The Rancher's Bride. Pamela Britton

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СКАЧАТЬ as he poured oatmeal into a bowl, then some milk he didn’t even remember grabbing from the mini-refrigerator below.

      She was damn good-looking.

      Yeah, so what? he asked himself, punching some buttons on the microwave. He’d seen plenty of good-looking women before. So what if she had thick, silky hair—the kind he liked best on a woman? And so what if her eyes were the same color as the forget-me-nots that grew wild in the pastures? Didn’t mean a thing.

      The microwave binged. Ryan grabbed the bowl, gasped and almost dropped it.

      “Damn it.”

      He heard footsteps behind him. “Mmm. That smells good, doesn’t it?” he heard his mom say. “Looks like it’s not quite done, though. Stir it up a bit and put it on for another thirty seconds.”

      As if Ryan couldn’t see that for himself.

      “Why don’t you sit down while I grab the file for the first wedding I want you to work on,” he heard his mom say as he punched the buttons.

      Ryan spun toward his mother.

      “The Western wedding of the year.”

      “Mom—”

      “Now, now, honey, don’t be shy.”

      He wasn’t being shy. He just didn’t want Jorie to know he was about to get married.

      And that was the scariest thought of all.

      * * *

      “LEAVE HER BE until after she eats breakfast,” Jorie heard Ryan say.

      The smell of oatmeal drove her crazy.

      “Nonsense,” his mom answered, hooking an arm into hers and guiding her to a chair.

      She was so grateful for that chair.

      There had been times during her office tour when she thought she might pass out, but it was her own stupid fault, she thought, all but collapsing into the seat. If she hadn’t been so hardheaded and determined to prove to Odelia’s son that she was here to work, not sleep, she might have been in her new house, unpacking, maybe even still sleeping…and definitely eating. Yes, absolutely, positively, for sure eating.

      Her stomach yelled at her impatiently.

      Instead she found herself sitting at a table as big as a bocce ball court hoping against hope that the same son she was determined to impress would bring her a damn bowl of oatmeal. And soon.

      “I can’t wait to hear your ideas,” Odelia was saying.

      “Mom—” her son said again, louder this time, as if the sound of the microwave might be drowning out his words.

      Hurry up, oatmeal.

      “Ryan’s been so quiet about it all, and his fiancée is so sweet she won’t say a word. She prefers to leave everything up to me instead. Says I’m the pro, but we all know I’m hardly that…”

      Jorie blinked.

      Fiancée?

      “…you’re the expert,” Odelia was saying, “which is why I’m turning the whole thing over to you.”

      Engaged.

      “Mom, she hasn’t even had breakfast. Give her a moment, will you?”

      Get it together, Jorie. It’s no big deal. So he’s engaged. What was so surprising about that?

      Funny, he never mentioned it.

      “When’s the wedding?” she heard herself ask.

      But why would he mention it?

      Odelia’s brow wrinkled beneath her hat. “That’s the kicker.”

      Jorie’s heart began to race like the minute hand of a watch.

      “I know it’s a lot to ask,” Odelia said, “especially since you just started…”

      “Mom, really. She doesn’t have to work on my wedding.”

      “End of next month,” Odelia blurted.

      Six weeks? Was she kidding?

      “I know that doesn’t give you a whole lot of time. If it’s any consolation, the kids just told me about it last week, but we can do it. We’ve already got the location. All we need are a few minor details ironed out.”

      “Here.” A bowl of oatmeal was set in front of her, its steam wafting up and teasing her nose. She watched Ryan’s eyes dart over her face. They were filling with something like concern. Concern and something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “I put some brown sugar and milk on it. Hope that’s okay.”

      Gone was the teasing smile. In its place was a look that appeared almost troubled.

      Engaged.

      Of course. He was a hardworking, attractive male who would one day inherit a huge ranch. Frankly, she was surprised someone hadn’t snapped him up years ago. Half the eligible females in the county must have set their caps at him over the years.

      “Eat,” Odelia ordered, the woman’s kindly blue-green eyes filled with encouragement.

      She felt rather than saw Ryan move back from the table. He hovered near her for a moment, almost as if he was waiting to see how she liked the oatmeal. The spoon she picked up felt cold in her hands. She took a bite and almost sighed in delight as the hot food filled her mouth.

      “I’m going down to the maintenance barn. Gonna lay materials out for Sam,” she heard Ryan say. “So we can get started on replacing those boards.”

      “Oh, perfect,” Odelia said. “Jorie can see where you’re going to get married.”

      The spoon froze halfway between the bowl and her mouth, and though she’d only had a few mouthfuls, it didn’t taste as good as it had a moment before.

      “She can do that tomorrow.”

      When she met Ryan’s gaze, his concern for the way she was looking—because that’s what it’d been, she suddenly realized—had faded. He didn’t look happy. Odelia, however, appeared oblivious to his discontent.

      “Hurry up and eat that oatmeal, dear,” she said. “Ryan’s going to give you a tour of the ranch.”

      And for some strange reason, Jorie lost her appetite.

      Chapter Six

      She looked about as happy to be with him as he felt, Ryan thought, walking her toward the all-terrain vehicle that looked like a kid’s toy. It was a miniaturized truck, right down to the bed in the back and the enclosed cab in the front. Its bright green color nearly perfectly matched the grassy backdrop. Though the sun was higher now, it was still early morning, СКАЧАТЬ