“Sometimes actions speak louder than words.”
“Not in this case.”
She eyed him for a long moment before stepping through the unfinished doorway.
He followed her into a room large enough to hold a barn dance. In one corner an open stairwell rose to the second level.
As they started toward the back of the room, a boy in his late teens appeared at the top of the stairs. He wore work boots, denim cutoffs and a carpenter’s belt. “Hey, Lianne,” he called. “We’re up here.”
Ryan tapped her shoulder. When she turned to look back at him, he pointed toward the stairs.
Changing direction, she smiled up at the kid. “Hi, Joe.”
He waved at her and said, “Hey, man, if you are who I think you are, we heard about you. From Tony.”
Damn. Already? The old man spent too much time running off at the mouth. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. He told us Caleb had a new foreman.”
“That’s right,” he confirmed, making a mental apology to Tony. “Ryan Molloy.”
Lianne had reached the landing. “What did you say, Joe?”
“Huh?” For a moment, he looked puzzled. “Oh, I said Caleb has a new foreman.” He repeated the two final words in a louder tone.
Lianne nodded.
“You know, manager. Supervisor. Boss.”
“I think she got it the first time,” Ryan said. “And there’s no need to yell.”
“Whatever.” He shrugged.
Lianne turned her head from the kid to him and back again. “This is Ryan.”
“Yeah.” The kid grinned at him.
Ryan followed Lianne’s glance down a long hallway as littered as the porch had been.
“Looks like you’re busy up here,” she said. “I’ll show him the offices another time.”
He trailed her down the stairs and out to the porch again. “It also looks like they’ve got a way to go on these buildings.”
“We’ll get there,” she said flatly.
“In time for the scouts?”
“Of course.”
Frowning, he looked back into the building. “Mind telling me why we’re changing the agenda? We could work around the mess upstairs.”
She settled onto the sawhorse he had shifted and stared up at him. “Would you mind telling me what that was about with Joe?”
“What?”
“‘There’s no need to yell.’”
“He was getting carried away, repeating himself and raising his voice because you couldn’t hear what he said.”
“I didn’t see what he said. I was watching my step climbing the stairs. He didn’t realize I had my head down.”
Just as he hadn’t realized in the other building, speaking when she’d had her back to him. “That must happen a lot.”
She shrugged. “It happens, yes. But he wasn’t getting carried away. Since he thought I just didn’t understand him, he was trying to help me. People do that—raise their voices with a deaf or hard-of-hearing person, thinking it will make a difference. Sometimes it does. Hearing loss covers a wide spectrum, and some deaf people can pick up a range of voices.”
“Can you?”
She pressed her lips into a firm line. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer. Finally, she said, “No. I can’t hear anyone clearly.”
She’d kept her voice so low he barely caught the blurred words. Her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes glittered. Not meeting his gaze, she stood and went down the steps.
He followed, frowning again. Even with all those signals, he couldn’t tell what had just happened.
Had she spoken so softly out of embarrassment because there was something she couldn’t do?
Or to hide her anger because she’d had to admit it?
* * *
WITH BREAKFAST OVER and the day’s assignments distributed among the men, Ryan got up from the table in the bunkhouse kitchen and followed Tony through the door. The old man had taken a while to cross the room. He’d hung back, not wanting to rush him.
Outside, dawn had broken, and the sun had started to climb.
“You came in a little early this morning, huh?” Tony asked. “I saw you’d already had the coffee on.”
“Yeah.” As he had told Lianne he would do, he slept in the main house but took all his meals outside with the men…except for the night she had offered him brownies for dessert. What were the chances she’d do that again?
After the conversation on the steps of the school building yesterday, their walk back to the ranch house had gone amicably enough. He still didn’t know how she felt about his question, but she seemed to have forgiven him for acting like a horse’s back end.
Since then, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his thoughts. Not a good thing. Along with his breakfast this morning, he had hoped company and conversation would take his mind off her.
“I took a spin to see the school yesterday,” Tony said.
He smiled wryly. “Yeah, I think someone over there mentioned your name.”
“Things are looking pretty good. An interesting place this ranch is gonna be with all those boys coming to stay.”
He didn’t care to think about the boys. Or any kids at all.
“You starting work on the corral today?”
He shook his head. “No, we’ve got a list of other things to do first.” Things that would keep him well away from the ranch house and the construction site.
“Gotta go get that bag of new cloths I left in the truck,” Tony said. “Forgot it once already.”
Ryan walked alongside him, slowing down some to accommodate the other man. Tony had claimed a space for his pickup truck on the grass close to the bunkhouse, saying he liked keeping an eye on his pride and joy. Ryan suspected the proximity to the bunkhouse saved the old man’s leg from extra wear and tear. And maybe, like Lianne, he didn’t like to admit to some things.
As they turned back, something rustled in the underbrush alongside the bunkhouse.
“Speedy critters,” Tony said, pointing at the jackrabbit now bounding across the yard.
Lianne wouldn’t have heard the dry crackle of brush. All around, birds stretched their wings, mama birds chirping wake-up calls and their babies greeting the dawn, warbling songs she could never enjoy. How did she feel about missing all the sounds most people took for granted?
“You heading over to the barn?” Tony asked.
“Yeah. You?”
“I’ll be along shortly. Just need one more cup of coffee to wake me up properly.”
“Not me.” First time in a long time he’d almost slept the night through. Only one nightmare. And he’d woken to a quiet house.
He couldn’t help but smile. Now he knew why Lianne made more noise than anyone he’d ever met. She couldn’t hear the racket she made.
As he left Tony at the bunkhouse, he acknowledged the plan to get her out of his thoughts had failed dismally.
As he rounded the barn, he saw his timing had only made things worse.
He froze, staring at the vision near the back porch steps.
She wore body-hugging exercise gear so shiny it seemed as though she’d oiled the blue fabric. The slanting rays of the rising sun glanced off every inch of her, making her sparkle.
When she began twisting from side to side, loosening her oblique muscles, he stepped back a pace into the shadows beside the barn, not wanting to startle her.
Okay, hell—not wanting to scare her off completely.
She went through a handful of stretches, reaching down to set her palms almost flat on the ground to elongate her spine, stretching up to the sky, unknowingly offering him full view of every sun-sparkled curve of her silhouette. Her limbs moved as easily as a puppet’s dangling from its strings, while every last muscle in him tightened in response.
A quick jog took her to the top of the porch steps. She lowered herself into a crouch and then sprang up to grab the edge of the porch roof and heave her body into chin-up position.
No need to spare a moment for guilt. Any cowhands arriving at the barn the way he had would see her. Any driver or rider coming far enough up the driveway would have the back porch in full view. Still, he couldn’t deny the sudden fierce hope that this was a sight meant just for him.
Her exercises had started his blood pumping, too. Soon they had his breath trapped in his chest.
She worked through a series of yoga stretches, her gestures unhurried and graceful, as if she moved to music only she could hear. Eyes closed, she kept her face toward the sun, letting its rays wash over her. The gleam of reflected light dazzled him.
He clenched his fists, wishing he could take the place of the sun and touch everywhere that light fell, wanting to run his fingers down her lean limbs and to warm her soft, cool curves with his hands.
Sweat broke out on his forehead.
Overseeing the project manager had damn sure taken on new meaning.
He stepped farther back into the shadows, slumped against the side of the barn and dragged his shirtsleeve across his brow.
Chapter Seven
Later that afternoon Ryan stood in the office doorway and looked in surprise at the bare desk. A big change from the flood of files she normally kept all over its surface. Not to mention the floor.
Better to think of that mess than to dwell on the vision he’d seen after breakfast.
Hell, he’d seen a lot more of a lot of women than he’d seen of Lianne. But somehow that glimpse of her in her exercise gear had darned near knocked his legs out from under him.
The view now had him a little shaky, too.
Behind the desk, she stood studying a spreadsheet, her blond hair pushed back to spill around her shoulders. With her head tilted down, one long strand had slipped forward near her temple and draped down against her cheek. Idly, she twirled the strand around and around a pencil.
Eventually she looked up and noticed him leaning against the doorjamb. Blue eyes observed him without blinking. Pink lips stayed straight and firm. But he could see she was making an effort.
He gestured around the room. “What happened to organized chaos?”
“Sometimes I like a rest from it.”
“I’ll bet.”
She laughed.
The soft, blurred sound had his legs even shakier. “How’s it going?”
“About the same as it was this morning. And again right after lunch.” She pointed toward her computer monitor at the digits in the corner of the screen. “Two hours ago, that is.”
“That long already?”
“Not nearly long enough.”
She tossed her pencil onto the desk. The lead broke. Sighing, she shook her head. “Good thing there are plenty more where that one came from. Which reminds me, Ryan. Do you think with the next supply order, I should purchase a time clock? Maybe if I punch in and out, you won’t need to check up to see when I’m working.”
Was that the beginning of a curve to those pink lips?
“Very funny.” He shifted the spreadsheet and sat on one edge of the desk. “Not checking up, supervising,” he corrected. “And I’ll take that stack of resumes from you.”
The curve shifted back to a straight line, but she went to the file cabinet by the credenza for a folder and set it on the desk. “Those are mostly candidates for the aides—the counselor positions for the noncurricular activities. Caleb has reviewed them. I’m starting with the top few.”
“How are you planning to contact the applicants?”
“I’ve already called the first two.”
“‘Called?’” Frowning, he looked at the telephone she had pushed to one corner of the desk and half buried under a sheaf of papers. “On the phone?”
“No. Through video relay.” She pointed toward the computer again. “I sign to an online interpreter who speaks for me and tells me what the other party says. The conversation goes back and forth, just as in any phone call.”
He nodded. The explanation sounded like something she’d memorized, but it did address one of the issues he’d wondered about—how she would deal with hiring the staff. “You’ll do the interviews through the interpreter.”
“No. Those I’ll handle face-to-face. I’ve confirmed a couple for next week.”
He nodded. “I’m planning some full days out on the ranch, but I’ll work around your schedule. Give me the dates.”
“Why? I’m not expecting you to sit in on the interviews.”
“That’s what supervisors do.”
She shook her head emphatically, sending that strand of hair swinging against her cheek. “Not in this case. I’ve already talked to Caleb about the candidates. He’s good with my selections.” She shoved a file drawer closed. Metal clanged.
At the desk again she slipped her spreadsheet into a folder, as if worried he’d manhandle the paperwork from her. As if afraid he’d try to take over her job.
He had a job to do, too, dammit.
While I’m gone, you’re in charge here.
The boss might as well have said “I’m putting you to the test.”
Again.
“We’ve had this conversation before, Lianne. Caleb left me to oversee the project.”
“Yes, I know.” She sighed. “It’s an entry-level staff position. I can do the interviewing on my own.”
No fists this time, but he could see them in his mind. “Regardless, I’ll be here. Besides, you might want an independent observer in the room.” He tried a smile again. “When you’re talking to someone you may decide to hire, you want to make sure you stay professional.”
She laughed. “We’ve had that conversation before, too. Don’t you remember? I am a professional. And I know how to act while I’m interviewing.”
“Think so? Well, here’s a tip you might find helpful. Keep your hands away from your face. Especially when you’re holding a pencil.”
Her eyes narrowed then widened in sudden understanding. She rubbed her cheek with her fingertips.
“Missed it.” He reached up and lightly brushed aside her tendril of hair, then thumbed away the dark smudge on her temple.
Her eyes met his. Her pink lips softened, and his pulse gave one mighty hitch.
She stepped back, breaking contact, looking away. “I’d better go check in a mirror.” She moved past him, leaving behind the faint scent of roses.
And one thoroughly shaken man.
* * *
LIANNE FOUND HER bag in the kitchen where she had left it. She quickly checked in her compact mirror to make sure the pencil smudge was gone and then headed out the back door.
As far as she was concerned, her conversation in the office with Ryan had ended. And whatever else had just started in there wasn’t going to continue.
One hand touching her cheek, she walked into the yard, warmed by the late-afternoon sun. Blue sky and white clouds stretched overhead. In the distance a tree-covered ridge beckoned. One day, she would check it out. But for now, with any luck, she’d already gotten far enough from Ryan.
Outside the barn, Tony sat on a low stool, doing something that required a tub of soapy water.
When he saw her approaching, he smiled. “Hey there. Come to keep an old man company?”
No, to leave a younger man behind.
“You’re not old, Tony. You’re just mature for your age.”
He laughed.
She, on the other hand, had acted immaturely—like a schoolgirl swooning because the boy she had a crush on had just smiled at her. But Ryan hadn’t smiled. He’d touched.
All her years of reading faces had told her he’d wanted more. And, all right—yes, she’d wanted that, too.
She swung herself up onto the top rail of the corral. From here she would have the back porch of the house in view.
Tony would be good company right now. A
s busy as he was, he wouldn’t notice her distraction. And since he couldn’t look at her and work at the same time, they couldn’t carry on a conversation.
But she’d forgotten how much he liked to talk.
“Went for a look over at the school the other day. They’ve made some progress since I was out there a while back. Things all going well with the construction, I take it?”
She nodded.
“Caleb’s left the place in good hands.”
She smiled and then wondered whether he’d meant hers or Ryan’s. Right now she didn’t want to think about Ryan or his hands. Or his eyes or his mouth or his anything else.
“Everything going well with you, too?” Tony asked.
“Yes. Why?” She frowned. She’d just sounded as suspicious as Ryan had the night she’d tried to make conversation over the brownies. “Things are fine. Any reason for asking?”
“Nope. Bet you’re happy to be staying in that house over there.”
Why? This time, she didn’t ask, but she shot a glance in that direction. All clear, fortunately.
“I mean, it’s nice for you being close by with your sister getting ready to have her baby. You’ll still be here for the occasion, won’t you?”
“Oh, yes, I will,” she confirmed, trying to push away a sudden rush of guilt. She and Kayla texted several times a day, but she hadn’t gone to visit her since…since Caleb had made Ryan her boss. She wasn’t sure if she could keep her feelings out of her voice well enough to prevent Kayla from noticing.
“It’s a lot different here than up in Chicago, isn’t it? I’ve never been that far north before. And tell you the truth, I’m just as glad to live where it stays warm for a good part of the year.” He pushed himself to a standing position, one foot on the ground, the other, the boot with the raised heel, still propped up on the rung of his stool.
He smacked that leg with the soft cloth in his hand. “This one’s giving me trouble right now. Can’t even stand up like a proper gentleman. No way to treat a lady.”
“You’re always a perfect gentleman with me.”
Smiling, he tipped his cowboy hat to her and then started toward the barn.
Sometimes when they talked, he would mention his leg. Sometimes he wouldn’t. That was his choice, just as choosing how much to say about her abilities was her decision.
Rancher at Risk Page 7
