Читать книгу The Ryders: Jared, Royce and Stephanie - Barbara Dunlop - Страница 11

Near the cookhouse, Jared helped Melissa down from Tango’s back. She staggered to a standing position, and he could see the pain reflected in her expression as she stretched the muscles in her thighs. If the woman had ever been on a horse before, he’d eat saddle leather.

“There you are,” came Stephanie’s accusatory voice.

Jared felt a twinge of satisfaction at the thought of Melissa getting her comeuppance. But then he realized Stephanie was talking to him. He’d obviously missed her jumping practice.

“I gave Melissa a lift,” he explained.

Stephanie looked at Melissa. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I was—”

“Downriver,” Jared quickly put in. “Walking.” The explanation earned him a confused look from Melissa.

Too bad. He’d worry about that one later. For now, he didn’t want to plant any thoughts about the old cabin in Stephanie’s head.

Stephanie looked from Jared to Melissa, then back again. “Well, you missed a no-fault round,” she told him, putting her pert nose in the air.

“I guess you’ll just have to do it again.”

“You think it’s easy?”

“No,” he acknowledged. “I think it’s very, very hard. But I also know you’re a perfectionist.”

“I wish,” Stephanie retorted. But Jared knew it was true. You didn’t become one of the top-ten show jumpers in the country without a strong streak of perfectionism.

He handed Tango’s reins to Melissa. “He’s all yours. When you’re done taking off the tack, put him back in the red-gated pen.”

Melissa glanced down at the leather reins. Then she looked at Jared, her eyes widening with trepidation.

Yeah, he thought so.

He gave a heavy sigh and took back the reins. “Or I could give you a hand,” he offered. “Then you can grab something to eat.”

He felt Stephanie’s curious gaze behind him, and he twisted his head to give her an I-told-you-so stare. If she wanted him to have time to watch her jump, she shouldn’t have hired such a hopeless case.

He wrapped the reins around the horn of his saddle, clipped a lead rope onto Tango’s bridle, then walked the few steps to the hitching rail in front of the stable.

“You can start with the cinch,” he called over his shoulder, and Melissa quickly scrambled into action, hoofing it across the loose-packed dirt of the pen.

Stephanie watched them for a moment longer. Then he saw a small, hopeful smile quirk the corners of her mouth before she turned away.

Great. His good deed was obviously not going to go unpunished. He was helping Melissa out of pity, not out of attraction. She might be a gorgeous woman, but he liked his dates with a little more gray matter and a whole lot more ambition.

She came to a halt a few feet back from Tango’s flank. Her hands curled into balls by her sides, strands of her blond hair fluttering across her flushed cheeks as she blinked at the tall black horse.

“The cinch,” Jared prompted, releasing the reins and gently drawing the bit from Tango’s mouth.

Melissa didn’t make a move.

He flipped the stirrup up and hooked it over the saddle horn. “The big, shiny silver buckle,” he offered sarcastically.

She took a half step forward, then wiped her palms down the front of her jeans.

Jared turned, planting his hands on his hips.

She pursed her lips, reaching her hand toward the buckle. But Tango shifted, and she snapped it back.

“He’s not going to bite you.”

“What if he kicks me?”

“Just don’t do anything sudden.”

“Oh, that makes me feel a whole lot better.”

This was getting ridiculous. “You know, you might want to think about another line of work.”

“I was perfectly happy scooping out pens.”

“Nobody’s happy scooping out pens.”

“I was.”

“Well, that’s a dead-end career.” He took a step forward and captured her hand.

She tried to jerk away.

“The trick is,” said Jared in the most soothing voice he could muster, “to let him know what you’re doing.” He urged her reluctant hand toward Tango’s withers. “That way, nobody is surprised.”

“Is ‘surprised’ a euphemism?”

“I mean it literally.”

Tango craned his neck to see what was going on.

“Your touch should be firm,” Jared advised, keeping himself between Melissa and the horse’s head. He gave Tango a warm-up pat with his free hand before placing Melissa’s palm on the horse’s coat. “That way, he knows you have confidence.”

“I don’t have confidence.”

“Sure you do.” He let go of her hand, and she immediately pulled it back from the horse.

Jared drew a frustrated sigh. “I’ve seen five-year-olds with more guts than you.”

She glared at him.

“Lots of them,” he affirmed.

Her glare lasted several seconds longer, but then she squared her shoulders, screwed up her face and turned to the saddle.

“Buckle first,” Jared instructed as her small soft fingers tackled the leather. “Now pull the strap through the rings.”

It took her a minute to get the mohair strap untangled and dangling straight down.

“You want to take the saddle and blanket off together. Grab it front and back. Lift, don’t drag it. Then carry it into the stable. I’ll show you where to put it.”

He stepped back to give her some room.

Tango was sixteen hands, so it was a reach for Melissa to get a firm grip. But she grabbed the saddle, lifted, pulled back, stumbled in the loosely packed dirt and nearly fell over backward.

Jared quickly wrapped his arm around the small of her back, averting disaster. Her waist was small, her body and frame light. No wonder she was such a wimp when it came to physical work.

“You okay?” he asked reflexively.

“Fine.” She firmed up her grip on the heavy saddle and straightened away before he could get used to the feel of her in his arms. But not before he realized how easily he could get used to the feel of her in his arms.

He wondered if she danced. Then for a second he allowed himself to imagine her in a dress. A dress would suit her, something silky and flowing, maybe a bright blue or magenta. Despite her hesitancy in the stable yard, something told him she’d have self-confidence in a different setting.

She all but staggered into the stable, and he was forced to give her points for grit.

“Third rack from the end,” he instructed, following with the reins.

She plunked the saddle down.

“You can clean it after lunch,” he told her.

She nodded, obviously out of breath. Then she dusted off the front of her navy tank top.

“But first we move Tango.”

“Of course we do.” Her tone was sarcastic as she turned to face him.

“You ticked off at me? For helping you?”

She studied his eyes. “No.” But the tone told him she was.

“You can always quit.”

“I’m not going to quit.” Her annoyance was replaced by defiance as she started for the stable door. “Let’s go.”

“You want to lead him from the left,” Jared called after her as he hung up the reins, positive now that she’d never been near a horse before today.

Tango wasn’t intimidating. He was an incredibly well-trained, twelve-year-old saddlebred, solid as a rock and not the least bit flighty or malicious. Any horseman, groom or stable hand would recognize that in an instant.

He came through the doorway to find Melissa sizing up Tango from about five feet away.

“Talk to him,” Jared advised. “Then give him a pat and undo the rope.”

“Is there a trick to it?” she asked, apparently having given up any pretext of knowing what she was doing.

“Which part?”

Over her shoulder, she cut him an impatient glare, and he was forced to tamp down a smile.

“Pull the end.” He demonstrated, tugging the quickrelease knot. Then he handed her the rope. “Stand on this side. Make sure he can see you. Don’t let the rope trail.” Jared got her positioned properly. He didn’t know how much she’d have to work between here and Seattle, but she stood a much better chance of avoiding starvation if she had a clue about what she was doing.

Melissa started walking, and Tango fell in easily beside her. Her face was pinched and pale, and there was clear tension across her slim shoulders as she made her way toward the ranch road, but at least she was making the effort.

A couple of Stephanie’s border collies streaked toward them, obviously assuming there was work to be done. Melissa tensed, and Jared put an arm around her. “They won’t hurt you.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“They look … friendly.” But her voice was slightly higher pitched than normal. “Will they scare Tango?”

“Tango’s bomb-proof.”

The dogs circled the small group a couple of times, then settled in back of Tango’s heels, obviously up for whatever the job might be.

Melissa led the horse in silence down the slight slope of the dirt road, curving east toward the river and a row of horse pens. Stephanie was teaching a junior jumping class in the main arena behind them. The Ryder farrier was working on a yearling with the help of two cowboys who were trying to teach the twitchy colt the proper etiquette for hoof care. Meanwhile, stable hands moved hay, filled water troughs and repaired fences.

There was an endless cycle of work on a horse ranch. When he was in the city, Jared missed the predictable rhythm. In his corporate life, he was putting out one fire after another. He couldn’t plan a single day, never mind a season.

“Did you come to an agreement about Tappee?” she asked as they approached the red-gated pen.

Jared shook his head, increasing his pace to unlatch the gate in front of the horse. “Stephanie voted with me, but Otto sided with Anthony.”

“Otto?”

“Otto Durand.”

Her forehead furrowed as she cautiously led Tango through the gate. “I don’t understand.”

Jared pulled it shut and flipped the latch. “There’s a clip under his chin. Release the lead rope.”

She reached cautiously under the horse’s head. But she found the clip and clicked it free.

Tango instantly reacted to the familiar sound. Knowing he was free, he bolted, spraying clods of dirt at Melissa.

It was all Jared could do not to laugh at the horrified expression on her face.

She sputtered out the dirt while the horse rolled onto his back, relieved to be free of the saddle.

“What don’t you understand?” he asked, instead.

She brushed away her hair and rubbed the back of her hand over her face. “I don’t understand why you had to vote. Aren’t you CEO of Ryder International?”

“This isn’t a Ryder International project.”

“Oh. I thought …”

Jared cracked the gate open to man-size so they could exit the pen. “It’s the Genevieve Fund.”

Melissa raised her brow in a question.

“The Genevieve Ryder Memorial Fund,” Jared explained. “It’s a charitable trust named after my mother.”

“Is your mother …?”

He nodded. “She was killed twenty years ago.”

Her forehead creased. “I’m sorry.”

Jared shrugged, brushing past the sharp stab of conflicting emotions that tightened his chest. “It’s been twenty years.”

Melissa’s green eyes were round and soft. Her voice dropped to a husky level that somehow hit him in the solar plexus. “I’m still sorry.”

They stared at each other in silence, and once again he was struck by the intelligence in her eyes. Only this time, it was laced with compassion. There was something he didn’t understand about this woman, something lurking just beyond his comprehension.

“There are five members of the Genevieve Fund board,” he told her, leaning an arm on a fence rail, forcing the frustrating dilemma from his head.

“Who’s the fifth?” She mirrored his posture.

“My brother, Royce.”

“I take it he gets to break the tie?”

“He’ll be here on Saturday.”

“Does he work on the ranch or with the construction company?”

“Neither. He works for Ryder International, but he’s involved in acquisitions, not in the day-to-day business.”

“So he was the one who found Saxena Electronics?”

And there it was again. “How do you know about Saxena?”

“I told you, Jared.” She smoothed her mussed hair back from her forehead. “I read the newspapers.”

“And you remember obscure facts like that?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes it’s a blessing. Sometimes it’s a curse.”

“Ever heard of Bosoniga?”

“Little country in West Africa.” She grinned, revealing flashing white teeth. “Is this a quiz?”

“We’re building a school there.”

Her head bobbed up and down. “Good choice. The monarchy is stable, so poverty and infrastructure will be your only problems.”

He lifted his hand, then brought it down again on the rough wood of the fence, struggling to make Melissa’s lifestyle add up in his head. “Why don’t you have a real job?”

“Define a real job.”

“An office, where’d you put that brain of yours to work from nine to five.”

“I don’t think they’d let me wander across the country.”

“How long have you been wandering across the country?”

Her mouth tightened imperceptibly, and something flashed in the depths of her eyes. Fear? Pain? He was reminded once again that she could be running from something or someone.

But then the look was gone.

“Not long,” she answered. “Do you think Royce will side with his family or with Anthony and Otto?”

“Anthony is our cousin.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Royce is a risk taker. He’ll offer to fly down to Tappee himself.”

“He’s a pilot?”

Jared choked out a laugh. “He’s definitely a pilot. I think he likes flying around the world more than he likes investigating companies.”

“Can I meet him when he gets here?”

Jared tensed. A chill hit his body, and a warning sparked in his brain. “Why?”

She drew back, obviously reacting to his expression.

“You planning to flirt with him?” Jarred pressed. He shouldn’t have let his guard down. He didn’t know anything about this woman.

She emphatically shook her head. “He likes to travel. I like to travel.” Her words came faster. “I was thinking you could be right. Maybe I should find a real job and save up some money. I mean, seeing America is fun and all, but it might be fun to see some of the rest of the world—”

“In my brother’s jet?”

“No. No.” She smoothed her hair back again. “I’m not going to flirt with your brother. I just thought …”

Jared waited. He truly did want to know what she thought.

She let go of the fence rail and took a step forward. “I thought he might be a lot like you. Smart and interesting.”

He stared down as she moved closer. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.” But what he really couldn’t believe was that it was working. She was flirting with him, using her pretty face and killer body to gain an advantage. And it was working.

He was pathetic.

“You misunderstood,” she told him in a soft voice. “I have no designs on Royce. I don’t even know Royce. And if my mission was to land myself a rich man, do you think I’d be scooping horse poop on a ranch in Montana? No offense, Jared, but Manhattan is a whole lot closer to Gary, and their per capita count of rich eligible men is pretty darn high.”

Jared watched her soft lips as they formed words, took in her feathery hair lifting in the light breeze, her bottomless green eyes, almost a turquoise, like the newly melted water of a glacial lake. She was stunningly gorgeous and intriguingly intelligent.

“So how stupid do you think I am?” Her voice dropped off into silence. The thuds of Tango’s footfalls echoed around them.

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” Jared admitted. “That’s the problem.”

Melissa had overplayed her hand.

Sitting at the end of a long table in the quiet cookhouse, spooning her way through a flavorful soup, she knew she’d made Jared suspicious. She should never have asked to meet Royce. And she should have been content to let him think she was slow-witted.

Her enthusiasm for getting the story, along with her stupid ego, had both gotten in the way. She’d just had to show off her knowledge of Bosoniga and Tappee. Like some schoolkid trying to impress the teacher. “Bosoniga has a stable monarchy,” she mocked under her breath. Why didn’t she just wave her university degree under his nose and challenge him to guess why she was out on the road playing vagabond?

She dropped the spoon into her soup.

Was she trying to sabotage the story?

“Melissa?” Someone slid into the chair next to her, and Melissa looked over to see Stephanie set a white stonewear cup on the table.

At two in the afternoon, the cookhouse had grown quiet. Faint voices could be heard from the pass-through to the kitchen. Coffee, biscuits and oatmeal cookies were still available on the sideboard in case anyone needed a snack. And a helper was setting the three empty tables for dinner.

“Hello,” Melissa greeted Stephanie politely.

The younger woman’s auburn hair was pulled back in her signature ponytail. She’d removed her riding helmet, but still wore the white blouse, tight jodhpurs and high boots that were the uniform of a show jumper.

Stephanie grinned happily. There was a freshness about her, Melissa thought. Maybe it was the freckles or maybe it was the complete lack of cosmetics. Or it could have been the perky upturned nose. But Stephanie looked young, carefree, almost mischievous.

“I saw Jared helping you with Tango,” she began, her expression friendly and open as she turned the cup handle to face the right direction.

Melissa nodded, even while her stomach tightened with guilt. She couldn’t help but like Stephanie, and she was sorry the woman was caught up in her charade.

“It was very nice of him,” Melissa acknowledged. Then she paused, choosing her words carefully. “My horse skills are …” She let out a sigh, feeling like a heel for lying to Stephanie in the first place. “I guess, I, uh, exaggerated my skill level when I first talked to you.” She cringed, waiting for the reaction.

But to her surprise, Stephanie waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever.”

Melissa gazed at her. “But—”

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to shovel manure.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nah.” Stephanie lifted the stonewear mug and took a sip of the steaming coffee. “I imagine people exaggerate on their résumés all the time.”

“I guess they do,” Melissa agreed, relieved—yet again—that she wasn’t about to get fired.

“So what do you think of him?”

“Tango?” Was Stephanie going to try to get her to ride the horse?

“No, Jared.”

“Oh.” Melissa caught the speculative expression in Stephanie’s eyes.

Oh.

Oh, no.

This could not be good.

“He seems, well, nice enough,” Melissa offered carefully. Truth was, she thought Jared was demanding and sarcastic. Okay, in an intriguing, compelling, sexy kind of way.

Stephanie nodded cheerily. “He’s a great guy. Lots of women seem attracted to him. I mean, it’s hard for me to tell, being his sister, but I imagine he’s pretty hot.”

Melissa turned her attention back to her soup. “He’s a very attractive man.”

“You should have seen the woman he dated last weekend. They had their picture in the paper in Chicago. She was a knockout. A lawyer.”

Melissa spooned up a bit of soup. She was not going to be jealous of some smart knockout lawyer in Chicago. Who Jared dated was absolutely none of her business.

“I told him he should see her again. But he’s not interested.” Stephanie gave a shrug. “So, really, he’s not committed in any way, shape or form.”

Melissa fought a smile. Again, there was an endearing quality to Stephanie. She was probably only four or five years younger than Melissa, but she seemed so innocent and untarnished. Maybe it was from living in the protected world of rural Montana.

“Honestly, Stephanie, I think I frustrate your brother.”

Stephanie shook her head. “We can change that.”

“I’m only here for a few days, remember?” The last thing Melissa needed was for Stephanie to give Jared a reason to avoid her. And she sensed that was exactly what would happen if he guessed his sister’s intentions.

“He thinks you’re pretty.”

The assertion took Melissa by surprise.

“He told me,” Stephanie continued. “The first time he saw you.”

“This is a bad idea, Stephanie. Jared and I are from completely different worlds.” And she was spying on him. And he was going to despise her in about three weeks when the article hit the newsstands.

“So were my parents.”

“Stephanie, really.”

“My dad was a rancher, and my mom grew up in Boston.”

Melissa knew this was exactly the point where she should press Stephanie for some information. But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“My mom was gorgeous and classy. Blonde, like you.” Stephanie sighed. “I wish I looked more like her.”

“But you’re beautiful,” Melissa immediately put in, meaning it completely.

Stephanie wrinkled her little nose. “I have freckles and red hair. And, you know, I haven’t bought myself a dress in three years.”

“Well, that’s easy to fix.”

“I bet you own a lot of beautiful dresses.” The speculative look was back in Stephanie’s eyes.

“Very few,” said Melissa. She pinned Stephanie with an earnest expression. “Promise me you won’t do this, Stephanie.”

Stephanie reached out to grasp Melissa’s forearm, taking a careful look around the room. “I can be very discreet.”

Given the woman’s exaggerated spy-versus-spy room check, Melissa sincerely doubted that.

“I’ll chat you up a bit,” Stephanie continued. “You are gorgeous, and I can—”

“Jared is not, I repeat, not interested in me. You’ll only embarrass us both if you try to match us up.”

Stephanie took another sip of her coffee, a dreamy faraway expression in her eyes. “I promise, Melissa. I won’t do a single thing to embarrass you.”