Wrangling the Rancher

by Jeannie Watt

  “Thanks.” He held out the dog. “You want to keep him until morning?”

  “Are you kidding?” she asked, ruffling the silky curls behind the dog’s ear. “Max will eat him.”

  “Probably so.” He cradled the poodle against his chest.

  “Although... I could probably keep him safe from Max if you didn’t want a roommate tonight.” He gave her a quizzical look, and she shrugged. “I like dogs.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Hey. Something in common.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t sound so thrilled.” She reached for the poodle, and he relinquished his hold. The little dog pressed his warm little body into her. He was panting hard from his evening’s work.

  A grudging smile lifted the corners of Cole’s mouth. “I’ll call Mrs. Clovendale in the morning. Deliver Chucky back home when I make my grocery run.”

  “Maybe you’d better take him,” Taylor said. “I don’t want Max’s feelings to be hurt.”

  “Sure. We can finish watching The Caine Mutiny together.”

  “I love that movie.”

  Cole gave her a sideways look. “I got it out of Karl’s DVD collection.”

  “If you look in his VHS collection, you’ll find it there, too. We watched it at least once a summer. I have no idea why I like it so much, but I do.” And she halfway wished he would invite her to watch the movie with him, even though for reasons of sanity, she would say no.

  They were almost to the bunkhouse when Cole stopped walking. “Name your five favorite classic movies of all time.”

  “Classic meaning...?”

  “Before the year 2000.”

  Taylor lifted her chin, squeezed her eyes shut. “Tough one. Uh... Anything with Rodney Dangerfield. Wizard of Oz. The Right Stuff. Goodfellas. The Caine Mutiny. The Thin Man.” She opened her eyes. “Did I pass the test?”

  “Not the math portion. That’s six.”

  “Eighteen if you count all the Rodneys.”

  “Yet you’re in finance. I think I’m starting to see the problem.”

  Taylor’s lips twitched despite herself. “Careful, Mr. Bryan.”

  He smiled that devastating smile of his—the one she didn’t see very often, and almost wished she wasn’t seeing now. “Couldn’t resist.”

  She cocked her chin sideways. “I was good at my job.” It was important to her that he know that.

  “I believe you.” He sounded sincere.

  “Why?”

  “I read about the professional papers you wrote and the industry award.” Taylor gave him a thoughtful look, which he met without one trace of apology. “Long evenings. I also research weed control.”

  “Ah.” One corner of her mouth crooked up. “So I shouldn’t read anything into the research?”

  “I’m just curious about my tenant.”

  “Do you feel as if you’ve learned everything you need to know?”

  “Now that I know about your predilection for Rodney Dangerfield movies, I think I’m good.” His hand stroked over the poodle’s back, and Taylor focused on the movement rather than meeting his eyes. A crackling tension was building between them—one that had nothing to do with online searches and comedy movies. It was Cole who broke the tension by reaching out for the poodle. “Thanks for watching out for the calves.”

  “Oh, I’ll take on a marauding poodle any time of the day or night.”

  “Good to know. Consider yourself on call until Mrs. Clovendale’s sister goes home again.”

  * * *

  SHE LIKED RODNEY DANGERFIELD.

  That spelled trouble.

  He’d asked about movies hoping she’d spout off the names of some foreign films, or say she never watched old movies anymore. No such luck. They both liked dogs. They both liked classic movies...and she did have okay taste in that area, although he’d never been a fan of The Wizard of Oz. Those flying monkeys still freaked him out.

  They had a few things in common. She wasn’t exactly what he thought she was. So what?

  Cole leaned his head back against the sofa cushions and idly stroked the dog, who was now snoring on his lap. A half hour ago, he’d swapped out The Caine Mutiny for Caddyshack, which he watched on mute. He didn’t need sound, because he’d seen it so many times.

  And he could probably be sitting here with Taylor right now, enjoying the movie, which could lead to...trouble.

  He didn’t see any way around it. If he pursued things with Taylor, then he would be pitting his new livelihood against an awakening interest in a woman whom he didn’t want to be interested in. A woman who, by her own admission, wanted to live in an urban environment. A woman who would complicate his life just when he was starting to get it sorted out. Did he want complications?

  No.

  But that didn’t keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if Taylor was cool and controlled in bed. Business Taylor? Or did she let go, as she did when heaving a T-post through the air? Farm Taylor.

  Maybe a mixture of the two? Maybe she started out businesslike and then slowly lost control.

  Or maybe she took control.

  That would be good.

  He sucked in a sharp breath. He really needed to get laid.

  Or better yet, he needed to get a grip. She was hot. He was horny. But he wasn’t sixteen. He could deal.

  He needed to distance himself, get things back under control.

  Yeah. While working shoulder to shoulder. No problem there. He reached for the remote, turning the sound back on in time to hear a gopher laugh like a dolphin.

  The reason he’d searched online for her the second time, three nights ago, was because he was looking for reasons to squelch his burgeoning interest in her. The reason he’d confessed was because he hoped that she’d accuse him of stalking or something. She hadn’t. Probably because she’d researched him pretty carefully herself.

  So what now?

  Distance.

  The next day, after Chucky had been returned to his owner, who proclaimed him to be a very naughty boy, Cole left the tractor parked and he and Taylor went to work sorting wood and scrap metal. In silence for the most part. By noon, they’d made some serious inroads into the junk behind the barn. Some Cole planned to sell for scrap, sinking the money back into Karl’s place. Most of it went to the dump, with Taylor driving the ton truck, since his knee still wasn’t clutch friendly. It was getting better, though.

  His wrist was another story, but he had to use the hand to work. When the doctor had told him not to do anything to jar it for at least a week, he’d nodded as if he intended to follow orders. He had his own way of dealing with injuries. If it hurt, he stopped doing it. If it didn’t, or hurt only a little, he carried on.

  He glanced over at Taylor as she turned onto the road leading to the landfill. Today’s load was wood, so they took the fork to the left after entering the facility. She expertly backed up to the oversize receptacle, then beat Cole around the truck to the tailgate, which she opened by hitting it in just the right place with the heel of her hand to pop the latch.

  She was better at this farm stuff than she wanted to be. Maybe it was her natural-born efficiency. Maybe she couldn’t help wanting to be the best at whatever she did.

  Again, sex came to mind, and again, he shoved the thought aside.

  Taylor started tossing wood out of the truck with a vengeance, and Cole stepped forward to help.

  “Do any of these have names?” he asked as a split plank sailed past him.

  She hurled another broken plank through the air. “I could go through the mean girls in high school.”

  Cole pulled a splintered piece of lodge pole free. “Where did you fit in the social hierarchy?”

  Taylor
stopped and brushed the back of her glove over her forehead. “Are you asking if I was a mean girl?”

  “Were you?”

  She straightened and drilled him with a hard look that made him feel slightly ashamed, even if he had good reason to ask. He was attempting to distance himself—or better yet, to have her distance herself from him. “I wasn’t mean. I was confident. How about you?”

  “Wildly popular.” Right. Cowboy geeks were never wildly popular. He tossed a piece of wood underhanded.

  Her gaze never wavered. “I’ll bet you were. And that was an asshole question you asked me.”

  Cole didn’t argue with her. It had been. “Just trying to get a handle.”

  “By asking if I was mean?”

  He bent to pick up another piece of rotten board. “All I was asking is if you were one of the school elite.”

  “I don’t think you were.” The words were cool, a statement of fact he couldn’t deny.

  “Maybe we should drop this subject.”

  She hurled a piece of wood with rather impressive force, making him wonder if his name was on that one. “Yes. Maybe we should.”

  Taylor didn’t talk as she drove back to the farm. She focused on the road with an intensity that told Cole that he might have his wish. She might back totally away from him, and all it had taken was his acting like an ass.

  Did he regret it?

  He told himself no. He needed to focus on his livelihood. And what if Karl was the old-fashioned sort who didn’t like his tenant screwing around with his granddaughter?

  Not likely, but there was always a possibility.

  After returning to the farm, they broke for lunch, heading off to their respective abodes. Cole made himself a sandwich, leaning back against his counter to eat as he wondered how the afternoon would play out. Until he’d asked about her place in high school society, there’d been a sense of something simmering just below the surface, ready to break out.

  Hopefully he’d taken care of that.

  Taylor was already sorting through debris when he walked around the barn, pulling a glove onto his good hand. He dived in, pulling bent rebar out of a stack of pipe and metal rails. They worked for most of the afternoon with next to no conversation.

  It was not a comfortable silence.

  Taylor worked methodically, seemingly lost in thought, but the few times they’d reached for the same piece of debris, she’d pulled her hand back as if not wanting to chance touching him.

  And since that was what he wanted, it made no sense that he was so stupidly aware of her. Taylor was a hard worker. She may not like farmwork, she may still believe that clearing the boneyard was busywork, but she was now committed to the task.

  And maybe he’d made his point about working her ass off. Did he really want to spend time like this, working next to a woman he would be better off avoiding? There were things they could each do alone.

  The stack of pipe shifted, and Taylor let out a yelp as the fingers of her glove got trapped. She yanked her hand free of her glove, which dangled from where it was caught between two pieces of rusting metal.

  “Son of a—”

  “Are you okay?”

  Taylor frowned at him before working her glove free. “Fine.” She rubbed her thumb over her forefinger, which must have gotten pinched, then slipped the glove back on and went to work again.

  Cole moved farther away. Working next to her was driving him kind of crazy—because he wasn’t being honest about this whole situation.

  Maybe he needed to say, “Hey, what should we do about this mutual attraction that won’t be good for either of us?” Then Taylor could come up with some parameters and goals and they could deal. Together.

  Yeah, right.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he stepped down off the pile of debris he was sorting through to answer.

  “Hey, Jance. What’s up?” Nothing bad, he hoped, but Jancey didn’t usually call to shoot the breeze.

  “I just wanted to touch base.”

  “Yeah?” he asked gently, staring off over his fields as he held the phone to his ear, yet totally aware of the woman still working behind him.

  “Yeah.” She fell into silence, and he waited. “I was wondering...since you’ve left and stuff...do you feel differently about the ranch?”

  “Where’s this coming from?”

  “Oh...I’ve just been thinking a lot. Now that I’m about to leave the place.”

  “I love the ranch. I don’t think anything will change that.” He paced away from the debris piles toward the barn. If he was going to have to talk his sister down, he wanted to do it in private.

  “So you’d never sell. Right?”

  He made a sputtering noise. “No.” He’d never sell because Miranda would somehow end up with the entire place, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. And because it was his and Jancey’s birthright. Their family settled that land, and it would damn well stay in the family.

  Jancey let out a small breath. “That’s what I thought. I’m just feeling kind of unsettled, you know?”

  “That’s normal when you’re about to leave home for the first time.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Do you want me to come out to the ranch for a while?”

  “No. I’m good. I just... I guess I wanted to be reassured that after I left I wouldn’t feel differently.”

  “You might, Jance. I won’t lie. But I don’t.”

  He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Thanks, Cole. I feel better.”

  “Good. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive out?”

  “No. Really. I’m doing great. How are my babies?”

  Cole smiled. “Your babies are greedy eaters. They’re gaining weight fast.”

  “Good to know. I’ll try to get in to see them—and you—soon.”

  “You do that, kid. And call anytime you’re feeling unsettled. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He dropped his phone back into his pocket as he strode back toward the pile. Taylor didn’t even glance his way as he went back to work. Maybe he did need to take a drive to the ranch soon. Going back invariably stressed him out, but he needed to keep tabs. Make sure that Miranda was minding her p’s and q’s.

  “Why’d you leave your ranch job if you owned the ranch?”

  The question came out of the blue, startling him after a day of silence. Cole carefully set the pipe he’d just extracted onto the salvage pile. “I quit because I didn’t like my boss. And I only own part of the operation.”

  “Do you miss it?” Taylor put a hand on her hip, and Cole couldn’t help but follow the movement before bringing his gaze back up to her face. She wore her business expression, which made him think that she fully intended to get answers. So much for distance.

  “I don’t miss what it became.” He went back to sorting the pipe. Taylor didn’t move. He didn’t look at her.

  “Is the subject off-limits?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Because you’re private, or because it’s me?”

  “Private.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Nothing personal, Taylor.”

  “Right.”

  He gave a small snort. He wasn’t lying. “I don’t discuss the ranch.”

  “Maybe you should start.”

  “Because?”

  “You bottle things up and they come out in weird ways.”

  “I’ll take the chance.” Because the thought of opening up to...well, anyone, really...made him freeze. Telling the truth about his family...he hated what the ranch had become and hated that he no longer felt welcome on his own property. Talking about it only twisted the knife a little more.

  “It isn’t like I can use the information against you,” she
continued as she went back to battling the rebar. A moment later the pieces she’d been working on slid free and she put them in the junk stack.

  “I don’t like talking about it.”

  “In my world, you grow a thick skin.”

  “In my world, you hide your true thoughts.” In the guest ranch world anyway.

  “Mine, too.”

  He turned to meet her gaze. “What are your true thoughts right now?” It was almost as if he couldn’t help but edge toward trouble with this woman.

  “You want the blistering truth?” she asked.

  “I can take it.”

  “I think you don’t want to like me. I think you’re working hard to push me away.”

  Cole stilled. His first impulse was to deny it. His second was to admire her instincts. His third was to back up fast. “I have nothing against you.”

  Her eyes narrowed and her lips curved into a humorless smile, telling him that she wasn’t fooled. Not even a little. “But...”

  “No but.”

  “Liar.” She spoke softly, holding his gaze in a way that warned him not to underestimate her. “But I’ll let it go in the name of future peaceful calf feedings and wonderful days sorting junk.” Taylor took off her gloves and uncapped the water bottle sitting on the tailgate. “I’m done for the day. I have a Skype interview in an hour.”

  She started to walk away, and Cole realized that even though the sane thing would be to let her walk away, he wasn’t done.

  He took hold of her arm as she went past him, and she stopped, her gaze slowly coming up to meet his. “You’re right,” he said.

  “I know.” Her voice was low and husky. It made him think of sex, although he didn’t think that was her intention. Didn’t matter. It came off that way.

  “Getting closer will complicate things.”

  “We wouldn’t want that.” She spoke softly as her gaze moved down to his lips and held. “But you don’t have to be a jerk to me. Just...talk.”