Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: A Ranch for His Family\Cowgirl in High Heels\A Man to Believe In (45 page)

Well enough to know that he had integrity. That he was loyal and did everything in his power to protect a cranky old mentor.

That he made her want to get busy despite being pregnant.

Maybe it was best that one of them was behaving sensibly.

So Ellie spent her days for the most part alone...except for George, the other man in her life.

As near as Ellie could tell, the purpose of George's nightly meetings with her were to gain her support in convincing Milo that his current contract was not long enough to tackle all the work that needed to be done. What the ranch really needed was George's expertise for an entire year, during which time he'd assist in hiring adequate help, find suitable equipment, revitalize the pastures and infrastructure and help purchase new cattle.

Walt would hit the ceiling on that one.

George might have control issues, but he was too slick to be condescending. In fact, he spoke to Ellie as if she was a seasoned landowner, phrasing things so that it was possible to follow his explanations and recommendations easily, thus allowing her—if she so chose—to pretend to be familiar with whatever he was discussing. No wonder the Kenyons had loved him. He made people feel smart. The guy was a master, and Ellie was familiar with the tactic.

A couple times she'd innocently said, “But Ryan says...” just to gauge his reaction.

George did not like Ryan. In fact, Ryan might have a college degree, but his rodeo career was obviously interfering with his dedication to the property, as Ellie was no doubt aware. Right?

Right, George.

“And when exactly will your aunt and uncle arrive?” he asked before parting company on their fifth meeting.

“Next week, unless they get hung up in Belize,” which Ellie half expected since Angela loved it there, “or my uncle gets called back to the hospital.”

“Hard to run a ranch long-distance,” George said.

“Guess that's why we have a manager.”

George frowned slightly. “That's why we need to make sure you have the
best
manager.”

“Of course.” Which was why she hoped to keep him away from Walt for as long as possible.

After that meeting, Ellie picked up the phone and was lucky enough to connect with her uncle who'd just finished a phone conference concerning a hospital emergency. But did he sound exhausted, as well he should, having dealt with business at 9:30 p.m. on his vacation? No. He sounded energized and eager to discover how the consultation was going. After all, George was one of the best in the business.

After giving Milo all the positives—George was charismatic and gung-ho, et cetera, she broached the possibility of George not knowing everything. What would Milo do if she disagreed radically with the consultant's recommendations? Milo grew silent at her suggestion that George might not be omnipotent.

“There are differing schools of thought on ranch management,” she ventured. “And I have reason to believe that ultimately George and I will not agree on the matter of personnel.”

“I can't see that happening,” Milo said in a surprised tone. “Surely if a man is good for the operation, you two would be of the same mind.”

“Not necessarily.”

“George knows ranching,” Milo said.

“I know people.”

There was a brief silence before her uncle said, “If it came to an impasse, I'd take both sides into consideration, even though I would
hope
my two experts could come to a consensus and I wouldn't have to choose.”

“Hopefully it doesn't come to that,” she agreed. “Have you nailed down your arrival date yet?” She wanted to get Walt as gussied up as possible before Milo and Angela arrived.

“Nothing firm, but trust me, we'll be there as soon as I can get away. Angela is anxious for a little peace and quiet.”

Oh, yeah. Ellie was certain she was. For maybe a week.

“Well, give me a heads-up so I can have the place ready.” And prepare for battle.

“Will do, Ellie. Everything else all right?”

“I have an appointment next week, and yes, everything seems to be fine.”

“Great. I'll see you in a week or two.”

Ellie hung up feeling both depressed and frustrated. This wasn't her battle, but she'd become attached to the crew of this ranch. This was their home, and in a way Angela and Milo were interlopers...who'd happened to buy the place. Okay, saviors and interlopers.

Now what could she do to keep George from screwing with the crew? Endure really long unnecessary meetings so that she knew what tack he was taking in his quest to temporarily take over the ranch.

But on George's seventh night there, she broke. She'd just come back from checking on Walt—mainly to make sure he hadn't thrown her laptop against the wall—and saw George typing away in his usual spot outside his mobile home, getting ready to read her his assessment for the day. He looked up as she pulled into the drive and waved. On the opposite side of the barn, Ryan was loading his horse. Tough choice.

Ellie parked the SUV and headed straight to the barn.

“Take me with you,” she said to Ryan. His eyes narrowed slightly at her point-blank request and she couldn't really blame him. They'd had next to no contact since she'd rescued Walt. “Don't make me beg,” she said.

“George?”

“Who else?” she snapped.

“He probably likes you,” Ryan said with a touch of sarcasm.

“No. He wants me to tell my uncle that the ranch can't survive without him.”

Ryan jerked his head in the direction of the travel trailer. “Even if I take you with me, he'll probably wait up.”

Ellie glanced over at the consultant, who was watching them closely, then back at Ryan. “I'll take my chances.”

Ryan shrugged. “Climb in.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“W
HERE
ARE
WE
going?” Ellie asked, settling into her seat as they drove through the gate.

Ryan shot a quick look into the rearview mirror, as if checking to see if George was following them. “Idaho.”

Ellie's heart jumped even as she realized he was kidding. “Beats a George meeting,” she said mildly, leaning her head back against the headrest.

“You're no fun,” Ryan said.

“Where are we really going?”

“Practice at the Glennan arena. We should be home around eleven.”

Surely George would be asleep by then. Tomorrow she would not shirk her duty; tomorrow she would fight the good fight. But today had been stressful and she simply didn't want to deal with the man. She really wished that Milo wasn't so taken with the guy, or that he'd made it so clear that while he trusted her insights, she wasn't a ranch specialist like George.

“How's it going?” Ryan asked after several silent miles.

“George is driving me crazy,” she said, without looking at him. She hadn't missed the undertone of irony in his polite inquiry.

“And everything else?”

Ellie put her hand on her abdomen, assuming he meant her pregnancy. “I feel great.” Physically, anyway.

“And the job search?”

Ellie rolled her head on the headrest to look at him. “Still on it. Had two depressing phone interviews today. Anything else?”

“Yeah. What's the deal with giving Walt a laptop?”

“Surely Jessie filled you in.” That was part of the reason why she hadn't sought him out—it also would have been hard to pin him down the way he'd been avoiding her.

“George has a problem with lack of computer skills.”

“Doesn't that work for you?”

“How so?” she asked with a frown.

“It seems to me that that would be a perfect excuse for firing him.”

“Maybe I don't want to fire him,” Ellie said quietly, knowing she'd have to explain her about-face and not certain she wanted to.

“Why?”

Ellie exhaled, studying the glove compartment for a moment before saying, “Because of you, okay?”

Ryan gave a slow nod, his eyes still on the road as he pulled up to the highway stop sign. “Care to expand on that?”

“No.”

* * *

H
E
PULLED
OUT
onto the highway, and ten way-too-silent minutes later they pulled into a group of trailers parked near the small arena. Ryan turned off the ignition. “Feel free to wear my jacket if you want to watch from the stands. It gets cold out there.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“Ellie?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “I want to talk. About Walt and...other stuff. If not tonight, then sometime.” He waited to see if she had a response, and when she said nothing, he opened the door and got out of the truck.

Ellie sat where she was. The truck rocked a little as he opened the trailer door and unloaded his horse, then a few minutes later he rode toward the arena on the brown practice horse he called Skipper. Ellie let her head fall back against the headrest again.

Yes, they were going to talk. There was simply too much unfinished business between them, and if she didn't get a job, who knew how long they would be living together on the ranch? And it would probably take a joint effort to keep George from ousting Walt and taking over the position himself.

Ellie got out of the truck and then reached in for the heavy corduroy jacket as the cool night air raised goose bumps on her arms. There was a small cluster of people sitting in the stands watching the action in the arena but Ellie headed for a lone picnic table where she could see what was happening but didn't have to socialize. She had a few things to work out before the ride home.

Why had she gotten into the truck? To escape George? Or to force herself to hash things out with Ryan, to see if they could come up with a method of coexistence that didn't involve full avoidance?

The latter, no question about it. She prized being direct, but lately she'd been taking the coward's way out, avoiding George and avoiding Ryan as much as he was avoiding her. Avoidance wasn't working—not for her, anyway—so that left only confrontation. And perhaps a deeper examination of herself, her motives, her needs, her desires....

She pulled Ryan's jacket more tightly around her as cold air gusted over her, closing her eyes as his scent rose from the fabric. Ellie opened her eyes again as the chute clanged open and a rider charged out of the box, swinging his loop. This was so not her world, even if part of her was starting to think of the ranch as home. This was not her aunt and uncle's world, either. This was Ryan's world. Walt's.

Ellie sat huddled against the crisp Montana night as roper after roper swung their loops, caught and tied their calves. Ryan went twice, and both times she was aware of a surge of emotion as she watched him do what he did so well. The guy was spectacular. It was getting close to his turn again when the creak of saddle leather caught her attention and she turned to see Ryan walking his limping horse toward the trailer. She got off from the table and headed toward him.

“What happened?” she asked as she caught up with man and horse.

“Muscle pull,” Ryan said with a quirk of his lips. “Second one this season. I think Skipper will be on pasture until next spring.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Although Skipper probably wouldn't mind eating grass and sleeping in the sun.

“I have other practice horses. He just happened to be one of the best.” He handed Ellie the reins and started uncinching the saddle. “When I was young I only had two horses. My good horse and my practice horse. If one of them went lame, I was in a world of hurt.”

“Did one of them go lame?” she asked.

“Of course. Walt loaned me the money to buy another horse, so I wasn't dead in the water.”

“How much does a roping horse cost?”

“Many tens of thousands if they're good.”

Ellie's jaw dropped. “Tens...”

Ryan propped the saddle on his hip. “Yep. Which is why I take damned good care of my horses.”

* * *

T
HE
LIGHT
WAS
on in George's trailer when they got back to the ranch close to midnight.

“A good consultant's work is never done,” Ryan muttered as he pulled to a stop.

“There's a note on your door,” Ellie said, pointing at his house.

“I'll be damned.” Ryan got out of the truck and headed back to unload his horse. “George, no doubt,” he said when Ellie joined him at the rear of the trailer. He led Skipper out of the trailer and into the barn, snapping on the light as he walked inside.

Ellie followed him, closing the door—and hopefully George—out. Ryan led the horse to a panel corral next to a stack of hay and then gestured to Ellie with his head. “Would you mind holding him while I work on him?”

“Not at all.” He handed her the rope as he walked past her out of the corral and over to a cabinet from which he took a dusty brown glass bottle. Ellie wrinkled her nose as he opened the cap.

“Wow. I can smell it from here.”

“Horse liniment. Cures what ails you.”

“I would hope, smelling like that.”

Ryan poured a good amount onto a piece of toweling and then bent to apply it to the gelding's foreleg. Skipper flinched when Ryan first touched him, but as he continued to massage the liniment into the horse's leg Ellie could see the animal start to relax. Ryan continued to work the muscle, and Ellie watched, fascinated by the strength of his hands and the gentleness of his touch.

She cleared her suddenly dry throat and asked, “How often do you do that?”

“A couple times a day. I'll leave him in the pen for a day so I can get to him easily and then assess.” He glanced up then and Ellie felt a jolt as their gazes connected. Held.

Oh, dear heavens....

And that was when Ellie realized why he'd been avoiding her. And she him. Because they'd instinctively known what was going to happen if they spent any length of time together. It was happening right now...

Ryan looked away first, breaking the charged connection. He handed Ellie the bottle as he undid the horse's bridle. She took it and opened the gate, slipping out to return the bottle to the cabinet. Ryan latched the gate and walked to the barn door where he waited while she closed the cabinet. Neither spoke, even though there was so much that needed to be said. Issues to confront...or to avoid. At the moment Ellie didn't know which was the better tack.

They walked outside and Ryan closed the barn door. The evening was over and in a matter of minutes she'd be back in the safety of her house, away from Ryan and away from temptation.

But neither of them moved after the door was latched.

“Ellie?” Ryan asked softly after a long, silent moment.

She raised her chin instead of replying, knowing she should turn and walk away, and also knowing she wasn't going to do that. Not when he was looking at her that way...and she was looking back.

Ryan finally reached out to slide a warm hand around the back of her neck in a possessive caress, his fingers setting her nerves afire as they threaded through her hair. Ellie caught her breath and when he leaned down to take her lips, she met his kiss halfway. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him as he pulled her closer, pressing her body into his.

“I don't have answers,” he said.

“I need answers,” she said against his mouth. “I need answers and a plan.”

“And I can't stop thinking about you,” he said before kissing her again.

Likewise.
Ellie stepped back into sanity, pulling in a long shaky breath as she eased out of his embrace. It would be so easy to simply invite him up to the house, but as she'd said, she needed answers.

“The note,” she said huskily, grasping at an excuse to pull back from what she'd help start. “I want to know what's in the note.”

Together they walked to Ryan's door, where he pulled the paper off the door and unfolded it. “Imagine that—it's from George and he'd like to start early tomorrow and take a long hard look at the forage and pastures.”

“Good luck with that,” Ellie said vaguely before meeting his eyes. “Avoidance isn't working,” she said.

He had no difficulty following her meaning. “Obviously.”

“I don't know what to do.”

“Take our time? Meet things head-on?”

“I guess.” She took a backward step, putting some distance between them.

“This may lead nowhere,” he pointed out. “But at least we can be honest about it.”

“I hate unfinished business,” Ellie murmured.

“I won't hurt you, Ellie.”

She smiled wryly for an instant. “Not on purpose anyway.”

He gave a slow nod. “Not on purpose.”

* * *

G
EORGE
WAS
WAITING
by the barn when Ryan walked out the door at five o'clock the next morning.

“I got your note,” he said congenially.

George smiled. “I haven't seen a lot of you since I've been here, so I thought I'd better nail you down if I was ever going to get your take on operations.”

“Yeah. I've been working.”

“And rodeoing,” George added as he fell into step.

“I've cleared that with my boss. I work flex time,” Ryan said.

“I've never really heard of such a thing.”

“It's an innovative employee practice,” Ryan explained.

“I meant on a ranch,” George snapped.

Ryan opened the barn door and George followed him inside. Lonnie would show up in an hour to feed the animals there, so Ryan saw no need to delay the tour. And tour they did. Ryan had to admit that George was thorough. His questions were intelligent and showed an understanding—though not necessarily an approval—of what Ryan had been trying to accomplish with his lands-management strategy. Ryan knew his science was dead-on and he knew that the pastures were better than they'd ever been. There was still room for improvement, but grazing management was an ongoing process.

Walt came up several times. George wanted to meet with him and Ryan knew what a friggin disaster that could be if George indicated in any way that Walt's breeding program was off base. When they arrived back at the ranch just as the sun was setting, Ryan parked the truck and then turned in his seat to look at George.

“So how's this consultant gig working out for you?”

“I enjoy my work,” he said cautiously.

“Pretty lucrative?” George frowned. “I was just considering future career possibilities,” Ryan said. “And professional competition is healthy, you know.”

“Why would you want to leave this place...” George cleared his throat meaningfully “...when it seems like you have a good thing going here?”

Ryan had no difficulty following his meaning—George had been spying on him and Ellie last night. “I've noticed a lot of job turnovers in the wake of your consulting.”

“The Vineyard?”

“For one.”

“The original crew wasn't up on current practices.”

“Did you suggest that the owner give them training opportunities?”

“It was more cost-effective to hire people who were more innovative.” George opened his door and got out. Ryan did the same. “You don't have anything to worry about. I'm not going to suggest they let you go.”

“I don't think it'd matter if you did,” Ryan said as he closed his door. Just so they understood each other. “What Bradworth needs from you is an overview of operations and ways to fine-tune. Not a crew overhaul, and I think we both know that.”

“Last I heard you weren't in charge.”

“But Ellie trusts me.” Probably the last thing George wanted to hear.