Rancher at Risk by Barbara White Daille Page A

overhead light she had turned on earlier left his face partially shadowed—and she didn’t want to miss reading a word on his lips. Or miss his lips, for that matter.
    Get a grip.
    She shouldn’t have needed to repeat the warning. Or to have told herself the first time.
    “Caleb’s on his way over,” she said.
    “I figured he’d be spending the evening with the family.”
    “So did I. That’s where I thought he was all day. It’s the first time I’ve heard from him.”
    “He was down in Tucumcari.”
    “Umm…where?”
    He repeated the name more slowly.
    She still didn’t get it but knew it was somewhere she’d never heard of. She dropped the cell phone onto the couch. “He didn’t tell me his plans.”
    He shrugged. “Ranch business.”
    Meaning it didn’t concern her—in his opinion. “What kind of ranch business?”
    “Checking into buying a stud mare.”
    “Oh.”
    He pointed to the tray of brownies. “What’s the occasion?”
    “No occasion. I wanted chocolate.” And something to fortify me during this talk. “How are things going?”
    “All right.” He frowned. “Why?”
    “Just making conversation.”
    He said nothing.
    She tried again. “How do you like working here?”
    “Caleb has a good bunch of men on the payroll.”
    “I’ve been tied up with the contractor’s crew. I haven’t met any of the cowboys yet.” When he said nothing, she went on, “Except Tony. I like him.”
    “Me, too.” He poured coffee and took a sip.
    “What do you think of New Mexico?”
    “It’s nice enough, from what I’ve seen so far. I haven’t been anywhere but the Whistlestop and here. The environment’s different. The dryness takes some getting used to.”
    “That’s for sure.” She sipped from her mug. “The other day, Caleb said you came down from his ranch in Montana. Have you got family back there?”
    He had reached for the brownies and now held the knife suspended over the pan.
    She waited a beat. Even though she’d asked a direct question, his lack of response almost didn’t surprise her. But when he didn’t move the knife, she frowned. “What’s the matter?”
    He looked up. “I’m deciding how big a piece to cut. You having one?”
    “Yes. And I’d better get it before you and Caleb start in. I saw how much you both ate at dinner last week.”
    “Not our fault. Ellamae and Roselynn kept pushing seconds.”
    “And thirds.” She took a napkin and a brownie.
    He did the same and sat back in his chair. “You’re from the city, you said. Chicago.”
    “That’s right.”
    “The school will have lots of horses, according to Nate. You know about tending horses?”
    “No, not a lot.”
    “Surprising, since you’re running this ranch. Also according to Nate.”
    “Of course I’m not. I’m project manager for the school. I do office and admin work. You know that. We discussed it last week. As I recall, we discussed my qualifications then, too.”
    Again he said nothing. Now she could clearly see doubt in his eyes. She set her mug on the table. Hot coffee splashed onto her thumb. Nothing she couldn’t handle—one wipe, one tight fist, and the crumpled napkin dropped into her lap.
    “Trust me, Ryan, this project won’t be a problem for me. I’ve worked at all kinds of jobs in my life. This isn’t any harder than any of them.” She forced a smile. “I waitressed in college. That’s a lot tougher than maintaining a few spreadsheets.”
    “How did you wait tables when you couldn’t hear the customers?”
    Finally.
    As out in the open as it could get.
    He might have tried for simple curiosity in his tone. But she didn’t read tones. She read body language, expressions, gazes. Now she saw stiff shoulders, a tight jaw, narrowed eyes. Resistance. And plenty of doubt.
    “I’m doing fine talking to you, aren’t I?” Well, fine except for the one miss—that she knew of. That happened with relying on lipreading alone.
    He shrugged.
    She sighed. “Look at it this