“I’ve seen the rewards of hard work,” she said, raising her gaze to his face. “The ranch is wonderful. You should be very proud of yourself.”
Dark eyes blended with the dark night until she couldn’t read his thoughts or emotions. She desperately wanted to know if he felt the same things she did, if her touch affected him with the same intensity that his did her.
There were no overt sparks, no conflagration of instant desire. Instead she felt a steady glow, similar to that given off by a well-built fire. Instead of flash and smoke, there was security, as if the heat would last a long time.
He released her hand. “The ranch was already a success when my father left it to me. I’ve followed in his footsteps. I’m lucky—he left me a clear path.”
Randi drew her fingers into her palm as if the action would allow her to hold on to the sensations he’d created with his touch. Her belly tightened as if she was nervous, but she wasn’t, at least she didn’t have reason to be. What was going on? She’d never felt this way before—content, yet unsettled.
It wasn’t like when she’d spent time with Hal. She frowned, trying to remember what her ex-fiancé had looked like, and realized she couldn’t force his image into her mind. She couldn’t remember the color of his eyes, or the shape of his mouth when he smiled. She certainly couldn’t remember being with him. How strange. A man she’d considered marrying had disappeared completely from her mind.
A fast-moving shadow caught her attention. She squinted to see in the dark. “What is that?” she asked, pointing.
“Princess. She makes one last round about this time. Just in case.”
“How often does she find cats?”
“We can go a couple of months without anyone leaving any, then we might have three additions in a week.” He muttered something that sounded like “damned felines,” but she wasn’t sure.
Tilting her head so he wouldn’t see her smile, she said, “I’ve been thinking about talking to some people the next time I’m in town. You know, maybe find a few homes.”
“That would be great. At this rate, I’m going to have to get licensed as a zoo or something.”
She laughed. “If they don’t make you do that for all the steers you have, they’re not going to make you do it for the cats.”
“I guess. At least the steers are money on the hoof. What good are the cats?”
“They’re great hunters. I’ll bet you don’t have a bug or a small rodent within a mile of the house.”
He grumbled low in his throat, but didn’t respond.
“You talk tough, but I’ve seen you petting them,” she said, rising to her feet. “Especially Peter.”
“Who the hell is Peter?” He stood up and glared at her. “You’re not going to start naming them. Over my dead body. Next thing you know you’ll be attached to them and won’t want me to give them away. No names.”
“Peter is the black kitten with a white patch on his nose. You were holding him. I saw you, so don’t bother denying it.”
“I was not. I was checking to see if he had something in his paw. I thought he was limping.”
“Sure. It’s a good story, Brady. You might get someone to believe it. Just not me.”
He glanced around as if checking to make sure they were alone. “All right,” he said, his voice low. “Maybe I was petting that one, but I still don’t like cats.”
“You’re right. You adore them.”
She laughed and he joined in. He made a move toward her, as if to deliver a mock blow. She raised her hands in a gesture that was two parts protection, one part surrender. Not sure if she’d stepped forward or if he’d been the one to close the distance between them, she found herself in his arms.
As hugs went, it wasn’t especially romantic. He held her lightly, his hands barely touching her back. Yet there was a rightness, as if they’d been created to fit together. Her body heated unexpectedly. Her thighs began to tremble, as did her arms.
After a brief squeeze, he released her. Slowly, she let her arms drop to her side, oddly reluctant to move away. Nerves tingled where her fingertips had rested on his shoulders.
“Thanks, Brady,” she said, wondering if he could hear the shaking in her voice. What was wrong with her? It was just a hug. “I mean, for the job and the raise. And for trusting me. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t. Good night, Rita.” He bent over and brushed his lips against her cheek.
Her heart lurched in her chest and her breath caught. She spun on her heel and walked rapidly to the front door, calling a quick “‘Night” over her shoulder as she ducked inside.
By the time Randi made it back to the safety of her room, she still hadn’t been able to slow her breathing. She pressed her hands to her cheeks and was shocked to feel heat. Was she blushing? She wasn’t embarrassed, she was stunned.
“Calm down,” she told herself as she paced from the door to the window. “Deep breaths. It’s not a big deal. Just a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Just like Noah does all the time.”
Maybe the actions looked like the same brotherly affection, but her reaction couldn’t have been more different. With Noah, she felt a sisterly love. With Hal, she never felt anything at all. But in Brady’s arms—“Don’t think about it,” she said. “Remember who you are and what you’ve done. Brady isn’t going to be interested in a woman like you.”
Maybe. Probably. Certainly. But that knowledge didn’t stop her from pressing her fingertips to the cheek he’d kissed. Nor, when she was in bed and staring at the ceiling, could she stop reliving those brief seconds in his arms. Her body hadn’t reacted that strongly to the passionate kisses she’d received from the young men she’d dated in college. And all Brady had done was kiss her cheek.
A noise downstairs caught her attention. She heard measured steps on the stairs and knew Brady had returned from his final check of the ranch. Every night he walked around the barn and the bunkhouse, making sure all was well. He guarded his domain much as Princess guarded hers.
Randi turned on her side and pulled her knees up to her chest. Longing filled her. Longing for a home and a place to belong.
But with her past haunting her at every turn, how was that ever going to happen?
Chapter Six
“Cooperate, damn you,” Brady Jones muttered when the large gelding took an unexpected side step and bumped him. Brady scrambled back to keep from falling on his butt. “I own you,” he reminded the horse. “Keep this up and I’ll sell you for glue. Or dog food.”
Rita laughed. “That’s telling him, boss. Remind him who’s in charge and how you hold his life in your hands.” She stroked the horse’s head. “Are you scared, big fella? Don’t be.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s all bark and no bite. Yes, it’s true. Cheap talk. Can you say cheap?”
The horse snorted.
“She’s got a way about her, that one does,” McGregor said as he finished shaping the shoe and returned to the horse’s side. “Come on, laddie. Don’t be givin’ an old man trouble.”
The farrier bent over and deliberately bumped the gelding’s right front shoulder. The horse obligingly shifted his weight to the other three legs and allowed the man to pick up his hoof.
“Good boy,” the Scotsman crooned. “Stay steady just a wee bit longer. We’ll be gettin’ you a nice new shoe. The ladies will be impressed.” He set the shoe over the hoof and grabbed a handful of nails from a pocket in his oversize leather apron.
A few minutes later the shoe was in place, the edges filed to insure a perfect fit. McGregor released the hoof and straightened.
“I do fine work, if I say so myself. No doubt you’ll be thinkin’ the same, Brady.”
“You’re the best, McGregor. I appreciate you taking the time to see to my horses.”
Rita giggled. Brady shot her a quick look and winked. The old Scotsman was the best farrier in the business. He was also the only one close enough to come by on a moment’s notice. The gelding had thrown a sh
oe the day before. Until it was replaced, he couldn’t be worked.
The horse stamped his foot as if checking the fit. He tossed his head, then blew out air.
“See,” McGregor said. “He approves. You’ll be wantin’ me to look at the other three?”
Brady nodded. “I think that back shoe is coming loose.”
“Shoddy workmanship, and not mine. Who have you had around pretendin’ to shoe these horses?”
“Your nephew. Remember? You took off for a cruise.”
“Aye. I remember.” McGregor looked at Rita and smiled. “The Caribbean, it was. Very lovely. You ever been?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“You’d like it. Lots of pretty girls, but not as pretty as you.”
“Aren’t you sweet?”
Brady held in a sound of disgust. Not only was McGregor old enough to be her father, but his lines weren’t that good. Yet women everywhere always fell for him. “It’s the accent,” he muttered under his breath.
“What did you say?” Rita asked, but the glint in her blue eyes told him that she’d heard his comment.
“Nothing.”
“Gee, I could have sworn you said—”
“Rita.” Brady cut her off with a look designed to remind her he was her boss. She wasn’t the least bit intimidated, either.
She turned her attention to McGregor and said, “I adore your accent. It’s very charming.”
“Accent? Me?” McGregor moved around the gelding and lifted his left rear hoof. “You’re the one who sounds funny, lass.” He tapped at the shoe. “This one’s loose, like you said. I’ll be havin’ a talk with my nephew. I taught him better than this. The boy’s lazy. You know how young men are. Still, that’s a lame excuse for bad work.” He smiled at his pun, then set the hoof down and headed for his truck. “Let me get another shoe and I’ll replace it.”
The gelding shifted, again bumping into Brady. He pushed back. Unfortunately, the horse didn’t budge. “What’s your problem?”
“He’s establishing dominance,” Rita said.
“I thought we’d taken care of that already.”
“Not really.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think the basic problem is that he doesn’t understand enough English to know that you’re threatening him. Otherwise, I’m sure he’d be terribly respectful.” She spoke seriously, but the corners of her mouth twitched.
“Right,” he said, fighting a grin of his own. “Sort of like you.”
“I’m very respectful.”
“To whom?”
She laughed.
The gelding took another step. Brady saw it coming and ducked under the animal’s head. The horse was just as quick. He shifted back, catching Rita unaware, pulling her forward and making her stumble. As Brady moved to keep her from falling, the gelding stepped between them. Rita hit the ground, knees first.
Her shoulders were shaking. Fear darted through his chest. Had she hurt herself? He grabbed the halter and forced the gelding back two steps, then crouched down beside Rita.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She rolled onto her rear, and looked at him. Tears streamed down her face, but they weren’t from pain. She was laughing. “He’s so bored,” she said, motioning to the horse. “He’s been bugging me ever since you brought him in. I think he hates not being outside with the cattle.” She brushed the moisture from her face. “No horse has caught me so off guard since I was fourteen.”
Her reaction surprised him, then he reminded himself that it shouldn’t. Rita wasn’t like other women he’d known. Working on his ranch for only a few weeks proved to him that she was tough and sensible. Competent, not that she would consider his assessment much of a compliment, however he might mean it that way.
“You fell pretty hard,” he said, and touched her left leg. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
He squeezed her knee, trying to feel for swelling or tenderness. As he slid his hand a few inches down her shin, then up her thigh, he watched her face, looking for a hint of pain. He ignored the pleasure touching her brought. This wasn’t about desire, it was about making sure she was all right. Even so, it was difficult not to let his hand linger on her knee.
When he paused in his actions, she shrugged. “It’s a little sore from the fall, but I’m fine. I’m tougher than I look.”
“I know.” He stood up, then held out his hand to help her to her feet.
As she straightened, they were standing very close. He was once again reminded of their brief hug last week when her trial period was over and he said she could stay on. He swore under his breath. Every time he was close to forgetting that hug, along with the kiss he’d stupidly given her, something happened to make him remember. He didn’t want to remember. He wanted to take the whole thing back. It had been inappropriate behavior, and not his style at all. He’d had female employees before and had never once been tempted.
He couldn’t explain the impulse that had made him kiss her, and he couldn’t forget.
Rita didn’t seem to be having the same problem. She stepped up to the gelding and took his large face in her hands. “Don’t do that to me again,” she told the animal. “You know better.”
The horse snorted gently, as if apologizing.
“Like I believe that,” she said.
“Believe what?” McGregor asked as he entered the barn.
“Anything a man says to me. You all tell wonderful stories that don’t have a lick of truth.”
“I’m wounded, lass. At least let me share a story or two before you start accusin’ me of somethin’. In fact, I’ll think up a good one to tell you at the barn dance next week. What do you say? Surely an old gent like myself deserves a wee bit of your time.”
Rita blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know about any dance, but I don’t think—”
McGregor made a noise of disgust and glared at Brady. “Did you mean to be keepin’ the lass to yourself?”
“No. The subject never came up in conversation.”
“Typical. These young men. They don’t know what’s important in life.” McGregor moved to the gelding and lifted the animal’s rear hoof. “Next Saturday night there’s a barn dance in town. Everyone’s invited. It’s at the lodge, so it’s not really a barn, but it’s called that. There’s lots of music and food. Perhaps a wee bit of drink, too.” He held the metal shoe against the hoof, then lowered the animal’s leg.
Brady, who hadn’t been to one of the town dances in months, found himself suddenly eager to go. To dance. Specifically with Rita. Down boy, he warned himself.
“They’re a lot of fun,” Brady said, hoping he sounded casual. “You’ll know a lot of people there.” At her questioning look he added, “The cowboys all go. Even Tex. You don’t need a date.”
“But you will need a few dancin’ partners,” McGregor said, then pounded the shoe into the right shape. “I believe I’d like to claim one dance for myself.”
Rita bit her lower lip, then nodded. “I’d like that,” she said, sounding hesitant.
Brady wondered why. Was it going to a place where she didn’t know many people, or was it attending the dance itself?
“A two-step?” McGregor asked.
Rita smiled. “Perfect.”
Brady turned away, annoyed to find himself wanting to claim his own dance. Dammit, he wasn’t jealous of McGregor, he wasn’t jealous of anyone. He had no claim on Rita. She was just an employee. A young employee, he reminded himself, thinking of the nine years between them.
“And maybe a waltz,” the Scotsman teased.
Brady stepped around the gelding and headed for the back of the barn. “I’ll write you a check for the shoeing,” he said.
“Just for the one,” McGregor called after him. “The second one is repairing a bad job. No charge for that.”
Brady grunted in reply. He knew what the problem was, but knowing it and fixing it didn’t seem to be the same thing. If he was jealous of someone who wasn’t the least bit interest
ed in Rita, what would happen if someone who was came sniffing around?
He crossed to his desk and jerked open the upper right drawer. His checkbook lay on top. As he sat down, he told himself to get over it and fast. So what if Rita got to him in a way that left him hard and wanting? So what if no one had affected him like that in years? So what if she wasn’t Alicia? She was still a woman with secrets. A woman with a past, and he of all people knew the danger in that.
He scrawled out the amount, then signed the check. Ten minutes later, the farrier came in to collect it. They chatted for a short time. When McGregor left, Brady tried to ignore the sounds from the barn. He didn’t want to think about Rita with the horses, of her doing her chores, of the way she would look bending over to spread straw or raising her arms high to grab a feed sack.
He rested his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples. He had it bad.
“Brady?”
He glanced up and found Rita standing in the doorway to his office. Her long braid hung over one shoulder and down the side of her right breast. He forced his gaze to her face. Some dark emotion flickered in her eyes. “Yes?”
“I, um…” She twisted her hands together in front of her waist. Worn jeans emphasized her round hips and shapely thighs. He told himself not to notice. “Would you rather I didn’t go to the dance?”
He leaned back in his chair and motioned for her to take the seat across from his. “No. Why?”
She sat down. “I’m not sure. You seemed a little put out by my conversation with McGregor. He was just joking. I knew that. I don’t want you to think I took his flattery seriously.”
Brady winced. Bad enough to act like a jerk, worse to be caught. “I’m sorry, Rita. That wasn’t it at all. You’re welcome to go to the dance or anywhere else. Your free time is just that. Yours. I think you’d have fun, so I hope you’ll go. McGregor is a great dancer, if you don’t mind some theatrics along the way.”
“Are you sure?”
The Rancher and the Runaway Bride Page 7
