by Leigh Duncan
“Thought you could use these.” Kelly handed him a towel and what looked like one of her dad’s old shirts.
“Much obliged,” he answered, glad he no longer faced the prospect of sitting at her table in clothes that smelled like a machine shop. Though, considering the glint of appreciation he’d caught in Kelly’s eyes, going bare-chested didn’t seem like a bad alternative. He straightened, subtly stretching his arms and puffing out his chest the way he’d done when they were children.
But those days were long behind them. With maturity came an entirely different reaction than the giggles his posturing had earned him when they were school kids. Instead, a slight flush spread up Kelly’s neck and across her face at his lighthearted antics. She never had been able to hide her attraction to him. His body responded the way it always had whenever she’d gotten that dreamy look he’d once taken for granted. When the tip of her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip, he nearly groaned.
He took a single step toward her, wanting, needing, to wrap his arms around her. Desire played across her features, and he knew she felt the same way he did. For one long second, he even thought she’d close the gap between them.
And then what?
Not so long ago, he’d decided to keep his distance from this woman. The one who could make him forget his own name with one come-hither look. He struggled to recall the hell she’d put him through when she’d called things off between them. Hadn’t he sworn he’d never let himself be that vulnerable again? Was he honestly considering giving the two of them another chance? He had to keep her at arm’s length, but he was afraid he couldn’t.
His indecision must have shown on his face, because Kelly’s gaze wavered. She tugged her lower lip between her teeth and stumbled back a step.
“Um, this is a bad idea,” she whispered, as much to herself as to him. “My boss called this morning,” she said, edging away. “I need to be back in Houston within two weeks. This—” she wagged a finger between them “—isn’t part of the game plan.”
Hank wrenched his gaze from the slender blonde. Two weeks. She was leaving. Again. This time he guessed he should be thankful. At least she’d done him the courtesy of giving him notice.
“There’s nothing going on between us,” he ground out. Nothing but the few sparks he was determined to smother before they turned into a raging fire. Turning his back on her, he shrugged into a shirt better suited to a shorter, thinner man. “We’ve had our time together. Neither one of us wants a repeat performance.” At the lie, a slow, uneven breath seeped through his lips, and he faced her again.
“Sounds like we’re on the same page.” Relief mingled with regret on Kelly’s face. Her expression cleared as she raised her head, her shoulders straightening. “Dinner’s on the table. I’ll see you inside.”
He kept his boots planted in the sandy soil while she made a hasty retreat. Knowing she’d look over her shoulder at him, he turned away, his emotions roiling. The best thing was to keep as far away from Kelly as he could. No matter how much his arms ached to hold her.
Fortunately, Noelle insisted on rehashing every detail of their ride to the pasture while they ate. His conversation with Kelly limited to polite requests for the salt or the butter, Hank was secretly relieved to have his daughter’s chatter fill the empty spaces. His stomach even unclenched enough to let him enjoy a few mouthfuls of lasagna, which was surprisingly good despite its meatlessness. Afterward, as Kelly walked them to his truck, Hank did his best to maintain a businesslike demeanor.
“So, what’s next?” Kelly asked, while Noelle retrieved her cell phone from the swing on the front porch. “For the ranch,” she added.
“I reached out to some of my clients in Tallahassee. One of them, John Jacobs, is interested. He’ll be down this way sometime soon. He said he’d stop by to take a look at the place. If that doesn’t work out, I’ll find another buyer.” Hank put as much reassurance as he could into his voice. Truth was, he’d spent hours contacting every single person on his old client list. Only Jacobs had shown any interest, and he wanted the land as a long-term investment. “Meanwhile, we need to get the cattle moved to a fresh pasture,” Hank said.
Kelly’s hair swung from side to side. “If I’m going to leave in two weeks, I’ll need to sell them off. As soon as possible.”
“You know you won’t get the best price for ’em.” The Brahmans had grown thin on Tompkins’s patchy grass. Hank ran a finger under his hat brim, thinking. “If we can find someone willing to expand their herd, that might be the best answer to your problem. But you’ll need help roundin’ ’em up. That’s a week’s worth of work.”
Kelly brushed her hair over one shoulder. “Guess it’s time I talk to Ty.” She glanced to one side. “Pops would probably skin me alive if he knew I was asking for help from the Circle P, but I’d love to see the hard feelings between our families put to rest.”
Hank paused. He knew Ty felt the same way, but it wasn’t his place to speak for the owner. “C’mon over to the Circle P tomorrow afternoon,” he suggested. “I’ll let Ty know you’re coming.”
Returning from the house, Noelle blurted, “But, Da-ad. You promised to take me riding tomorrow.” A scowl marred her features.
Hank grinned at his daughter. “Tomorrow’s Sunday. I have the day off. We’ll have the whole afternoon together before Kelly gets there.”
On the way to the car, Hank couldn’t help it. His thoughts kept darting in different directions, to places he didn’t want them to go. Though their time in the fields had given him hope he was making progress with Noelle, he couldn’t deny the feeling that there was something missing from his life. What would it be like to come in from tending fence lines and have someone bring him a towel and a fresh shirt while he washed away the worst of the day’s grime? Would he ever sit down to supper with his daughter and someone special? Someone exactly like Kelly?
Whoa now, he told himself. Those days were long gone. He and Kelly had had their chance. Their dream had died. There was no going back to what they’d had before. For now, he was only here to help her get rid of the ranch that—back when they were young and foolish—he’d thought might one day be their home.
Chapter Six
“At my old school, I didn’t have to clean the stalls. I just called the stables, and the groomsman got everything ready for me. I didn’t have to stay after, either. Sometimes I did, ’cause I liked to brush the horses. Their noses are so soft. But everybody else let the stable hands do it.”
Hank sipped air. No doubt about it, his daughter had led a pampered existence. As long as his real estate business had thrived, he’d been able to give her every luxury—from a private school with its own fancy riding academy to the latest in electronic gadgetry. But after he’d been forced to close his office and his dad had died, he’d realized how shallow that life had been. There were more important things than expensive clothes and designer backpacks. Things like relationships.
If only Noelle would stop fighting him every step of the way, he might have a chance at building one with her.
“We do the same thing here.” Hank paused before he added, “For our paying guests.” Neither he nor his daughter qualified for the star treatment.
“Well, I don’t like mucking. It’s dirty, and horse poop stinks. Why can’t the ranch hands do it for us?” Noelle propped one hand on her waist and held the rake at arm’s length.
Hank sighed. He guessed it was too much to hope that yesterday’s change of heart would carry into today. Ever since she’d finally rolled out of bed that morning—though, to be precise, it had been nearly noon before she put in an appearance—his daughter had challenged every decision he’d made. By mid-afternoon he was down to his last nerve. Which she was doing her best to fray. He swallowed a growl and tried again.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, Noelle, I am a ranch hand. Same as the
other men who work here.”
“Mom said you’re the manager. Why can’t you just tell everyone else to do the hard stuff?”
“The best managers lead by example. Besides, I like the hard stuff.” He scooped manure and tossed it into the wheelbarrow. “I like the feeling I get when I spread new hay in a freshly raked stall. I know the horses are healthier and happier because I’ve taken care of them.”
“But—”
“Enough, Noelle.” Hank let his voice drop into a no-nonsense register he’d resisted using with her. He’d given the girl extra leeway, knowing it couldn’t be easy for her to adjust to a new home, a new school, a new parent. He resettled his Stetson. Maybe the time had come to rein in his balky child the same way he’d calm a stubborn calf. He sure hoped so, ’cause he’d flat run out of patience with Her Grumpiness.
With no other options, he propped his shovel against the stall. Hefting the handles of the wheelbarrow, he trundled it toward the dung heap behind the barn. As he passed the open Dutch door where Noelle dawdled, he stopped long enough to give his daughter a final piece of advice.
“On a ranch, there are some jobs we don’t hand off to anyone else. If you want to ride this afternoon, you’ll muck the stall and saddle your own horse. After we finish, you’ll give Belle a good brushing, make sure she’s fed and watered. You’ll either straighten up or spend the afternoon in your room...without your phone. The choice is yours. Makes no difference to me which one you choose.”
Her expression hardened, but the protest Noelle might have offered died when Hank followed up with a look just stern enough to get his point across. He leaned into the wheelbarrow to get it moving again. Trundling it outside, he handled the waste and paused to get his breath. Who knew dealing with a ten-year-old would rip his heart to shreds a dozen times a day? He wiped sweat from his forehead and shuddered to think what life would be like once Noelle hit her teens.
With that stomach-clenching thought, he squared his shoulders and headed back into the barn. He allowed himself a single glance into Noelle’s stall on his way to grab a load of fresh hay. His lips twisted into a wry smile when he spotted his daughter—red-faced and apparently holding her breath—while she raked horse droppings onto a shovel. He waited until he was out of sight before he let his smile widen.
Maybe he should have taken a page out of Kelly’s employee manual earlier.
And there she was, back in his thoughts again. The other female who had nearly taken over his life. His chest warmed when he imagined telling Kelly about this latest skirmish with his daughter. But instead of letting his imagination wander, Hank deliberately steered his thoughts in another direction. He and Kelly had reached an agreement. They’d made a pact. He’d help her with the Bar X and earn a big commission in the process. That was as far as things would go. It was what both of them wanted.
Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, and maybe one day you’ll believe it.
He recognized the lie even when he was trying to shove it down his own throat. He had to be honest. He’d never be able to stick Kelly in a box labeled The One That Got Away and forget about her. Not until they resolved things between them. Not until he knew why. Why she’d called it quits and walked away when he was making plans for their future together. Sure, they’d gotten pregnant. He’d be the first to admit he’d acted like a stupid teenager when she first gave him the news. He hadn’t handled the miscarriage any better. But, jeez, he’d been seventeen. Was she going to hold that against him forever?
Sticking a strand of fresh straw in his mouth, he propped his shoulders against the wall of the barn. He tipped his hat low over his eyes and let his mind drift. Kelly was the only one who had the answers. He had to come up with the best way to get her to share them with him.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, lost in thought, before he noticed the soft sobs. Aware the barn had grown eerily quiet, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Noelle. The image of Paul Tompkins lying on the barn floor roared into his consciousness, and he swore. How would he ever forgive himself if his daughter had gotten hurt while he was off daydreaming?
He rushed to the stall where he’d last seen her. His heart skipped a beat when he spotted her standing on a bed of fresh hay. He ran a quick look over her thin torso while he checked for signs of blood or injury. Nothing. Still, she was crying, so something had to be wrong. Had he been too tough on her? That had to be it. He crossed the stall and wrapped his arms around her quaking shoulders.
“Hey, there. What’s going on? Are you upset ’cause I said you had to clean the stall?”
“It’s not that.” Noelle scuffed a boot through what had to be four bales of straw.
Hank clamped his lips shut before a comment about wastefulness had a chance to escape. If not the chores, what had reduced his daughter to tears? There had to be a reason. He gave his forehead a mental smack. “Do you miss your mom?”
“Not really.” Noelle sniffed, though she didn’t pull away. “She was sending me to boarding school so she could go off on her stupid cruise, remember?”
He might not know much about women, but he’d been around them enough to know this was a good time to shut up and listen. Even if the woman in question hadn’t yet reached her teens.
Noelle scrubbed at her eyes. “She was never around much. Before Granddad’s heart attack, she stayed busy with her charities and committees and stuff. I had dinner most times by myself or with Imelda, our housekeeper.” She brightened the tiniest bit. “Mom and I text back and forth every day though. She’s having a good time on the cruise. She said to say ‘Hi’ to you.”
Listening to his daughter try to put a favorable spin on a tough situation, Hank felt his chest tighten. It sounded as if he wasn’t the only one whose priorities had been out of whack. He was late to the party and, heaven knew, he had a lot to make up for, but he was going to do his best. He hugged his daughter closer, determined to give her what she needed most of all—his time.
“So, if you’re not sad because of your mom, why are you standing in the middle of the barn crying?” he asked softly.
Noelle nudged a pile of blankets and leather with one boot. “Stupid thing’s too heavy. I can’t put it on Belle.”
Hank’s gaze traveled from the gentle mare down to the Western saddle he’d slung over the low partition between the stalls earlier that morning. The thing probably weighed half as much as his daughter did. How Noelle had even managed to get it down without hurting herself was a mystery. A girl as slight as she was wouldn’t stand a chance of hefting that saddle onto a mare who stood fifteen hands high.
“Hey, now.” An unfamiliar tightness made his voice gruff. “Guess that’s a mighty big job for a little bit like you.”
“I know how to saddle a horse.” Noelle toed one stirrup. “This one’s a lot heavier than the ones we used at school.”
“How ’bout we do this together? I’ll lift. You buckle. That sound like a good deal?”
“Will you still let me ride?” Noelle peered at him through tear-filled eyes. She chewed a fingernail. “You said I had to do it all by myself.”
“Yeah, but...” Hank’s voice trailed off. “Look,” he said, when he got it back again. “I’m new at this parenting thing. I’m gonna make mistakes. This is one of them. And I’m sorry.”
Noelle’s slim arm crept around his waist. “I’m sorry too, Dad. I promise I’ll do better.”
He swallowed a lump and blinked his damp eyes. “Let’s get to it, then.”
After positioning the saddle on Belle’s back, he watched while Noelle finished getting the horse ready to ride. Once he’d double-checked the billet straps, he stepped aside. He’d chosen the mare for her gentle disposition, and sure enough, she followed easily when Noelle led the way to the riding ring next to the barn. At the entrance to the tack room, they both stopped.
“Do I ha
ve to wear a helmet?”
Though Noelle had a stubborn streak, not even her hard head would protect her if she landed in the dirt. Hank fought an urge to wrap her in cotton batting to keep her safe. Instead, he struggled to remember that his dad had managed to raise five sons without losing his mind worrying about them. Surely, he could survive one little girl. He took a breath and tugged on the brim of Noelle’s Stetson.
“Most cowboys don’t wear ’em unless they’re practicing for competition, but I can get you one if you’d like.” There were a few helmets hanging in the tack room for the boys who rodeoed.
Noelle shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I haven’t fallen since I was five.”
Hank’s stomach plummeted at the thought of his girl taking a tumble. “Were you hurt?”
Despite Noelle’s noncommittal shrug, guilt struck a new blow low in his belly. Had he really been so self-absorbed back then he hadn’t known, or cared, that she’d fallen? He flexed his shoulders, adjusting to the new weight. What was done was done. He couldn’t change the past. But he was definitely going to be more involved in his daughter’s future.
“Need a leg up?” He pointed to a wooden platform some of their guests preferred to use. “There’s a mounting block over there.”
“I think I can do it.” Noelle gamely stuck one foot in the stirrup. Though she could barely reach the pommel, she grabbed hold. Leather creaked as she hauled herself into the saddle.
“Good job. How’re the stirrups?” he asked when she’d squared herself. He eyed the way her boots fit in the cups. Though he hadn’t been too far off when he’d guessed her length, he let the strap out another notch. “Better?” he asked.
Noelle clutched the reins in two hands. She barely blinked down at him. “It feels weird. My legs are too far apart. My weight’s off.”
Hank chewed the inside of his cheek. His daughter had probably learned to ride English-style at her school. Western-style riding was easier, but it might take her a little while to adjust.
