Winning The Rancher's Heart

“Don’t thank me, thank my sister.” He glanced at her quickly. “I’ll expect you to start work at eight tomorrow morning. Feel free to show your kids around. You might not have time over the next few weeks.”

He left her standing there, the tires even kicking up a little bit of gravel as he headed back to the garage on the far side of the house. Naomi watched him drive away with dread in her heart.

What have I done? she wondered.

And was it too late to change her mind?

Chapter Three (#ue35c056c-4cff-5d8a-ab32-d5237e52bae2)

She would be here any moment now. He listened for her footfalls on the steps leading to the second floor. She had her own entrance to the house, through the kitchen, and he suspected she’d make use of it today.

He’d given her the pass code and instructions for his alarm yesterday, although he probably should have given her some kind of schedule, too. An oversight he would soon rectify. He stared out the row of windows that stretched across the second story of his home office, not really focusing on the view.

She still wore her ring.

And yesterday, when they’d talked about her husband’s dog, she’d seemed lost. It had hit him hard for some reason. Maybe because she reminded him of his sister, who’d been through the same thing. There was just something...sad about her that had touched him when she’d told him about the Malinois, and then later, when she’d been petting Zippy.

His gaze slid over the front of his property, watching for movement in the brush. Old habits die hard.

Something stared up at him. Jax froze.

A dog. Big dark eyes held his gaze. If not for the contrast of the dark hair against the muted gray trunk of an oak tree, he wouldn’t have seen him at all.

“Well, I’ll be—”

She really had seen a dog. There’d been a part of him that had wondered if she’d imagined it. Maybe confused a fawn for a canine. Or a coyote for a domestic dog.

“Am I late?”

He didn’t turn around. “That dog is back.” It was crazy the way the animal stared up at him, almost as if he saw him through the glass. Maybe he did.

“Is he brown?”

He nodded.

“Mohawk?”

“What?”

“Never mind.” She came forward. “Where?”

He pointed. “Out by that tree.”

The smell of her body lotion or perfume or whatever wafted toward him. Vanilla and lemons.

“We should try to catch him.”

She sounded as Southern as Georgia peach pie. He finally looked away from the dog to peer over at her. Even in profile she was deeply and extraordinarily beautiful. She’d worn her hair loose around her shoulders, the bulk of it resting against an off-white sweater. An ambient morning glow filtered in through his windows and highlighted the paleness of her skin and the gorgeous blue of her eyes.

“Stay here.”

He didn’t give her time to respond; frankly, he was almost glad to leave her side. He didn’t like noticing how stunning she was. She worked for him. Her looks were something he didn’t want to dwell too deeply upon, so he stepped away from her, ducking through the entrance of his office and turning left, toward the massive stairwell that bisected the house. He’d always thought stained wood and wrought iron balustrade just a tad over the top, but it served its purpose well. He headed straight for the front door.

“Do you have a leash?”

She had clearly ignored his order to stay put. Why didn’t that surprise him? “No.”

“Maybe I should go get one of mine.”

He burst out onto his porch. The dog didn’t move. He headed toward the tree that it cowered behind, noting the matted fur and the skin that hung off its bones like a coat that was too big. It seemed to be some kind of terrier breed, an overgrown Toto that’d gotten too big for the basket. And it looked like it had a Mohawk. That was what she’d meant earlier.

“That’s him. That’s the one I was telling you about.”

“Go call animal control.”

“No.”

He glanced over at her sharply. She didn’t seem to notice, just moved past him. “Let’s see if we can catch him first.” Her feet crunched on the rocks of his gravel driveway.

“Leave it alone. It might have rabies.”

She stopped, turned to face him, the look on her face the same one she no doubt gave to her kids when they said something ridiculous, like maybe a candy bar would be good for breakfast. It raised his hackles. He’d been up for hours and he was pretty sure the scruff on his chin and the ends of his hair stood up on end, and he was tired, which might explain his cranky mood.

“I sincerely doubt it has rabies. Like I said, we need to catch it.” She turned back to the animal. “Poor thing. It’s been weeks since he’s had a good meal.”

“All the more reason to call animal control.”

He turned to go back to the house to do exactly that, but she half turned and caught him with a “No,” and it was hard to say who was more startled, because she stared down at their joined hands for a moment, then jerked her gaze up at the same time she released his fingers.

“I mean, please don’t do that. Not right now. Let’s see if we can catch him first.”

“I don’t think he wants to be caught.”

“Come here, Fido,” she crooned softly, once again ignoring him.

“Fido?” he heard himself say.

“Shush,” she told him.

Shush?

She hunched over a little, and God help him, his eyes dropped to her backside and the way her jeans clung to her curves and he forgot his disgruntlement and cursed inwardly instead.

“There you go,” she crooned softly as she moved toward the oak tree near the edge of his driveway. “Don’t be shy. Remember? We met yesterday.”

The dog didn’t move and Jax found himself eating his words because the mutt didn’t run away at all. He reached out with his nose, sniffing her.

“Do you have a rope?”