Temporary Rancher

Her heart bounced upward with hope. “I assume you mean ranch hands. Yes. We often hired seasonal help when we needed them.”

“But did you manage them?” His mouth quirked. “Please don’t give me the stink eye. I’m the one who has everything at stake here. Just answer the question.”

The stink eye? It seemed she had something else to work on besides a bitter tone. “Yes. I was the one who managed their work. My husband was…” She almost said that Brad was busy boinking his mistress, but decided against that. “…Brad was needed at the Bar Seven, where he worked.”

“I have three men starting tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. The Ramseys. Cousins Jim, Steven and Virgil. I don’t know them well, but they seem reliable. They can do most of the manual labor. One of them used to be a carpenter. Jim, I think. If I decide to bulldoze the main barn, I’ll want his input on rebuilding, but right now they should be able to handle the schedule I’ve given you.”

“I walked the barn yesterday. It needs work, but…” She stopped there, wishing she hadn’t voiced an opinion where it probably wouldn’t be welcomed. “I’m sorry,” she amended quickly. “You were saying?”

“Tomorrow I’ll get these fellows started. Then you can take over. If they don’t want to take orders from you—”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“For whatever reason, then I’ll handle them, and we’ll have to find something else for you. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Irritating to think Avenaco had such little faith in her ability, but she’d show him. The relieved smile she gave him was sincere. “What else?”

For a half second, before he remembered that none of this was to his liking, the man’s mouth tilted upward, just a little, and Riley saw those creases at the corners of his eyes deepen. Oh, yeah, she’d been right. There was a killer smile hiding in there somewhere.

“You’re a very stubborn woman,” he said.

“I am. I like to think that’s a good thing.”

As though resigned, he shook his head slightly, then turned to pull a rolled tube of paper from his credenza. He swung back and opened it across his desk. It was a blueprint of Echo Springs, both the house and the surrounding land.

“This is a layout of the property,” he said. “Pretty straightforward, really.”

Riley scooted forward in her chair. She tried to focus on the task at hand. Inside, though, her heart was doing somersaults. He seemed ready to take her seriously.

“You’ve seen the pasture closest to the house,” her new boss continued. “With the stock I brought in this morning, it’ll be maxed out for grazing soon.” He circled his finger around the area behind the barn. “Two small corrals here, plus a sacrifice paddock in between.” He glanced up at her. “You know what a sacrifice paddock is, right?”

She resisted the temptation to scowl at him. “Back in Oklahoma, we called them all-weather paddocks. We used to joke that Texans like to make everything sound more dramatic.”

He barely nodded. “It needs to be torn down, as well. Too much rotted wood.” His finger slid across the drawing to the upper right corner. “This piece will eventually carry most of the herd. It needs work. Right now, those are my priorities.”

“Is the pasture already under fence?”

“Barbed wire.”

She grimaced. Horses were farsighted and needed to have very visible fencing so they didn’t go crashing into it when they chased each other around. “Great for cattle, but not a good idea for the kind of horses you’re buying.”

“Exactly. I’ve seen the damage a horse can do to itself when it’s tangled up in barbed wire. All of it needs to go. A truckload of lumber is being delivered tomorrow. The Ramseys should be able to handle the tear downs.”

Quintin stared at her thoughtfully, for a long enough time that she began to feel uncomfortable. He had the darkest, most intense way of looking at a person. Sort of unnerving.

After an agonizing wait, he seemed to come to some decision. He pointed toward a meandering circle notated at one end of the pasture. “Have you ever put in irrigation?”

With that, things got easier. He walked her through every nook and cranny on the drawing, until she thought she could have traveled the property blindfolded. In an easy, confident voice, he told her what he hoped to accomplish and how he planned to do it. He remained somewhat aloof, but at least he stopped patronizing her, and actually seemed interested in her responses.

From their earlier emails back and forth, Riley knew basically what he wanted to create here. But when he spoke again of his eagerness to provide the best horseflesh to police departments around the nation, perhaps internationally, as well, she saw the real passion in him and couldn’t help finding it infectious. She tried to keep her features professional, interested, but inside she realized that her heart had slipped into a faster rhythm. The guy sure knew how to sell an idea.

One thing took her by surprise even more. As they sat hunched over the property layout, heads nearly touching, she became intensely aware of him as a man. She inhaled his scent, something citrus and musky and completely male. Again and again her eyes were drawn to the short hairs that feathered around his temples like black silk, with just a few threads of gray woven in. To the dark shadow that lay along his jawline, and the strong flex of his arm muscles when his hand reached out to stab a spot on the map.

And those hands. Long fingered. Tapered at the end. Roughened slightly, but still managing to look gentle and kind. Riley had always been a sucker for a man with great hands.

Not that she was looking to be a sucker for any man these days.

She yanked her mind back, forcing it to concentrate on what her new boss said, not on how he looked. The conversation was winding down. With all the bases covered and her pad full of instructions and notations, they were nearly done. Avenaco was rolling up the map, clearly ready to see the last of her, no doubt.

Straightening, Riley gave him a positive, reassuring smile. Forget those hands and all the rest, she told herself. You’ve got a job to do. “So you want to make all this happen by October.”

“Yes.”

“Beginning or end?”

“October 3.”

“Then there’s no time to waste, is there? I’ll get started right away.”

He shook his head. “You can start tomorrow. Today’s Sunday. I assume you’d like to finish getting settled in, and spend some time with your kids.”

The offer surprised her, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thank you. I will.” She produced another self-confident smile and offered her hand. “I’m not going to disappoint you, Mr. Avenaco.”

He shook her hand, but didn’t indicate one way or the other whether he honestly believed that or not. There wasn’t anything else for her to do but leave. She swung around and headed for the door.

“Riley…”

She turned back. He just looked at her, another one of those unnerving stares that made her feel as though he was sizing her up. Maybe he was.

Finally he said, “I think you’re right. We should be on a first name basis. Call me Quintin.”

She was smiling by the time she hit the front door. Three weeks, she thought. A lot could happen in three weeks.

CHAPTER FIVE

BY EIGHT O’CLOCK THE NEXT MORNING he had finished going over the plans with the renovation crew foreman. Quintin stood in his study, trying to prepare himself for the workers who were about to take over the house like an invading army.

He’d lived alone too long to like the idea of being closely surrounded by other people, but if Echo Springs was going to be presentable by October, it was necessary. First the downstairs area, then the upstairs. And in between all that, the exterior would be spruced up so it no longer looked like the set of a horror movie.

After draining his coffee from his cup, he picked up the photograph he’d set on the sideboard. His son grinned out at him, and beside him, Teresa, the smile on her lips so gentle it made Quintin’s heart stutter even after all these years.

She would have loved this renovation. When they’d bought their run-down ranch in Colorado Springs, newly married and hoping to turn it into something grander, they hadn’t had the money to hire outside help. Not that it mattered. Working on the place together had only brought them closer.

He carried the photo to his desk. At times, when the past lay heavy on him and guilt was like a yoke, he felt depressed just looking at their faces. This shot had always been one of his favorites—that last golden summer afternoon spent at the Cheyenne Frontier Days Rodeo. They’d had so much fun, and he’d won enough money in the events that they’d been able to repair the ranch-house roof.

Even in the still photo, it wasn’t difficult to see the delight his family had found in one another. Quintin stared at his own face—younger, flush with excitement and love. Not a worry in the world. So…oblivious.

How could he have been so carefree? It felt wrong somehow. Shouldn’t his features have revealed something, some hint of the grief that would come only a few months later? Stillborn dreams for his marriage. A future for Tommy that would never happen.