The Wrangler

“Griff is Slade’s younger fraternal twin brother. Now, you recall that at six years old these two boys lost their parents?”

Scrunching her brow, Val tried to remember. “I was young at the time, Andy. Humor me?”

“That you were. And you’re still young and beautiful, Miss Val,” he said with a wink. “Slade and Griff’s parents were killed in an auto accident. Red Downing, who owned the ranch next to them, was drunk when he struck them. All three of them died in that tragic event. The two boys were split up. Slade stayed with a local uncle and Griff got shipped out to New York City to the other uncle who owned a financial services firm. Griff went on to get an MBA from Harvard and became a banker at his uncle’s company. That is, until the Wall Street crash. Griff came home hoping that his older brother would hire him, but he couldn’t.”

“I see,” Val said. “He’s a city slicker, then, Andy.”

“Ah, well…sort of…but he’s a darned hard worker, Miss Val. He isn’t lazy. He likes what he’s doing, and he’s good at it.”

Val found that hard to believe. “My mother was really poor at picking good wranglers. I don’t want to follow in her footsteps, Andy.”

Andy gave her a sad look. “Your mom was really hurting, Miss Val. I tried to tell her the men she was hiring were lazy and no good, but she didn’t listen.”

“Did she come in here to ask for a referral?”

With a heavy shake of his head, Andy said, “You know Buck hated me and my store. He was always bad-mouthing me. It’s no wonder your mom, after his death, didn’t come in here for my help. I would gladly have offered it.”

Reaching out, Val touched the man’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Andy. I really am.”

“Hey,” he said, brightening, “it’s not your fault. You’re not your father’s daughter, thank goodness. Give yourself credit—you came to me and asked for a good wrangler. Griff won’t let you down. Now, he’s green, that’s true, but he’s eager to learn and he makes things right.”

“I don’t know. When has a city slicker ever turned into a wrangler?”

Chuckling a little, Andy leaned his hands on the counter. “I know what you’re saying, Miss Val. But Griff is changing my mind about that old saying, too. I didn’t think he could reinvent himself. But he has.”

“Work is hard to find,” Val agreed. “I’m just worried that he has too high-powered a résumé to want to stick it out as a wrangler. As soon as this economy turns around, he’ll be gone. We really need someone long-term who will work with us to get the Bar H back on its feet.”

“I know,” Andy said in a soothing voice. “I hear you, Miss Val. I can’t stand here and say Griff won’t leave at some point. I really don’t know. What I do know is he’s been invaluable to us here at the Emporium. It’ll be a shame to lose him but I know he’ll do a great job for you. He’s a good mechanic, fixing engines and other ranch equipment, and that’s what you need.”

McPherson sounded like the right man, but her gut warned her against getting her hopes up. She looked toward the back door where Val knew he would be coming in any minute now. “Can you give me fifteen minutes to talk with him? To see if he’s really what we’re looking for, Andy?”

“Sure.” He pointed to the coffee station at the rear of the store. “You two help yourselves to coffee and then go out back to talk. You’ll have privacy out there.”

Val saw the door open. She wasn’t prepared for her reaction to the person who entered the shop.

Griff McPherson was tall, about six feet three inches, a hundred and eighty pounds of lean, cougar muscle. When he took off his tan Stetson hat, she got a good look at his face. His short black hair was plastered against his skull with sweat. His face was square with a broad brow, clean-looking nose and a stubborn-looking jaw. It was his startling spring-colored green eyes, large and filled with intelligence, that snagged her beating heart. He was ruggedly handsome, Val thought.

In fact, he could easily pose as a model for a marketing ad. She saw him remove his stained leather gloves and tuck them into the belt of his Levi’s. The dusty white shirt he wore clung to his upper body, outlining his broad shoulders and well-sprung chest. And when he lifted his head, his gaze settling on hers, Val quickly lowered her eyes. She felt shaky. And excited. And scared. What were all these crazy-quilt emotions about? Confused and taken off guard, she didn’t have time to process them.

“Miss Val, meet Griff McPherson,” Andy said, and gestured for the wrangler to come over and shake

her hand.

“Miss Val, nice to meet you.” Griff held his hat in his left hand and extended his right one toward Val Hunter as he took her in. She was beautiful. He searched his mind trying to remember her. Was she new to the area? Unsure, he managed a slight smile as she lifted her head and looked up at him. Val wasn’t short. In fact, she was only about four inches shy of his height. And she was fit, her body long and reminding him of a supple young tree. It was her dark blue eyes that looked like deep pools of water from a nearby lake, that grabbed at his heart. Instantly, Griff felt heat move through him as their hands met and clasped. Val’s face was oval, cheekbones high, eyes wide spaced and filled with intelligence. As his gaze dropped to her bow-shaped lips, he felt his entire lower body tighten with desire. Shocked at his response to her, he quickly released her hand.

“Andy said you were looking for a full-time wrangler?” he said.

Clearing her throat, her hand pleasantly tingling, Val said, “Yes, I’m here to interview candidates.” She didn’t want this eye candy of a cowboy to think this was a done deal.

“Of course,” Griff said.

“Andy invited us to get a cup of coffee and go outside to talk.” Val gestured toward the coffee station.

Griff gave his a boss a quick look. “My break time?”

“Yep,” Andy said with a grin.

Val couldn’t get her heart to settle down. The man walked a respectful distance behind her. She strained to pour the hot coffee into an awaiting paper cup without spilling it. Mouth dry, she felt tongue-tied in front of this iconic-looking cowboy. She had to repeatedly warn herself he was a city slicker in disguise.

“I’ll meet you outside.” Val hastily opened the door. She saw him nod as he reached to pour himself a cup of coffee.

On the back porch, Val took a long, calming breath. The wrangler had rattled her. Her reaction wasn’t something she’d expected. Val tried to steady her heart and breathing. How could a stranger take away her breath? She knew she’d been too long without a relationship. The last man she had been with, Dan Bradley, was a Marine major who had gone to Afghanistan and been killed two years ago. He’d stolen her heart, infused her dreams and she had been looking forward to marrying him once his tour was over. She had yet to fully recover from the loss. The next year, her mother had died. Most recently, she’d had to walk away from her career to save the Bar H. Pressing a hand to her chest, Val tried not to dwell on all the loss and sadness she carried within her. Funny enough, Griff made her forget all of the baggage and scars life had given her. It was an amazing and shocking moment. Val had no answer as to why he could have affected her so.

“Miss Val?” Griff murmured, meeting her out on the platform. He settled his hat on his head as he approached her. He noticed she looked distracted and nervous and he wondered why. Griff remained a respectful distance from the woman. He silently appreciated her rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes that spoke of such life in their depths. Why hadn’t he seen her around Jackson Hole? Was she a stranger to the area? Had she just bought a ranch? Griff’s curiosity was piqued.

“Yes, Mr. McPherson. My grandmother, Gus, would like me to find a wrangler who can help us around the Bar H ranch.” She gulped inwardly and looked up to meet his narrowing green gaze. He had such large, black pupils and it made him look incredibly handsome. His mouth…oh, sweet Lord, his mouth was sinfully shaped, the lips neither too thin nor too thick. The corners were curved slightly upward. She wondered if he had a good sense of humor.

“The Bar H? Isn’t that a two-hundred-acre spread south of Jackson Hole?”

“Yes, it is.” Val moved uneasily and barely tolerated his interested gaze. Why did McPherson have to be so blatantly masculine? “Gus broke her hip recently. She can’t do the work as she did before and we need help. Good help.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Griff sipped his coffee. He liked the way Val’s slightly curled red hair lay across her shoulders. She stood with her back straight, her chin at an angle. She was a proud woman. “I’ve heard of Gus. My brother, Slade, said there were several matriarchs in the valley. Iris Mason is one and I’ve met her. And he also mentioned Gus. I don’t suppose there would be another Gus?”

“No, just the one.” She liked his low, mellow voice. It was the kind of voice that could soothe a fractious horse. Or a nervous female like herself. “I had to come home to help her. And even I can’t do it all alone.”

He bit back his questions. Val was tense, her shoulders locked. Was he affecting her that way? Griff hoped not, because if it was him he could kiss this job goodbye. “I see. You don’t have any wranglers at the Bar H right now?”

“No.” Val grimaced. “My mother didn’t hire any good ones. They left the place a wreck, took her money and disappeared into the night.”

Ouch. Griff nodded and frowned. She was probably tense because she wanted to hire someone with better morals and values. He hoped Andy had spoken well of him because his dream job was to become a full-time wrangler on a ranch. Andy knew working here was temporary until some rancher could hire him. “Wranglers are the grist that make a ranch work.”

His modulated voice wafted through her like a feather gently settling upon her wildly beating heart. Val could tell Griff was sincere. “No question about that.” Val cleared her throat. “I need to know what your skills are, Mr. McPherson.”

“I’m a hard worker,” he said, opening his hand to show her the palm, “but I think my calluses will attest to that.” He smiled a little.

Val stared at his large, well-shaped hand. Indeed, there were thick calluses across his palm. What a beautiful hand. For a blinding instant, she wondered what it would be like to have those fingers graze her flesh. The thought was so startling, so out of the blue, that Val unexpectedly coughed. She stepped away from him, a hand pressed against her slender throat.

Griff allowed his hand to drop back to his side. Val Hunter looked absolutely confused. About him? Something was going on between them but he couldn’t ferret out exactly what it was. One thing Griff knew for sure: Val was very athletic. She wore a set of Levi’s that showed off her shapely hips and long, long legs. The pink blouse she wore had its long sleeves rolled up to her elbows, showing that she was ready to work. He liked the way the breeze played with some of the strands of her copper-colored hair. The freckles across her cheeks and nose seemed darker for a moment. She looked like a young teen, although Griff suspected she was probably in her late twenties.

“I can mend fence, fix trucks and other farm equipment, do any odd jobs you need done,” he said after she seemed to have regained her composure.

“Have you done any cattle breeding? Vaccinating? Do you know the signs of a cow in distress?”

“No,” he admitted slowly, “but I’m willing to learn if you’re willing to show me.” He wanted to lie and say he did, but Griff wouldn’t do that. He had the integrity of a Westerner in his blood. He knew from his old job that young men and women would lie all the time about their skills and experience just to get a job. He wasn’t going to lie to Val. Griff saw her brows dip over his admittance.

“Do you even ride a horse?” she demanded. Val saw his mouth curve faintly.

“Yes, ma’am, I do ride.”