The Rancher Next Door. Cathy Gillen Thacker

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      To Rebecca’s relief she could easily make out Tyler and Teddy on horseback, moving the herd. Trevor McCabe, however, was nowhere in sight. Unless, Rebecca thought, getting down on one knee, he and his horse had disappeared behind that distant grove of trees….

      Frustrated because she still couldn’t locate Trevor, Rebecca adjusted the lens to the highest magnification.

      A chuckle to her immediate right had her turning swiftly in alarm. Binoculars still resting on the bridge of her nose, she found herself close up and personal to a denim-clad zipper. Rebecca gasped and dropped the lens.

      Smug amusement in his eyes, Trevor McCabe sauntered forward. “Find anything you like?” he drawled.

      “YOU HAD NO RIGHT to sneak up on me that way!” Rebecca scrambled to her feet, glad the two of them weren’t as close as her initial view had seemed to indicate.

      Trevor tipped the brim of his hat back. “Isn’t that a little like the Peeping Tom calling the spy nosy?”

      She told herself it was the heat of the spring day making her sweat. “I am not a Peeping Tom!”

      “Well, you’re not a spy, either.” He abruptly changed from flirting cowboy to more sober rancher. “Which leads us to the question of why you’re using binoculars on me and my brothers.”

      Rebecca ignored the heat of awareness rising up between them and forced herself to return his level gaze. “I need to talk to you about borrowing your livestock trailer tomorrow morning. I just got a call from the breeder. I have to pick up one of my alpacas tomorrow morning.”

      He lifted a brow. “Just one?”

      “Blue Mist is pregnant. The vet in San Angelo doesn’t want her traveling past tomorrow. He thinks moving her too close to her due date could jeopardize the cria—the baby.”

      “Why not pick up the rest of the herd while you’re there, then?”

      Rebecca inhaled the scent of man and sun and horse. “I’m not ready for them yet. But I can go ahead and pick up Blue Mist.”

      “Sure you want to do that?” he asked. “Alpacas are pack animals.”

      Now he was sounding just like the saleswoman she had just gotten off the phone with. Fortunately, Rebecca knew a hard sell when she heard one.

      “That can wait until early next week.” Rebecca knew she would have her hands full just managing one alpaca on her own. That went double for a pregnant alpaca. Besides, she wanted to make sure Blue Mist was completely comfortable and settled in before she brought in the other nine animals she’d bought. And then there was the matter of the balance due when she took possession of the animals. The temporary operating loan she had negotiated for start-up of the ranch was barely adequate. And she’d used most of her own savings on the down payment and mortgage fees for the ranch. She still had her credit card, but she didn’t want to max out on that unless she absolutely had to. The remaining balance was her only safety net. And she still had so much to do before the Open House in less than two weeks.

      “So can I borrow your livestock trailer?” Rebecca continued.

      Trevor frowned. “I’d have to charge you for it.”

      Despite her tricky finances, Rebecca wouldn’t have it any other way, since she absolutely did not want to be beholden to him. “I’d expect to pay a reasonable rent,” she said hoping it wouldn’t be too much.

      “My price is one home-cooked meal.”

      Rebecca had been prepared to dicker over dollars. She opened her eyes wide, sure she couldn’t possibly have heard right. “What?”

      Trevor lifted his hands. “That’s the arrangement I had with Miss Mim. Whenever I did a favor for her, helped her prune trees, or clean the shutters or whatever, she repaid me with a home-cooked meal and that is what I want from you, too.”

      Rebecca bit her lip as she tried to figure a clever way out of this that would not shut down all the help she was bound to need from him—in the short haul anyway. “Miss Mim is a fabulous cook.” So was she. Trevor McCabe did not need to know that, however, lest he make a regular practice of demanding her culinary skills. She’d much rather exchange money or any other less personal commodity— like mucking out the pasture—with him.

      “How well I know that,” Trevor recollected. He ran the flat of his palm across his jaw. “That’s what made working for her such a treat.”

      Rebecca could see he’d made up his mind about what he wanted from her. “I would prefer to pay cash.”

      “I don’t take money from women. Or in other words—” he paused long enough to give his words an aggravating connotation “—my favors are not for sale.”

      Refusing to let him ruffle her, Rebecca tilted her head to one side. “And mine are?”

      “I don’t know,” he replied. He leaned toward her and whispered conspiratorially, “Are they?”

      Rebecca bit down on an oath. “Stop trying to get under my skin.”

      “Why,” he countered, “when it’s so much fun?”

      For the second time in ten minutes, Rebecca found herself fighting a self-conscious blush. “Is there anything else you’d be willing to barter?” she asked.

      He took a moment to consider.

      Sexual chemistry arced between them, hotter than ever.

      She held up her hand in halting fashion. “Never mind.” Pulse racing, she shook her head in silent regret, mumbling just beneath her breath, “Forget I asked that.” She forced herself to meet and hold his decidedly mischievous gaze. “When do you want to get your dinner?” she asked.

      Her irritated tone brought a provoking smile to his lips. “You make it sound like I’d be picking up a meal through a drive-through window.”

      “Pretty close, although to be generous, I will be delivering it to you.” That way she could do at least that much of it on her terms.

      He stepped closer, purposefully invading her space. “I don’t think you get what I’m saying to you. When I say I want a home-cooked meal from you in return for borrowing my trailer, I’m talking about the two of us getting to know each other and sitting down to break bread together.”

      Just why he was suddenly so determined they be chums, she didn’t know. But she didn’t trust his newfound interest in her any more than she trusted whatever it was he had secretly been discussing with her father this morning.

      Taking her time, she cocked her head and played with the ends of the braid falling over her shoulder.

      Channeling Scarlett O’Hara—or maybe it was Calamity Jane—she batted her eyelashes at him coquettishly, asked sweetly, “I can’t just put the food on the table and run?”

      He stood, legs braced apart, muscular arms folded in front of him. “You only wish I were that easy to deal with.”

       No kidding.

      He СКАЧАТЬ