The Rancher and the Runaway Bride

As he turned to greet her, he reminded himself it was too late for second thoughts. He’d offered her a week’s trial, and he wasn’t about to go back on his word. He would make it clear to the men that she wasn’t to be given special treatment, nor was she to be considered available.

She smiled when she saw him. Her hair was damp and pulled back in a tight braid. So far no curls had escaped to tease at her face and neck. Although she’d showered, she’d put on the same inexpensive, worn clothing. Times had been hard. For a moment, he allowed himself to speculate about her past, then he pushed the thoughts aside. As long as she did her job, her past wasn’t his business.

“Hungry?” he asked.

She laughed and touched her flat stomach. “Starving. I could smell whatever is cooking the moment I stepped out of the house. I felt like one of those characters in a cartoon who floats along, inhaling the scent.”

Her bright smile made him respond in kind. Then his expression froze as he realized she was hungry because she hadn’t eaten that day. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he sensed it as surely as he believed the sun would rise in the morning. Dammit, why hadn’t he thought to offer her something earlier? There was food up at the house.

He opened his mouth to apologize, then clamped his lips tightly together. Rita might not have a lot of money, but she had pride. Tomorrow he would casually mention there was food available for her whenever she wanted.

“You ready to meet the gang?” he asked.

She nodded. “I can hear their voices. There sure are a lot of them.”

A faint ribbon of nervousness wove through her words, but she squared her shoulders and stepped into the dining room as if she wasn’t worried at all.

He followed her and waited for the men to notice. It didn’t take long. Within five seconds, the room was silent.

Brady glanced at Rita, who stared at the men. They stared back. He wondered what she thought of his ragtag group of cowboys. Like good-working cow ponies, they weren’t much to look at, but they got the job done.

In turn, he wondered what the men thought of Rita. She might not be conventionally pretty, but her big eyes and smile were lovely, she had great hair and the kind of shape that was pure temptation.

“This is Rita Howard,” he said. “She’s our new groom.”

Several of the men reached up and pulled off their hats.

Rita smiled and said, “Hi.” There were mumbled “hellos” in return.

Brady motioned to the table. “There’s no assigned seating, so plant your butt wherever’s comfortable. Tex serves plenty to eat.”

“If it d-doesn’t k-kill you on the way down,” Ziggy said, smiling at Rita.

“I’m hungry enough that nothing’s going to kill me,” Rita said. “Who are you?”

“Ziggy.”

“Nice to meet you.”

One by one the men introduced themselves. They were cautious and polite. Brady figured that would last a couple of days, and then Rita would become one of the boys. At least that was his hope. Except maybe for Ziggy, who was staring at Rita with a wide-eyed puppy dog gaze. Ziggy and Rita were about the same age, although he’d always thought of Ziggy as a kid.

The sharp clang of a bell cut through the conversation. The men quickly moved to the table and took seats. Ziggy held out a chair. “M-Miss R-Rita,” he said, his stutter more pronounced than usual.

Brady frowned. He didn’t want her treated that differently. But before he could say something, Rita moved to the offered chair and sat down.

“Thanks, Ziggy. Do you do this for a different cowboy every night?”

There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by an explosion of laughter. Ziggy’s face turned nearly as red as his hair. “No, ma’am. I ain’t never held a chair out for a man in my l-life.”

“I see.” She took a sip of iced tea. “Tell you what. Tomorrow night I’ll hold out your chair, then we’ll be even.”

“Yes, Miss Rita.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Just Rita, please. At six in the morning when you come to collect your horse, I’m going to be knee-deep in hay and horse manure. I won’t feel much like being called ‘Miss Anything’ then, okay?”

Brady saw that Ziggy had placed Rita to the right of the head of the table. As if he, Brady, were responsible for her. He was about to protest, then he realized it was probably for the best. Thinking he had a personal interest in Rita would keep the men from making any moves on her.

“Grub’s on,” Tex said, walking in the room carrying a large tray. He set it on a side table, then started placing bowls and platters in front of the men. On his second trip, he leaned close to Rita, caught sight of her and froze. His gaze narrowed.

“Tex, this is Rita,” Brady said. “She’s the new groom.”

“Uh-huh.” Tex straightened. “You much of a cook?”

Rita stared at him. “I’m terrible in the kitchen.”

“Uh-huh. We don’t do much in the way of fancy food here. No decorated cookies or sushi.”

“I’ve never had sushi,” Rita said. “I always thought raw fish was something you fed to cats.”

“Uh-huh.” He returned to the kitchen.

Brady took his seat. “Tex takes a little getting used to.”

“He’s jealous because you smell better than the food,” Quinn called from halfway down the table.

“Next time I won’t bother showering,” Rita mumbled under her breath. “Then that won’t be a problem.”

The dining room door opened and Ty stepped inside. A couple of men greeted him, but the majority didn’t acknowledge his presence. The tall, dark-haired loner didn’t encourage idle chitchat.

“Evening, Ty,” Brady said.

“Boss.” Ty walked toward the empty chair at the far end of the table, then paused when he saw Rita. “Ma’am.”

“This is Rita,” Brady told him. “She’s the new groom.”

Eyes so dark they were black didn’t show a flicker of emotion. Ty nodded briefly to Rita, then took his seat. Brady resisted the urge to slide his chair closer to hers, as if it was necessary to claim her. The point was to treat her like one of the guys. If that was possible. He’d already done a lot more thinking about her than was safe.

“You planning on eating or do you want to just look at the food?” Tex growled when he returned with another tray.

Brady realized they’d all just been sitting there, waiting for Rita to start. He nudged her arm and nodded toward a bowl overflowing with mashed potatoes. She grabbed the serving spoon and dropped a mound of fluffy potatoes onto her plate. As she passed the bowl to her left, Tex set a huge platter of fried chicken in front of her, then glared defiantly.

Rita glared right back. “Looks great,” she said, and speared the largest piece.

“You mean to tell me you ain’t got one of those prissy little girl appetites?”

“That’s exactly what I mean to tell you,” she said, and took a bite of chicken.

“Uh-huh.” Tex returned to the kitchen, but Brady would have sworn he was smiling.