forward and Dingo followed. The older horse plodded along, just as Beau hoped he would. Shep fell in beside them. He sighed and shook his head. Though he had lots of ideas about what his new boss would be like, this was certainly not a scenario he had pictured.
He glanced at Beth. The fall had scared her, that was obvious, but she got back on. When he first saw her, right after the wreck, she seemed like a damsel in distress, but this woman was tougher than she looked. The old man would've been proud of her. Tough and beautiful. A killer combination. Just what he'd always thought he was looking for in a girl. He pulled back a touch on the reins and dropped back until they rode two abreast.
He said, "You're doing great."
She nodded her thanks, but her eyes swept the path in front of them.
But what could he offer a woman like Beth? She was used to life in the city, the finer things in life. He was a cowboy, who barely made it from paycheck to paycheck and who was thankful room and board was part of the deal at the Diamond J. She wore glittering diamonds, he wore faded denim.
They rode in silence, their legs touching occasionally, the two horses only inches apart.
Beau frowned, reminding himself that the biggest problem was that the woman he rescued was his boss, and stood between him and this ranch. This place was home and the thought of someone else
running the place made his heart hurt. He and the old man had been close. The old man had taken him in and treated him like a son –
Beth groaned, pulling Beau back to reality and he drew back on the reins. She groaned again, and pressed a hand to her stomach. “I can't believe I fell off.”
“Yup,” Beau answered with a smile, “You did.”
“The saddle horn caught me in the stomach,” Beth explained, her eyes wide. The freckles on her cheeks stood out on her pale skin. “It really hurts. And it happened so fast. The horse reared up . . . then the horn--”
“Don't worry about it.” Beau broke in. He looked towards the cluster of buildings across the valley, so he wouldn’t have to look at those incredible green eyes. “You feel up to riding the rest of the way?”
“Sure,” she said, gathering the reins in one shaky hand and grasping the saddle horn with the other. Digger snorted and nodded his head. Beth sucked in a deep breath and pulled herself up straight in the saddle, but their legs continued to touch lightly.
After they went a few steps, Beau asked, “You feel OK now?”
She nodded, her pale lips pressed together in a thin line. She caught her lower lip with her teeth. A nervous habit, just like her father.
Ian wore that same expression in one of the photos on the desk in the library. Resolute, determined and flat out stubborn. John Jameson had never really gotten over losing his only son in Afghanistan - but Beau had filled that hole, not taking Ian’s place, but making the loss hurt a little less. The old man had treated him like a partner in running the ranch.
"What?" she asked.
He shrugged, "Nothing."
"What is it?" she pressed.
"You looked like your brother just then." He motioned behind them. "When I asked how you were."
She nodded once. "Did you know him?"
He shook his head, "No. Just seen pictures."
"Too bad he's not here instead of me." She looked at him, "That's what you're thinking, right?"
"No!" The word came out harsher than he intended. "I mean, your daddy obviously wanted to keep the ranch in the family."
"What about you?"
Beau watched a hawk float on a wind current and weighed his words. "Your daddy loved this ranch, but you never showed any interest in it. The Diamond J is more than a piece of ground. It's home."
When John had talked about his daughter, it was as if he didn’t understand her and didn’t particularly want to understand her. He described his daughter as being “driven” and “obstinate”.
"I think I understand what you mean, but all this . . . " she indicated the pastures with a sweep of her
He glanced at Beth. The fall had scared her, that was obvious, but she got back on. When he first saw her, right after the wreck, she seemed like a damsel in distress, but this woman was tougher than she looked. The old man would've been proud of her. Tough and beautiful. A killer combination. Just what he'd always thought he was looking for in a girl. He pulled back a touch on the reins and dropped back until they rode two abreast.
He said, "You're doing great."
She nodded her thanks, but her eyes swept the path in front of them.
But what could he offer a woman like Beth? She was used to life in the city, the finer things in life. He was a cowboy, who barely made it from paycheck to paycheck and who was thankful room and board was part of the deal at the Diamond J. She wore glittering diamonds, he wore faded denim.
They rode in silence, their legs touching occasionally, the two horses only inches apart.
Beau frowned, reminding himself that the biggest problem was that the woman he rescued was his boss, and stood between him and this ranch. This place was home and the thought of someone else
running the place made his heart hurt. He and the old man had been close. The old man had taken him in and treated him like a son –
Beth groaned, pulling Beau back to reality and he drew back on the reins. She groaned again, and pressed a hand to her stomach. “I can't believe I fell off.”
“Yup,” Beau answered with a smile, “You did.”
“The saddle horn caught me in the stomach,” Beth explained, her eyes wide. The freckles on her cheeks stood out on her pale skin. “It really hurts. And it happened so fast. The horse reared up . . . then the horn--”
“Don't worry about it.” Beau broke in. He looked towards the cluster of buildings across the valley, so he wouldn’t have to look at those incredible green eyes. “You feel up to riding the rest of the way?”
“Sure,” she said, gathering the reins in one shaky hand and grasping the saddle horn with the other. Digger snorted and nodded his head. Beth sucked in a deep breath and pulled herself up straight in the saddle, but their legs continued to touch lightly.
After they went a few steps, Beau asked, “You feel OK now?”
She nodded, her pale lips pressed together in a thin line. She caught her lower lip with her teeth. A nervous habit, just like her father.
Ian wore that same expression in one of the photos on the desk in the library. Resolute, determined and flat out stubborn. John Jameson had never really gotten over losing his only son in Afghanistan - but Beau had filled that hole, not taking Ian’s place, but making the loss hurt a little less. The old man had treated him like a partner in running the ranch.
"What?" she asked.
He shrugged, "Nothing."
"What is it?" she pressed.
"You looked like your brother just then." He motioned behind them. "When I asked how you were."
She nodded once. "Did you know him?"
He shook his head, "No. Just seen pictures."
"Too bad he's not here instead of me." She looked at him, "That's what you're thinking, right?"
"No!" The word came out harsher than he intended. "I mean, your daddy obviously wanted to keep the ranch in the family."
"What about you?"
Beau watched a hawk float on a wind current and weighed his words. "Your daddy loved this ranch, but you never showed any interest in it. The Diamond J is more than a piece of ground. It's home."
When John had talked about his daughter, it was as if he didn’t understand her and didn’t particularly want to understand her. He described his daughter as being “driven” and “obstinate”.
"I think I understand what you mean, but all this . . . " she indicated the pastures with a sweep of her
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