Rancher at Risk

by Barbara White Daille

She wore a plaid Western shirt, nice-fitting jeans—real nice—and the boots that had started to look a lot more lived in than when he’d first seen them on her.

  He would have liked to wrap an arm around her and pull her close. Not in front of the boys. That was what Lianne would have said if he’d tried it. When he’d touched her hand on the corral fence, he’d seen the way she’d backed off…after a while.

  It had taken her even longer to walk away when he’d brushed a flyaway strand of hair from her cheek this morning. Hell, he’d stood there for a while, too, after she’d left him.

  “How’s it going?” she asked.

  “Not bad. Though we could use less saddle soap and a lot more elbow grease around here.” He frowned at the redheaded kid, who laughed and got back to work.

  “We’ve just brought home the food for tonight,” she said.

  We?

  “Need any volunteers to take it over to the cabins? These guys can probably put the good deed toward their merit badges.” She wouldn’t ask him outright for help. If he offered it unbidden, he’d no doubt get that “I can handle it” line again. He had to admit, she might be possessive about this project, but she worked darned hard for it, too. No job was beneath her, including taking care of all the food and extras they needed for tonight’s campfire.

  “That would be great,” she said. “And…Becky and P.J. are with me, too. They wanted to come for the campfire.”

  He nodded grimly. He wouldn’t place any bets on how many sacks of groceries they had carried.

  Eyeing the redhead, as well as the two boys next to him, he tilted his head toward the door. They dropped their sponges and scrambled to their feet.

  “The car’s right by the house,” Lianne told them.

  They took off running. She followed more slowly, and he fell into step beside her.

  He felt uneasy, for more than a couple of reasons.

  They hadn’t discussed the presentation again. Before the day came, he’d have to tell her he hadn’t changed his mind. Caleb had put the responsibility of managing this ranch on his shoulders, and he wasn’t about to give up an opportunity to show his boss he had a handle on things.

  When he reached her car, he found Phil, the scoutmaster, leaning up against the Camry, showing off his signing skills to Becky.

  “I told you boys, no slacking off,” he said mildly.

  The scouts loaded themselves up with grocery sacks.

  “Where to?” asked the redhead.

  “The mess hall, Kenny,” Lianne told him.

  “Forward, march,” Ryan added.

  The boy tried to salute and almost lost a sack.

  “Good thing there aren’t any eggs in there,” Lianne called after him as he led his friends away.

  Ryan looked at Phil, who hadn’t moved from the side of Lianne’s Camry. “Still on a break?” he asked in his previous mild tone.

  “Not as of right now.”

  The guy got up, smiled at Lianne and signed something to her.

  He watched them and thought of the cowboy he’d sucker punched, then shook his head. Not the way to go here. Not the way to go at all anymore.

  But he couldn’t help wondering, as he already had too many times to count, if Lianne had taken the guy to the trail. If she’d shown him her quiet, beautiful place. The place he’d had the chance to check out but hadn’t set foot in without her.

  Well, he’d have to take his chances on that one.

  He rested against the side of the car and crossed his arms.

  As Phil walked away, Lianne turned back to him. “The boys seem to be doing well.”

  “They’re getting by,” he admitted. “Two days ago some of them didn’t know the back end of a horse from the front.”

  “They’re quick studies.”

  He eyed her, frowning. She didn’t need to spell it out. He recognized her pointed reminder of the day in her office when he’d acted like a horse’s ass.

  “Caleb was smart to host the scouts here now,” she said. “Since they have scoutmasters along to supervise them—”

  Scoutmasters…right.

  “—I didn’t need the counselors on-site, though they’re all lined up for opening day. The cabins were ready when the scouts arrived, and—”

  She hadn’t raised a hand, yet he could see her counting the items off on her fingers. Making a point of her efficiency.

  “—now we’ve got all we need for the campfire. Everything,” she finished, “has worked out fine.”

  He couldn’t resist. “Their stay’s not over yet.”

  She shook her head. “Very funny. You have to agree, things are moving ahead of schedule. With Caleb bringing in the new horses for the scouts, we’ll even be able to start riding lessons as soon as the students arrive.”

  He’d be long gone by then.

  “Face it, Ryan. I know how to do my job.”

  She said the words calmly enough. But when she turned away, she marched off as if he’d given her the same order he’d jokingly given the boys. Only she moved with a lot more speed than they had—and looked a hell of a lot better in a pair of jeans.

  Even as he stared after her, he rubbed his jaw and gave himself a pointed reminder. Caleb might not have said anything yet about sending him back to Montana, but that would happen. He and the boss both knew it was getting to be time.

  * * *

  LIANNE SAT ON the top porch step at the main school building. All afternoon she had kept a close eye on Becky and P.J. They now sat on the bottom step, helping Tony shuck ears of corn.

  She had kept an equally close eye on Ryan. Since he seemed to get along better with the scouts each day, she had decided to risk bringing the kids to visit the ranch again. To give him a chance to get comfortable with them. And maybe, in some small way, to help him recover from the devastating loss of his son.

  So far the plan had backfired. Ryan hadn’t come anywhere near them. If not for P.J.‘s habit of asking questions, the kids might not have seen him at all.

  To be fair, Ryan had been busy most of the day with the older boys. She glanced toward the porch of the next cabin, where the scouts huddled around their troop leaders and Ryan.

  Tony came out of the door just behind her, carrying another bag of corn. He stopped beside her and nodded toward his helpers. “These two don’t want to get in on the action?”

  “I don’t want them to.” She tried to keep her voice low. “The scouts are doing something over there for merit badges, and it involves sticks and string and jackknives.”

  “Ah. Better to keep them away, then. They could watch, though.”

  She shook her head. “But they wouldn’t. P.J. would want to participate. And Becky would insist on doing whatever they’re doing.”

  “Sounds like somebody I know.” Grinning, Tony went down the steps.

  She couldn’t help smiling, too, at the thought of Becky following in her own “I can do it” footsteps. But her smile slid away as she thought of Ryan and of how much tension her need to prove herself had caused between them.

  Tony squatted beside the kids and put the entire bag of corn into Becky’s lap. She laughed and dug her hands into the bag.

  When Ryan began walking their way, P.J. jumped up and ran toward him.

  She could see P.J. chattering. Becky looked up but returned to her job of shucking corn.

  Lianne had nothing to distract her from watching Ryan and P.J. They stood too far away for her to read their lips. Too far away for her liking. She wanted Ryan closer. She wanted Ryan to stay away. So typical of her lately, she struggled to decide what she wanted from him.

  She went down the steps to lean against the railing at Becky’s shoulder. Even as he approached, she still couldn’t make up her mind. He stood for a moment looking at the door at the top of the steps. Looking like a man who wanted to enter the building but couldn’t face having to run the gauntlet to get there.

  P.J. grabbed a discarded cornhusk, plopped it on Becky’s head and laughed. “Look
, Ryan, Becky’s a scarecrow.”

  Becky laughed and patted her head.

  “She said ‘Hat,’” P.J. explained.

  Lianne watched Ryan.

  He wouldn’t ignore Becky now. Not with P.J. waiting for his response and Tony standing a foot away listening. Not with Becky staring straight at him.

  After a moment, he smiled and said, “That’s a very pretty hat.”

  When Lianne signed what he had said, Becky grinned.

  She smiled back, feeling more elated than she should have.

  Maybe her plan to help Ryan would work after all.

  * * *

  RYAN WATCHED THE scouts haul rocks into the clearing in front of the cabins. To show off their woodsman skills, they had taken charge of making the fire ring.

  P.J. sat beside him on the cabin step.

  He’d gotten used to the boy. Getting to know his personality, different from Billy’s in many ways, let him relax more around him. The kid talked nearly nonstop and was funny along with it.

  He still couldn’t get comfortable around the girl. But with the little time he had left here, it wouldn’t matter enough to make a difference.

  Kenny, the redhead, was bragging to his friends about his plans to start the fire with a couple of twigs.

  “Even if you can do it,” one of his friends said, “it’ll probably take you all night.”

  “Yeah,” the other added, “and we’ve got a ton of food to cook.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ryan told them, “I’ve got a box of matches handy.”

  “Ha, ha,” Kenny said, rolling his eyes.

  “There’s lots and lots of marshmallows, too.” P.J. licked his lips. “I’m gonna eat a million-bazillion marshmallows.”

  Ryan laughed. Then he shook his head. It wouldn’t be so funny if the kid really did overdo it and wound up sick with a stomachache all night.

  He looked across the clearing to where Lianne had set up a few camp chairs. She sat talking with Phil, the scoutmaster. Scratch that—she sat talking and laughing with Phil, the scoutmaster.

  Well, he wasn’t going to haul off and do anything stupid. But all of a sudden he felt a little stomachachy himself.

  Becky sat with them. A five-year-old didn’t make much of a chaperone.

  And how sick was it to have a thought like that? He ground his jaw and just managed to keep from spitting in the dirt in disgust at himself.

  However, that didn’t stop him from getting up and moseying across the clearing.

  P.J. hustled along beside him. “Where we goin’, Ryan?”

  “To take care of business.” When they reached the porch, he said to Lianne, “The fire ring will be ready soon. We need to take care of a few things.”

  “Of course.”

  Phil left to join the scouts. Lianne led the way into the cabin. P.J. and Becky followed.

  “Hey, Ryan,” P.J. said, “want to play checkers?”

  “Maybe later.” He trailed Lianne into the kitchen.

  “By the way,” she said, “before we get started, there’s one thing I wanted to mention.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your bad language.” Her smile almost made him miss what she’d said.

  He smiled back. “And what bad language would that be?”

  “When Kenny dropped that rock on your foot a while ago, you said a very naughty word.”

  He laughed. “Hey, if a boulder landed on your toe, you’d be cussing, too. But I did it under my breath. No one else heard me.”

  “Ah.” She nodded. “But I read lips. You’re never safe around me.”

  He moved closer. “I could say the same about you.”

  Still smiling, she surveyed the counters. “I think we’ve got everything we need here.”

  “Do we?” he said, looking at her mouth.

  She hesitated for a long moment and then said, “Well…I don’t know. What was it you wanted to take care of?”

  “You.” He moved another step closer. The toes of his boots grazed hers. “I’ve missed you.”

  Her eyes widened, but she said nothing.

  “You know what I’m heading for, Lianne. If you want it, too, give me a sign.”

  Her tongue touched her lips.

  He leaned in.

  She pressed back against the edge of the counter. “No. That wasn’t it. That was only a reflex.”

  “Too late.” He waited just long enough to see her lips curve.

  When he bent his head, she was ready for him, her breath tickling his cheek before he caught her mouth with his. It had been a long time since he’d kissed her.

  He slid his hands around her waist and urged her toward him.

  She was firm beneath his fingers, soft against his chest.

  And right about the time she shifted her hips beneath him and he rocked his in a reflex of his own, he realized he might have started something he couldn’t control.

  Chapter Fifteen

  In the glow of the flames from the fire ring, he watched Lianne interact with the kids, with the scouts, even with the scoutmasters. Now her conversations with Phil didn’t cause him to blink an eye.

  Phil hadn’t been the one in the kitchen with her.

  He didn’t know the source of the strength he’d found to take his hands from her hips and step away when every part of him just wanted to take—another taste, another touch, another minute.

  He had a bad case of lust over Lianne. But damn, it felt good.

  He looked at her now, laughing at a joke one of the scouts had just told, and wished he could get her alone again.

  “I ate three hot dogs,” P.J. informed him.

  He turned to the boy. “I saw you.”

  “They were yu-u-um-my. One with ketchup. One with mustard. One with relish. I like the relish best. It’s sweet.”

  “Yeah.” So was Lianne. If he closed his eyes, he could taste her on his tongue.

  “Don’t go to sleep, Ryan! We still have to eat the marshmallows. And the s’mores. Do you like s’mores?”

  “Yeah, I do.” But not more than he liked Lianne.

  He shook his head to clear it. He needed to stop thinking these thoughts or he’d never make it through the evening.

  “Did you sing the songs with us? I didn’t know all the words, only some.”

  “I’m not much of a singer,” he admitted. Hell, he’d barely paid attention. He’d spent the sing-along time torn between looking at Lianne in the light on the other side of the fire ring and trying not to look Lianne’s way.

  Becky sat beside her. Neither of them could hear any of the words to the songs. Or any of the voices around them.

  All these weeks, it hadn’t mattered that Lianne couldn’t hear his voice. From watching her with Caleb in the beginning, he’d learned to get her attention before he wanted to say something. To always look right at her when he spoke and to slow his speech down some, too.

  He’d gotten used to the noise level around her, from the clanging file drawers to the crashing pots and pans to the booming radio. And he’d reached the point a while ago where he could understand her speech without a hitch.

  Come to think of it, she’d gotten good at reading him, too. That brought a smile to his face.

  Now he listened to her voice as she told the scouts a joke. Something about a deaf man and wife in a car at a motel…

  He drifted away from the story and watched her instead. Her mouth as she spoke, her hands as she signed for Becky, her hair as it shifted in the firelight. He thought about a motel room for just the two of them.

  “…and when all the lights went on, only one room stayed dark. And that’s how the man knew where his wife was.”

  Everyone around the circle laughed.

  He might have enjoyed the joke, too, if he’d heard it all the way through. But he’d missed a lot of it.

  The way Lianne sometimes missed things.

  Natural when more than one person was talking at once or if the situation didn’t work for lipreading.
The night at the Whistlestop, she’d struggled with Nate’s enthusiastic delivery. She’d gotten lost in many of the conversations at the community center.

  When he was alone with her, he could make all those adjustments he’d learned. But he couldn’t do anything about the times she found herself lost in a crowd. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t save her from the frustration of not knowing what someone had said.

  Which was another reason he wanted to be the one to give the presentation at Town Hall. Besides…maybe he’d finally get the chance to make a good impression on the folks of Flagman’s Folly.

  * * *

  LIANNE LAUGHED AS she watched P.J. and Becky. They would stretch a charbroiled marshmallow until it reached its limit and broke and then try to catch the sweet, sticky strand with their tongues.

  She thought of the sweetness of Ryan’s mouth against hers. Her lips still tingled from those lovely moments in the kitchen. She had known what he’d wanted. She had wanted it, too. Thank heaven he had managed to pull away and remind her of the kids in the other room, because she hadn’t had a functioning brain cell left.

  She’d felt his desire, as well, and the memory alone made her flush and feel grateful for the warmth of the fire to excuse any added redness in her cheeks.

  From the camp chair beside her, he met her eyes.

  The heat in his gaze made the flush spread upward and over her scalp. He squeezed her hand and smiled as if he knew very well what caused the color flooding her face.

  She took a deep breath. “I hate to break this up,” she said, “but I think it’s time for me to get the kids back to the house.”

  “They’re staying the night?”

  Nodding, she watched his expression for disappointment or frustration, the sign that would show he wanted to continue what they had started in the kitchen. She looked for irritation or annoyance, an indication he didn’t want to have to deal with Becky and P.J. at the ranch house again.

  But she didn’t read any of those emotions in his face.

  He simply nodded, squeezed her hand again and smiled.

  She waved to get the kids’ attention. “Come on, guys, time to go home.”

  It took them a while to gather up their things, but when Becky and P.J. finally started heading toward the house, Lianne waved a quick goodbye. She smiled at Ryan and turned to follow the kids.