Читать книгу Called to Love - Arlene James - Страница 6

Gil hung his elbows on the top plank of the sagging corral fence. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, “I can train that filly, and I can straighten up this old fence, too, but you’ll have to be patient.”

“They keeping you busy out at the Colby Ranch?” Sally Locke asked idly, shading her hazel eyes against the afternoon sun.

Gil smiled. “Let’s just say I’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“Well, I hear you’re the best hand Belle Colby has, so we’ll work out something.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Gil said, turning his head as a little car puttered up to the end of the drive. Sally, too, looked in that direction and lifted a hand in greeting as the driver parked the coupe next to another battered compact. Gil blinked as the church secretary got out and started toward them.

“Good timing,” Sally called to the pretty redhead. “You need to meet this fellow. He’s going to be doing some work around here.” She glanced at Gil, saying, “My daughter, Cissy.”

“We’ve met,” Cissy said, as Gil faced her, doffing his hat. He couldn’t help a burst of pleasure at seeing her again.

“Miss Cecelia,” he said. “This is a surprise.”

Glancing at her mother, Cissy returned his smile with a frown. “Yes, it is.”

She quickly stepped back, preparing to leave—he couldn’t let her. Straightening, he blurted out, “Guess you’re excited about the job in Mexico.”

He knew instantly that he’d said the wrong thing. Cissy blanched, and Sally made a strangled sound, her freckled face suffused with bright, angry color that made the gray streaks in her reddish-brown hair stand out like tendrils of steam.

“Job?” she choked out. “In Mexico!”

Sighing, Cissy calmly said, “I was going to tell you tonight.”

Gil stumbled over an apology mixed with explanation. “I—I shouldn’t have said anything. I was at the church earlier, you see, and overheard the pastor talking with your daughter.”

“And when was this?” Sally demanded.

Cissy answered for him, “Tuesday.”

“Two days ago,” Sally pointed out bitterly.

Gil began his apology anew. “I’m sorry for—”

Sally spun abruptly toward the house. “I should see to dinner.” She stopped and turned back. “Perhaps you’ll join us, Mr. Valenzuela?”

Surprised, Gil stammered, “I—I wouldn’t want to impose.”

She headed toward the house again, barking, “Take care of it, Cissy.”

“Yes, Mama.” Cissy grimaced apologetically at him. She beseeched Gil in a quiet, husky voice, “Please stay. I would consider it a personal favor.”

How could he refuse? Even if he hadn’t caused the shapely little redhead trouble by speaking out of turn, he couldn’t resist the appeal in her pale, gray-green eyes. Gil nodded his acceptance of the dinner invitation, telling himself that the quickening of his heart owed less to a pretty face than a simple social obligation.

What point could there be in pursuing a woman who was on her way out of the country, after all? Not that he was in the market for romance. He had a ranch to buy. He’d been working his way toward that goal since the day he’d set foot in Grasslands. But one little dinner wouldn’t derail that.

Would it?