by Rose Verde
“I'll definitely make other arrangements,” she said, walking out of the coop.
“Two weeks is fine. I can do it.” Wyatt followed her and locked the gate back behind him.
A look of gratitude slipped into her blue eyes. “You don't know what this means to me.” She touched his arm briefly. “Thanks.”
Pity for the couple stirred in Wyatt. It was the least he could do to help them out. “How about walking the horses? Two weeks is a long time to be stuck inside. I could do that if they are manageable.”
“That would be great, Wyatt. They’re good horses. Won’t give you any problems.”
“It’s my pleasure. You go on and don’t worry about a thing.”
Pam thanked him one more time. As Wyatt headed back to his family ranch, he thought about how he’d fit this schedule into all the things that pulled at him. But there was no way he would let the Moores’ down. They’d been very good neighbours in the past year. And it wasn’t just that. Pamela also served in the church's hospitality team with Wyatt. They’d become good friends in that time, and he couldn’t deny her the chance to get treatment for Fred.
Yeah, he had a lot to do, but one day at a time, he told himself.
Chapter Two
Crissy hit send on the document she'd been editing all morning. It was almost lunch break. Today's meal would be sandwiches and some hefty research. Hopefully, she'd find something that would interest Nick. Everything else she'd suggested—fashion, travel, business, he'd shot down the moment she gave it voice.
Not that she was surprised. Of course, she didn't expect anything beyond the gruffness with him. And God help her, if he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, like Becca had said so many times before, then all hell would break loose.
Becca poked her head around Crissy’s cubicle. “Going for lunch?”
Crissy’s gaze ran down the computer screen. “Nope.” She pointed to her lunch pack. “I've sentenced myself to a meal of sandwiches until I come up with something Nick thinks is worth his time.”
Her friend stepped in and perched on her table. “Anything interesting yet?”
Crissy looked up. “No. My creative juices are drying up by the minute. Pretty soon, I’ll be in the middle of the Sahara.”
Becca laughed. “Hope you have a camel under that desk. Nick is going to be hard to please.”
“I’m thinking of finding some not very well known facts and trivia about Ontario—wildlife areas, sports, rodeo. I don't know.”
“Rodeo would be a good one. You could feature a cowboy, rancher, or even a bull rider. Find someone who wants you to tell his story. The prospects are endless.”
Crissy held Becca’s hazel gaze. How did her friend get her glossy, honey blond hair in such classy coiffures fit for a queen?
“Well, say something.”
“Where would I find any of those?”
Becca seemed to think for a moment. “What about your cousin, Pam? Doesn’t she own a ranch?”
“Yeah. But she’s not exactly newsworthy. Besides, she’s going out of town for the next couple of weeks.” Remembering that Fred was due for more hospitalization made Crissy wish she could be there for them.
“Doesn’t she have any neighbors you could interview? Maybe she could hook you up with one of the kids or a rancher himself.”
Crissy’s brain began to click on all cylinders, but then she was reminded again that Pam would be out of town, and her shoulders slumped. “Pam's not going to be around. Remember I told you about her wanting me to stay over at her place until she returned?”
Becca’s eyes were as wide as saucers. She jumped up. “I thought my friend would grab an opportunity when she saw one. Go talk to Nick. If he buys the idea, you could ask for time away. Voila. You help your cousin and get what you need for your article.”
It could work. It wasn't fine print yet. She couldn't possibly sashay to the ranch and ask to interview someone for her write up. Becca held her by the shoulders, guided her out of her seat, and led her to the door.
Nick’s disapproving look stopped them in their tracks and Crissy swallowed. Had a monitoring spirit suddenly possessed him? How come he showed up—
“Crissy has a great idea for you, sir.” Becca nudged her forward.
Being Nick’s copy editor and longest serving worker, Becca had lost her fear of their boss.
He didn't appear convinced. He never seemed persuaded by anything. If it was a ploy to keep them on their toes, he was doing a good job of it.
“In my office,” he said shortly.
Crissy gave her friend a what-have-you-gone-and-done look.
Becca smiled sweetly. “See you after break.”
Nick sat in the swiveling chair behind his huge mahogany desk covered with every imaginable clutter from magazine clippings, books, and a basket overflowing with odds and ends. He preferred it that way.
The shelf behind him didn't fare any better. Mementos and plaques of different sizes sat there in no particular order. Heaven help anyone who tried to straighten up his office. And the crazy thing was, the guy probably knew exactly where everything was.
“Shut the door,” he said in his usual grumpy voice.
When she came back from closing the door, he gave her a go-ahead look with one raised brow. The dratted man didn't offer people seats.
“So, I was thinking, uh, you know how we always get such a good audience with the rancher type stories?”
Nick nodded then looked at his watch as if he had somewhere else to be.
“Well, my cousin owns a ranch up in BlueSong. She has plenty of neighbors who are bull riders. I was thinking if maybe I could get an interview with one of them, it would be just what you are looking for?” She eyed him, looking for some kind of approval.
Deafening silence descended in the room. If he wasn't dismissing the thought in a flash, was that a good thing? That remained to be seen.
Nick brought his hand to his chin and rubbed it.“You couldn't possibly just walk up there and get this neighbor of hers to talk to you. How do you plan on going about it?”
My thoughts exactly. “Yes, but if I can get a couple of weeks off, that would afford me some time. I mean, it would be counted as vacation time and I’d be able to come back with a story.”
“Two weeks? For a news story?” His tone was incredulous.
Crissy didn’t see the problem. He wanted the job done and she needed the time off to help her cousin. “I could shadow whoever agrees to talk to me, get a firsthand experience of their life.”
He thought for a moment. “And if you don't get anything meaningful in two weeks, you understand your job is toast.”
“Uh.” That wasn't in the plan.
“Are we agreed?”
“Uh, yes sir.” Not really. Her breathing shallowed. She’d heard of people suffering from panic attacks. Was she about to suffer her first episode? Doubt flooded her brain. What if she couldn’t get a great story in two weeks? Nick was so hard to please. What if she got the story, and he hated it? Would that be the end of her job? Breathe.
Nick glanced at his calendar. “I’ll expect you back by the end of April. And I want you to call me every other day with feedback.”
He turned to his laptop in dismissal. Had she just handed him the ticket to fire her?
The thought occurred to her that maybe her cousin had found help and might not even need her. Turning, she made the trip back to her cubicle on near dead feet.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Becca said, the moment she entered Crissy’s cubical. Two snack sacks and a steaming Styrofoam cup in her hand, she stared at Crissy with amusement. Crissy could bet it was Becca’s favorite—chocolate. Becca wasn't one to worry about weight. Curvy in all the right places, she ate what she wanted.
Becca sat one of the sacks on the table. “I thought you might need this and after seeing you, I know you need it. Shoot. What did he say?”
“He agreed, but thanks to you, my dear friend, if he isn't sati
sfied, I'm back on the job market again.”
“Nick has a short term memory,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Whose article won the prize not so long ago?”
“What if Pam doesn't need me anymore?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Becca gestured to the phone. “I'm sure she won't forbid you from staying at her place. Call her.”
Crissy tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. She definitely couldn't go back to Nick and say she changed her mind. He was a move-forward-never-backward kinda guy.
Dialing Pam, she held the phone to her ear. “Hey, Pam.”
“Crissy, how are you? I'm in the middle of packing.”
“How’s Fred?”
A small sigh filtered across the line. “Fred is hanging in there. He's trying to be strong for me, but I know he’s in pain.”
“Hopefully this research will do him some good. I’m praying they find a way to help him. Did you find anyone to watch the ranch while you are away?”
“Not really. Well, our neighbor volunteered to pitch in until we return. He's a bull rider, you know how that is? I’d hate to be the reason he can’t travel if he needs to. Besides, they have their own ranch to handle. I may have to take Kitty with us.”
Could Lady Luck be smiling down on Crissy? “Don’t worry about it, Pam. It wasn’t easy but I managed to get the time off, so I’ll be there soon. I’ll take care of Kitty and I can help out on the ranch, too.”
“You did?” There was relief in her cousin's voice.
“Yes. I'm hoping I can get one of your neighbors to interview for an article.” She needed feelers on knowing how to proceed.
“You could ask Wyatt. He's nice and approachable, but if he knows you're publishing it, he might not agree.”
Crissy frowned. “Why?”
“I don’t know the entire story, but he injured himself recently and his girlfriend broke up with him when she thought he'd never walk again. She apparently talked to the media and they made a big deal of it. From what he said, he had to threaten to sue them.”
That was a fat hole in her plan. Wasn't it? But not all hope was lost, maybe there was someone else she could interview. Who knew, maybe this Wyatt guy wasn’t as media shy as her cousin thought. It was worth a shot. Her job depended on it.
“I'll be there later tomorrow.”
“Thanks. You know where I keep the keys.”
By the time the call ended, Crissy dropped the phone and watched it clatter to the ground.
Her job may be toast for real.
WYATT PARKED HIS TRUCK in front on the Rockin’ D Ranch. His back ached as though someone was splitting wood inside. It had been four months since his accident and a month since he regained good use of his legs, which had been quite a miracle.
His doctor would break out in hives if he knew Wyatt was back on a bull already. But he needed to be ready by the time summer rolled around. He had a long way to the top. And riding bulls had always been his best way to prepare.
At that moment, he wanted to crawl into bed, but he needed to feed the Moore's animals before heading off to sleep. Leaving them hungry wasn’t a way to start something he'd consented to doing. If the excruciating pain in his back hadn't kept him, he would've been there earlier. Was he testing fate in going back riding so soon?
He climbed out of his truck and winced. Following the back track to reach the Moores', he walked into the barn and located the grain bag. Pouring grain into the feeder, he filled the trough with water for the horses. Each task, one excruciating work after another.
When he walked out back to the chicken coop, the chickens erupted in a cacophony of noise. “Hey, quiet. I'm not an enemy.”
They kept on. They should've been fed earlier, not past eight. But there was definitely no way he was going to leave them through the night without something to eat. He poured food into each trough, changed out their water amidst the noise that threatened to break his eardrums. He planned to give them only a little since he'd be there to feed them again in the morning.
If only they'd be quiet...
Deciding not to collect eggs tonight, he headed for the trail between the two ranches. Choosing to walk the distance had been a great way to exercise, but with the pain he was feeling, he should have taken his truck. Inside the barn, a horse’s whinny caught his ears. They were probably restless, but Wyatt had no inclination to take them out for exercise this late. It would have to wait until morning.. It sounded again, only this time it was more than one. and it sounded more than just restless horses. Was something upsetting them? With a sigh, he walked toward the door to check.
Feeling like he would never get back home to his bed, he opened the door and stepped back inside.
Smack!
Pain rushed through his body and he grabbed for his shoulder.
What in the world!
Before he could react, an object swung at his head. He grabbed for it but his attacker was faster. He had only a moment to look at the blond blue-eyed spitfire before she swung again. This time he was prepared. He wrenched the bat out of her hand and held it high.
She turned for the main door, whipping her phone out of her pocket.
Wyatt didn't have time to find out who she was. He went after her and grabbed for her, knocking the phone from her hand. They went down in a tangle of limbs. When she opened her mouth to scream, he clamped a hand over it. “Who are you?”
Blue eyes wide with fear, she stared at him, a wild pulse beating on her neck in time to his racing heart.
He eased his weight from her but not enough to allow her to escape. He had enough pain for one night, and he wasn't sure how much damage she could do. But there was no way she'd be able to answer with his hand over her mouth. “I won't harm you. Promise you won't scream.” Not that shouting would do her much good. His father's ranch was the closest and there’d hardly be anyone home yet. She didn't have to know that. “I'll let you go.”
She nodded. He waited a moment, then took his hand away, prepared, if she changed her mind and decided to yell.
She raised herself on her elbows, a suspicious look in the eyes that stared up at him. “Who are you?”
“Wyatt Danner. Ms. Moore asked me to take care of her animals. Who are you?”
Her cheeks stained with color. “Chrystolle. Chrystolle Spencer. Pam's cousin.”
He raised his eyebrows. The same cousin who couldn't get away? She looked to be in her early twenties.
Wyatt stood up and reached out his hand. She looked at it, then back to his face and took it. Hers was soft against his calloused one. He pulled her up.
“Uh, I wasn't sure what was disturbing the birds...”
If not for her deepening color that showed she was embarrassed, he would’ve laughed. “And I guess you thought you could take down whatever that was with a bat. What were you doing in the barn? The chicken coop is out back.”
“There’s a window. I was just going to get a look before—and then you caught me off guard and I swung!” She scrubbed her hands down her pant legs. Hopefully, she'd seen the stupidity of her actions.
“I'll advise you call emergency in the future. BlueSong is peaceful, but you don't want to take a chance.”
She nodded. An awkward silence followed.
For a moment, they stared at each other. She stood up to his shoulder for his five feet eleven. Wild looking blond hair escaped its ponytail confines. But for her slight frame, bordering on skinny, she was a sight for sore eyes. He mentally rolled his eyes at the cliché his mind came up with. “I'll leave you. Have a good night.”
Holding his shoulder where she’d walloped him, he limped back, and putting out the light, went past her. The girl packed quite a swing and the fall seemed to have unhinged his bones.
“I'm sorry for attacking you. I thought someone had broken in.”
“It’s a little late for apology..” He smiled at her and over exaggerated his pain. “I'll have to decide if I'll forgive you while I’m getting my should
er relocated.”
“Uh...”
Turning, he strode out the door. He definitely wasn't flirting with her. Was he?
Not by a long shot. He had a focus—get back to riding. That didn't involve dealing with another woman.
He'd been down that road before and didn’t plan on traveling it again, he thought, as he made the short walk back home, every step sending fiery darts along his nerve endings.
Chapter Three
“You swung at him?” Pam’s voice filled with laughter. “What would make you do something like that? I told you the neighbor would be coming by to feed the animals.”
“Well, it was after dark. I didn’t expect anyone to be there at that time of night.”
“What did you say after you clobbered him?” Pam's chuckle filtered across the line. It was the same reaction Becca had the previous night.
“I said I was sorry. What else could I say?”
Pam went into a fit of laughter this time. Even though Crissy’s cousin was cackling at her expense, she could only be happy Pam was laughing again.
“I wished I were there to see it.”
“Very funny.”
“You know how those romantic movies start. Your encounter could make for one.”
“He looks too handsome for his own good. Men like that think too much of themselves and have an ego the size of Kilimanjaro. They think they're the best thing to happen since sliced bread.”
“Isn't that a little too harsh for someone you just met?” Pam's voice turned serious. “Not everyone is like Mark.”
Crissy heaved a sigh. She remembered Wyatt’s body pinning her down on the barn floor, his warmth seeping through her clothing. A good thing she hadn't changed into her pajamas. Her cheeks flamed at the thought. Pam had always warned her about investigating things before reacting. “It's just hard to get over that kind of betrayal.”
“Especially with someone you call your friend. I get that. The Danner kids are wonderful, though. Wyatt for one, is a great guy. The women love him because he makes them feel special.”
Crissy’s mind brought up Wyatt’s features—rugged, boy next door dimples, and those blue, blue eyes. Even as she’d thought she was under attack, she’d noticed how handsome he was. “Thanks for the info. I'm not shopping for a boyfriend.” Not someone as good looking as Wyatt, anyway. “How's Fred?”
