Читать книгу The Ryders: Jared, Royce and Stephanie - Barbara Dunlop - Страница 10

Melissa ordered herself not to panic. There was no reason to assume he knew the truth. But even as she mentally reassured herself, the roots of her hair prickled in dread.

His pace was brisk, his large hand still wrapped around her upper arm. It felt strong and uncompromising as steel. She wondered if he intended to march her all the way to his property line.

“First the chauffeur.” Jared’s angry voice cut through the night air. “Then Anthony.” He sucked in a tight breath. “And I can guess what went on with the damn horse.”

The last took Melissa by surprise.

The horse? Why would she interview his horse?

“Ride it yourself?” Jared taunted.

Melissa struggled to make sense out of the accusation. She hadn’t ridden the horse herself, but how could that possibly be relevant?

“Or did you get a little help?” he finished on a meaningful lilt.

He obviously already knew she had. There was no point in lying about that. “I got one of the cowboys to help me. Rich or Rand or Rafe … something …”

“I’ll just bet you did.” The contempt in Jared’s voice was crystal clear.

“So what?” Her confusion was starting to turn to annoyance. Rafe had, in fact, offered to help her. The whole operation hadn’t taken more than fifteen minutes of his time.

“So what?“ Jared jerked her to a stop and rounded on her, glaring from beneath his battered tan Stetson.

Melissa caught her breath while she searched his hard expression in the shadowed light. Why was the horse such a salient detail? Shouldn’t he be more upset about the way she’d pumped Anthony for information?

Unless …

It suddenly hit her that she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. She wasn’t caught. Jared was angry about her interaction with his cowboys.

“Is there a company ban on cowboys helping stable hands?” she asked.

“No, but I’m thinking about banning fraternization.”

His obvious euphemism was more than a little offensive. “You think I had time to fraternize with Rafe before dinner?”

Something flickered in his eyes. It might have been regret. “I think flirting is your only life skill.”

“It’s not.” For starters, she had a university degree. She owned real estate. And she had a good job, soon to be a great job if she could pull off this interview.

“Do tell,” he challenged.

“I’m intelligent, articulate and organized.”

“You couldn’t even organize a bus ticket to Seattle.”

“Buying the bus ticket ahead of time wasn’t the point.”

“What was the point?”

“I’m experiencing America.”

“By batting your eyes and swaying your hips?”

She held up her blistered palms. “By shoveling your stable for eight hours.”

He reached for her wrist, moving her hands under the beam of a yard light, and his expression tightened. “You put something on this?”

“Work gloves.” And she wished she’d thought to do it sooner.

“I’m serious.”

She pulled her hand from his grasp. “I’m fine.”

He took in her body from head to toe. “I don’t think you’re cut out for manual labor.”

She subconsciously shifted her injured hands behind her back. “I told you I was fine.”

“You know how to operate a computer? Type? File?”

Oh, no. She wasn’t giving up her ranch job. “I’ve never worked in an office,” she lied. “Besides, I only need bus fare. I’ll be out of your hair in a week.” At least that part was true.

“You might not last a week.”

“I lasted a day.”

“Maybe.” He paused. “But you know those guys you’re flirting with are going to eventually expect you to put out.”

“No, they won’t.” She wasn’t flirting anywhere near that seriously.

Jared grunted his disbelief.

The man was an alarmist. But he didn’t have the worst idea in the world.

Instead of arguing with him, she sidled forward, tucking her hair behind her ears and lowering her voice to a sultry level. “So how far do you think I’ll have to go?”

He brows quirked up. “You’re flirting with me?”

She leaned in. “Is it working?”

He shifted, letting his crooked hip and cocked head transmit his indolence. “All depends on what you’re after.”

What she wanted was the story of his life. And she was definitely prepared to bat her eyes a little to get it. “An exemption from riding your horse,” she said, instead. “He’s scary. Where’d you get him?”

“He’s a direct descendent of Renegade.”

Melissa tilted her head and widened her eyes, letting the silence go on for a moment.

“My great-great-grandfather’s stallion,” said Jared. “The pair of them settled this valley back in 1883.”

“I thought your grandparents built the original house.” She’d seen the impressive structure when she first arrived this morning.

“The house, yes.” He nodded downriver. “The original cabin’s been abandoned for decades.”

“So you’re the fifth Ryder generation to live here?” Her article wasn’t going to focus on the family history, but Melissa found herself fascinated by the thought of such deep roots.

“I’m the fifth,” said Jared. “Tango’s somewhere in the twenties.”

“You’ve kept records?”

“Of course we’ve kept records.” His tone told her she should have known that.

To cover the blunder, she turned and started walking down the rutted driveway, continuing her way toward the Windy River and the little white cottage she’d been assigned this morning. “How many horses do you have now?”

Jared fell into step beside her. “Several hundred. Several thousand head of cattle.”

“Is the ranch still profitable?”

He hesitated, and she could feel him looking down at her. “Why do you ask?”

She kept her focus on the quarter moon riding above the silhouetted mountain range across the river. “You went into construction.”

“How did you know that?”

“I heard people talk. Around the ranch.”

“Gossip?”

“No,” she quickly denied. “Just chitchat. You’re here. You’re usually in Chicago. People commented on it over lunch.” Truth was, Melissa had carefully orchestrated the conversation that had revealed that information and more, but there was no need to mention that to Jared.

“You seem to know a lot about me.”

She dared to look up at him. “You’re the boss. People naturally care about what you do.”

“They shouldn’t.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “Maybe not. But that’s not the way life works.”

“It’s gossip,” he stated. “Plain and simple.”

“It’s curiosity,” she corrected. “And it’s interest. And respect.”

He ground out an inarticulate sound.

“You can’t make millions of dollars and hope to stay under the radar,” she told him.

“How do you know I make millions of dollars?”

“How many acres you got here?”

“Five thousand.”

“I rest my case.”

“Most cattle ranches lose money these days.”

“Most construction companies make money these days.”

Jared didn’t answer. They came up on the short bridge over the froth of a narrow spot in the river. A dirt driveway jutted off to the south, winding through a grass-and-wildflower carpet dotted with aspen and oak trees, which fronted the staff cabins. It looked exactly like the picture on the ranch Web site. This morning it had taken Melissa’s breath away.

“Which is yours?” Jared asked, nodding to the neat row of white cottages.

“Number six.”

“I’ll walk you down.” He turned on the driveway, and Melissa was struck by how easily he fit into the surroundings. He had a smooth, rolling, loose-limbed stride, and his booted feet never faltered on the uneven ground. A few lights burned behind curtained windows.

“Very gentlemanly of you.” She hoped to keep him talking as long as possible.

“Wouldn’t want you to run into a cougar.” He seemed to be teasing, but it was hard to tell.

She decided to assume the ranch staff weren’t in mortal danger this close to the buildings. “I’m more afraid of rogue cattle,” she returned.

“The range bulls are up in the hills right now.”

“Good to know. So how long are you in Montana?”

“About as long as you.”

“Something you have to get back to?” She tripped on a tree root, and he quickly grasped her arm to steady her.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just making conversation. You seem to like it here.”

He gazed around. The Windy River roared its way past, while an owl hooted in a faraway tree. A pair of truck lights flashed in the distance beyond the barns, while several horses whinnied to each other on the night air.

Melissa surreptitiously slowed her steps, not wanting to arrive at her cottage while Jared was still willing to talk.

“I’ve always liked it here.” But his jaw was tight and his voice seemed strained.

Melissa sensed an undercurrent. “Why did you leave?” she dared.

“To make money,” was the quick response.

“Cowboys need millions?”

“A spread this size needs millions. The past few decades have been hard on Montana ranchers. It’ll change in the future. It has to. But for now …”

Her footsteps slowed to a stop. There was no help for it, they’d arrived at her front porch. She turned to face him, scrambling for ways to prolong the inevitable. She wasn’t likely to get another chance like this for the rest of the week.

“So for now you’re building office towers to keep your cattle ranch and horse-jumping operation in the black.”

“How did you know I was building office towers?” The man was entirely too observant for her comfort level.

“Somebody also mentioned it at lunch today,” she said, bluffing.

Jared stared into her eyes for a long slow moment. Then his index finger went to her chin and he tipped her face to the starlight. “There’s something about you, Melissa.”

“I’m a decent flirt?” Better to feed into his misconception than to let him start thinking about other possibilities.

He gazed at her a moment longer. “That must be it.” He paused again, his expression going unexpectedly intimate. “So you going to put out now?”

His voice was smooth, his dark eyes sensual, and his lips full and soft. Melissa let herself envision delivering with a kiss. Would it be soft and sweet? Strong and sure? Sensual? Sexy? Or downright erotic?

“You really are frighteningly good at this.” His gruff voice interrupted her fantasy.

She blinked. “Huh?”

His jaw tightened, and he took a step back. “I can see why you’ve got so many men at your beck and call.”

She shook her head. “I don’t—”

“Be careful, Melissa,” he warned. “Not all of them will walk away.”

And with that, he turned on his heel.

She thought about calling out to protest. Her flirtation was normally light and inconsequential. She’d never let herself get carried away. This was the first time she’d ever even considered taking the next step.

And she wouldn’t have actually kissed him.

There was far too much at stake. All she wanted was some information on his business, his life, his background.

And she had some.

Melissa couldn’t help but smile.

Jared might think she was shameless, but at least he didn’t know she was a journalist, and she’d obtained more useful material for her article.

Ignoring the anger in his stride, and the stiff set of his shoulders as he made his way back down the dirt driveway, she skipped up the stairs to her cottage. She needed to make notes right away.

“What did you do to tick Anthony off last night?” Stephanie’s voice startled Jared as he tightened Tango’s cinch in front of her house midmorning. The meeting had ended late last night, and it had been simpler to sleep here than ride ten miles to the main house at the cattle ranch in the dark. Anthony and Otto had left immediately after breakfast.

He took one final reflexive look at Melissa cleaning tack inside a shed across the driveway. The woman was taking an inordinately long time on a basic bridle. Then he slipped the cinch buckle into place and turned to face his sister.

Stephanie was dressed in dressage clothes, obviously ready for another day of training with Rosie-Jo. They had a competition coming up, but Jared couldn’t remember the details.

“I told him to stop flirting with the help,” Jared answered.

“What help?”

“Melissa.” He pulled the right stirrup into place. “I don’t know why you hired that woman. She’s completely useless.”

“She needed a job,” said Stephanie.

“We’re not running a charitable organization.”

Stephanie stuffed one hand on her hip. “Actually we are.”

Jared rolled his eyes, grasping the saddle horn to wiggle it and test the placement. “Then she can apply through the Genevieve Fund.”

“Don’t be such a hard-ass.”

“I’m not a hard-ass. I’m a realist.” He nodded toward Melissa. “She’s been working on that same bridle for half an hour. And mark my words, she’s going to cause trouble between the cowboys.”

“The cowboys are full-grown men.”

“My point exactly.”

“They’re responsible for their own behavior.”

Jared gave his sister a meaningful glare. Men were men. And flirtatious women were trouble. “Like I said, I’m a realist.”

Stephanie set her helmet on the end post of the hitching rail and gathered her auburn hair into a ponytail. “I’m not going to fire Melissa.”

“Well, I’m not going to be responsible for the fallout,” he warned.

“Who said you had to be responsible? Besides, aren’t you going back down to the cattle ranch today?”

Jared gently positioned the bit in Tango’s mouth. “Thought I’d stay at your place for a few days.”

There was a moment’s silence, and he braced himself.

Her tone hardened. “I’m perfectly fine, big brother.”

“I know you’re perfectly fine,” Jared allowed. He was sure she felt that way for now.

“This is no different than any other anniversary.”

Jared didn’t argue the point. But they’d just lost their grandfather, and Stephanie was hurting. No matter how hard she pretended otherwise, the siblings’ annual reunion and visit to the family graveyard would be particularly difficult for her this year. He usually stayed down at the main house at the cattle ranch, since it was larger. But Stephanie couldn’t leave her work and her students at the equestrian center, so he’d stay here instead.

“When’s Royce showing up?” he asked, instead.

“Saturday. You should get back down there and help McQuestin.” Stephanie referred to their aging cattle ranch manager.

“McQuestin doesn’t want my help.”

She plunked her helmet on her head and set her lips in a mulish line. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Jared leaned back against the hitching rail, crossing his arms over his chest while he faced his sister. “Maybe I need you.”

Her pale blue eyes immediately softened. “You do?”

He nodded. It wasn’t a lie. He needed to be with her right now. It was the only way he’d be sure she was okay.

She moved forward and placed a hand on his arm. “I know you miss Gramps. Do you still miss Mom and Dad?”

Jared nodded again. But this time, his lie was outright. He didn’t miss his parents. He was angry with his parents. Furious, if the truth be known. But that was his burden, the secret passed down by his grandfather. His only choice was to preserve their memories for his siblings.

Stephanie’s eyes shimmered and she blinked rapidly. “Then you should stay.”

Jared covered her hand with his. “Thank you.”

“You want to watch me jump?”

“Sure.” He nodded. “I’m going to check the pasture land at Buttercup Pond. Clear my head a little. I’ll swing by later in the morning.”

Stephanie nodded. Then she swiped the back of her hand across one cheek and headed for the main arena.

Jared tugged Tango’s lead rope free and swung up into the saddle. The ride to Buttercup Pond to establish his cover story would take him a couple of hours. But his real mission was across the Windy River. Since his grandfather’s deathbed revelation in April, he couldn’t get his great-great-grandparents’ cabin out of his mind.

The walk to the Ryders’ great-great-grandparents’ cabin took longer than Melissa had expected. At last she came around a bend of the river to see two cabins. One, made of logs, was nearly collapsing with age. The other was obviously newer. It was larger, made from lumber, with glass windows still intact and peeling white paint on the walls and porch.

A single story, it was L-shaped, with a peaked, green shingle roof. The rails had sagged off the porch, but the three steps looked safe enough, and the front door was a few inches ajar. The buildings were surrounded by a wildflower meadow that nestled up against steep rocky cliffs, jutting into the crystal-blue sky. The river glided by through a wide spot, nearly silent compared to the rapids upstream.

Melissa pulled out her cell phone, clicking a couple of pictures, wishing Susan was along with her camera.

Then she gingerly climbed the three stairs. She pressed the front door, slowly creaking it open. A dank, dusty room was revealed in the filtered sunlight through the stained windows. It held a stone fireplace, an aging dining table and chairs, and the remnants of a sofa. The floorboards were warped and creaky. Through a doorway, yellowed linoleum lined a small kitchen. Curtains hung in shreds over two of the windows.

Melissa let herself imagine the long-ago family. Jared’s great-grandfather must have grown up here. Was he an only child? Did he have brothers and sisters? Did Jared have cousins and more-distant relatives around the country?

She made a mental note to research the family’s genealogy.

On the far side of the living room, next to the kitchen door, a narrow hallway led to the other side of the house. The floor groaned under her running shoe–clad feet as she made her way through. Her movement stirred up dust, and she covered her mouth and nose with her hand to breathe more easily.

The hallway revealed two bedrooms. One was stark, with plywood bunks nailed to the wall and a hollow cutout of a closet. But the second was a surprise. Intact yellow curtains hung over the window. The bed was obviously newer than the other furnishings, and a brightly colored quilt was shoved against the brass footboard, while the remnants of two pillows were strewn at the head.

“Can I help you?”

The deep voice nearly scared Melissa out of her skin. Her hand flew to her heart as she whirled around to see Jared standing in the bedroom doorway.

“You scared me half to death!” she told him.

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

“It’s lunchtime. I thought you were a ghost.” Her heart was still racing, and adrenaline prickled her skin, flushing her body, then cooling it rapidly.

“Still very much alive,” he drawled, expression accusing. “What are you doing here?”

“I was curious.”

He waited.

“Last night. You mentioned your great-great-grandparents and, well, I like old buildings.”

“So you walked two miles?”

“Yes.”

“On your lunch hour?”

“I wanted to come while it was light.”

He sighed in disgust and gave his head a little shake. “You’re flaky, you know that? Instead of eating, you take off on a whim to see a dilapidated old building. How are you going to work all afternoon?”

“I’ll manage,” she offered, already hungry and quite willing to concede his point. But she didn’t have a lot of time to waste.

“You’ll be passing out by two.”

She could have argued, but she had more important questions. “What’s with this room?” She gestured around. “It seems newer.”

Jared’s gaze fixed on the disheveled bed for a long beat. His eyes hardened to sapphire, and a muscle ticked next to his left eye. “Must have been a staff member sleeping here.”

“You think?” She wondered why they hadn’t fixed up the rest of the house.

He seemed to guess her question. “I imagine they ate at the cookhouse with everybody else.”

He turned his attention fully to Melissa and held out a broad callused hand. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift home.”

“You drove?” Why hadn’t she heard the engine?

“I rode Tango.”

She instinctively shrank back.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid to ride double on him.”

“Of course not.” She sure hoped there wasn’t a trick to riding double.

“Then let’s go. You need to eat something.”

“I’ll be fi—”

“No, you won’t. Skipping lunch was a stupid decision. Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay alive this long.” He reached out and grasped her hand, tugging her out of the bedroom and down the hall.

“Did your great-grandfather have siblings?” she dared to ask.

“He had a sister.”

“That explains the bunk beds.”

“Yes, it does.”

Melissa blinked in the strong sunlight, her focus going immediately to where Tango was tied to the porch.

Jared mounted, then maneuvered the horse flush against the railingless platform, holding out his hand.

Melissa took a deep breath. She braced herself against his forearm, then arced her right leg high, swinging her butt to land with an unladylike thud, off-center behind the saddle on Tango’s broad back.

The horse grunted and stepped sideways.

Jared swore out loud, reached back to snag her waist and shoved her into place as her arms went instinctively around his body and clung tight.

“Sorry,” she muttered against his back.

“You’re a klutz,” he told her. “On top of everything else, you’re a klutz.”

“I never learned to ride properly,” she admitted.

“You need to learn some life skills,” he responded. “I don’t even care which ones. But damn, woman, you’ve got to learn how to do something.”

He urged Tango into a fast walk. The motion and play of muscles were unsettling beneath Melissa’s body. She kept her arms tight around Jared, slowly becoming aware of the intimacy of their position. Her breasts were plastered against his back, his cotton shirt and her T-shirt little barrier to the heat of their bodies. Her cheek rested against him, and every time she inhaled, her lungs were filled with his subtle, woodsy musk scent.

She was quickly getting turned on. Arousal boiled in the pit of her belly and tingled along her thighs. Her nipples had grown hard, and for a mortifying moment, she wondered if he could feel them.

“Where do you live in Indiana?” he asked, voice husky.

“Gary.”

“You have a job there?”

“Not yet.” She’d decided claiming to have a job would raise too many questions about why she needed money, and how she had enough time off to travel across the country.

“An apartment?”

“I’ve been staying with friends.” Not having a job meant she couldn’t claim to be paying rent. Unless she had investments or family money. In which case, she wouldn’t need to earn money for a bus ticket.

As embarrassing as it might be, she had to pretend to be as big a loser as Jared had decided she was in order to maintain her cover story.

He grunted his disapproval, and she felt a twinge of regret that she couldn’t set the record straight. But it wasn’t her job to impress Jared Ryder. And it sure wasn’t her job to be attracted to him. She’d have to fight her instincts on both fronts.