Читать книгу A Cowboy in Manhattan - Barbara Dunlop - Страница 7

As the pickup truck rocked to a halt in front of her family’s Colorado cattle-ranch house, Katrina Jacobs started a mental countdown for her return to New York City. In the driver’s seat, her brother Travis set the park brake and killed the engine. Katrina pulled up on the silver door handle, releasing the latch and watching the heavy passenger door yawn wide-open. Then she slid gingerly down onto the gravel driveway, catching most of her weight on her right foot to protect her injured left ankle.

A week, she calculated. Two weeks, max. By then she would have done her duty as a daughter and a sibling. Her ankle would be in shape. And she could get back to her ballet company in Manhattan.

Katrina hated Colorado.

Travis retrieved her small suitcase from the truck box. From experience, she knew it would be covered in stubborn grit, just like everything else in Lyndon Valley. She could vacuum it as much as she liked, but the dust would remain.

She wrenched the stiff door shut and started to pick her way across the uneven ground. She’d worn a pair of navy suede Gallean ankle boots, with narrow toes, low heels and kicky little copper chains at the ankles. They topped a pair of skinny black slacks and a shiny silver blouse.

She probably should have gone with sneakers, blue jeans and a cotton shirt, but she couldn’t bring herself to traverse both JFK and Denver International looking like a hick. She wasn’t often recognized in public, but when she was, people inevitably snapped a picture. Between cell phones and digital cameras, everyone in the world was potential paparazzi.

In his faded blue jeans, soft flannel shirt and scuffed cowboy boots, Travis fell into step beside her. “You want to take Mom and Dad’s room?”

“No,” she responded a little too quickly. “I’ll bunk with Mandy.”

Katrina hadn’t lived at home full-time since she was ten years old. That summer, with the support of her rather eccentric aunt, she’d enrolled in New York’s Upper Cavendar Dramatic Arts Academy, a performing-arts boarding school for girls. Maybe it was because she’d left home so young, but to this day, she was intimidated by her stern, forceful father. His booming voice made her stomach jump, and she was constantly on edge whenever he was around, worried that he’d ask an embarrassing question, mock her career or make note of the fact that she was an all-around inadequate ranch hand.

Her father was away from the ranch right now, having just moved to a rehab center in Houston with a leading-edge stroke recovery program. There he was impressing the staff with his rapid improvement from his recent stroke. Still, the last thing Katrina needed was to be surrounded by his possessions.

“He loves you,” said Travis, his voice gentle but his confusion evident. “We all love you.”

“And I love you back,” she returned breezily, as she took the stairs to the front porch, passing through the door into the cool, dim interior of her childhood home. It was large by ranch house standards, with a big, rather utilitarian entryway. It opened up into a large living room, with banks of bright windows overlooking the river, a redbrick fireplace and enough comfy furniture to hold the family of five children and often guests. The kitchen was spacious and modern, with a giant pantry and a big deck that led down to a rolling lawn. And upstairs, there were six bedrooms, though one had been converted into an office after Katrina had left for good.

She knew love was compulsory. But the truth was, she had nothing in common with the rest of her family. They saw her as some spoiled, fragile princess who couldn’t even ride a horse, never mind toss a hay bale or swing an ax straight.

For all that she was a principal dancer in a ballet company that regularly sold out New York City’s Emperor’s Theater, and that she’d made the cover of Dance America and the Paris Arts Review, in Colorado she’d never be anything but the girl who couldn’t make it as a ranch hand.

“Hey there, Kitty-Kat.”

Before she could respond to his greeting, her oldest brother, Seth, swooped her up in his strong arms.

“Hi, Seth.” Her hug was slightly less enthusiastic. She was embarrassed by the childhood nickname her two brothers had bestowed upon her.

He let her go, and she stepped aside with a determined smile on her face. The smile faltered when she caught sight of a third man behind him. A taller, broader man, with penetrating gray eyes, a grim mouth and what she knew would be callused hands that could probably lift a taxi cab right off the asphalt. Though it had been a few years since she’d seen him, there was no mistaking their neighbor Reed Terrell.

He gave her the slightest of nods. “Katrina.”

“Reed,” she nodded in return, a fuzzy hitch coursing through her chest. It was trepidation, she told herself, a visceral reaction based mostly on his size and strength and overall rugged appearance.

Just then her sister Mandy burst down the stairs. “Katrina!” she cried, elbowing Seth out of the way and pulling Katrina into her arms.

Katrina hugged her sister tight in return. The next youngest after Katrina, Mandy was the one who had always tried to understand Katrina’s passion for dance.

Mandy released her, scanning Katrina from head to toe. “You look gorgeous,”

Katrina knew it was a compliment. But when her family called her pretty, she couldn’t seem to help hearing useless. Pretty didn’t get you anywhere in Lyndon Valley.

“Thank you,” she told her sister, self-consciously smoothing back the wisps of blond hair that had escaped from the twisted knot at the back of her head. Maybe she should have gone with sneakers and blue jeans after all, or perhaps skipped her makeup this morning. She could feel her family sizing her up and finding her frivolous.

“You remember Reed?” Mandy gestured to the big man standing silently in the background.

“Certainly,” said Katrina.

Her gaze involuntarily met his again, and a shiver ran through her body, momentarily making her knees go weak. For a woman with a dancer’s balance, it was a ridiculous reaction. What was the matter with her?

She tried to drag her gaze from his, but for some reason, it stuck like glue.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Caleb again,” Mandy rattled on in an excited voice. “You probably don’t remember much about him, since he left Lyndon ten years ago.”

“I know he’s Reed’s twin brother,” said Katrina.

Reed’s nostrils seemed to flare when she uttered his name. The men were fraternal twins, not identical. She remembered Caleb as a smaller, less intimidating version of his brother.

Good thing.

For Mandy’s sake.

Katrina caught her sister’s expression, and saw that her eyes were sparkling with unadulterated joy.

“Congratulations,” she put in belatedly, giving Mandy another tight hug.

“We’re thinking of a late-fall wedding. You know, after Dad is up and around again. You’ll be a bridesmaid, of course.”

“Of course,” Katrina forced out a laugh. She wasn’t wild about family togetherness. But Mandy loved it, and Katrina wouldn’t do anything to mar her sister’s big day.

“You’ll look so beautiful in a bridesmaid dress.”

“It’s what I do best,” Katrina joked, keeping the smile pasted on her face. For some reason, she darted a look at Reed and saw his eye-roll.

He obviously thought she was being conceited. Fine. Easy for him to judge. She was willing to bet not a single person in his entire life had ever called him useless. Around here, he’d be revered for his strength and his hard work. He didn’t have to live with being pretty.

Not that he wasn’t attractive. In fact, there was an appealing dignity to his craggy features. His chin might be overly square, and his nose slightly crooked, but his eyes were an intriguing, silver-flecked gray, and his full lips were—

Wait a minute. She gave herself an abrupt mental shake. What on earth was the matter with her? Reed was a tough, hulking, strong-willed cowboy. He could out-macho anyone in Lyndon Valley, and there was nothing even remotely appealing about that.

Since Reed Terrell was alive, conscious and male all at the same time, he had the hots for Mandy’s sister Katrina. It didn’t mean he had to act on it, and it sure didn’t mean he’d succeed even if he tried. Everything about the woman said she was out of his league, from the wispy updo of her wheat-blond hair to her sexy boots, the clingy slacks and shimmering blouse in between.

When he’d met her earlier at the Jacobs ranch, her earrings had been dangling strands of gold, silver and diamonds, while a matching necklace glimmered against her dainty cleavage. She should have looked comically out of place on the ranch, but she didn’t. She looked like a princess inspecting the commoners, someone to be revered and admired, then left untouched. Which was exactly what Reed intended to do.

Now he entered the foyer of his own family’s ranch house, shutting the door against the gathering dusk, another long day of work behind him. For years, Reed had lived in the spacious, two-story house with his exacting father. Though his father was dead, out of habit, Reed placed his hat on the third hook from the left and straightened the mat beneath his feet. There was a place for everything, and everything was always in its place in the Terrell household. His father had prized practicality, but also quality, so the hardwood floors were clear maple, the furniture was custom-made and the kitchen appliances were top-of-the-line, replaced every ten years.

The outbuildings that housed the cowboys and staff necessary to run the big ranch were also kept in tip-top shape, from the cookhouse to the bunkhouses to the barns and sheds. The line shacks were all getting older, but they were still kept clean and in good repair.

“Danielle wants to talk to you,” his brother Caleb announced as he walked down the hallway from the kitchen at the back of the house, phone in hand.

“I don’t have anything more to add.”

Caleb frowned. “You can’t let fifteen million dollars just sit in a bank account.”

“You can always take it back,” Reed responded, squaring his shoulders. He still thought it was ridiculous that his brother had paid him for half the family’s ranch.

“Would you let me hand you half of Active Equipment for free?” Caleb referred to the company he’d spent the past ten years building in the Chicago area.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Same difference.” Caleb held out the phone. “Talk to her. She has some ideas.”

Danielle Marin was Caleb’s lawyer. Following the debacle of their late father’s will, she’d drafted the papers that switched ownership of the Terrell ranch from Caleb to Reed. Then she’d worked out the financial transaction where Caleb bought half of it back.

Reed wasn’t exactly grateful to her for helping to put him in his current financial position, but he had to admit, the woman seemed to know what she was doing.

He took the phone. “Hello?”

As usual, Danielle’s tone was crisp, no-nonsense. “Hi, Reed. I was wondering if you’d had a chance to look over the package I emailed to you yesterday?” Then her voice became muffled as she obviously spoke to someone at her end of the line in Chicago.

“Not yet,” he answered. He only opened his email about once a week. He didn’t have a lot of technically inclined friends. Most of the people he knew still called on a landline or simply stopped by the ranch when they had something to say.

She sighed into the receiver. “You’re losing both income and investment potential every day you wait.”

“You’ve pointed that out.”

“Can you give me some general parameters? Do you want to keep your investments in the country? Go international? Blue chips? Emerging markets?”

“I was thinking about buying a sports car,” he drawled, impatient with having to worry about the damn money. There were real problems requiring real solutions right here on the ranch.

Her voice instantly perked up. “So, you’re saying I should keep some ready cash for luxury purchases?”

“I was joking, Danielle. We don’t have paved roads in Lyndon Valley.”

“You could always drive it on the highway. What appeals to you? Lamborghini? Ferrari?”

“It was a joke,”

“Stop joking.”

It was Reed’s turn to sigh. “Fine. Keep the money in the country.” He at least knew he wanted that much.

“Right. So, maybe some blue chips? Or do you want to look at a percentage of a start-up? I can make some recommendations on sectors and states.”

Reed didn’t want to think about this right now. Quite frankly, all he wanted to do was to strip off his dusty clothes, take a hot shower, grill up a steak, and then picture Katrina’s deep blue eyes for a while before he drifted off to sleep.

“I’ll let you know,” he told Danielle.

“Soon?”

“Yeah. Sure. Soon. See you.” He handed the phone back to his brother.

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Caleb pointed out as he put the phone back to his ear. Then his expression faltered. “No, not you, Danielle.”

Reed chuckled at his brother’s embarrassment, feeling better already.

He crossed through the living room, took the staircase to the second floor, took off his clothes and tossed them into the hamper before stepping into a steaming shower. As he rubbed in the spice-scented shampoo, he realized his hair was getting too long. He supposed he could find a few more reasons to make the drive into Lyndon and get it cut while he was there, or he could buzz it short with his razor again. Though the last time he’d done that, Mandy had laughed at him for days.

Thoughts of Mandy took him to thoughts of Katrina. He switched the water to cold, finishing off with a brisk rinse before stepping out of the deep tub.

He changed into clean jeans and pulled a worn gray T-shirt over his head, running his fingers through his damp hair. He left his feet bare, padding down to the kitchen. The barbecue was out back on the deck, overlooking a bend in the Lyndon River. But it was a warm May day, and shoes were definitely not necessary.

He smelled steaks grilling and knew his brother had a head start on dinner. He’d learned that steaks were the only thing Caleb knew how to cook. Thinking about his brother’s ineptitude in the kitchen made something warm settle deep into Reed’s chest.

It had only been a few weeks since he’d reconciled with his fraternal twin brother. They’d been estranged and angry with each other since their mother had passed away ten years ago. They’d both blamed their cruel, domineering father for her death from untreated pneumonia. But their reactions had been poles apart. Caleb had left home in anger. Reed had stayed behind to protect his mother’s ranch heritage.

Reed heard a female voice through the screen door.

Mandy, obviously.

When Caleb had come home to settle problems with the will, the two had reconnected and fallen deeply in love. Reed smiled. He’d always thought of Mandy as a sister. It would be nice to have her officially become part of the family.

He grabbed himself a cold bottle of beer from the fridge, flipped the cap into the trash can and headed outside. There, he stopped short, seeing Katrina sitting at the table. Hearing his footsteps, she turned toward him.

A glass of red wine dangled between delicate fingers tipped with sculpted nails. And she was laughing at something Mandy had said. Her jewel-blue eyes were alight in the evening sunshine. The slanting rays glinted off her shimmering blouse where it clung to softly rounded breasts. As a professional dancer, her body had a perfect shape and symmetry that kickstarted his libido.

As she took in his expression, her smile faltered, and the glow left her blue eyes. “Hello, Reed.” She paused. “Something wrong?”

He realized he was scowling. She was Mandy’s sister. He shouldn’t be secretly fantasizing about her. She might not spend much time in Lyndon Valley, but he was going to have to make this work.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he insisted, striding forward. “I’m hungry.” He forced himself to focus on Caleb who was wielding a spatula over the grill.

“About ten minutes,” Caleb offered.

Since dishes, salads and bread were already set out on the rectangular table, Reed chose one of the low-slung wooden Adirondack chairs, parked his body and took a swig of his beer.

Mandy moved to the barbecue beside Caleb, placing her hand lightly on his shoulder, their backs to Reed and Katrina.

“Did you have a nice flight in?” Reed asked Katrina, keeping his tone polite and even.

“It was good.” She nodded, her tone even in return. “Very comfortable.” She swiveled to perch herself backward on the bench seat at the table, fully facing him.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Mandy playfully kiss his brother’s cheek and whisper something in his ear.

“First class?” he asked Katrina.

“Why?”

He caught the narrowing of her eyes. “No reason.”

“You think I’m a princess?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Truth was, he was thinking that nobody had a “very comfortable” flight in coach. He was also thinking that first-class seating was a waste on somebody as petite as her.

Their gazes clashed for several seconds.

“Staying long?” he tried, wondering if she’d turn that into an insult, as well.

But her expression faltered, and she didn’t answer for a moment. “A week. Maybe two.”

“Still dancing?” He didn’t know anything about her life in New York City, except that she was some kind of important ballerina, and Mandy was anxious to go see her perform.

“Still dancing,” she confirmed, with a quirk of a smile. “You’re still ranching?”

“Still ranching.” He nodded. “You must be here on vacation?”

“Yes,” she replied, the barest hint of sarcasm in her tone.

“What?” he probed.

“What?” she responded, concentrating on taking a sip of her wine.

“It’s not a vacation?” he guessed.

She glanced sideways at her sister for a split second. Then she shrugged. “No pool deck or palm trees. But I guess you could call it a vacation.”

“Princess,” he muttered through a smile.

“A girl’s got to keep up her tan.”

He gave a pointed glance to his deeply browned forearms. “Not a problem around these parts.”

“I bet you’ve got those farmer–tan lines at the short–sleeve mark.”

He couldn’t seem to stop his smirk. “I bet you’ve got those princess tan lines at the bikini mark.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Much more attractive.”

To that, he gave her a mock toast. “No argument from me.”

Then, to his surprise, she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Truth is, I twisted my ankle.”

He leaned forward to meet her, lowering his own voice to match. “Is that a secret?”

She shook her head. Then she shrugged her slim shoulders. “Not exactly, I just …” Her red lips pursed together, and he couldn’t help thinking about kissing her.

Her cheeks flushed a light rose.

Was she thinking about kissing him back?

As quickly as it formed, he banished the thought. It was a ridiculous assumption.

“Are you embarrassed about hurting yourself?” He settled on a much more likely explanation.

“It was a silly accident,” she confessed. “I’m usually really careful about my shoes, but—”

“Rare, medium or well?” Mandy called to them.

Reed didn’t take his gaze off Katrina. “Rare.”

“Medium,” she put in. “And nothing too big, please.”

Reed felt a smile grow. “You’re not up for a cowboy twelve-ouncer?”

Her hand moved to rest on her flat stomach. “My dance partner has to be able to lift me.”

“Maybe you need a stronger partner.”

“What I need is to lose two pounds.”

“You look perfect to me.” The soft words were out before he could censor them.

A slow blink camouflaged her reaction. Then she brought her teeth down on her bottom lip and determinedly turned her attention to Caleb, who was carrying the platter of steaks to the table.

Reed had said something wrong. He wasn’t sure what it was, but she’d abruptly shut him out.

Katrina didn’t know why she’d told Reed about her ankle last night. It was a foolish slip of her tongue. It compromised her ongoing efforts to keep her two worlds apart, and this morning she vowed to do better.

In the years since her father’s sister, her generous Aunt Coco, had taken her under her wing and convinced her parents to let her move to New York City with her, she’d been living two separate lives. In New York, enrolled in the ballet program at the Academy, she felt vibrant and alive. She was a part of the cultural mosaic Auntie Coco, a renowned contemporary painter, had been so careful to expose her to while she was growing up. She fitted in. She was normal, accepted, even respected. In Colorado, she was out of step. An anomaly who could never show weakness.

She often wondered why her aunt had decided to rescue her from the ranching world, what it was she’d recognized as a kindred spirit in a ten-year-old child. She’d always meant to ask. But Coco had died of a sudden aneurism two years ago before Katrina had had the chance.

Now, she came to the bottom of the stairs of the Jacobs’ house and took a bracing breath. Her two brothers and two sisters were already dressed for the day’s work, sitting at the breakfast table eating pancakes, bacon and scrambled eggs. It never ceased to amaze her that Mandy and Abigail could consume so many calories and keep such trim figures.

As she pivoted around the end of the staircase, she was careful not to limp. Then again, Reed would probably tell Caleb, and Caleb would tell Mandy, and once again she’d be the pathetic, weak branch on the robust Jacobs family tree.

She approached the breakfast table to a chorus of good mornings, taking the empty place next to Mandy, searching the table for fruit, or maybe a whole-grain muffin. But a platter of fluffy pancakes was handed her way, followed by maple syrup and a mounded serving tray of eggs.

“Thanks.” She nodded to Abigail, setting the heavy platter down in an empty spot in front of her plate. “Is there maybe an apple or something in the fridge?”

Everything seemed to still for a moment as four sets of eyes turned her way.

“I’m not a huge breakfast eater,” she explained, ignoring the tantalizing scents of melting butter and warming syrup.

Abigail started to stand.

“No, no.” Katrina quickly waved her off, coming to her feet. Pain tripped in her ankle from the sudden movement, but she schooled her features. “I’ll get it.” She quickly headed for the kitchen.

“Abigail and I can stay on the ranch for a few more days,” Seth said, his conversational voice coming through the big, open pass-through between the kitchen and dining room. “But then they’ll need us in Lyndon to help with my campaign.”

Katrina spotted the family cook, Henrietta, in the pantry off the kitchen, restocking the shelves from a cardboard box. She smiled a greeting to the familiar woman as she pulled open one side of the big stainless-steel refrigerator.

In the pocket of her slacks, her cell phone vibrated. She retrieved it to see an unfamiliar New York City number.

“Hello?” she inquired, moving to a far corner of the kitchen, where a solid wall blocked the noise from her siblings’ conversation.

“Hello, Katrina.”

Her teeth clenched at the sound of Quentin Foster’s voice. A member of the Liberty Ballet Board of Directors, the last time they’d spoken, he’d been hitting on her.

“I wanted to see how you were feeling,” he continued, tone solicitous.

“Fine,” she told him evenly, wondering how she could diplomatically end the call. He was an important man in the organization, but his flirtatious manner had gotten entirely out of hand.

“We’re all very worried about you.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be back soon.”

“Back?” His tone slipped. “Have you left the city?”

“I’m visiting family. I really need to go. Thanks for calling.”

“Katrina, wait.”

She braced herself. “Yes?”

“Have you had another chance to think about what I said?”

About becoming his lover? “I haven’t changed my mind.”

In her peripheral vision, she caught her brother Seth’s curious gaze on her. “I do have to go. Thank you for your concern.” She quickly hit the off button then shut down her phone, turning her attention back to her family.

“Mandy’s riding up to take a look at the Blue Lake herd today,” said Travis. “And I’ll check to see how many have moved through the canyon.”

Katrina knew there was a science to herd distribution across their vast rangelands, taking in the seasons, weather reports and rainfall, but she had no idea how it worked. More than once, she’d privately mused that if she’d lived in the 1800s, she’d probably have died young of stupidity or been killed off by her outraged community because of her ineptitude.

“What time is the vet due in?” asked Abigail, refilling her coffee cup.

“He said around eleven,” Mandy offered. “But you know how those things go.”

“I have to touch base with the campaign office before I do anything else,” said Abigail, reminding Katrina of her oldest brother’s upcoming campaign for the mayor’s seat in Lyndon.

Katrina selected a smooth, deep-green Granny Smith apple from the crisper drawer, rinsing it under the tap before returning to the table.

“What about you?” Travis asked her as she sat back down.

“Me?” she responded, confused by his question. Were they still talking about the mayoralty campaign?

“You want to ride up to the lake with me today?” asked Mandy.

Katrina hesitated, glancing at the expressions around the table. She couldn’t believe they’d forgotten. She’d never mastered riding a horse. The animals still frightened her. The thought of sitting on top of one for six hours made her cringe.

“I have a pretty rigorous rehearsal and training routine,” she told everyone.

Seth waved a dismissive hand. “Take a day off.”

“I—”

“The fresh air will be good for you,” Travis declared.

Only Mandy was looking at her curiously.

“I wish I could,” Katrina lied with a shake of her head. “But I need to stay in shape.”

“Horseback-riding is good exercise,” said Travis.

“Is there a bicycle anywhere around here?” She tried to change the subject. Jogging would be the simplest exercise, since she didn’t have access to a gym. But the jarring would be too hard on her healing ankle, especially over uneven ground.

Her siblings glanced at each other.

“A bicycle?” Seth repeated the question.

“I like to bike,” said Katrina. “It’s good for my quads.”

Travis snorted. “A little productive work would be good for your quads too.”

“Travis,” Abigail warned.

“There might be an old bike in the blue shed,” said Mandy. “We can look after breakfast.” She glanced at the apple in Katrina’s hand. “You sure you don’t want something hot?”

Katrina shook her head. “I’m good.” She took a big bite of the apple, mumbling her appreciation of the tart flavor.

After a drawn-out moment, everyone’s attention went back to their own meals.

After a few minutes, Mandy rose to take her dishes into the kitchen then returned to the dining room and slid back into her chair. “We’ll go whenever you’re ready,” she said to Katrina.

“I’m ready now.” Katrina rose. She’d rather eat her apple on the run than sit here on edge, waiting for more uncomfortable questions and opinions.

She’d worn blue jeans and a simple white blouse this morning, and she popped her feet into a pair of sneakers.

Mandy stuck a battered Stetson onto her head. Her boot heels clunked on the wooden porch, while Katrina followed silently on rubber soles. She wished she’d thought to bring along a hat. She had a white baseball cap from the Met that she could easily have tucked into her suitcase.

It took about five minutes to walk the path to the blue shed, called that because of its blue door. There was also the green shed, the yellow shed and the view shed, which had a red door. Katrina had never figured out why her family wasn’t consistent with the names. But she’d stopped asking questions like that a long time ago.

Mandy pushed open the door and made her way into the crowded storage building. “You haven’t told me what you thought of Caleb.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” Katrina answered honestly as she followed inside. Caleb had been friendly, polite and funny last night.

Mandy turned to stare, her tone turning incredulous. “‘A nice guy’? That’s all you’ve got for my fiancé? He’s an amazing guy.”

“I only just met him again.”

Caleb was six years older than Katrina, and she barely remembered him from when she was a child.

“Well, sure. But it’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

Katrina couldn’t help but grin at her sister’s mock outrage. “I’m sure he’s amazing. And it’s pretty obvious he’s got it bad for you.”

“Yes, he does,” Mandy answered with conviction, wrinkling her nose and sticking it primly in the air. She turned sideways to slip between a set of shelves and an ATV.

Katrina followed, tone playfully placating. “And who could blame him? You’re a great catch.”

Even in the dim light, Mandy’s eyes sparkled as she moved some plastic bins out of the way. “What about you?”

“I’m not a particularly good catch.” What could Katrina bring to a relationship? An extensive designer wardrobe? An ability to make small talk at cocktail parties? A demanding and precarious career?

“I meant are you seeing anyone?”

“Oh.”

Mandy moved a tarp as she made her way farther into the shed. “But of course you’re a great catch. You’re like some kind of dream trophy wife.”

Katrina didn’t want to be a trophy wife. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Really? What about all those debonair rich guys who go to the same parties as you?”

“None of them have asked me out.”

“They have so,” Mandy contradicted.

“Okay, some of them have. But nobody lately.” Unless you counted Quentin Foster. Katrina shuddered at the mere thought of the offensive man. He hadn’t asked her for a date. His had been a bald proposition, followed by an unsettling threat.

“New York men don’t know a good woman when they see one,” Mandy put in staunchly. “Aha. Here we go.”

Katrina banished thoughts of Quentin, coming up on her toes to peer over a wooden crate. Sure enough, there was a sturdy-looking mountain bike propped up against a workbench. She normally rode a stationary one at the gym a few blocks from her apartment, but she was willing to adapt.

“Will we be able to get it out of there?” she asked Mandy.

“Easy.” Mandy hoisted it in the air, over the clutter and outside. There she pumped up the flat tires at the compressor.

Katrina was more than a bit in awe of her older sister. “I can’t believe you did all that.”

“All what?”

“Pumped up the tires. You actually know how to run a compressor.”

“You actually know how to stand up in toe shoes. So, what’s the plan? How far do you want to ride?”

Katrina shrugged. “Fifteen, twenty miles.” Then she’d limber up, work on her arms a bit, and see how her ankle was holding up.

“I’m going up to Caleb’s later,” said Mandy.

“That’s nice.”

Mandy glanced at her watch. “If you wait until afternoon to leave and take the river trail, I can meet you at the Terrells’ and drive you home after dinner.”

Katrina hesitated. She wasn’t wild about spending more time with Reed. The man made her jumpy and self-conscious. But Mandy was the closest thing she had to a buffer against her other siblings. If Mandy wasn’t around, she feared her brothers would try to railroad her into something uncomfortable, like riding a horse.

“Sure,” she found herself saying. “I’ll meet you up at Terrells’.”