The Rancher's Bride. Pamela Britton

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СКАЧАТЬ A thought would pop into her head and, bam, out it came.

      “Ah, no,” he said, having obviously figured out what she’d said. “I’ve never played football.”

      Just pretend like you meant to ask the question, Jorie.

      “Your mom seems nice,” she said next.

      “She’s a pain in the butt.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “I’m thinking about having her committed to an old folk’s home.”

      “You are not.”

      “I even called a couple places, but they wouldn’t take her just yet. I have to wait until her dementia gets a little more advanced.”

      “Dementia?” Jorie asked, sitting up in her seat.

      And then he smiled.

      He was teasing her.

      “Gotcha.”

      “Why, you little—” She couldn’t think what to say, not without insulting him at least, and not as tired as she was.

      “Little what?” he prompted.

      Okay, so he wasn’t just good-looking. He was drop-dead gorgeous. And, apparently, he had a sense of humor.

      “You’re not very nice.”

      “Sorry. Thought I should try to break the ice.”

      He drove her car down a gently sloping hillside, and Jorie was presented with a vista that took her breath away. A pasture lay spread out in front of her. To the right was an old barn, to her left another grove of trees, one with two homes nearby. The same creek she’d noticed earlier was here, too, tall oak trees surrounded yet another group of homes.

      “What do you think?” he asked.

      “It’s lovely,” she said.

      “That used to be the main homestead,” he explained. The tires crunched as he took a fork to the left. “The barn over to our right is what my mom lovingly calls the ‘wedding chapel.’”

      She’d seen pictures of it on the internet, but Jorie made a mental note to suggest adding a photo page to Spring Hill Ranch’s website, one that would highlight the rustic charm of their venue. The rolling hills and stately trees were just stunning.

      Seconds later he pulled to a stop in front of one of the homes, a charming single-story with wood windowpanes and a tiny front porch.

      “You’ll be living in a home that used to belong to the ranch foreman, only that’s me these days, so I live in the main house right there.” He pointed to a home about four-hundred yards away. “The old main house. My mom lives in the big one over the hill.”

      “You mean you’ll be living next door to me?”

      He shut off the car. “Yup. And I’ll be giving you a ride to our office every day, too.”

      Our office.

      She’d completely forgotten about that.

      Suddenly there didn’t seem to be enough air in the vehicle.

      He’s turned off the car, you dork.

      “Look,” he said, pulling her keys out. “I don’t mean to rain on your parade, but I feel I should tell you something.” He fiddled with her keys a second. “My mom,” he said. “She goes through these…phases. Over the years she’s tried a number of things.”

      She saw him frown, and even in profile he was handsome. “Look, I know you just drove all the way out here from Georgia, but things might change, you know? My mom’s the best mom in the world, but she gets burrs up her butt from time to time. Like this wedding thing. I’d hate for you to have turned down a lucrative job in Georgia for something that might be temporary.”

      Lucrative? In Georgia?

      And temporary?

      “Are you saying I’ve made a mistake?”

      “No, no,” he said quickly. “That’s not what I meant at all. I just think you should be prepared, you know, in case things don’t work out.”

      He was telling her not to unpack her bags.

      “I appreciate your concern,” she said, and she had no doubt he heard the frost in her voice. “But I’m a big girl, one who can take care of herself.”

      “No, I think you’ve misunderstood—”

      “I understand perfectly,” she contradicted, leaving the car before she said something else, something that really would get her fired from her job.

      “Wait.” He got out of the car, too. “You’ll need this.”

      He tossed her something. She caught it. A key, although where he’d gotten it from, she didn’t know.

      “Thanks,” she said.

      “I’ll leave your luggage on the porch.”

      She nodded, turning toward her new home. Her hands shook in anger. How dare he try to ruin this for her? Didn’t he realize she had nowhere else to go? No job back in Georgia. No home. This was the end of the road for her.

      “Welcome to Spring Hill Ranch,” he called out after her.

      She turned on her heel, a descriptive word, one that wasn’t very flattering, hanging off the tip of her tongue.

      “Thank you,” she said, lifting her chin up in challenge. “I plan on being here for a very, very long time.”

      He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. Something that resembled admiration filled his eyes, but she must be imagining that.

      “Good for you,” she thought she heard him say.

      She held his gaze for another moment before turning away.

      Jerk.

      Chapter Three

      She must sleep like the dead, Ryan thought, shifting the quiche his mom had baked for Jorie and knocking on the front door yet again.

      “Damn it, Mom,” he muttered, glancing in the general direction of where she lived. Why did she always have him do her dirty work? The last thing he needed was to play delivery boy.

      He turned away, quiche still in hand, and headed for the steps, only to halt again. His mom would kill him if he didn’t do as asked.

      “Shoot.”

      A thin sliver of pink light outlined the small hill that blocked his view of his mom’s house. Dawn. It had just arrived, the sky still dark behind him. He had a million things to do today. Cows to gather. A meeting at СКАЧАТЬ