Riding Home. Vicki Lewis Thompson

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СКАЧАТЬ he planned to explain that, though, he might want to keep his mouth shut and accept her offer. “Okay, thank you. That would be very nice.”

      “I’m staying at the Bunk and Grub. Do you know it?”

      “Yep. Nice bed-and-breakfast down the road.”

      “It is. Very nice. At first I was in the cabin Drake rented, and he said I was welcome to it now that he’s moved in with Tracy. But it’s kind of remote, and I’m a city girl. I’m not all that brave when it comes to things like...well, grizzlies.”

      “Don’t blame you. I’m really careful out at my campsite. I keep everything bears might want locked up tight inside the Airstream.”

      She blinked. “Campsite? You don’t live in the bunkhouse?”

      “Oh, they offered to put me there. But then I’d have to store the Airstream, and besides, I like living in it. So Jack gave me permission to park down beside the creek that runs through the property.”

      “Jack Chance?”

      He laughed. “The one and only. A legend in his own time.”

      “So I hear. I haven’t officially made his acquaintance. Do you get any electricity down there?”

      “I have a little generator. Don’t run it much. Mostly I cook over the campfire and I have a solar water setup outside for taking showers.”

      “Sounds primitive.” But instead of looking appalled, which would make sense given her city-girl orientation, she seemed intrigued.

      “It works for me.” Then it occurred to him that he’d just painted a picture of him naked. From the gleam in her eyes, could she be enjoying the image of him standing under that solar shower? Hmm. “So how long will you be sticking around?” He was suddenly more interested in that.

      Her jaw tightened. “I’m determined to stay until after the engagement party, no matter how unwelcome I may be.” Then she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Did I just say that out loud?”

      “You did, but you said it to the right person. I’m not here to judge. I’ll bet socializing with this crowd is a bit uncomfortable for you.”

      “You don’t know the half of it. But like I said, I can’t blame them at all. I’ll tough it out because I want to give Regan and Lily a big hug on their special day. That’s important to me.”

      He wondered if Drake’s new romance bothered her. She might have been hooked on the guy and now he’d moved on. “So the party’s tomorrow night. Are you leaving Sunday?”

      “I didn’t want to run off like my danged tail was on fire, so the plan is to fly out Monday.”

      “I see.” Not much time to get to know each other. That was sort of disappointing given that some mutual attraction seemed to be developing.

      “And I need to get back to my job.”

      “Doing what?”

      “I’m a lawyer.”

      “Is that so?” He should get an Academy Award for his casual response. Inside he was laughing his head off. He’d worked so hard to leave that profession behind, and now he was making goo-goo eyes at a member of the clan. The last person in the world he’d ever date would be another lawyer. “What’s your specialty?”

      “Do you need legal advice?”

      “No.”

      “I ask because usually when I mention that I’m a lawyer people’s eyes glaze over. But if they have a legal issue, then they want to know what kind of lawyer I am, either because they might hire me or, in some cases, they’re after free advice.”

      “I know.” Whoops. “I mean, I’ll bet. But I don’t need a lawyer.” Not in any sense. “I was just curious. Anyway, you have to survive until Monday.”

      “I do, but I’m sure more appropriate clothes will help me with that. That’s so obvious I can’t believe I didn’t think of it, although I wouldn’t know where to go. The party’s being held outside, so jeans would be good.”

      “And boots.” Zach glanced down at her yellow shoes.

      “Guess so. These aren’t going to work for a barbeque.” She lifted one foot to peer at the sole. There wasn’t much surface area to the bottom of her stiletto, but the little that existed was dotted with smashed chocolate chips, dirt and bits of straw. “Good Lord.” She groaned. “I probably tracked chocolate chips all over Sarah’s hardwood floor on my way out.”

      “Probably.”

      “Worse yet, the housekeeper is one of Regan’s sisters. Cassidy idolizes that brother of hers. She’s already wantin’ to snatch me bald-headed, and now she’ll have to clean up my trail of chocolate. I’ll have to go back inside and apologize to her. To all of them.” She glanced up at Zach. “You must think I’m a total screwup, but I swear I’m not. At least not normally.”

      “I believe you.”

      “Do you?” She met his gaze. “I don’t know why. I’m the woman who cheated on my fiancé with his best friend. Then I showed up here in designer clothes more suitable to a country club than a ranch, and obviously I made a mess of things in the kitchen.” Her voice caught. “If that’s not a description of a screwup, I don’t know what is.”

      She seemed to be on the verge of tears and he considered pulling her into his arms and letting her have a good cry on his shoulder. She probably needed to release some of that tension that had her wound way too tight. But they’d just met, and he also sensed a Southern reserve in her. If he coaxed her into crying it out, she might be horribly embarrassed afterward.

      Besides, if she were going back inside to apologize for the chocolate on the floor, she wouldn’t want to have red, puffy eyes. He’d only known her a short time, but he could already tell she wouldn’t want her vulnerability made public. Unfortunately, her natural reserve might be working against her, too.

      So he settled on words of encouragement to shore her up instead of physical contact that would make her lose her cool. “You can’t be a total screwup. You flew out here and made peace with your ex. That took diplomacy and guts. Even though you know nothing about cooking, you volunteered to help prepare the food for tomorrow’s party while working with women who aren’t all in your corner. That takes nerves of steel. I’m just a bystander to this drama, but from my perspective, you’re pretty damned incredible.”

      She stared at him for a long time, her eyes growing suspiciously bright. Then she sniffed and used her thumbs to flick away the moisture gathering on her lower lashes. “Thank you. You can’t know how much that means to me.”

      “Oh, I have some idea. I’m a recovering perfectionist.”

      Her smile trembled. “I’m just a plain old perfectionist. Maybe on the drive to Jackson you can tell me how to get rid of that tendency because it’s a royal pain in the ass.”

      “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you never get rid of it.”

      “That is bad news.”

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