By the Book Bride: Ryder (A BBW Western Romance) (Matchmaking A Marriage 1) (3 page)

Ordinarily, Georgia would have thought that the two made a perfect pair. Somehow, though, after knowing Ryder for all of an hour, she had the distinct feeling that there was more to him than the carefree womanizer persona he presented. Still, she wasn’t about to get any more involved—not that he’d want her to anyway.

“I’ve got the paint for the ceilings, along with some extra brushes and rollers.” Ryder quickly bagged the few items and turned a more serious gaze than she’d seen thus far her way. “Ready?”

“Yes, of course.” Georgia offered a smile to Silas. “Thank you for the drink.”

“You’re welcome, young lady.”

“How much do I owe you for the paint?” She reached for her purse. Harvey Anderson had agreed to give her a discount on her rent if she painted the small house instead of him having it professionally done. Needing all the breaks she could get until she built her savings back up, she’d readily agreed. And even though she hadn’t paid for the other paint, she didn’t want to take the man’s generosity for granted.

“Not a thing.” Silas put a hand over hers, stopping her from opening her wallet. “This goes on Harvey’s bill. His orders.”

“You and Harvey are a rare breed of gentlemen, Mr. Moore.”

“Silas, please.”

“Silas.” Georgia nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, young lady.” He followed them to the door, holding it open so that she could go through. Once she was out of earshot, he put a restraining hand on his grandson’s arm, giving him a warning glance. “Keep your hands to yourself, son. This girl ain’t like your usual type.”

“What the hell, Gramps?”

“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a wad. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He nodded toward the truck where Georgia waited. “Go on, now. It’s too hot to keep her standing in the sun like that.”

Silas stood at the door for a moment, watching as Ryder helped Georgia into the truck. Seeing the instinctive way he touched her, he turned back around, whistling as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, eager to call Harvey.

Later that afternoon, Ryder stood at the window, looking out on the rolling pastures in front of his grandfather’s house. Memories rolled through his mind like a film on a reel. He remembered countless days spent following Pops out to the barn on frosty mornings and trying his best to walk in his father’s footsteps in the knee-high snow. His grandfather was still a strong, independent man. However, after the death of his wife, he’d seemed to stoop more, to walk slower, and smile less often. He could hardly imagine what that must have felt like—to lose the woman you loved. He knew it was a harsh thing to even think, but sometimes he was glad his parents had died together. He knew they had shared that same kind of love both sets of his grandparents had experienced. One would have been lost without the other.

Although he and Georgia had worked well into the day, they had barely spoken. He’d been chewing on his granddad’s admonishment and, as much as it pained him, he’d come to the conclusion that his grandfather was warning him away from Georgia because he thought she was too good for him. Him. His own grandson.

The question he couldn’t answer was, why? Both of his grandfathers had spent a good portion of their lives raising him and his brothers to be hard-working and honest. Admittedly, Ryder had a reputation when it came to women but, hell, he liked ‘em. Big ones, small ones, blondes, redheads, brunettes. He was always respectful and never asked a woman to do anything she didn’t want to do.

So what was his granddad’s problem with him hitting on Georgia? Assuming he wanted to, of course. He glanced over at her, watching as she studiously applied paint to the trim around the door that led into the kitchen. He’d done the ceilings while she started the more time-consuming and painstaking trim work. Paint smudged her nose and sweat glistened on her face. Her mass of brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, giving her the appearance of a fifteen-year-old. The rest of her body quickly belied the youthful appearance and made a total lie of his
if
in thinking about hitting on her.

Hell yes, he wanted to hit on her. He wanted to find out if her skin felt as silky as it looked. If her lips were really as tasty as a ripe berry. And if her lush body would fit against his hardness…

“I’m hungry. Do you want something?” She turned his way and smiled up at him.

Oh yeah. I want you.

There it was again, that funny flip of his stomach when she looked at him with those big green eyes. “I think I’ll call it a day.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist, not surprised to see that time had slipped by so quickly. It was well past three and he still had to muck the barn. “What time do you want me here tomorrow?”

She blinked, looking confused at the simple question. “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So we’re not working tomorrow.”

She wanted to waste a perfectly good day? “Why the hell not?”

Her lips thinned and she looked at him with a mulish expression as though tired of explaining herself. Hell, she hadn’t said a word yet that made sense. On a ranch, every day was a work day. You didn’t get to just decide one day that you wanted to take time off.

“Because I attend church services in the morning and have plans in the afternoon.”

“With a man?” Ryder couldn’t believe the question circulating around in his brain had actually flown out of his mouth. His Nana Ruth would be so disappointed in his manners.

Georgia couldn’t tell if his quickly voiced question meant that he was astounded that a man would want to spend time with her or if he was simply curious. Either way, she’d had enough nosy questions from the busybodies back home to last her a lifetime. “My personal life is none of your affair, Mr. Anderson. Now,” she lifted a hand to indicate the half-finished living room wall, “we can either finish Monday after work or…”

“Monday’s fine.” Ryder lifted the box containing the roller and pan he’d used for the ceilings. They’d need a good cleaning before he could use them again for the walls. “What time?”

“Five.” She followed him to the door. “Four-thirty if I can get away from the library on time.”

“Fine.” With a curt nod, he strode through the door she held open, feeling like a stranger as he left his grandfather’s house. As he drove down the dusty lane toward home, he wondered about the woman who had quickly made the place her own. She certainly hadn’t treated him the way most females did. Instead of holding the door for him to leave, women usually begged him to stay, using very persuasive means to accomplish that goal.

Maybe he’d head into town after he finished with the barn and find some willing company.

GEORGIA GROANED AS
the alarm clock sounded. Her body was telling her to stay put, roll over and go back to sleep. Her work ethic was pushing her to get up and start her day. That part of her won out. There was no way she could call in sick her second week of work.

With some inventive curse words and the help of several as of yet, unpacked boxes stacked by her makeshift bed, she managed to pull herself off the air mattress. Between her oh-not-so-comfy sleeping arrangements and the hours she’d put in finishing painting the living room yesterday, her muscles were tight and burning.

She stumbled to the shower, turning on the water as she stripped out of her baby doll pajamas. She couldn’t wait for her furniture to get here so she could put on her satin sheets and sleep in the nude once again. She found clothing at night too restrictive for a good night’s sleep.

She squealed as she stepped under the spray, forgetting she wasn’t in her bathroom back home where the water was always hot. Here, the old, but still functioning hot water heater took a little while to warm up. Quickly soaping up and rinsing off, she leaned her head back just as the water was finally heating up. She wet her hair, lathering up the fragrant shampoo into a thick white foam. The smell reminded her of spring, light and citrusy. By the time she was applying conditioner, she actually had to adjust the water temperature to a cooler level.

Another twenty minutes and her hair was drier than it was wet, ten minutes to dress and she was ready to leave the house. She didn’t take the time to make coffee, knowing she’d just waste the majority of it. The first thing she was going to buy when she paid off her moving expenses was a one-cup coffee maker just like the one her parents had.

She sighed, her emotions a mixture of sadness and gladness as she got into her car to drive to work. She was sad because she’d moved so far from home, but happy that she’d moved so far from home. Twenty-five was too old to still be living with her parents. Especially if she wanted any chance of finding someone to share her life with.

There was still the stigma of living at home at her age, no matter what her father said. Yes, it wasn’t as bad for a woman as it was for a man, but it was still frowned upon. No, she needed to get away from her family and her sisters if she had any hope of finding a man. Lynn and Faye were two of the best sisters a girl could ever have, but they were too pretty and likable for someone like her to compete with.

Not that she wanted to be in competition with her sisters. It was just that every time she brought a guy home, he usually ended up falling for one of her prettier, skinnier sisters.

Not that she was man hungry. She figured she could do without a man if that’s what the universe had in store for her. But, she wanted a family, someone to grow old with, and someone to share the everyday things. Corny, but true.

Ryder’s face flashed before her eyes. Of course, any woman would want to spend every day with him. He was just so… masculine. It brought every feminine feeling she’d ever possessed to the forefront.

But then, he probably made every woman feel that way. She blew out a deep breath as she parked and made her way to the library. He’d be helping her paint for at least another week. She only hoped she could make it through those few days without letting him know just how much his masculine presence disconcerted her. The sooner the job got done, the better. Then her life could go back to normal. Quiet, orderly and without the sexiest man she’d ever seen in it.

˜**˜

“What’s up, Picasso?”

Ryder scowled at his older brother’s ribbing. Even before the sun had risen to light up the morning sky, he’d been out of bed, dreading the coming evening. Anticipation at seeing Georgia again warred with his feeling of irritation that she seemed to be completely oblivious to his natural charm.

Maybe that was the crux of his problem. He’d never had any trouble with the ladies before. They were usually drawn to him like flies to honey. Without conceit, he realized that a large part of his attraction to women had more to do with his looks than his family name and the success and money behind it. Still, the fact that Georgia was impressed by neither his looks nor his name set his stomach to churning. So much so that he’d been unable to enjoy his morning coffee. Strong and black, the brew he usually drank a pot of each day, sat untouched in the cup at his elbow.

“Funny, Gabe. You should be a comedian.” For something to do, he reached for the cold coffee, grimacing at the bitterness as it slid down his throat.

“Don’t you know, brother, I’m good at everything?”

The slap on his shoulder as Gabe sat down, burned like holy fire, but he refused to rub the spot. To relieve some of his tension yesterday, he’d tried his hand at breaking one of the orneriest stallions the Ace in the Hole had seen in a while and had gotten thrown more than once for his troubles. His oldest brother had been his idol since Ryder had gotten big enough to toddle around after him. For him, the bond had only deepened after the death of their parents. Gabe, however, a normal fourteen-year-old at the time, had grown steadily more sullen and belligerent. Fights in school and with his grandparents at home had led to individual and family counseling.

After several months, all had seemed to be getting better. Until Gabe had entered the dating scene. At first, his choice of romantic partners had been chalked down to finding his individuality. Over the years, as he continued to seek out the hardest drinking, good-time girls—even the married ones—concern for him had once again grown. He’d settled into a routine of working his ass off for weeks at a time, keeping his nose clean and to the grindstone, and then going off on a bender and wreaking havoc, usually spurred on by a less than savory female acquaintance. The last one, known for sticky fingers and a long rap sheet, had managed to avail herself of several pieces of their late mother’s jewelry. Gabe had refused to press charges once the pieces had been returned.

Why? Because for all of his bad choices female-wise, Gabe was still one of the most kind-hearted individuals Ryder had ever met. Without making a big deal out of it, he managed to anonymously provide food for hungry families in the area, jobs for men down on their luck and made significant donations to the local children’s home and animal shelter. He was a walking contradiction, and Ryder had long ago learned to stop trying to figure him out. He was, no matter what, the best brother a guy could ever have. Him and Cal.

“Yeah, you’re a real legend in your own mind.”

Ryder’s middle brother entered the kitchen, a grin animating his normally somber expression.

“Don’t be jealous, bro, just because I got the looks and the personality.”

“It’d be nice if you had a brain to go along with those.”

“Hey, are you still harping because the books are a little behind?”

“A little?”

Realizing that the conversation was about to take a turn for the worse, Ryder intervened quickly. “Don’t you think we should get to those horses? I have to be at Pop’s place before five.”

Instead of having the effect he desired, Gabe turned an interested gaze his way.

“Word around town is that Miss Georgia Stevens is a curvy little number with breasts that could fill a man’s…” He made a gesture that all men recognized.

“Shut up, Gabe.” Ryder jumped up, coffee sloshing from the sides of his cup as he dumped the remainder into the white porcelain sink. Taking a minute to calm his jumping pulse, he stared out the window that overlooked the back paddocks, letting his gaze go up the mountain, past the line of pine trees that seemed to reach right up to the bright blue sky. “I don’t think she’s your type.”

Gabe, unperturbed by his brother’s response, laughed deeply. “She has a pulse, doesn’t she?”

In spite of his best efforts, anger simmered inside of Ryder. Not the kind of brotherly annoyance he normally felt when he and one of his siblings were having a quarrel, but a righteous anger that demanded he protect Georgia’s honor from his brother’s crude comments. He pushed away from the sink. “I’m warning you, Gabe, leave Georgie alone.”

“
Georgie?”
Gabe’s black brow rose. “Nice work, little brother.” He brought his empty cup to the sink, placing it beside Ryder’s. “And since you are my brother, I’ll wait till you’re done with her before—”

Without thought, Ryder’s clenched fist pulled back. Before he could swing at the brother he idolized, Cal was there, pushing his way between them. “The horses are waiting, Ry, and the morning’s getting away from us.”

Cal watched his little brother until the door closed behind him. Turning, he glared at his oldest sibling. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The typical, cocky grin disappeared, replaced by a thunderous anger that Cal intuitively knew wasn’t directed at him—or even Ryder.

“Nothing’s wrong with me. I wish everybody would shut the hell up and stop asking me that.” He turned on his heel and stalked away, his usual answer to anything of importance.

Cal sighed, carefully setting his cup beside the others. He loved his brothers, truly, he did. But he wondered if there would ever come a day when he could stop being the mediator, the peacemaker? The one that made sure everything was done.

˜**˜

Georgia’s heart pounded at the knock on the door. Determined to be warm and friendly, she went to open it. Ryder stood on the threshold, gray Stetson in hand, a wary expression in his brown eyes. Her throat went dry as she looked at the tall cowboy, once again struck by his physical presence. How could one man be so mouthwateringly gorgeous?

Old insecurities surfaced and she hid them behind her oversized glasses and gave what she hoped passed for a welcoming smile. “Come in.” She pushed the door open wider, allowing him room to enter. “I’ve started on the hallway.” She glanced over her shoulder, her body doing odd things as the big cowboy followed behind her. “The taping, that is. I’m almost finished. See?”

She groaned inwardly. Taking a deep breath she turned toward him, mentally commanding herself to stop talking like an eager sixth-grade girl dealing with the class hottie. “Do you want to help me finish that or get started on the ceiling?” She’d done most of the taping for the floorboards, leaving only one end of the hallway near the door of the bedroom that she’d chosen for herself.

Still reeling from the sight of her rounded backside in the cutoff denim shorts, Ryder swallowed against a dry throat and searched for words that remained hidden beneath the unexpected rush of sexual desire coursing through him. As much as he’d like to watch her bend over in those sexy shorts, he didn’t think his heart could take it. Taking the roll of tape from her hand, he grinned, “Why don’t I finish this while you get started on the trim?”

Damn those dimples, Georgia thought, as she strove for a bland-yet-friendly expression. That his smile was doing more to arouse her than the practiced efforts of her few past relationships confounded her. For a woman who prided herself on having her head screwed on straight, the feelings he stirred were damn confusing. “That’ll work.”

The quirk of her lips was like a shot of whiskey to an already inebriated man. With a nod, he turned, glad for a few minutes reprieve. Taping off the remaining section of the wall was a no-brainer and his mind kept straying to her pink, bow-shaped mouth. He wondered if her lips were as soft as they looked.

Dammit, he needed to find a break between working with the horses and working here and go on an actual date. With someone who knew the south end of a horse from the north end—someone familiar with his way of life and the day-to-day operations of a working ranch. Getting involved with a book-smart librarian would not be a good idea. Besides, she might up and decide to go back home.

“What brought you to Devil’s Spur, if you don’t mind my asking?” Ryder glanced over his shoulder, immediately regretting his decision to do so when he caught sight of her on the ladder, stretching up to painstakingly paint a line close to the papered trim, her lush bottom lip caught between straight white teeth as she concentrated on her task.

Georgia kept her attention on the line of Antarctic White paint as she carefully guided the brush in her hand, willing it not to shake and make a mess of the whole thing. She’d found it easier to talk to Ryder when she wasn’t looking at him. Used to looking people in the eye all day at her job, connecting with them so that they felt comfortable and would look forward to returning to the library, the way she felt around Ryder was a new experience. And it wasn’t simply because he was a man—she dealt with those too. A lot of fathers brought their children to story time or to check out a book for a school report, and she didn’t go all shy and tongue-tied around them. There was just something about Ryder that made her… jumpy. Like her skin was too tight and a fire had been lit in her belly.

“I wanted a job where I could be more in charge, you know? Plan the programs instead of just doing what other people told me to do.”

Ryder nodded, agreeing with her. “I do know what you mean.”

“That’s right, you have two older brothers, don’t you?”

“Yep, and they can be bossy as hell.” Ryder bent over to do another section of trim. The movement drew the denim of his jeans tight against his buttocks. Georgia tried to look away, she really did. She blushed when he straightened back up and caught her looking. He didn’t say anything, thank goodness, as he resumed the tedious job.