencer.
The landscaper had jumped off, and Spencer was on his own.
“You know, if this weren’t your child, Roxie, I would be calling child services.” Michelle stepped out on the porch, her cool eyes going from Nell, with her arm around Roxie, to Ryder who leaned against the railing, having left a good foot between Nell and himself. He’d promised her friendship, after all.
But he wished he’d left less room as Michelle stepped over, her heels clicking on the porch floor. She stopped between Nell and him. There wasn’t enough room for her to lean against the railing, not that Michelle would ever lean on anything.
Nell slipped her arm from around Roxie who was watching, enraptured, as Spencer dug a small hole with the little machine.
“I don’t think CPS is the same here as it is in New York,” Roxie said absently, unoffended that her friend had just seemed to, if not threaten her, at least call her a bad parent.
“I think it’s good for the kid,” Ryder said, facing the backyard as Michelle stepped closer.
It was only about five minutes later that Spencer stopped and the man jumped back up on the machine, opening the door and high-fiving Spencer, before stepping back and letting him out. Vinton was already waiting for him, and they talked excitedly to each other before turning and running for the house.
“Great job, Spencer,” Nell said from the other side of the steps, where she’d moved to make room for Michelle.
“Thanks, Miss Nell. Did you see me, Mom? Huh? Did you?”
“I did, buddy. You were awesome.”
“How about it, Uncle Ryder? Did you see? Huh? Did you?”
“I did, kid. Pretty good. You’re going to have to show me how to run that thing. Looks fun.”
“Oh, it is. It really is. I can teach you all about it.”
“But not tonight,” Nell said. “We’ve already held Mr. Peterson up long enough.”
“Mr. Peterson?” Roxie said. “I think you two are on slightly more familiar terms than that.”
“I think it shows the proper respect. Don’t you, Ryder?” Michelle turned cool eyes on him. Irritation bundled inside of him. He didn’t like the game she was playing, putting Nell down and hoping he’d agree with it.
“I think she can call me whatever she wants to. Maybe she’s trying to set a good example for Vinton.” Nell lifted her head at that and smiled at him, whatever that meant.
“You be good, Spencer.” Roxie patted him on the head.
“I’ll try.”
“Get your stuff, Vinton.” Nell opened the door for the boys, and they hurried through.
Ryder considered how much like a mother Nell was with Vinton. It had probably been that way for a while. She seemed comfortable in that role, and he obeyed her.
Ryder held the door for Roxie, but Michelle didn’t go through. “I would like to speak with you.”
He knew a command when he heard one. He allowed the door to close.
“Can’t Preacher take Nell home? I thought you and I could spend some time together tonight.” Michelle smiled at him, her teeth bleached white and perfectly straight. Everything about her said money and class.
“No. I already told him I would.”
Michelle pouted prettily. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay here? I thought we could open a nice vintage and snuggle on the couch.”
Ryder was tempted to tell her that didn’t sound like anything he’d ever want to do. But he didn’t want to have that fight now.
“Maybe some other time,” he said, reaching around her and opening the door. “You going in?”
Her lips pressed together. But she didn’t press. She walked in regally.
Something that felt like a cold, heavy rock pressed on Ryder’s chest. If this was the girl he was going to marry, he should want to spend time with her. He shouldn’t be looking forward to riding and talking with someone else.
Knowing it to be true, he still shov
ed that thought to the back of his head. He’d figure out what to do about Michelle later.
They pulled out of the drive ten minutes later and spent the first thirty minutes or so talking about the mini track hoe and what the boys had done with it.
“You should have done it, Nell,” Vinton said with a laugh in his voice.
“I see how that would be fun for you, but it’s not really something I’d be interested in.”
“What about you, Mr. Peterson?”
“I think it’d be fun.” He couldn’t believe he even thought that way. With all the times he’d watched big cranes unload shipping containers from barges and seen the trucks hook up and take them away, he’d never considered that being in the actual crane, running it, might be enjoyable. He’d always had other things on his mind, pushed by the thought that he had to be successful to prove to everyone that just because he inherited his money didn’t mean he didn’t deserve it.
Turns out, he’d not actually inherited anything yet. He’d known that, of course. He’d just thought it was a matter of time.
The boys started talking to each other about what they could build and dig with the mini track hoe. He listened for a bit. But he wanted to find out about Nell.
“So, we’ve decided we’re friends.” He glanced over at her. “But you still call me Mr. Peterson.”
She grinned.
“Seriously? Think we could be a little friendlier than that?”
“Mr. Ryder?” she asked impishly.
“Better, but still not friendly.” He decided to let her off the hook. “We’re friends, but I don’t know anything about you.”
“You do. You know where I live. You’ve even been in my house. And you know my name.”
He wanted more. “Birthday and social security number?”
“Is that how you made your money? Identity theft?”
He shrugged, a grin turning up the sides of his mouth. “It’s profitable, but no. I try hard to stay on the right side of the law. I’m not really that style conscious, but orange doesn’t look good on me.”
Cowboys Don't Believe in Fairy Tales Page 10
