“Evening,” the middle-aged woman gushed. “Checking in?”
Five minutes later he’d dumped his duffel bag on the massive king-size bed in his guest room. The place embraced the country-rustic style. He hung his hat on the wooden headboard, eyed the bed and thick quilt with appreciation, and grabbed the plate of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies on the bedside table. Yes, please. He popped one into his mouth and moaned. Homemade and warm. He ate another and headed into the bathroom for a shower. Pearl, the lady at the front desk, had told him dinner was being served—just enough time to clean up and warm up.
The waterfall shower was heaven. He stood under the steaming faucet until he could feel his fingers and nose again then toweled off and dressed for dinner, leaving the last two cookies for a bedtime snack.
Pearl greeted him at the dining room door. “We have chicken-fried steak with cream gravy, mashed potatoes, and fresh green beans or chicken pot pie.” She paused. “Or we’ve got a soup and salad bar? But you look more like a meat-and-potatoes man to me.”
He wasn’t sure what a meat-and-potatoes man looked like, but she was right. “Chicken-fried steak.” He was in Texas. Might as well enjoy the local food.
“You’re in for a treat.” She pointed to the back wall. “There are cups there, tea, soda, water or coffee. Help yourself and pick a spot.”
He nodded, poured himself a cup of steaming hot coffee and sat in a booth along the back wall. A quick inspection of the room told him it was filling up so, to avoid conversation, he opened the information packet the University of East Texas had sent to him. He was excited about teaching—about working with the best and the brightest while keeping a family-friendly schedule.
His phone vibrated, a picture of Curtis appearing. He ran his finger over the picture. Weight settled on his chest as he studied the sweet face. Curtis, sitting between Ash’s mother and mother-in-law, grinning his adorable grin at the camera. His mother followed up with an All good here. Good luck at your interview tomorrow. We’ll see you soon text.
Curtis was getting big—running and climbing and getting into everything. Lucky for him, his son had a sweet disposition and an adventurous spirit. And no fear. Just like his mother. He didn’t like being away from him but knew the short trip, the flights and unfamiliar surroundings would only throw off his schedule.
Thank you for keeping an eye on him, he texted back. Since Shanna’s death, his mom and Shanna’s mom, Betty, had all but moved in. They were both widowed, both retired and both smitten with their only grandchild. As invasive as they were, he knew he couldn’t do it without them. When he’d gone back to work, they’d waved off his suggestions of day care to watch Curtis instead. Which suited Ash, and Curtis, just fine. Shanna had planned on staying home, and the mothers were so tickled by the arrangement, the only thing he had to worry about was Curtis getting spoiled. So far, there was no cause for concern.
“Your dinner.” The blue-haired waitress put a massive plate piled high with deliciousness in front of him. “Dig in, honey. Nothing like a full stomach to make a man smile. I guarantee you that there will put a big smile on your face.” She pointed at the food. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
He nodded and took a bite. Flavor assaulted his taste buds. The waitress was right. He was smiling. And good didn’t begin to describe it. When she returned to drop off a heaping basket of still-warm dinner rolls to his table and winked, he nodded his approval. She chuckled and headed on to another table. Another table with a certain blonde cowgirl. Sitting alone, staring at a computer screen.
He froze midchew. Renata.
Damn it all.
Instant awareness tightened his body. No. She was just a woman. No different than any woman he passed on the street. Certainly nothing to get worked up over. Nothing special. His training had taught him to analyze problems, face them head-on and find answers. Maybe looking at Renata that way would help him. He blew out a slow breath, set his fork down and really looked at her.
There was no denying she was beautiful—she was. And the way she smiled up at the waitress had him wishing she was smiling at him.
Dammit.
Even if he were in a place to pursue her, someone like her would have someone. He waited, expecting her better half to join her. But, as he did his best to eat every morsel of his meal while subtly watching, she remained alone. Even staring at her computer screen, her face was animated.
Enough. He finished his dinner, gulped down the last of his coffee and hurried from the dining room without a backward glance. It was too early to sleep, but maybe he’d have an easier time focusing on the university’s information packet from the comfort of his room and that big bed—far from distractions. Especially blue-eyed blondes with dazzling smiles.
After an hour of reading all about the impressive equipment, accolades and experienced staff at the University of East Texas Veterinary Teaching Hospital, and another hour of lying there flipping channels on the television, he grew restless and his brain began to wander. Never a good thing. Curtis was safe. The mothers had everything under control. The rest needed to stay locked up tight. Best way to do that was to occupy himself. Did they have a gym? He’d packed on some muscle recently, spending more time than he’d admit working through his anger and grief.
He pushed out of his bed and peered out the window of his room. The view from his bedroom window was clear, the sky lit up with a thousand diamonds of various size. Perfect material for a photo session. Carrying his coat in one hand and his camera in the other, he headed down the hall into the great room.
It was quiet, save the occasional snap and pop of the fire in the massive fireplace. An older gentleman sat dozing, a paper held in his hands. Other than that, he had the place to himself. Ash slipped by, taking care to open the French doors that led out onto the back porch. The view took his breath away. It was so familiar and so alien all at once. Yes, he and Shanna had traveled through Stonewall Crossing, but it was more than that. The rolling hills reminded him of his childhood home.
He’d grown up on a southern Oklahoma farm. He’d spent his days on horseback, digging post holes, learning every inch of the place until he could walk it blindfolded. As a child, he’d had free rein of the wide-open, with the added comfort of a sometimes-too-close-knit community. After his father’s death his mom had held on to the place as long as she could. In the end, she’d had no choice but to sell. She’d bought the small house she still lived in and used the rest to put him through college. As thankful as he was, he regretted losing his heritage. Especially on nights like this. To have a peaceful view like this every night would be a blessing.
Finger on the button, he peered through the lens, angling for the best shot.
“Glad to see you didn’t freeze on your walk.” Renata.
He should be surprised. So why wasn’t he?
He hadn’t left his room to find her. He’d left his room because he was restless. She had nothing to do with that. But there was a part of him that knew he was lying to himself. And finding her here stirred up all sorts of emotions. Should he make small talk? Or bolt back inside?
She waited, rocking silently, her long blond hair pulled over one shoulder and a cup of something steaming in her hands. At ease and relaxed. Unlike him. Standing here, alone with her, he was wound tight and barely holding on. Not that he could say any of that to her. The longer she waited, the more her smile faded. What the hell was wrong with him?
If he kept staring at her, he’d scare her. He didn’t want to scare her. “I managed to keep all my fingers and toes,” he managed, his voice gruff and thick.
“Glad to hear it. I imagine taking pictures would be hard without them—your fingers I mean. Guess you don’t need toes for it, though.” Her smile returned. “And a night like tonight deserves to be photographed.”
He studied her closely, unable to hold back the answering smile her teasing caused
. Yes. Beautiful.
She stood, cradling her mug closer. “Want some hot chocolate?”
No. Not really. So why was he nodding?
“I’ll get you some,” she said, heading toward the door.
“I mean, no, I’m fine.” Why the hell had he stopped her? If she went inside, he could leave—put distance between them. But if she left... “You’re familiar with this place?” he asked.
Her smile changed, like she knew a secret. “A bit. Why?”
“Small talk, I guess.” He wasn’t good at this—talking for the sake of talking. Recently, he spent the majority of his time with two old women who never let him get a word in edgewise and a baby who was content to make random noises.
“What’s your favorite thing to photograph?” she asked, leaning against the railing at his side.
He looked down at her as the wind kicked up. Her sweet scent flooded his nostrils and his brain. The ache was sharp and sudden. He’d almost forgotten this. The urge to touch a woman, to take her hand...or hold her close. But now, staring down at Renata, he wondered what it would be like to feel her in his arms. To run his fingers through her soft hair. Or breathe in her scent. To taste her lips and, for a little while, forget about heartache and loneliness.
Copyright © 2019 by Sasha Best
ISBN-13: 9781488086014
Home on the Ranch: Wyoming Sheriff
Copyright © 2019 by Rebecca Winters
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Home on the Ranch: Wyoming Sheriff Page 19