Temporary Rancher

He remained silent for a long time, unsure he could speak. He’d never met any woman more willing to fight for what she wanted. Sure, she was probably desperate, but there was something else, too. There was some quicksilver quality about Riley Palmer, something nimble in her spirit. He had the random, unexpected thought that she’d probably make one heck of a partner in bed. Full of passion and life. He could imagine what being married to her must have been like. Her husband probably thought he’d hooked up with dynamite.

Quintin knew it would be a major miscalculation in judgment if he let her stay, but he had to admit he was curious about her.

His silence must have smacked of rejection. Her shoulders moved impatiently, and she said with more anger than she’d likely intended, “I guess hiring me is a chance you’re not willing to take. Too bad, really. You’d have gotten more than your money’s worth.” She raked a hand through her already mussed hair. “We’ll be off your property in fifteen minutes.”

She marched away, looking as dignified as a person could in a bathrobe and unlaced sneakers.

“What about the kids?” he called after her.

She swung around. “What about them?”

“This isn’t the place for them.”

She walked back. Those blue eyes were watchful, but tinted with hope. “Why not? They’ve been raised on a ranch. That’s all they know. If you’re worried that they’ll get in the way, they won’t.” A little more quickly, she added, “I’ve already lined up a summer day camp that starts tomorrow. When they’re on the ranch, I won’t allow them near anything, and I’ll have a baby monitor with me to keep tabs on them. You’ll hardly know they’re here.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re their mother. Is that what you want to do? Work like a dog and hardly see them?”

“I’m a divorced mother,” she replied, her neck arching back. “I’ve learned that there are things a single parent has to accept. I need the money. Besides, your email said half days off on Saturday, and all of Sunday. I’ll have nights and weekends with them.”

She radiated confidence, and as far as bluffs went, she was damn good. Given the challenges ahead, Quintin thought he could use someone that positive. But again, was she the right someone? He couldn’t afford to make too many mistakes between now and October.

“No, I’m sorry….” He shook his head and watched her blink in disappointment. “But I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he continued. “You and your children can stay here for a while—”

“I’m not asking for charity—”

He lifted his hand to stop her. “Hold on. I’m not offering any.” When she pressed her lips tightly together, and he seemed to have her full attention once more, he said. “Stay and work for me until the end of the month.”

“That’s barely three weeks away!”

“That will give me time to do what I should have done in the first place—run an ad, interview, do a background check. Once I get someone hired, you’re done here. But you’ll have enough time to regroup.”

“And you’ll have enough time to see what I can do.”

He shook his head again. “That’s not the way this is going to play out.”

She pinned him with a shrewd glance. “If I prove to you that I can do this job better than anyone else, would you be honest enough to admit it and hire me?”

His brow lifted as he feigned surprise. “Do you really think it’s my honesty we have to worry about here?”

Her mouth quirked. “Touché.”

“So three weeks,” he said. “Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” she replied quickly.

He felt suddenly weary and yet oddly invigorated at the same time. He wouldn’t allow himself to wonder if, by this time in his life, he shouldn’t have had a little more sense than to make such a foolish offer. But it was too late for rational acts and plain logic.

They shook hands, and she began walking toward the apartment. Her stride was confident, her back straight.

“It’s not your day off yet, Mrs. Palmer,” he called out to her. “Meet me at the house in thirty minutes, and we’ll get started. Bring your list.”

“I’ll be there in twenty,” she said without looking back.

CHAPTER FOUR

RILEY SAT THE TWINS DOWN in front of the Cartoon Network with bowls of cereal and some toast.

Quickly, she slipped into a pair of jeans and comfortable boots. She bypassed her most worn work shirts for a fairly new one the color of Texas bluebonnets. Makeup had never been her thing, so she kept it pretty simple. A little mascara and lipstick, and she was done. She didn’t want to look like she wasn’t willing to get down and dirty for this job. First impressions were important.

Although it was probably too late for that.

She picked up her pad and pen, then went back out to join the girls.

Seated on the rug behind the coffee table, they were absorbed in their program. Riley twisted her hair into a ponytail and tried to catch their attention. “I’m going to the house to talk to Mr. Avenaco. You know the drill. Put your dishes in the sink, brush your teeth, comb your hair. Your clothes are on the bed.”

She glanced at the television. Three cartoon kids in space suits were cautiously walking through alien territory. They looked nervous.

I know just how you feel, she thought.

“Can we go outside?” Roxanna asked without taking her eyes off the TV.

“Later. When I get back.”

Wendy glanced up at her. Her forehead creased. “Is that man your new boss?”

“Yes.” For nearly three weeks, anyway.

“I don’t think he likes us very much.”

“Once he gets to know you, he’ll love you just like I do.” She caught Wendy’s head in her hands and planted a noisy kiss on her daughter’s blond hair. Then she did the same to Roxanna. “You two behave. And don’t make a mess.”

The twins nodded absently. On the television, the space adventure was heating up—bubble-headed aliens were shooting ray guns at the kids.

Riley took calming breaths as she walked the short distance to the house. Somewhere nearby she could hear two squirrels having an argument, and overhead the sky looked as if it had been painted in oils. After yesterday’s cleansing rain, today would be a hot one.

She knocked so determinedly on the front door that little chips of white paint flew off. The entire house needed a fresh coat. After a significant amount of rotted and missing wood got replaced.

The door swung wide and Riley straightened. As expected, Quintin Avenaco stood there. He wasn’t scowling, exactly, but his expression looked as though it had been permanently set on skeptical.

“Morning!” she declared, putting more confidence in her tone than she felt. “I’m ready to get started.”

He expelled a deep sigh. Then, as though he had no choice, he stepped aside. “Let’s go to my study.”

She followed his broad back as he led her past the foyer and a nondescript staircase, through a sparsely-furnished living room and down a gloomy hallway. Idly, she took in the sight of linoleum floors rippling like tide pools, dark paneling from the sixties and flocked wallpaper stamped with faded square ghosts where photographs had once hung.

It would be generous to say the house spoke of gracious neglect. More like dilapidation. It was pretty depressing, actually, and desperately in need of a make-over. Did Avenaco live here alone, amid the wreckage of former tenants? In their emails back and forth, he hadn’t mentioned having a wife or family.

The study was a different matter. A big desk with the requisite computer setup. Comfortable looking chairs and a leather couch in front of a fireplace. Surprisingly little clutter. Stylish and tasteful, but definitely a man’s room.

“This is a great house,” Riley said, feeling the need to start making a connection somewhere.

He looked at her and did an eyebrow hike. Checking for sarcasm, maybe.

“I mean, it has great potential. Obviously it needs work.”

“I have a renovation crew starting tomorrow.”

“Will I need to be involved with that in any way?”

“No.”

Well. A very definite negative to that question. She stood in the middle of the room, waiting as he moved behind the desk and shuffled through papers.

During their earlier conversation she’d barely had time to notice, but it struck her as she watched him now—the guy was good-looking. Not GQ material, but the kind of handsome a woman should feel comfortable with, not intimidated by. His hair was silky and black, worn at a length that wouldn’t please a boardroom, but looked right on him. A calligraphy of lines around his eyes suggested he might have a killer smile, though she’d yet to see it.

Maybe they were just squint marks from too much Texas sun. Regardless, he had a great body, like a man who’d been an athlete once and kept his shape.

He motioned absently toward a sideboard holding a carafe and mugs. “Do you want coffee?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Give me a minute.”

She nodded, though he didn’t see it. Unwilling to just stand there with her pad and pen hugged against her breast like a census taker, she tried to find something to take her mind off how nervous she was.

She found it on the sideboard. A photograph. A woman tucked close to a man who held a child in his arms. All three were smiling for the camera, dressed in denim and cowboy hats. Even the little boy. There were trappings of a rodeo in the background, but it couldn’t have been Texas. Enormous snow-capped mountains loomed in the distance.

Riley guessed that the man was Quintin Avenaco, though he looked at least ten years younger. The woman next to him, probably his wife, wasn’t beautiful, but she had appealing features that spoke of deep experience and rural wisdom. Definitely Native American with those prominent cheekbones and all that dark, flowing hair.

It was the little boy’s face that made Riley smile. He was a miniature version of his father, and his slightly lopsided grin seemed to say he knew magical secrets. He couldn’t have been more than four. She remembered the girls at that age. Complete charmers.

She wondered if his family was living someplace else right now, waiting for Avenaco to get Echo Springs on its feet. Funny he hadn’t mentioned them, but maybe that explained why he was in such an all-fired hurry to make headway here. Missing his wife and kid, no doubt.

She picked up the frame and held it toward him. “Nice looking family. Yours, I assume?”

He glanced up, then straightened. After too long a silence he said, “My wife, Teresa, and our son, Tommy.”

“Do they live here, as well?”

Avenaco’s mouth pulled flat as his eyes met hers, black as night and unyielding. “No.”

She returned the photo to its place on the sideboard. Okay. He wasn’t willing to go further down that road. He looked calm, almost as though he had no interest in the picture, but the muscles in his jaw betrayed him.

Probably a messy divorce. Join the club, buddy.

Clearly, the door had been slammed on any more discussion of his family. Silence fell, and she couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” he said at last.

She approached the desk and waited until he took a seat, before she slipped into the chair in front of him.

“I didn’t see a strange horse in the barn,” he told her. “So I assume you didn’t bring your own mount.”

Memories rushed in. The image of Ladybug, the sweet-faced mare she’d ridden for so long, still stung. With no way to take care of her, and Brad determined to hurt Riley in any way he could, she’d been forced to leave the animal behind, another victim of the divorce.

“No,” she said. “My ex-husband got the ranch and everything on it.”

“Sounds like you could have used a better divorce lawyer.”

Had she sounded bitter? Better work harder on that. “I came out of the marriage with what I wanted,” she said, as though unfazed by one of the most traumatic events of her entire life. “Do I need my own horse?”

“Not necessarily. I have ranch stock stabled at a friend’s right now. As soon as the main barn’s ready, I’ll move them over, and you can use one of them. I assume you can ride?”

Wow. After finding out she’d been less than honest just to get here, he really had no trust in her. She gave him a mild look, determined to be pleasant and professional. “Very well, actually.”

“Can you drive a stick shift?”

“Yes.”

“Even with a trailer attached?”

“We had a six-horse. I think I can manage.”

“What about an ATV?”

“No problem.”

“Do you know how to take care of horses?”

The way he looked at her was starting to bug her. As if he was trying to match her face to one he’d seen during his last visit to the post office. “In my résumé I told you we had horses,” she said briskly.

He cocked his head to one side. “Yes, well…I think we’ve already established that your résumé wasn’t…completely accurate. I’m simply trying to get a feel for what duties you’re capable of handling.”

She suppressed her annoyance. When it came to her employment for the next three weeks, this man held all the aces. “Yes. I know how to take care of them. My family had a small herd, and we always kept horses at the ranch my husband and I owned.”

“Can you groom?”

“Of course.”

“Pitch hay and carry bags of feed? You’re not very muscular.”

She opened her mouth to say something she shouldn’t, thought better of it, and instead said, “I’m stronger than I look. I’ll manage fine.”

“What about hoof care?”

“What about it?”

“Do you know how to clean and check for problems?”

“One of the first things my father ever taught me. No hooves, no horse.”

“Can you muck out a stall, Mrs. Palmer?”

His eyes were so watchful now. Did he expect her to balk at that lowly task?

Deliberately, she gave him her most winning smile. “With the best of them,” she said. “And really, Mr. Avenaco, if we’re going to get down to the nitty-gritty and talk horse manure, I think we should be on a first name basis. Please call me Riley.”

He gave a little snort and raised his eyebrow infinitesimally. She couldn’t tell if that was a bad sign or not. Then he turned his attention back to the desk, searching for something. Riley sat there, her insides feeling as though they’d just spent time against the rough side of a cheese grater.

Finally, he handed her a page torn from a legal pad. “This is the schedule for hauling hay to the pastures. You’ll need the truck for that. The ATV can be used to make smaller runs. Extra keys for both are on a hook in the tack room.”

She scanned the page of instructions. Nothing much out of the norm.

“I’d like to keep to this schedule as closely as possible,” he said. “If you can’t make a run, then I’ll do it.”

“I don’t see a problem.” She frowned as something caught her eye. “Pretty heavy on the protein supplements, considering it’s summer. They’ll sweat like crazy.”

“These animals are going to need a good set of chest muscles for police work.”

Darn. She should have realized that. She nodded, placed the paper inside her pad and smiled up at him. “All right. What else?”

He frowned. “What do you mean, what else? That’s it.”

“Surely there are other things you’ll need me to do.”

“If I think of any, I’ll let you know.”

The small blister of annoyance inside her got a little bigger. She sat straighter in her chair, fixing her eyes on him with intense determination. “Mr. Avenaco, let’s be clear with one another. You weren’t looking for a stable hand. You wanted a ranch manager. And while I’m perfectly willing to do the work you’ve just given me, I’m capable of handling a lot more than this.”

He tilted his head back slightly. “Mrs. Palmer—”

“Riley.”

“Riley. Since you’ll only be here until the end of the month, I don’t see the point of involving you in anything long-term.”

“Perhaps not. But it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, does it? Surely there are things you need help with besides grunt work. I’m good. I’m willing. You’ve already told me you don’t have the luxury of time to waste, so why not make the best use of it?”

Silence descended again as he seemed to consider her words. She saw the indecision in him, the way his shoulders shifted uncomfortably. His lips pursed to form a rejection but he never voiced it.

Instead he said in a polite, businesslike and slightly chilly tone, “Have you ever managed men?”

Her heart bounced upward with hope. “I assume you mean ranch hands. Yes. We often hired seasonal help when we needed them.”

“But did you manage them?” His mouth quirked. “Please don’t give me the stink eye. I’m the one who has everything at stake here. Just answer the question.”

The stink eye? It seemed she had something else to work on besides a bitter tone. “Yes. I was the one who managed their work. My husband was…” She almost said that Brad was busy boinking his mistress, but decided against that. “…Brad was needed at the Bar Seven, where he worked.”

“I have three men starting tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. The Ramseys. Cousins Jim, Steven and Virgil. I don’t know them well, but they seem reliable. They can do most of the manual labor. One of them used to be a carpenter. Jim, I think. If I decide to bulldoze the main barn, I’ll want his input on rebuilding, but right now they should be able to handle the schedule I’ve given you.”

“I walked the barn yesterday. It needs work, but…” She stopped there, wishing she hadn’t voiced an opinion where it probably wouldn’t be welcomed. “I’m sorry,” she amended quickly. “You were saying?”

“Tomorrow I’ll get these fellows started. Then you can take over. If they don’t want to take orders from you—”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“For whatever reason, then I’ll handle them, and we’ll have to find something else for you. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Irritating to think Avenaco had such little faith in her ability, but she’d show him. The relieved smile she gave him was sincere. “What else?”

For a half second, before he remembered that none of this was to his liking, the man’s mouth tilted upward, just a little, and Riley saw those creases at the corners of his eyes deepen. Oh, yeah, she’d been right. There was a killer smile hiding in there somewhere.

“You’re a very stubborn woman,” he said.

“I am. I like to think that’s a good thing.”

As though resigned, he shook his head slightly, then turned to pull a rolled tube of paper from his credenza. He swung back and opened it across his desk. It was a blueprint of Echo Springs, both the house and the surrounding land.

“This is a layout of the property,” he said. “Pretty straightforward, really.”

Riley scooted forward in her chair. She tried to focus on the task at hand. Inside, though, her heart was doing somersaults. He seemed ready to take her seriously.

“You’ve seen the pasture closest to the house,” her new boss continued. “With the stock I brought in this morning, it’ll be maxed out for grazing soon.” He circled his finger around the area behind the barn. “Two small corrals here, plus a sacrifice paddock in between.” He glanced up at her. “You know what a sacrifice paddock is, right?”

She resisted the temptation to scowl at him. “Back in Oklahoma, we called them all-weather paddocks. We used to joke that Texans like to make everything sound more dramatic.”

He barely nodded. “It needs to be torn down, as well. Too much rotted wood.” His finger slid across the drawing to the upper right corner. “This piece will eventually carry most of the herd. It needs work. Right now, those are my priorities.”

“Is the pasture already under fence?”

“Barbed wire.”

She grimaced. Horses were farsighted and needed to have very visible fencing so they didn’t go crashing into it when they chased each other around. “Great for cattle, but not a good idea for the kind of horses you’re buying.”

“Exactly. I’ve seen the damage a horse can do to itself when it’s tangled up in barbed wire. All of it needs to go. A truckload of lumber is being delivered tomorrow. The Ramseys should be able to handle the tear downs.”

Quintin stared at her thoughtfully, for a long enough time that she began to feel uncomfortable. He had the darkest, most intense way of looking at a person. Sort of unnerving.

After an agonizing wait, he seemed to come to some decision. He pointed toward a meandering circle notated at one end of the pasture. “Have you ever put in irrigation?”

With that, things got easier. He walked her through every nook and cranny on the drawing, until she thought she could have traveled the property blindfolded. In an easy, confident voice, he told her what he hoped to accomplish and how he planned to do it. He remained somewhat aloof, but at least he stopped patronizing her, and actually seemed interested in her responses.

From their earlier emails back and forth, Riley knew basically what he wanted to create here. But when he spoke again of his eagerness to provide the best horseflesh to police departments around the nation, perhaps internationally, as well, she saw the real passion in him and couldn’t help finding it infectious. She tried to keep her features professional, interested, but inside she realized that her heart had slipped into a faster rhythm. The guy sure knew how to sell an idea.

One thing took her by surprise even more. As they sat hunched over the property layout, heads nearly touching, she became intensely aware of him as a man. She inhaled his scent, something citrus and musky and completely male. Again and again her eyes were drawn to the short hairs that feathered around his temples like black silk, with just a few threads of gray woven in. To the dark shadow that lay along his jawline, and the strong flex of his arm muscles when his hand reached out to stab a spot on the map.

And those hands. Long fingered. Tapered at the end. Roughened slightly, but still managing to look gentle and kind. Riley had always been a sucker for a man with great hands.

Not that she was looking to be a sucker for any man these days.

She yanked her mind back, forcing it to concentrate on what her new boss said, not on how he looked. The conversation was winding down. With all the bases covered and her pad full of instructions and notations, they were nearly done. Avenaco was rolling up the map, clearly ready to see the last of her, no doubt.

Straightening, Riley gave him a positive, reassuring smile. Forget those hands and all the rest, she told herself. You’ve got a job to do. “So you want to make all this happen by October.”

“Yes.”

“Beginning or end?”

“October 3.”

“Then there’s no time to waste, is there? I’ll get started right away.”

He shook his head. “You can start tomorrow. Today’s Sunday. I assume you’d like to finish getting settled in, and spend some time with your kids.”

The offer surprised her, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thank you. I will.” She produced another self-confident smile and offered her hand. “I’m not going to disappoint you, Mr. Avenaco.”

He shook her hand, but didn’t indicate one way or the other whether he honestly believed that or not. There wasn’t anything else for her to do but leave. She swung around and headed for the door.

“Riley…”

She turned back. He just looked at her, another one of those unnerving stares that made her feel as though he was sizing her up. Maybe he was.

Finally he said, “I think you’re right. We should be on a first name basis. Call me Quintin.”

She was smiling by the time she hit the front door. Three weeks, she thought. A lot could happen in three weeks.

CHAPTER FIVE

BY EIGHT O’CLOCK THE NEXT MORNING he had finished going over the plans with the renovation crew foreman. Quintin stood in his study, trying to prepare himself for the workers who were about to take over the house like an invading army.