Читать книгу Temporarily Texan - Victoria Chancellor - Страница 9

As Monday’s bright, hot sun sank lower in the cloudless sky, Troy had to admit that Raven was a hard worker. He’d assumed she might want to sit around the house and knit all day, but instead, she’d tackled housekeeping chores when she wasn’t helping him in the barn or exploring the property.

When he’d asked her why she was cleaning his house when she was a guest, she explained that she felt she should earn her keep since she wasn’t the consultant he’d been expecting. He’d insisted that wasn’t necessary, but she’d wanted to help, and he hated housework so much that he let her.

He’d done his best to keep her away from the calves, but he was pretty sure she snuck out there whenever he or the ranch hands weren’t around. He’d spent much of the weekend on his horse, checking the two wells farthest from the barn. Windmills pumped water up into rock troughs, but sometimes the old plumbing failed, or the cogs broke. That’s the kind of thing that happened with ancient equipment—not that Cal would think of replacing the fifty-year-old machinery.

Wincing from his time in the saddle, he dismounted outside the barn. Before he could catalog all his aches and pains, Raven stuck her head out of the barn door. “Oh, you’re back. I was just wondering if I should fix dinner.”

“What were you planning on making?” he asked carefully. He’d learned to be…reserved around her food after she’d explained what she’d brought with her from New Hampshire. He’d seen a couple of the meals and several snacks she’d made for herself. They seemed more like rabbit than people food, and much of it smelled like old goat.

“A vegetable pasta that’s really quite tasty. I found some organic tomatoes in town today and I thought I’d serve those with a balsamic vinaigrette.”

“No goat cheese?”

“Not unless you want some.”

“I’d rather not.” He’d eaten goat cheese in several high-end restaurants, but he hadn’t liked it any better there than in Raven York’s scrambled eggs.

“That’s okay. So, I’ll head on in and get supper started.”

“Sure,” he answered, pushing his reservations about dinner aside as he led his gelding into the barn. At the end of the long day, the horse seemed to have more energy than he did. Or maybe it was worry that was bringing him down.

He still hadn’t heard from Cal, and even though it was Monday, the ranch association hadn’t contacted him on his cell phone. Of course, someone could have left a message at the house. He’d check that as soon as he got inside. He wanted all these unresolved issues put to rest as soon as possible. Unfortunately, he still didn’t know how to save the ranch.

He stretched his back, shrugged his shoulders high and rotated his neck to get the kinks out. His damp shirt pulled and clung to him as he rolled each shoulder, relieving the tension and the hours in the saddle.

Raven stood just inside the door, watching him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No! I just…I’m going in right now.”

She turned and hurried off, her plain skirt swirling around her legs and her long curly hair blowing in the breeze. She gathered the mass into her hand, twisted it and draped it over her shoulder.

She sure had a lot of hair. He wondered if it was soft to the touch—as soft as the breeze that blew over the top of the hill even on the hottest day. Or was it wiry and strong, much as he supposed Raven was?

And why was he standing here wondering about her hair anyway? He should be taking the tack off his horse, turning him out, getting a shower and thinking about dinner. But no, he was calf-eyed over his temporary houseguest.

A few minutes later, he entered the kitchen and placed his boots next to the back door, just as his brother and father had done every day of their lives on this ranch. The kitchen was filled with good smells for once—pasta sauce and tomatoes and balsamic vinegar. He could go for that type of dinner, even if it wasn’t served with a twelve-ounce T-bone.

He wondered if Raven could whip up a cheesecake for dessert. Probably not. She didn’t seem to like sweets or normal milk products, so sugar and cream cheese probably hadn’t found their way into his kitchen.

“I’m going to hit the shower after I check the answering machine to see if we got any messages. Thanks for making dinner. When will it be ready?”

“About fifteen to twenty minutes,” she answered, looking over her shoulder from the stove. She gave him a quick glance.

He probably looked a sight in his scruffy jeans and long-sleeve shirt, his feet in white tube socks that had seen better days.

“What would you like to drink?”

“I’ll grab a beer after my shower.”

Raven watched Troy walk out of the kitchen, his damp shirt clinging to his wide back, the pockets of his soft, worn jeans moving against his tight butt. She’d never seen a man who looked so good after working hard all day.

And now he was going into the bathroom to get naked.

Just then, her pot of water boiled over, sending sizzles and sputters and steam all over the stove. She snapped out of her fantasy about her host to move the pot to an empty burner and grab a towel. How ridiculous to be influenced by an attractive body, she chastised herself as she mopped up the mess. A strong back didn’t indicate a strong character, just as a pretty face didn’t mean a person had a beautiful soul.