Home on the Ranch

by Trish Milburn

  “Not a lot of that in Blue Falls.”

  “No, but I like it here.” She glanced out across the land where Austin had grown up. “I used to envy kids who got to stay in one place.”

  “We always want what we don’t have.”

  “I guess that’s true.” Despite the fact she’d known this man all of a single day, she found herself wondering what Austin wanted that he didn’t have. Other than to get his grandparents’ property cleared out and sold, that was. “Well, if you need more first aid, just yell. I’m going back to work.”

  Before she could lift herself to her feet, Austin stood and held out his hand. As she looked at that proffered hand, some heretofore unknown alarm system in her head started clanging as though Blue Falls was about to be bombed by B-52s. Some instinct said if she touched his hand, she was going to have trouble sleeping at night, no matter how exhausted she was.

  But then she couldn’t really refuse without appearing rude. Telling herself to think about anything other than Austin—the price of bread, how many elements she could remember from the periodic table, how dandelions grew back so blasted fast—she accepted his hand. Dang if he didn’t pull her up as easily as if she weighed no more than one of those dandelions. And as she feared, sizzles of electricity raced up her arm and proceeded through the rest of her body.

  “Thanks,” she said, wincing inwardly at how forced her cheery voice sounded.

  Austin released her hand so suddenly it was as if her touch had turned scorching hot. Trying not to be offended, she gave him a quick smile and retreated inside. But when she returned to the area of the kitchen where she’d been logging her finds, she had a hard time focusing on the task. In fact, she found it hard to sit still. Darn her overactive imagination. It was having a field day up in her head, wondering what that large, warm hand would feel like touching her face, his fingers finding their way through her riot of curls to the back of her head.

  No, she wouldn’t think about his lips. Nope, nope, nope.

  Determined to regain some of her suddenly AWOL sanity, she decided to tackle a closet in the master bedroom. But when she stepped through the doorway, her gaze landed on the bed covered with an old-fashioned chenille bedspread. She knew she was in trouble when instead of wondering what she could do with the chenille, she had a mental flash of crawling beneath it with a very hot and naked Austin Bryant.

  Chapter Four

  After Ella retreated into the house, Austin let out his breath and ran his fingers back through his hair. When was the last time a woman had taken care of him like Ella just had? His grandmother when he’d been a kid scraping knees and elbows around the ranch? It freaked him out how nice it had felt, her soft hands being gentle with his stupid injury but quick and efficient at the same time.

  The moment her small fingers had touched his skin, a wave of heat had raced through him that had nothing to do with the climbing temperature outside.

  Damn, of all the women toward whom he could have a powerful attraction.

  With a shake of his head, he returned to the ladder and what he should be thinking about—working to get this ranch ready to sell.

  But as he wrestled with the gutters, his mind kept wandering back to the woman inside the house. He seemed to always end up on dates with taller, leggy blondes. He’d assumed that was just his type. Even in high school, he’d dated Sophie Bellermine, who’d been a blonde and the center on the basketball team.

  So why were his thoughts and hormones latching on to a petite brunette whose curls seemed to be hosting a party on her head?

  What was she doing in the house anyway? Yesterday, she’d been like a whirlwind, speeding back and forth to her truck. Today she seemed to disappear inside for longer stretches of time. He just hoped she didn’t fall victim to an avalanche of his grandparents’ myriad possessions.

  No, not his grandparents’ stuff, not anymore. Now it all belonged to him—at least until Ella could get it off the property.

  As if thinking about her conjured her, Ella strode out to the truck carrying a box of...something. He didn’t even care what it was. Just wanted it gone.

  He paused in the midst of attaching another portion of the gutter that had pulled away from the roof to watch her. Her legs might not be as long as a supermodel’s, but they certainly packed a lot of punch. Fit, smooth, tempting. His body stood at attention, making his jeans grow uncomfortable. But he couldn’t stop watching.

  He would have been better off if a burly, hairy guy had shown up to do the job, but if someone had to be here for several days, she was a damn sight nicer to look at.

  When she turned to walk back to the house, she headed in his direction instead. She shaded her eyes as she looked up at him.

  “Glad to see you haven’t bled out.”

  No, his blood was too busy rushing to other parts of his body to mess with a measly head wound.

  “Despite evidence to the contrary, I’m not normally accident-prone.”

  “Good to know, because I start charging for the second injury.”

  He laughed, surprising himself. It seemed to release some well of tension within him he hadn’t truly been aware of. His arm and leg muscles relaxed, including the death grip he’d had on the rung of the ladder. He took a deep breath, maybe the first true one he’d taken since getting the call about his grandfather.

  “You okay?” Ella asked.

  “Yeah.” He nodded once toward the house. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. I’m logging as I go so I can at least pretend I have a tracking system for supplies.”

  She was taking the time to log piles and piles and piles of stuff that he would have sworn had outlived its usefulness? “Won’t that slow you down?”

  He thought he saw a hint of a wince cross her face, but she was too far away to tell for sure.

  “Some. I guessed that you still had quite a bit of work to do before you were ready to list the place.”

  “I do. But I can’t do anything inside until it’s cleared out.”

  Ella slipped her hands into the back pockets of her shorts, probably unaware of the way that movement accentuated her figure and threatened to make him topple off the ladder.

  “How much more do you have to do outside?”

  Plenty to keep him busy for several more days, but how could he convey that he just needed all the crap gone, out of his sight, out of his life without sounding like he had an irrational hatred for inanimate objects?

  “A bit.” Way to be specific, dude.

  “Got it, pick up the pace.”

  Before he could respond, she spun and disappeared around the corner of the house. Frustrated by his mental hang-up about his grandparents’ stash, he looked up at the cloudless sky and let out a long sigh. He needed to chill, let Ella do her thing. After all, her hauling everything away wasn’t costing him a penny. He needed to appreciate that positive fact instead of letting his past make him want to throw however much it cost at someone to haul everything out of here today.

  Calm the hell down.

  Despite his “a bit” answer to her question, he had more than enough to keep him busy that didn’t require him stepping foot in the house.

  It seemed being away from Blue Falls for several years had made him forget how to cope with things out of his control—concentrating only on the thing directly in front of him and pretending everything else didn’t exist. Movement out of the corner of his eye revealed itself to be Ella striding to the truck, her arms full of several small, teetering boxes.

  How the heck was he supposed to pretend Ella Garcia didn’t exist?

  * * *

  ELLA STALKED BACK into the house, frustration and fatigue gnawing at her. She wasn’t really mad at Austin. After all, he’d been up-front with her about wanting the place cleared out as quickly as possible, and she�
�d agreed. But she dreaded trying to log everything after she’d shoved it...somewhere. She couldn’t think now about the fact that she didn’t have enough space for everything here, not even close. She’d have to figure that out later, when she had to move everything yet again to log it, then put it back wherever she’d crammed it. She didn’t have time for doubling or tripling her efforts, but it wasn’t as if she was willing to walk away from the current windfall either. Even if the faster she got away from Austin Bryant, the better.

  When she’d been tending the cut on his forehead earlier, her fingers could have easily continued exploring if she hadn’t forcefully reined them in. The man was too good-looking for her comfort. She kept having to dissuade herself from making up reasons to go out and talk to him just to hear the sexy rumble of his voice, to see how nicely his jeans fit his backside, to watch the play of the muscles in his arms as he worked.

  It sure had been a while since infatuation had hit her this hard and this fast, not since she’d fallen instantly head over heels for Jacob O’Riley when she was a freshman in high school, only to have him and his family move to Ohio. She remembered crying herself to sleep the night she’d found out that he’d moved, convinced it was the end of the world.

  Well, she wasn’t going to be crying over Austin Bryant, and it wasn’t going to be the end of the world when he went back to Dallas. Sure, she’d miss the whole sexy-package thing he had going on, but soon enough she’d be buried in her work and too darn busy to wonder about what Austin was doing more than two hundred miles away.

  No, she’d enjoy the male scenery while they were here crossing paths, and that would be that.

  Several times throughout the day, she came across items that she wanted to ask Austin if he’d like to keep. But he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested, which saddened her. How many times had she wished she had more keepsakes, more tangible items with memories attached? But not everyone was like that. Still, something in her gut told her he wasn’t as unattached as he claimed.

  By the time she’d unearthed an old treadle sewing machine, her truck was filling up again. She stood back, eyeing the half of the bedroom where she’d been working for the past couple of hours. She’d made a good-size dent in the contents of the room and was now able to see one whole wall.

  Ella looked out the window, estimating the space left in the truck versus the space needed for the sewing machine. After she had time to examine it more thoroughly, she’d figure out what to do with it. For now, it was destined for that rectangle of space left at the back of her truck bed. She hated to do it, but she was going to have to ask Austin for help with this one.

  But when she went outside, he was nowhere to be found. She walked around the house, noting that the gutters appeared to all be in their proper spots, but no Austin. She spun in a circle, but she still didn’t see him. Oh well, she wasn’t going to chase him down, wherever he’d gone. It might take some wrestling and grunting, but somehow she’d get the sewing machine in the truck. After all, she was used to doing things by herself, a necessity of single life.

  Then she’d go home, unload everything and face-plant in her bed until she had to get up and do it all over again. Maybe she’d be so tired by the time she crawled into bed that she wouldn’t even have the energy to fantasize about Austin Bryant joining her there.

  * * *

  AUSTIN STOOD IN the tack room of the barn staring at little pieces of the life he’d enjoyed sharing with his grandfather. Unlike the rest of the indoor spaces on the ranch, this one small room was orderly and free of clutter. When he hadn’t been outside, this had been the place where he’d felt able to breathe. Odd since the room was so small compared with everything around it.

  He took the couple of steps that brought him within reach of the wooden pegs on the wall where more memories hung. He ran his hand down the rough fabric of his grandfather’s old work jacket he’d used in the winter. How many times had Austin seen his grandfather wearing it as he’d gone out to take care of the cattle or to work on machinery?

  Austin had never felt more alone than he did in that moment, when it really hit him that all of his family was gone. Oh, his dad might be out there somewhere, but he wouldn’t know the man if they sat beside each other on a plane.

  He grabbed the hat he’d come in here to retrieve and headed back out, wondering when the heavy sadness that seemed to have settled in his chest would dissipate.

  When he stepped out into the sunlight, he noticed Ella at the bottom of the front steps, struggling to maneuver his grandmother’s old sewing machine.

  Damn fool woman was going to hurt herself. Then wouldn’t they be a pair, unable to get through an entire day without sustaining an injury.

  He put on his old hat and ran toward her. Without making a big deal about it, he lifted the heavier end of the machine that was still teetering on the steps and helped her carry it to the truck. Ella did her best to hide how hard it was for her to carry the weight on her end, and he admired her for it. Sure, it could be seen as stubborn, but he liked the fact that she worked hard and did things on her own. Sure, any decent guy had the instinct to take care of a woman, but he couldn’t stand the women who acted helpless to get a man’s attention.

  Whatever problems he’d had with the way his grandparents had chosen to live, he could never accuse them of being lazy. They had been the two most hardworking people he’d ever known. He did his best to follow in their footsteps in that regard, if not others.

  When they reached the back of the truck, he pointed toward the bit of empty space left in the bed. “Hop up and I’ll lift most of the weight up to you.”

  He doubted the wisdom of his direction when Ella’s shorts stretched across her hips as she shoved herself up into the back of the truck. When he forced himself to avert his eyes, they landed on the top of the closed sewing machine. Out of nowhere, a memory of his grandmother sitting at the machine stitching together the top for a patchwork quilt assaulted him. He couldn’t have been more than four or five at the time, but the image was as clear as if he’d watched the scene only yesterday.

  “You okay?” Ella asked.

  “Yeah. Just remembered a time I saw my grandmother working on this.” He rubbed his hand across the wooden top. Had the quilt she’d been piecing in that memory been the one that ended up on his bed? That part he couldn’t remember.

  “So maybe you should keep it?”

  For a moment, he even considered it. But only a moment. He shook his head. “I have no use for it, and I can’t even remember the last time I saw it.”

  He looked up in time to see Ella press her lips together in a straight line, signaling she didn’t understand him. He guessed that went both ways.

  “Let’s get this thing loaded.” He took the brunt of the weight of the sewing machine as they lifted it up into the bed. And it was a good thing because he realized Ella looked on the verge of collapse. As soon as the machine was in the truck, she sank onto the side of the bed.

  Had his assertion that he needed things cleared out fast pushed her to work too hard? Guilt twisted inside him, right alongside the hunger. He realized he hadn’t eaten anything since the cinnamon roll, and he didn’t think Ella had either. And it was already late afternoon.

  “I think we need a break and some food,” he said.

  “I’m okay,” she said with a faint wave of her hand that proved she wasn’t. Not to mention the audible growl of her stomach that she seemed to be hoping he hadn’t heard.

  “Well, I’m not. I feel like I could eat half of one of those cows out there.” He pointed toward a few head of his grandfather’s herd huddled under one of the few trees that dotted the pasture.

  The edges of her mouth turned up a bit in a tired smile. “Since you put it that way.” She patted a pile of boxes next to where she sat. “Let me get this tied down and I’ll get out of your hair.”


  “Leave it. Trust me, no one is going to make off with it, and there’s a zero percent chance it’s going to rain.”

  The slight widening of her dark brown eyes told him she was just catching on that he meant for them to go eat together. He half couldn’t believe it himself. But it wasn’t a date, just him making sure she ate and drank enough on his watch. The last thing he needed was something to happen to her that would make his stay here even longer.

  Sure, tell yourself all kinds of lies. You just want to sit across the table from her.

  Okay, maybe that was true. He was a guy, and guys liked to look at pretty women. It was hardwired from day one. Plus, he really was hungry.

  “What are you in the mood for?” she asked.

  She really didn’t want him to answer that question. Instead, he shrugged. “As long as it’s food, not picky.”

  “Pizza?”

  “Sounds good.”

  She nodded once and got to her feet. Before he could think better of it, he grabbed her at the waist and lifted her to the ground. When she broke contact and took a step back, Ella looked every bit as startled by his action as he was.

  “Um, thanks.” She didn’t quite meet his eyes.

  “No problem.” Oh, except for how all the nerves in his body had jumped to full attention the moment he’d placed his hands at her small waist. “Don’t want you taking a header into the dirt. One head wound per day is the rule around here.”

  She smiled, easing the tension he’d caused. “Hope you’re buying, because I plan to put away a boatload of pizza.”

  “It’s the least I can do for your medical services and how hard you’re working to clear everything out around here.”

  “I should wait until after you’ve paid for the pizza to say this, but you’re doing me a huge favor, letting me take all this stuff. I’ll put it to good use.”

  He couldn’t imagine how, but if it made her happy and it made him happy, he wasn’t going to argue with a win-win situation.

  As he drove toward town, Ella visibly relaxed in the passenger seat and pointed both air vents on her side of the car at her face.