Читать книгу Who Wouldn't Love a Cowboy? - C.J. Carmichael - Страница 5

Jason Dowcett just wanted to be left alone. Was that too much to ask? He owned a thousand acres of land—most of it wilderness. So how was it possible that, purely by chance, he would happen to be snagged by a journalist on assignment to write some damn article about why women loved cowboys?

When Naomi, the dude ranch manager, had told him about the writer from Montage magazine that was booked at the ranch—and why—he’d done his best to nix it.

“She’ll be too disruptive. Asking questions and getting in the way.”

“But think of the PR,” Naomi had coaxed.

He didn’t care, particularly about that part of the business. For the past year and a half the only company he could tolerate was that of his horse, Gold, and his cattle. The dude ranch was just a reminder of Lana and what used to be. He planned to shut it down as soon as he could figure out how to take care of his staff. But he hadn’t told anyone about that yet. And so, reluctantly, he’d let Naomi have her way.

“Just keep her out of my hair,” he’d said.

“I will,” Naomi had promised.

And now look what had happened. Callie Anderson hadn’t even handed over her credit card yet and she was already in his face. Dressed in the sort of duds that city folk liked to call “country chic“—a formfitting black dress with a silver-and-turquoise belt slung around her waist and black-and-brown boots that were obviously fresh out of the box.

Standing on the driver’s seat of her car, she appeared to be a tall woman, but she was still significantly shorter than he was astride Gold. He urged the Appaloosa closer, then held out his hand.

“The camera?” If she wasn’t going to erase the pictures, he would.

“Just look at them first. If you’re concerned about your privacy, you needn’t worry. Most of your face is hidden by your cowboy hat.”

When he said nothing, she reluctantly handed over the Nikon. He squinted at the screen, then scrolled through the photos. They looked innocuous enough. Maybe he should let her keep them. Now that she was here, he didn’t want to make the journalist mad.

He passed the camera back to her.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him again, and he had to look away. Damn, but she had a pretty smile. And nice legs, too. He felt guilty as hell for even noticing.

“Keep well back from the cattle,” he warned. “In another five minutes the road should be clear again. Don’t imagine I’ll see you again, but do me a favor and stick to the designated dude ranch areas from here on in.” He tipped his hat and turned away.