“I bet they all have real great personalities.” Steve smirked and gave Riley a thumbs-up.
“Just like yours,” he responded, loading the post into the back of the truck.
The other man nudged Riley on the arm with his work gloves. “Can I have your leftovers?”
“If you can get them. I think they’ll all take one look at you and run screaming for home.”
“He’s got you there, Steve.” Dallas braced the wood around a rotting post. “Oh, Riley!” he squeaked in a high-pitched voice “This big, mean horse is about to eat me! I’d rather you did it instead.”
“Don’t be crude. You treat these women like ladies.” The ranch’s foreman stepped up beside Riley and folded his arms, glaring at the hands. Riley hadn’t heard Cookie approach. Years of working outdoors made him resemble a hard-living rancher in an old movie, and the man could be stealthy even on horseback. Steve and Dallas made kissing noises, but focused their attention back on the fence. “I’m surprised you’re going along with this, Riley.” Sun glinted off the large nails he handed to Dallas. “I reckoned I’d have to chase you out of hiding when the women got here tomorrow.”
Riley threw the post into the truck with enough force to have it bounce out and whipped his head around to his foreman. Dismay cascaded over him as he realized he had no time to set up his own defenses. “What? Tomorrow?”
“Tell you what,” Steve called over as he picked up the rotted wood. “I’ll stand in for you. I love working here enough to make this supreme sacrifice and spend time with eight beautiful women who are trying to impress me.”
“Great. I’ll go hide in one of the cabins until this nightmare is over,” Riley muttered. He didn’t know how he had expected to continue his solitary lifestyle when he moved back home. He used to spend hours alone on the mountain or with one of the other rangers, not talking, not giggling about their love lives. He loved his family, but why couldn’t he have had all brothers?
* * *
Work kept Riley’s mind off his family’s insanity, but it came back when lunch beckoned. Usually he returned to the house during the meal to discuss the ranch schedule and other things with Molly. Today he ignored his rumbling stomach and took over when Dallas started out in the truck to one of the guest cabins. By avoiding Molly, he wouldn’t have to hurt her any more by saying no. Replacing a door lever was such a trivial thing, but a guest’s bedroom was the one place where privacy was ensured on the ranch.
He arrived at the cabin and went inside, testing each door several times until he found the one that wouldn’t stay closed, but his mind wasn’t on the task at hand. Seeing his sisters so impassioned with an idea that let them focus on something other than Dad was a good thing. He could humor them for a week. But he was still settling in, his favorite mare was about to foal, and if they wanted a touch of romance so badly, they should find it for their own damn selves and leave him out of it.
Molly, not Jeanne. There’d be no romance for her until she was eighteen. At least. Twenty would be even better. Maybe even twenty-five.
He fished around the truck’s toolbox for a screwdriver and went back inside. Molly would say he was hiding, avoiding any situation that would open his heart. She’d be right. “No way in hell am I putting myself through that,” he said out loud while he unscrewed the handle. The old knob fell to the floor with a clatter that suited his mood. His father—their whole family—had broken when their mother left. Jeanne had only been four. Watching Dad try to recover from a broken heart had been brutal.
He attached the new handle and tested it, satisfied it worked before he cleaned up the old mechanism. The job hadn’t taken a lot of time, so he headed back to the stable to straighten up the tack room. Some organization had been lacking in the past four months and it was time to get things in order.
He peeked out the slats of the stable in the direction of the greenhouse, the building a speck on the landscape. That’s really where he should be spending his time, but it was one place that he couldn’t bring himself to visit. It had been his father’s sanctuary, and the pain and memories of his passing were still too raw, too fresh. Instead, he took down the clipboard and made notes on their supplies. Maybe he’d use the computer to get caught up on the latest research for materials or feed.
A knock on the door interrupted him a few hours later and he turned to find Seth slouched in the doorway, paper plate in hand. The aroma of mashed potato and ground beef had him on his feet even before his brother said a word.
“Molly made shepherd’s pie. I’m sure it’s a complete coincidence that it’s your favorite meal,” Seth said.
“You’re a lifesaver.” Riley took the plate and sat on a hay bale.
His brother picked up a pitchfork and started cleaning Mystic’s stall in the waning light that filtered in through the openings in the walls. “Honestly, I tried to talk them out of it.” His voice broke the steady rhythm of the tool hitching straw.
“You didn’t do a very good job,” Riley said. Seth said nothing, shifting his eyes away from Riley as he poked through the dirt. His brother wasn’t telling him something. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
The heavy air in the stable weighed over Riley, but he stayed silent. Westley poked his nose over the wall and he rubbed the brown fur, keeping an ear on Seth while he worked it out.
“It’s all my fault, Riley. If I’d been faster on my horse or with my gun, you wouldn’t’ve had to move home and Molly could’ve kept herself focused on the finances and reservations and Jeannie…” Seth’s voice trailed off and he turned away, using the pitchfork as support.
Riley’s heart played hockey against his ribs while he sorted through the right comforting thing to say. He shoved his hands in his back pockets and examined the tips of his boots, pretending not to notice his brother wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. This was the first time he’d opened up on his own about what happened. “It wasn’t your fault, Seth.”
Seth wrapped his arms around his stomach and his voice came out choked and thick. “You don’t know. You weren’t there. Everyone’s life is a mess because of me.”
“It was bad luck. Bears always leave tracks. Dad either missed the signs or they hadn’t been on our land for long.” He reached over to hug his brother.
Seth sat on an overturned bucket, holding his head in his hands and trembling. Riley bent down beside him instead.
“You gave him a chance to say good-bye.” He wrapped his arms around Seth’s shaking frame and this time his brother let him complete the embrace. Riley knew Seth was reliving the moment of hearing the gunshots and finding their father barely clinging to life. If he could, he’d have traded places with him, no question. Not that Riley thought he’d be faster or could have saved their father. But then at least Seth wouldn’t be the one going through this. “You were with him when he needed you most, Seth,” he said quietly. “There is nothing you could’ve done differently. None of this is your fault.”
“Looks, brains, and compassion.” Seth gave a choked laugh and took a deep breath while squaring his shoulders. Riley took the hint and backed off. If that was all Seth could get out, it would do. For now. “Those women don’t stand a chance.”
Chapter 3
Wow, look at the mountains!” Ainsley twittered at her reflection in the bathroom mirror of the Jackson Hole airport. “We don’t grow them like that in South Carolina!” She shook her hair away from her face and stuck out her lower lip and dipped her chin in a sultry pout. “Why, aren’t you just a handsome hunk of cowboy. I’d like to ride you hard and put you up wet!” She frowned. What had Cecelia been thinking when she came up with this marry-a-cowboy idea?
She took out some liner and applied it under her green eyes. What attitude would ensure the desperate, ill-tempered and possibly smelly cowboy took no notice of her or, if he did, to completely turn him off? Southern bumpkin? A wide-eyed innocent, or maybe a woman of low morals? Ice queen? “You don’t expect me to actually
be in the same building as small, stinky, grunting animals, do you?” she asked, eyebrows raised with a hint of haughtiness—a perfect imitation of her mother. “I’m not going into any barn. I’ll get my Manolo Blahniks dirty.” She studied her ankle, imagining the highly priced shoes on her feet and nodded in satisfaction. “Well,” she told her reflection. “Now I have to find some Manolos. Somewhere. Here. In the least populated state in the country.”
She claimed her luggage at one of the baggage carousels and made her way to a man in jeans and a cowboy hat standing nearby and holding a sign for Crescent Ridge. She started to join the other women gathered before she remembered she was going for Ice Queen. Besides, the contemptuous looks one of them threw her way rivaled any attitude she could have adopted.
She slumped onto a bench before immediately straightening her posture, then set her features in neutral and worked to keep her foot from tapping.
A flip, flip, flip sound got closer to her and she glanced over at the noise. A woman wearing flip-flops and with a mass of curly brown ringlets approached, rolling a suitcase behind her. She studied the three women, playing with her long hemp necklace, before making her way to Ainsley. “You don’t look like you want to kill me in my sleep. Want to share a cabin?”
“Me?” So much for passing as an Ice Queen. It wouldn’t have worked anyway.
“These other women…I don’t like their auras.” The woman studied her and Ainsley stayed still, though she avoided the intent blue-eyed gaze from a face covered in freckles. “You’ll do. Yours is good. But you look kind of uncomfortable.”
“No, I’m… fine.” Good aura?
The woman sat on the bench next to Ainsley. She stretched out her legs from under her long, patterned skirt and wiggled her toes. “Boy, does that feel good. I’m Meagan Donnelly, from Savannah. Georgia.”
Rooming with Meagan might not be a bad idea. She seemed open and honest and could read auras—a skill that might come in handy. Definitely not the cut-throat competitive attitude of the other women. “Ainsley Fairfax, South Carolina.”
“Well, we’re already neighbors.” She gave a warm chuckle.
“Sharing a cabin sounds like a great idea.” Okay. She’d become her mother later.
“I’ve never been to Wyoming before,” Meagan said as they followed the cowboy to a large black SUV sporting the Crescent Ridge moon and mountain logo. They slid into the back row of seats while the other women got into the SUV. The cowboy driver pulled out of the airport and began the drive to the Crescent Ridge. Meagan kept talking. “I’ve been to Texas and Utah, and the ranches there, but this is something different. I used to work mucking out stalls over the summer. In exchange, they let me ride the horses for free. Do you ride?”
Keeping up with this woman was like trying to catch a whirlwind. Ainsley expected it to be exhausting, but instead was revived by Meagan’s exuberant energy. “Yeah, but it’s been a while. We owned some horses and had a groom take care of them, so I didn’t have the mucking pleasure,” Ainsley said. Mentioning her family’s wealth felt weird so she kept it quiet. Besides, this weekend wasn’t about money. It was about her freedom.
“I can’t wait,” Meagan said. “I’m almost as excited about riding as I am about meeting Riley Pommer.” At the sound of his name, all conversation in the SUV ceased, and the women shifted in their seats to stare at her with expectant expressions, like she was going to divulge some deep secret. The cowboy driver gave a muffled laugh. Meagan blinked at the sudden attention, but she didn’t duck her head as Ainsley half-suspected she would. “Well, aren’t all of you?”
“Horses are smelly, nasty creatures,” said the woman in front of them, running a hand through her frosted hair. “You can have them. I’ll find something else to ride.”
The woman next to her studied them all with assessing eyes, then shifted and looked out the window without saying anything. Meagan gave Ainsley a sidelong glance and shook her head, a huge grin overtaking her mouth. Ainsley clamped her lips together and they both struggled not to laugh.
“Ladies, look out the right side of the car for your first view of the Crescent Ridge.” Hearing the pride tinged in the driver’s voice made Ainsley feel better about coming out here. Rocks and dirt crunched under the tires as the SUV pulled to a stop.
The massive size of the main house wasn’t what Ainsley had expected. The sprawling two-story house exuded warmth and family, inviting her to come in and be welcomed. Nothing at all like her parents’ sterile and carefully planned landscaping.
An older, grizzled man with a frown lining his face stood with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, his dour expression a complete contrast to the flowers blooming in haphazard rows on the front lawn. The driver unloaded the luggage, leaving it in a pile before getting back into the vehicle and driving off.
Ainsley breathed in the crisp, clear air while she and Meagan got their bags, but the woman who had remained silent the entire trip eyed the other man, her arms folded across her chest. “Mine are the purple ones.”
The man didn’t move. Didn’t even acknowledge her statement.
She stared at him a moment longer as if her glare could bend him to her will. “Oh, fine.” She slung the strap of one bag over her shoulder, then grabbed the handle of another one.
“I’m Cookie, the ranch foreman. If you ladies will follow me.” His voice dripped politeness.
Meagan gave a little snort of laughter and the man shifted his gaze to her. Instead of the hardened stare, though, his craggy face gave of a glint of humor while the silent woman narrowed her eyes and frowned.
“The cabins are sparsely furnished, but you’ll have a small fridge and microwave in the kitchen, plus a coffee pot. Meals are taken in the main house or on the land. If you have any questions about the ranch, you can ask me. Any questions about the schedule, ask Molly.” He stopped beside a quaint wood structure and opened the door. Ainsley followed Meagan inside and the foreman led the other women away.
The simple room filled Ainsley with a sense of hominess that she had never found at her own apartment or her parents’ house. The pleasant fragrance of hay and dirt surrounded them and the sofa and two overstuffed chairs invited her to relax and put her feet up. A large blue quilt covered the back of the couch and pictures of horses covered the walls.
Meagan had already claimed a bedroom and squealed from the room. “Look!” She emerged wearing a rust brown cowboy hat with a black leatherette hatband accented with silver studs. “How cute is this? I bet you have one, too. Go see.”
“Okay.”
She followed Ainsley into her room. A cream-colored hat with a brown hatband and a gold buckle sat on her bed. She put it on and the two women grinned into the mirror at their new cowgirl images.
“I’m going to wear mine when we go to dinner to meet Riley’s sisters and the other women. This is so much fun!” Meagan grabbed Ainsley’s hands and vibrated with excitement. “We’ll all hang out and have dinner. I bet even the purple bag lady will relax. Or maybe not. She seemed really uptight. The foreman seems nice, though.”
“I want to see our view.” Ainsley crossed the room and opened the curtains drawn across the large window. The roof of the greenhouse reflected in the sun and her heart started beating double-time. She stood on her tiptoes to see more of it, grinning at the familiar sense of floral discovery mixed with purely professional interest.
“Is your family happy about you being here?” Meagan asked, sliding her finger over the rim of her hat.
Despite her desire to tear off down the hill, Ainsley forced herself away from the window. The flowers weren’t going anywhere, even if she’d rather see them than the cowboy. She tried to contain her excitement but ended up bouncing on her toes. “They don’t exactly know.”
“My parents tried to tell me that this wasn’t the way to meet a guy, but I was too excited about the opportunity to be on a ranch to listen. Did you have to keep it a secret?”
“My sister was supposed t
o be here, but her plans changed, so I came instead.” Her phone chirped and she blew out a quick breath when she saw the display. “It’s my mother. She thinks I’m on a cruise.” Meagan waved to her as she went into her room and took a calming breath, knowing she had to play this off or lose her shop. “Hello, Mother.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to call. You arrived safely? Have you been to your cabin?” Sophia asked.
Ainsley eyed the four wooden walls, the single bed with the Indian print throw and the tree stump nightstand, and the large base of the mountains visible through her window. Technically she was in her cabin. “Yes,” she said, heart pounding in her ears at the half-truth. Lying to her mother had never been Ainsley’s strength, though Cecelia could give her lessons to last a lifetime.
“Have you seen Edward yet?”
“No.” At least that was the complete truth, even if her stomach twitched at the words. Ainsley could picture her mother tapping her pen on her desk in the Fairfax home.
“Hmmm.” Sophia paused. This was where Ainsley would usually blurt the truth, but she kept her mouth pressed tightly closed. “Keep me updated.”
“I will, Mother.” She closed her cell phone and let out a huge breath, falling backward onto the comfortable bed. Score one for her, making it through an interrogation with Sophia Fairfax.
What to do now? Her gaze floated mindlessly over the patterns in the low wooden ceiling. The top of that greenhouse replayed in her mind. Dinner tonight was fine—she’d be missed if she skipped out on that. But tomorrow, for the brunch. She inhaled deeply, as if breathing in the floral-scented air. She’d rather spend her time researching and studying the blooms than fighting for the attention of a man she’d never met.
* * *
Edward breathed in the tang of the brisk sea air while sounds from Charleston’s historic district filtered onto the cruise ship, competing with the squawking seagulls that circled overhead. He scanned the embarking passengers, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ainsley’s honey brown hair. Families with small children came on board, plus a couple in wedding attire and groups of single men and women. The breeze blew his hair awry and he smoothed it back, smiling in anticipation of the time they’d spend together.
Who Wants to Marry a Cowboy? Page 3
