Romancing the Rancher. Stacy Connelly

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СКАЧАТЬ was embarrassing, but she’d survive.

      She should have realized retired did not necessarily mean old. She admittedly knew nothing about rodeo, but she did know about sports. Or more specifically sports injuries. She’d seen high school and college players come into the ER with everything from concussions to torn MCLs and ACLs to even more serious spinal injuries. A bad-enough injury could end an athlete’s career at any age, and retired in the world of sports often meant anyone over thirty.

      She should have realized— Heck, she should have asked Sophia! If she’d known he was someone her own age, maybe she would have been more prepared. Less caught off guard. Less...intrigued.

      No, that wasn’t true. She was not intrigued. Merely surprised. Jarrett Deeks was unexpected, but that did not make him a mystery she needed to solve. She had her own problems to deal with and a reticent, old-fashioned—if not old—cowboy was not on her to-do list.

      Especially not when it was all too easy to resent how effortlessly he’d picked up her luggage, one bag slung loosely over a broad shoulder and her large suitcase dangling from his hand.

      Before the accident, she’d never been a woman who insisted on doing things her own way. Oh, sure, she’d been perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She could change a tire and check her own oil. She could manage a few home maintenance repairs in her small apartment. But she’d appreciated when a man was a gentleman. When one opened a car door for her or waited for her to enter a restaurant ahead of him.

      Michael had been good about that. Always insisting on picking up the check, buying her flowers and carrying her bags for her. After growing up with three brothers who, when they were kids, thought smaller and weaker meant easier to pick on, it was nice to be treated like a princess. As though she was someone to cherish and care for.

      But since the accident—since Michael—the need to fight for every speck of independence was like a living thing clawing its way out from inside her. She wanted to snap at Jarrett Deeks for hauling her bags around so easily. To yell at him for the way he’d purposely slowed his stride. But the bitter truth of it was, she didn’t have the energy or the breath to do any of those things.

      Even with the solicitous crawl he’d established, she was already winded. The thought of carrying her own bags was a joke. She couldn’t even carry a conversation, not that the silent man at her side had given any indication he wanted her to.

      But after a minute with the only sound the crunch of gravel beneath their feet and whisper of wind in the pines, even he seemed to realize the silence had gone on too long. It only made his attempt to break it that much more awkward, but she gave him credit for trying as he told her about the property.

      “There are six cabins total, but they’re pretty spread out, and even if they weren’t, you’re the only guest right now. I figure your family will set you up with a pair of wheels if you want to run into town, but you can always borrow the ranch truck if you’d like. I’ve made a deal with the sporting goods store in town. You’ll get a discount for any rental equipment you might need for hunting or fishing.”

      He couldn’t have been much plainer about stating she didn’t belong, but for some reason, his noncommittal statement made her smile. Hunting and fishing. Yeah, she’d get right on that.

      But Jarrett’s next offer wiped the grin right off her face.

      “You’re welcome to the stables, too—”

      “I don’t ride.”

      His steps slowed even more, bringing them almost to a halt, as he looked over at her. “The rides are based on ability—from advanced to greenhorn. I could show you—”

      “Not interested. Sorry.” Her abrupt words didn’t let on just how sorry she was. She wasn’t a greenhorn, as Jarrett had supposed, and had once taken a great deal of pleasure spending time in the saddle, even if her riding had mostly been limited to an indoor jumping arena.

      She’d fallen in love with horses as a kid when her parents sent her to a summer camp that offered riding lessons. One trip around a ring on an old gray mare that to her young, impressionable mind was as impressive as Black Beauty, the Black Stallion and Seabiscuit all rolled into one, and she was hooked. Her fascination with horses far outlived the two-week camp, and she’d pestered her parents until they found a riding stable just outside the city. Looking back, she was sure they thought her interest would fade once the summer ended and school started. Instead, the lessons had only been the beginning as Theresa progressed from learning to ride for fun as a kid to jumping in competitions during her high school years.

      Now, though, riding was like too many other previous pleasures in her life—a reminder of all she could no longer do. No way could her left leg support her own weight to mount up from the proper side. She didn’t need to try to know she didn’t have the strength for that or the muscle tone needed to grip the saddle with her knees and thighs to keep her balance in the seat. And forget trying to hold on to the reins. One sudden move, and she’d be flat-faced in the dirt.

      Oh, sure, Jarrett could probably saddle up some old, sweet-tempered mare whose gait would be as smooth as riding on a child’s merry-go-round. But it wouldn’t be the same. Wouldn’t be the challenge, the thrill, the rush she’d experienced in the past.

      And she’d rather do without than settle for so much less.

      Fortunately, Jarrett didn’t seem the least bit offended by her blunt refusal. If anything, Theresa thought the tension in his shoulders eased ever so slightly. He’d forced himself to make the offer and was relieved she hadn’t accepted. Why? Because he honestly didn’t think she could keep her seat on a horse and was worried about his first paying guest suing him? Or was it something more? Something to do with the air of reserve that fit him as well as the faded denim jacket stretched across his broad shoulders?

      Didn’t matter. He’d made the offer; she’d refused. End of story.

      She ignored the slight shift in the wind, a change from the surrounding pine and distant hint of ocean air back to the hay and horses she’d smelled earlier. Both when sitting by herself on the porch and while caught in Jarrett’s arms. His clothes held the earthy scent along with a masculine musk that had tempted her to burrow closer, to breathe deeper.

      The thought of riding by his side, showing the former rodeo cowboy what a city girl could do, tortured her. She wasn’t that girl anymore, and indulging in fantasy only made reality that much harder to accept.

      Reality being a leg held together by pins and screws, a surgically repaired knee and nerve damage in her arm that left her full recovery—as well as her whole future—in doubt.

      “Here’s the cabin,” Jarrett said as they rounded a bend in the narrow road and came across the small cabin. The rustic and rough-hewn logs blended in perfectly with the surrounding wilderness.

      Jarrett fished a large key chain fashioned in a crooked R out of his pocket. A metal key was attached. He shouldered the door open, but then paused and waited for her to enter first. Despite her assurances to Sophia that she’d be fine, she breathed a small sigh of relief as she stepped inside.

      “It isn’t exactly a luxury suite,” Jarrett said as he lowered her luggage and waved a hand around the small space. The kitchen was little more than a single row of cabinets, a stove, microwave and refrigerator, everything in basic white. A round table marked the dining room before giving way to the living area. A green love seat and matching chair sat in front of a flat-screen СКАЧАТЬ