Читать книгу A Ranch to Keep - Claire McEwen - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

THE PROBLEM WITH sticking to her goals on the ranch was the ranch itself. It was Sunday morning and Samantha had so much to do before driving home. But the freedom of the surrounding pastures, the grandeur of the sheer peaks pushing up behind them, the bright light and warmth of the fall sunshine, all pulled her away from her tasks.

Almost every window she cleaned provided a view that begged to be admired, and the time lost slowed down her progress considerably. Eventually it was just too hard to stay indoors at all and Samantha abandoned her bucket and mop in the upstairs hallway and headed out the back door.

She’d forgotten the beauty. She’d forgotten the way the air seemed to clean her lungs of all the city grit and lift the stress right off her shoulders. She’d forgotten how it felt to come around the corner of a narrow mountain path and catch sight of a lizard sunning on a granite boulder. And the way her mouth lifted into a smile before she’d even realized the lizard was there, in that fleeting moment between when she saw it and when it skittered away.

She followed the sound of the creek. The mountains were veined with streams that tumbled down the steep slopes and spattered over boulders, making their way down to the Owens River in the valley that ran along the foot of the range. Some were famous trout streams that brought fishermen to the area all summer long. And others, like this one, were just little no-name creeks, not much visited and more beautiful because of it.

When she’d stayed on the ranch during summers, she’d taken this path almost every day. Grandma Ruth would put a battered basket in her hand, heavy with a book, a water bottle and a snack. Those snacks were always delicious. Chocolate chip cookies, apple pie, homemade bread and butter; her grandmother had spoiled her only grandchild during those special summer months.

Samantha tried to remember the last time she’d spent a summer here. It had been just after her freshman year in college, and she’d stayed only a few weeks. Then she’d returned to campus to intern for a professor, pushing herself to reach the solid, stable life she’d so craved. And every summer after that she’d worked and interned and her visits to the ranch had dwindled down to the occasional weekend, and then to nothing.

But her sacrifice paid off. Right after college she’d been hired at the advertising firm, and by carefully saving she’d bought her apartment a few years later. After the many countries and cities and schools of her nomadic childhood, it had been such a relief to finally have a home of her own.

The splash of the creek was getting louder, and around the next corner she came to the small waterfall she’d loved as a girl. Looking at it now, with a grown woman’s eyes, it barely qualified as a waterfall, just a spot where the creek took a leap down a few large rocks and formed a small clear pool at the bottom. But when she was young it had been a wonderland where fairies hid and boats made from leaves and sticks crashed down torrents of water on grand adventures. The air felt cooler here, making it a tiny oasis where a few summer wildflowers still bloomed, peeking between the rocks alongside the creek, vying for the precious water.

Her bruised ankle was starting to throb again. It probably didn’t help that Samantha hadn’t been able to face her ugly work boots this morning. Without them she’d had only the two pairs of shoes she’d packed for Ruth’s funeral to choose from. Since her stiletto boots were still recovering from the cowpie incident, she’d gone with her slightly lower, classic pumps, which clearly weren’t meant for hiking in the mountains. Luckily she’d had lots of practice walking on the steep sidewalks of San Francisco.

The flat rock she’d loved to picnic on as a child was still there, so she picked her way toward it, kicked off her shoes and sat down, easing her feet into the water. It was ice cold and made her gasp, but she welcomed the numbness that sucked away the heat of the morning and eased her ankle.

She shook her head as she remembered her mortifying tumble off the ladder in front of Jack Baron. She’d met the man less than forty-eight hours ago and had managed to fill that time with more embarrassing moments than she’d had in years.

To make matters worse, all the ridiculous things she’d done had made him smile, and that smile, and the way his eyes lit with humor, were haunting her. Between the memories of that smile and all her embarrassments, it was hard to think of much else. Samantha wasn’t used to being distracted and it was an uncomfortable, itchy sort of feeling. Hopefully this walk would help clear her head.

So far, it wasn’t working.

Reminding herself that she’d come out here to enjoy the scenery, not think about her neighbor, she turned her mind to the landscape around her. Across the creek, a few pine trees clung to the rocky edges of the waterway, and beyond them was pasture. Or, it used to be pasture. Her grandfather had used this area for fall grazing if she remembered correctly. Now the grass was knee-high and making its way up between all kinds of shrubs and the occasional pine seedling. The mountains were taking back the fields. While it was definitely sad, there was also a feral beauty to it that she admired.

Samantha closed her eyes, listening to the water tumble, letting it numb her sore ankle, and couldn’t remember the last time she’d just sat like this, doing nothing but relaxing and enjoying.

Maybe that was the problem between her and Mark right now. With the new clients they’d been pursuing, their relationship had become nothing but work. When she got back to San Francisco tomorrow she would suggest a vacation. Somewhere warm, tropical, romantic and just the two of them. They’d never taken a long trip before and it was time. In fact, maybe this explained all her thoughts about Jack Baron. She hadn’t had fun with Mark in a long time, it was no wonder she kept thinking about the cowboy next door.

It was getting close to noon and growing hotter. She looked up at the sky, hoping to see some clouds, some glimmer of a thunderstorm to roll through and cool the afternoon off, but the blazing blue above her held no sign of rain. Sweat ran down her neck and mixed with the dirt of cleaning and the dust of the walk up here, and suddenly she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Samantha rolled her jeans up as high as they could go and put her legs into the water up to her knees. It felt amazing, so she yanked off her T-shirt and set it aside. Standing on the gravel floor of the small pool, she cupped her hand to pour the icy water down her back and onto her neck. She splashed a little more on her chest, relishing the way the sweat disappeared and left her skin cool and clean. Inspiration struck and she sloshed carefully through the pool to the tiny waterfall.

If there’d been room to put her entire head under, she probably would’ve. She settled for scooping handfuls of water over her hair and rubbing it into her scalp. It was better than ice cream, better than a mojito, better than anything she normally craved on a hot day. It was like being a kid again and even her heart felt cooler, less anguished from Ruth’s death. The unexpected feeling made her laugh out loud.

“That good, huh?” His voice came from the bank behind her.

Samantha froze. This wasn’t possible.

She took her hand out of the waterfall and used it to try to smooth down her hair before she turned around, though it wasn’t much use. Her hair had gone rogue and there was no going back until she could tame it with a shower and about a half gallon of hair conditioner.

“You have the worst timing, Jack Baron,” she finally said, looking reluctantly over her shoulder at him. He was dressed for work in his jeans, boots and hat. His only nod to the heat was the old Rolling Stones T-shirt he’d put on, instead of his usual faded plaid. He was holding a rope and Samantha looked back to see a horse behind him, looking at her with its ears forward, curiosity evident in its keen glance. Even his horses knew how to make her feel ridiculous. “Hand me my top, please?” she asked.

Jack tied the horse’s rope to a sturdy branch of one of the pine trees and picked his way easily over the rocks to the other side of the creek where her shirt was. She noticed he carried an old leather bag over his shoulder. Samantha just stood there. Maybe if she didn’t look at him, he couldn’t see her.

“Here you go.” He tossed the shirt her way and she glanced back to catch it, catching sight of the grin on his face at the same time.

She pulled the top over her head and turned toward the flat rock, hoping fervently she’d be able to walk gracefully across the treacherous rocks and pebbles lurking underwater. “What are you doing here?” she asked him, trying to sound casual, as if he hadn’t just found her half dressed, splashing in a creek. She sat down on the sun-warmed granite and tried to rearrange her hair again, though she doubted there was much hope for it.

“I lost Gideon.” He motioned to the horse. “Figured he’d come down this way. He has before.”

“Do you often lose your horses?”

Jack smiled and glanced at the bay gelding, who was trying to bite a clump of grass at the foot of the tree. “Just this one. He’s an escape artist. I turned my back on him for a moment and he got the latch on the arena gate open.”

“He probably sees all this long grass down here and can’t resist grabbing a snack.”

“He’s stubborn as a mule, but he’s a beauty.” Jack crossed back over the creek and loosened the rope so the horse could actually reach the coveted grass. He gave him a pat on the neck and came back toward her, watching her with that half smile...and those deep blue eyes.

“So I gotta say it’s not every day I see a beautiful, half-dressed woman at my favorite lunch spot.”

Samantha wondered if Jack might simply attribute her bright red face to sunburn. It was blazing-hot out, after all. “Well if I’d known it was going to get crowded I’d have made a reservation.”

Jack laughed. “Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining.” He winked and sat down on the rock next to her. Reaching into his decrepit old bag he pulled out a sandwich and held it out to her. “Hungry?”

“No, thanks. I’d better get going actually.”

“I don’t mind your company.” His eyes were serious for a moment and then the usual humor was back. “Though you might want to consider keeping your clothes on.”

Samantha couldn’t help it. It was impossible to maintain her casual demeanor. “Enough!” Her voice was pained. “Ever since I got here two days ago I’ve done one stupid thing after another, all in front of you! It’s all been incredibly embarrassing and I just don’t get it. This isn’t me! I am not like this!” She gestured at the creek in front of them.

“You mean you don’t usually want to cool off on a hot day? I wouldn’t call it embarrassing, Samantha, I’d call it human. If it hadn’t taken me so long to find old Gideon there, you’d have probably come across me in this creek. And there’d have been a lot more clothing than just a T-shirt sitting on that rock!”

Samantha stared at him, trying to absorb the image of a stark-naked Jack Baron splashing in the creek. It was an unsettling picture and she tried to banish her visions of lean muscle and golden skin and all the other bits she might have seen. She came back to the present and saw him grinning at her with an enjoyment that told her he knew exactly where her thoughts had been.

His eyes were lit with a mischief and she wanted to stay and look at them longer, but that wasn’t a good thing so she decided to go. “Well, I’m going to take my red-faced self back to the house and get some work done before I leave today.” She reached for her pumps and started to pull them on.

Jack took one look at her footwear and his grin faded. “Are you trying to sprain your other ankle? Where are your work boots?”

She glared at him. “They’re ugly. I couldn’t face them this morning.”

Jack’s expression was half amusement and half disbelief. “They’re work boots, Samantha! They’re not supposed to be cute, they’re supposed to protect you!”

“My feet are fine.” He looked so horrified that she grinned, succumbing to the temptation to tease him. “In fact, these shoes are incredibly useful. If I meet a bear I can just smack it across the head with one of the heels. They’re Italian. Well made. Dangerous.”

Jack burst out laughing. “That’s quite an image. I don’t know whether to pity that bear or envy him!”

The naughty reference sunk in and she laughed sharply, surprised at his wicked humor. What was it about him that made her want to dish it right back? “Somehow we always end up talking about my shoes, Jack. I’m starting to wonder about you.”

“Wonder away.” Jack pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, which the sunlight spun into dark gold. He gave an exaggerated wink. “I’m just glad to know I have a place in your fantasies.”

“I’m not sure that’s what I’d call them. Concerns, maybe?”

His laugh rang out over the sound of the creek and the little horse, who’d been happily munching by the pine tree, looked up at the sound. Samantha watched him watch Jack for a moment, and then go back to his grass clump. When she looked away, Jack was regarding her intently, the last fragment of his smile still curling his lip. His eyes were serious in contrast.

“You’re something else, Frisco.”

“Probably.” She couldn’t move. She’d grown roots, and her body was heavy. All she wanted was to stay there, lost in that look that held her so firmly. Sitting next to him on the rock she was inches away from the bronzed skin of his arm, from the biceps that rose below the sleeve of his shirt, and she could see the way his hair trailed over his collar at the back. He smelled like salt and horse and something else...something comforting.

It had that same feeling from yesterday, on the porch. Liquid heat, as if her muscles had gone soft with wanting him. She was glad she was sitting down. The image of herself collapsing into a puddle on this rock was enough to pull her out of her trance. The last thing she wanted was another embarrassing moment. Or to kiss her neighbor. It was past time to put some distance between her and Jack Baron.

“Well, Cowboy, this has all been very informative but I’d better get back and let you eat your lunch in peace.”

“I’m feeling pretty peaceful right now.” His eyes darkened, the way she’d noticed they did when he grew serious.

“I need to go.” Samantha stood up. She wanted to turn away from him and run. She wasn’t comfortable with the way those eyes made her feel.

“I’ll be down to finish the upstairs windows this afternoon.” His voice was casual again, the moment of intensity gone so quickly it was easy to pretend it hadn’t existed.

“Oh yes, about that,” Samantha said. “I have a lot of work to do this afternoon. Would you understand if I didn’t come out to help?”

He met her request with his usual wry smile. “No offence, Friso, but after yesterday I was thinking I might be a little safer doing the job on my own anyway.”

Relief shifted through her. And just a fleck of disappointment, which she quickly squelched. “I guess I can see why you might feel that way. It seems that prying off boards isn’t one of my innate talents.”

“Well, I’m sure you have many others,” Jack assured her.

“So I’ve been told.” She laughed, glad to have the buffer of humor back between them. “I’ll see you later then.”

Samantha turned and picked her way down the path toward the house. As she got to the turn in the trail where the lizard had been, she turned to look back. Jack had just finished pulling his shirt off and when he spotted her looking he gave her an enthusiastic wave. Then he splashed into the pool and let out a wild whoop which wafted across the quiet stillness of the hot hillside. Suddenly she wanted, fiercely, to go back there and be with him—to be close to all that light and humor.

Shaking her head at her own inexplicable thoughts, Samantha turned back to the task of picking her way across the rocky ground in heels without breaking her ankle. It was time to get to work. She had hours of cleaning ahead of her, and her email inbox was full enough to cause panic whenever she glanced at it. In the morning she’d pack up early and head back to San Francisco. Six hours of driving and the bustle of the big city should be enough to wipe out this wild and impractical desire to splash in a mountain stream with an undressed Jack Baron.

* * *

IT WAS STILL HOT. Hotter, actually, thanks to the afternoon sun reflecting back at him from the clapboard siding of the old house. The refreshing chill he’d felt after his visit to the creek earlier was a distant memory. Sweat rolled down his back in rivulets. Jack wiped what felt like steam out of his eyes and cursed the misguided sense of chivalry that had gotten him here, balanced on this shaky ladder alongside the old Rylant farmhouse.

Hoisting the crowbar up, he wrenched a board off the window and was rewarded with yet another shower of wood dust and paint chips. The board hurtled to the ground and landed with a thud amongst its fellow discards. Only one more window to go and then he was heading straight to the shower and the iciest beer his fridge had to offer.

Jack climbed down to move the ladder over and caught a glimpse of Samantha through the dining room window. She was at the old mahogany table, a laptop in front of her, papers scattered all around, and she was talking on the phone. She ran a hand through her tousled curls and tapped her pen impatiently while she listened to the person on the other end of the line.

She looked amazing and completely out of his league. Dark-framed cat’s-eye glasses, perfect for a 1950s librarian, rested on the bridge of her nose. He hadn’t known that he’d had librarian fantasies before, but he was pretty sure he’d just developed some.

Realizing that his current position bordered on stalking, Jack quickly got off the ladder. Grabbing the sides, he walked it carefully over to the next window and tipped it back against the wall, steadying the legs as best he could on the uneven ground. He climbed up with his crowbar, thankful this was the last round in his fight with Samantha’s windows.

As he pried, his thoughts returned to his new neighbor. More specifically, his new neighbor in a lacy black bra, with her hair tumbled and wild, playing in his creek pool.... Well, her creek pool, technically, but in all these years of renting land from Ruth, he’d never seen anyone else there. He’d come to think of it as his. But hell, if she was going to show up there and take a swim in her Skivvies, he was happy to share.

He still couldn’t believe he’d almost kissed her on her porch yesterday. And given a few more minutes by the creek he’d have figured out a way to kiss her there. Which would be completely stupid for a long list of reasons. But why such a strong reaction to her? It was frustrating that the first real attraction he’d felt for someone in years happened to be for a woman whose life was firmly entrenched in a city about six hours away.

But damn she was pretty...well, more than pretty. It was all her contradictions that had him so intrigued. With so much spirit in her green eyes and her dark, curly hair cloaking her pale, delicate face, she looked like some kind of otherworldly fairy queen. But as soon as she started talking it was obvious she lived very much in the real world: intelligent, tough and driven.

She had such a cool, controlled demeanor most of the time, but he’d seen that she could laugh at herself, and he liked that a lot. She was tough as nails in there working at the dining room table, or throwing his teasing right back at him, but he’d seen her face at the pool today as she’d watched Gideon. Her expression had been all gentleness and warmth. The controlled, collected woman she appeared to be at first glance was capable of melting, and that thought was making him crazy. He wanted to see what would happen if she truly started to thaw.

The last board was the messiest of all and had him picking splinters out of his eyes. With a choice epithet he tossed the offending board to the grass and climbed down the ladder with a sense of relief and a promise to himself to be more careful about what he volunteered for in the future. Even if the beneficiary of his altruism was the most beautiful and intriguing woman he’d ever met.

Well, none of it really mattered anyway. She wasn’t going to be hanging around the ranch much, he was sure of that, and he didn’t have a lot of free time to spend in San Francisco. So he’d just have to find a way to get all these thoughts of her out of his head. Lucky for him he had a new project starting tomorrow, and it was going to be an interesting one to put it mildly.

Jack usually worked with quarter horses, helping them learn everything from trotting to winning trophies. But a few weeks ago he’d started talking with a guy at the local bar. Over a beer, Todd had told him about the plight of the wild horses that had been living out in the high deserts for generations. Jack had never paid much attention to that particular cause, just because there weren’t any herds close by, but Todd had.

The herds were overpopulated so every few years a roundup took place and many horses were caught, and if new homes weren’t found for them, they were destroyed. Todd had finally broken down and adopted a handful of them. Now he had a bunch of wild horses in his paddock and no idea what to do with them. Which is where Jack came in. Though he didn’t know much about wild horses, either, he figured they were just the wild and crazy relatives of the horses he usually worked with. And he hoped that with enough patience, he’d be able to settle them down.

And now it turned out that Todd’s timing was perfect. Taming mustangs, on top of his usual commitments, wouldn’t leave much time for thoughts of Samantha Rylant.

He walked around the front of the house to return the crowbar. Just as he rounded the corner, Samantha shouldered through her front door, her arms laden with various bags. She didn’t see him, just clicked efficiently across the front porch and down the stairs, moving so lightly in the same heels she’d been out hiking in earlier. The memory of that made him grin, and forget his plan to forget her. She threw her belongings into the trunk and turned to go back to the house. That’s when she saw him standing there like a tongue-tied yokel trying to approach a princess.

Her face lit up in a wide smile. “Jack, I was just going to look for you! I wanted to thank you for taking the boards off the windows.”

“No problem.” She was all business now. In fact she vibrated with an impatient energy that made it hard to even connect her with the woman at the creek, or the woman on the porch yesterday.

He walked toward her and saw her expression change. A hint of laughter twitched at the corner of her perfectly lipsticked mouth, lit her green eyes with a golden light. There—that was the woman he’d been getting to know. “Okay, Samantha, what’s funny now?”

“It’s... I mean...I think you might have gotten a bit dirty. Would you like to come in and wash up?”

“It’s okay, thanks,” he answered. “I’m used to dirt.” And that was a perfect example of why he and Samantha would never work. She couldn’t handle a guy with a little dirt on him, and he spent most days being dirty.

Her mouth twitched a little more. “Well, okay, but...hang on.” She went back to the car and rummaged in one of her bags, bringing out a small mirror. “Here,” she said, handing it to him.

He peeked into the tiny mirror and instantly knew why she’d been laughing. His face was filthy. Layers of dirt, small wood chips, old paint, probably toxic with lead, had made a mask over his features. Glued there by sweat no doubt. His hair was gray with dust and there was a cobweb across one eyebrow. He grimaced. So much for making a good impression on his beautiful neighbor. He handed the mirror back. “Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer, after all.”

She opened the front door of the house and he was amazed to see how spotless it was. Everything gleamed and the room smelled fresh, like herbs. No way was he going to track a bunch of dirt across this pristine living room. “You don’t mess around, Samantha. How’d you get this place cleaned up so fast?”

“I don’t know...I just couldn’t stand the dirt, I guess. The upstairs is still a mess. Something came up last minute for work today and I couldn’t spend any more time cleaning.”

“I can’t come through here like this. I’ll meet you round back and wash up in the kitchen.”

She didn’t protest so he walked back around the house and up the rickety steps to the back porch. Part of him just wanted to take off running up the hill toward home, now that he’d seen how filthy he was. But he wasn’t a coward, and just because she was dressed to the nines and seemed to have secret housecleaning superpowers, didn’t mean he had to turn tail and run. Especially since he’d gotten dirty by way of helping her out.

He kicked his boots off at the back door, and when she opened it he went straight to the big, white farmhouse kitchen sink, turned on the faucet and put his head under. The cool water felt invigorating, and he scrubbed the layers of sweat off of his face and neck and the dust out of his hair. If the sink had been any bigger he would have stripped down and put his whole self in there, just to feel that cool water taking away the remnants of this too-hot day.

Samantha didn’t say a word, just handed him an old rough cotton towel when he was finished. He scrubbed himself dry, looked up and caught her staring. Her lower lip was caught in her teeth and her fascinated expression was heated by the desire he could see in her eyes, which had now darkened to the green of pine trees.

Something in his stomach twisted and something lower hardened—he held the towel in front of him just in case. What the hell was wrong with him? Had he suddenly been transported back to junior high?

She suddenly seemed to realize that she’d been staring. Her porcelain cheeks flushed a deep pink and she turned away quickly.

“Can I get you something cold to drink?” she asked, reaching for a glass in the old pine cupboard above the counter.

“Something cold would be great,” he managed. Like an icy shower. She opened the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of water.

“Nothing fancy, I’m afraid. I haven’t exactly stocked the cupboards.”

“It’s perfect,” he croaked, reaching for the glass. His hand brushed hers and he couldn’t help it, he held it there for just an instant, loving the way her soft skin felt against his, the warmth of her in contrast to the chilled glass. Then her hand was gone and he told himself that it was for the best if he was going to be able to walk out of there without making a complete idiot of himself. He took a long drink of the water, watching her. She had a rag and was swiping at a speck of dirt on the counter that only she could see. She didn’t look at him.

“So you’re packing the car up,” he offered, regretting the words as soon as they were out. Talk about stating the obvious.

“Yes,” she answered, and turned, her eyes cautious and veiled, making him wonder if he’d imagined the deep green wanting he’d seen moments ago.

“Heading back to San Francisco?” He wasn’t earning any points as a conversationalist, that was for sure, but he wanted to be with her a few more minutes. He had no idea when he’d see her again, and he wanted to know more about this woman who’d invaded his thoughts and held them hostage ever since.

“Not home to San Francisco right away, actually. Los Angeles for a day or two first.”

“You’re driving to L.A. tonight?” It was almost six hours to L.A. from here and it would be dark soon. He didn’t like the idea of her alone at night in the rugged country between here and Southern California.

“Yes, I know, it’s a long ways. Not exactly what I had planned, but I got a call that I’m needed at a meeting there tomorrow, and it’s a really good opportunity for me, so I said I’d go.”

“What kind of opportunity?”

Samantha’s face lit up. “Well, I’ve been with this advertising firm for six years, and last year I was made a vice president. But after putting in so many extra hours, and giving up so many weekends, I think I’m ready to take on more. But—” she paused for a moment, a worried look flitting across her features “—for various reasons, I haven’t really felt comfortable asking my boss about it. At this meeting in L.A., I’ll be working with my boss’s boss, so this will be a great opportunity to show him what I can do.”

“You really love your work, don’t you?”

Samantha looked at him quizzically. “Well, love is a pretty strong word. But yes, I like it. It’s what I do.”

He studied her, standing in the old kitchen, so strong and independent. She wasn’t a big woman, in fact her frame was slight and graceful. He tried to imagine what might happen if she had a blowout or engine trouble and was stuck on her own on a pitch-black road in the middle of nowhere. The thought made him queasy. “Samantha, I get that you want this promotion, but is it absolutely necessary to drive six hours in the middle of the night?”

Annoyance flashed across her face. “I’m perfectly capable of driving after dark. That’s not a skill specific to men, Jack.”

“Look...I’m not questioning your abilities. Just drive safely. It’s a rough road and there’re not a lot of towns along the way. Just make sure you fill your tank when you get to Bishop.”

“Thanks for the tip. Now, the sooner I get on the road the less dark I’ll be driving in.” She’d softened a little, but not much. Questioning this trip had been the wrong move. She was way too independent to listen to some guy she’d just met telling her to be careful. But he knew he’d be up all night thinking about her anyway, and he’d prefer it if that thinking didn’t include worrying if she was okay or not.

She’d picked up her last few bags and was heading out to the porch. He rinsed out his glass, grabbed his boots and followed her. The car loaded, she came up onto the porch next to him to lock the front door.

“Samantha.” She stopped and looked at him. In her heels, fancy jeans and leather blazer she looked beautiful and totally out of place. Like some exotic flower that had just sprung up somehow in the old ranch yard.

“Yes?”

“Out here on these mountain roads a lot can go wrong. The roads wind through a lot of wilderness areas. They get washed out and rough sometimes. Do me a favor. Take my phone number and send me a message when you get there? So I know you made it okay?”

Her eyebrows drew together in a scowl and her chin tilted up defiantly. “Jack, obviously you’ve experienced some sort of trauma with a woman driver at some point in your life, and I’m sorry for that. But trust me, I’m fine! I don’t need someone worrying about me like this. I’ve made it this far through life without it. And I, for one, have great confidence in my driving abilities!” Her eyes were flashing an amazing emerald color, which he’d appreciate more if it didn’t mean she was furious with him. He stood wary, choosing silence as his best defense.

“Thank you so much for everything you’ve helped me with this weekend.” The easy familiarity that had been between them at the creek earlier was gone. She was icily polite. “But I don’t need your help with this particular task. I’ll see you in a week or two.” She stepped into her car and closed the door firmly behind her. With a wave, she started the engine and drove the sleek, black machine down the driveway.

Jack turned away, shaking his head in frustration. He admired her stubborn independence, but not when it had her ignoring a common-sense safety precaution like letting someone know when her long drive was over. And he was frustrated with himself. What was wrong with him? Samantha might be beautiful and funny and smart, but she clearly wasn’t going to stay around here long, and he needed to stop wanting her to.

A whinny echoed faintly down the valley, reminding him that it was feeding time. Jack started up the rocky trail that separated the two ranch houses, deep in thought. Samantha was a complex woman who’d made him feel complicated things all weekend. And some of those complicated things felt a little too familiar. Like maybe history was repeating itself. What was that old saying? “Those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it”? It seemed like he had some unpleasant memories to study up on. He thought he’d learned his lesson about getting involved with a city girl a long time ago, but apparently he needed a refresher to stop him from wanting Samantha.

Jack covered the last yards of the trail with big strides and stepped with relief onto his own property. His old wooden barn, stripped of paint long ago by the harsh mountain weather, was a welcome sight. He was ready to get back to his own world. It might get kind of lonely at times, but it was far simpler and a whole lot more peaceful.