The Rancher's Mistletoe Bride Page 3

  “Which is?”

  “There are pros and cons to both.”

  Lexi tapped the desktop with her fingernails. He didn’t seem the wishy-washy type, so why was he dithering? Maybe he’d taken her declaration about having the final say in all decisions personally.

  Or maybe he wasn’t the take-charge guy she needed for the ranch after all.

  Jerry had assured her they had enough hay stored to feed the cattle this winter. But feeding additional calves? Not likely.

  “We’ll stay on Daddy’s plan this year.” Tipping her chin up, she asked, “What else do I need to know?”

  He shifted his jaw before filling her in on the state of the fences, the repairs he and the hands were working on, and other winter preparations.

  “Are you having any trouble with the employees?” She folded her hands and leaned forward across the desk.

  “I’m keeping an eye on Jake.”

  “Jake?” She twisted her lips, trying to remember a Jake.

  “The kid you recently hired. He’s part-time.”

  “Has he done something?”

  Clint shrugged. “A gut instinct. I have a zero-tolerance policy for breaking the rules.”

  “No three strikes you’re out?” she teased.

  “No.” He didn’t crack a smile.

  Hmm... Hard to tell if he had a sense of humor hiding under all his toughness. She tried to picture a kid named Jake again. She made a point to interact with all the employees of Weddings by Alexandra, and she didn’t even know all the people working on her land. It was time to change that.

  “Where will you be this afternoon?”

  “South pasture. Riding the fence line.”

  “I’ll join you. It’s been a while since I’ve ridden the property. You can introduce me to the crew when we saddle up.”

  He opened his mouth as if to protest, then nodded. “Meet me at the stables after dinner.”

  She’d lived in Denver long enough to think of the midday meal as lunch, but around here, she’d better get used to thinking of it as dinner again. She rose to see him out. On his way past the living room, Clint stopped and looked around. The muscle in his cheek flickered.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” Then he tipped his hat to her and left.

  What was the tension in him all about?

  Was he mad she’d decided to stick with her father’s plan?

  Her phone showed six missed calls and eight texts. She didn’t have time to worry about his feelings. Back in her office, she opened her email account to twenty-six fresh messages. Looking over her schedule, she exhaled in relief. The video conference call wasn’t until tomorrow. She’d squish everything in to take an hour or two off this afternoon. She hadn’t ridden Nugget, her favorite horse, since May.

  A vision of her and Daddy riding together filled her mind, and she willed away the knot in her throat. Had he been thinner the last time she saw him? Shouldn’t there have been warning signs cancer was killing his body?

  How many times had she thought she should call and check up on him? But she’d put it off. Too busy replying to texts and placing orders and calling clients.

  And now it was too late.

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  Lord, I don’t know how to get through this. Every time I think of Daddy, I can’t breathe.

  She curled her fingers into her palms. Her father hadn’t raised a coward. He’d always told her two things: “Keep your word good” and “Don’t forget to close the gate.”

  She had a feeling she’d offended Clint earlier, and she couldn’t afford to lose him, not when he’d taken the weight of worrying about the ranch off her back. She hoped riding the land where she’d spent so many hours with her father wouldn’t be too difficult and the tears she’d suppressed for weeks stayed down under, where they belonged.

  * * *

  Clint ignored the harsh wind on his face and admired Nugget, the fifteen-hand palomino Lexi rode. A beauty of a horse. And the woman riding it? Could have been born in the saddle.

  Lexi was intriguing. Sophisticated, yet completely at ease with all the ranch employees she’d shaken hands with before they’d ridden out. A shrewd businesswoman, yet utterly feminine. Sitting in her office earlier had felt like sitting in the center of a wedding bouquet. He’d never felt so out of place in his life. He preferred his ranch office with tools, rope, rags and the smells of earth and cattle.

  Once again, the state of her house picked at his conscience. He’d noticed it all again when he’d left their meeting. The dripping faucet. The torn screen. The worn, neglected air of the place. The missing stones from the fireplace.

  The fireplace flue probably hadn’t been cleaned out in years. What if she wanted to build a fire? It could be dangerous.

  Not my problem. I’m her employee. And my place on this ranch will be secure as long as I keep my mouth shut and the operation running smoothly.

  The longer he worked on the ranch, the more impressed he became. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. But as remarkable as the ranch was, its income and expenses were precarious this year.

  Jerry had told him all about RJ Harrington’s plans to produce and store hay to sell throughout the country, but Clint didn’t see how they could afford to buy the farm equipment this winter.

  The prices of cattle lately were low. Too low.

  Should he have urged her to wait to sell the calves? When Lexi had asked his opinion earlier, he’d blanked. The decision had felt as important as pressing the button to launch a nuclear bomb. He’d mentally gone back to the day when he’d lost his land, the day he’d stopped trusting himself. And instead of telling her what he really thought, he’d backed down.

  Lexi deserved better than that.

  He glanced at her again. She didn’t trust him. He was used to it. As far as he could remember, no one had ever trusted him until they’d gotten to know him, and most never did. His grandfather had called him a worthless brat on a daily basis. Foster parents watched him with the eyes of a red-tailed hawk. Teachers referred to him as that Romine kid. Employers gave him the lowliest jobs before giving him the benefit of the doubt.

  Trust had to be earned.

  And Lexi was right not to trust him. He hadn’t told her about losing his land. But if he had, would she have hired him? Doubtful. And anyhow, he was doing everything in his power to manage Rock Step Ranch wisely.

  They approached the fence line.

  “I haven’t been to this pasture in a few years.” Her voice was muffled, and he strained to hear her. She faced him then, her light brown eyes wide and watery. Was the wind ripping the moisture from them, or was she about to cry?

  He stilled. This was his boss, and he didn’t have much experience around tears.

  She turned Nugget to the east. Ridges and gullies of windblown grass and sage surrounded them.

  “Daddy and I used to ride out to check fences before I got so caught up in high school activities. I must have been eleven or twelve when we came out here on a day like this. Cold. But it hadn’t snowed yet. I’d missed a sleepover party at my friend’s house, so I was sulking. But coming out here with Daddy made my troubles disappear.”

  Clint hung on every word. He almost wanted to raise his hand, to tell her to stop, to not say anything more, because sharing memories, no matter how small, would bind them. Even if he didn’t reply, he’d get more invested in Lexi as a person than he already was.

  And he needed her to be Lexi, the nice lady he worked for, not Lexi, the woman he could care about.

  She swept her arm across the land. “He noticed everything. An elk off in the distance, the remains of a snake near the fence where a hawk had made its meal. I remember thinking there was nothing better in the world than being out here with him. Dadd
y was smarter and kinder than anyone I knew. And we could just be quiet, be ourselves. You know what I mean?”

  Clint did. It was how he felt about his best friends, three other foster kids from his days at Yearling Group Home. When he got together with Marshall, Wade and Nash, he didn’t have to force a conversation. He could just be himself.

  She lifted her face to the sky. “Every time we’d end a ride, I’d give him the biggest hug and say, ‘I love you, Daddy.’ And he would always tug on my braid or ponytail and reply, ‘You, too, kiddo.’”

  Clint’s heart was doing funny things. He’d never experienced what she described, but it moved him just the same.

  “I would do about anything to be able to give him another hug and say those words again,” she said softly.

  Clint moved his horse closer to her and reached over to take her hand. Her suede gloves didn’t dull the connection, and she stared at him, a tear dropping from her eye. Without thinking, he swung off his horse and held his hands out to help her down. When she’d dismounted, he drew her close, sliding a clean handkerchief out of his pocket to give her. Her slender frame shook with tears, but she didn’t wind her arms around him. She simply let him pat her back and murmur comfort.

  How long they stood like that, Clint had no idea—could have been a minute or an hour—but at some point, Lexi wiped her eyes free of tears and blew her nose into the handkerchief.

  “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I have to get back.” She set her foot in the stirrup and swung her leg over the saddle. “I won’t keep you. You stay and check the fence.”

  He watched her urge Nugget into motion. Off to spend the rest of the day answering calls and doing whatever wedding planners did. And from what he could tell, she’d been doing it nonstop since she’d hired him. Which left no time for grieving...

  It hit him then. No wonder she was as thin as a piece of licorice. She hadn’t grieved her father’s death.

  There was no one here to look after her. No clients to meet with. No friends to force her to eat lunch. No father to ensure she lived in a safe, well-maintained house.

  Nobody but him.

  He slapped his thigh and mounted his horse. Miles of checking fence wouldn’t be enough to pretend something hadn’t shifted inside where Lexi Harrington was concerned, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  * * *

  Lexi pulled her favorite velvety blanket up to her chin and pressed the mute button on the remote. Ever since leaving Clint in the pasture earlier, she’d been unable to work. Tears kept erupting.

  Because everything here, in this house and on the ranch, reminded her of her father.

  Things she hadn’t noticed for weeks—his favorite coffee mug, the faded hand towel with an embroidered cowboy boot she’d bought him for his birthday—unleashed her memories. Two hours ago she’d walked past the master bedroom’s closed door, the one she hadn’t opened since finding out he’d died, and her feet had backtracked until she stood face-to-face with the pine door. Without thought, she’d fallen to her knees, sobbing in front of it.

  It was at that point she’d given up on getting anything done. She’d changed into sweatpants, brewed a pot of tea and flipped through the channels until she found one playing original romantic Christmas movies. They always made her feel better.

  Not today, though.

  Thanksgiving was a week away. She would be celebrating the holidays alone. Oh, she could drive to Denver, join friends with their families, but she wouldn’t. Her heart couldn’t take being surrounded by happy people, people who would want to cheer her up. She was in no state to fake pleasantries while choking on tears as she ate their turkey dinner.

  And she couldn’t believe she’d broken down in front of Clint. The man probably thought she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had lost her mind. What had possessed her to start telling him those personal things?

  Unacceptable on her part. She wasn’t paying Clint to be her therapist. The poor guy. Probably worried she was having a nervous breakdown. She’d apologize. Assure him it wouldn’t happen again.

  Her phone rang.

  Clint.

  Her palms grew moist. Oh, why had she dissolved into a weepy mess in front of him?

  “Hi.” His deep voice calmed her nerves. “One of the herding dogs is missing. Banjo, the older one. I didn’t want to bother you, but I’m concerned and... Have you seen him?”

  Banjo, Daddy’s favorite border collie? “No, I haven’t. Have you tried the barns?”

  “Yeah, I’ll keep looking.” He sounded like he was going to hang up.

  “Wait!” She threw off the blanket, tired of being alone. “I’ll come with you.”

  “It’s not necessary. I know you’re busy—”

  “I’m coming.”

  “Lexi,” he said in his low, soothing tone. It was the first time she’d heard him use her name, and it did something funny to her pulse. “I don’t want to upset you.”

  “Look, I know I was overly emotional earlier, but that’s not me. I don’t cry all the time.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean.” He sighed. “Dogs hide when they’re sick or when it’s their time.”

  His words hit her in the gut. It was true. Dogs were social animals, but when it was their time, they slunk away to die by themselves.

  Not Banjo. Not on top of everything else.

  “I can handle it, Clint.” She couldn’t handle it, but being the boss meant dealing with tough situations.

  Three minutes later, she wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck and shivered as Clint handed her a flashlight. Dusk had fallen, and shadows lurked.

  “I’ve checked the stables, the barns, all the obvious places.” Clint strode tall and confident toward the cabins. He had the air of a man in command, and right now, she needed someone else to be in charge. “Unless you can think of someplace the dog would have gone... I figure he might have followed one of the cowboys home.”

  “It’s worth a shot.” She kept pace with him. “When did you last see him?”

  “He trailed in behind Logan and Mike when they returned from checking calves, but he didn’t come in with the other dogs at feeding time.”

  Nothing but the sound of the wind and their feet against the hard dirt met her ears. The fact Banjo hadn’t eaten was a bad sign. Where would the dog go if not with the other dogs in the barn? Coyotes were common in these parts. He couldn’t have been attacked, could he? Banjo knew better than to tangle with one of them.

  They rounded the bend where windows in three of the cabins glowed.

  “Why don’t you ask Logan and Sarah if they’ve seen him while I ask the other guys?”

  She nodded. After knocking on the door, she rubbed her hands together. Felt like snow was on its way.

  “Lexi, what a nice surprise!” Sarah, a pretty blonde in her late twenties, beckoned her to enter, but Lexi stayed on the porch.

  “I don’t mean to bother you, but Banjo’s missing. Have you seen him around tonight?”

  The smile slid off Sarah’s face. “No, I haven’t, and I’ve always been fond of that dog. Did you check all the barns? He might be trying to stay warm.”

  “Clint checked already, but we’ll try again.” Lexi turned to leave. “Oh, and thanks for supper every night, Sarah. You don’t have to do that.”

  “Well, we’re all sorry about RJ’s passing. He was a good man. Treated us like family. Anything you need, just ask.”

  “Thank you.” Lexi’s throat tightened as she turned away. Not again. What was it with today? If she cried one more time, so help her...

  Clint loped up. “Did they see him?”

  Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head, willing the emotions to pass. Clint rubbed his chin. He seemed nervous, upset.

  “Are you okay?” She plac
ed her hand on his arm. The muscles bunched, but she didn’t pull away.

  “Yeah.” The sky grew darker. “I guess I’ll check the barns again.”

  “Let’s look behind the cabins. Maybe he wandered back there.”

  The glance he flashed her said it was a fool’s errand, but she didn’t care. They trained their flashlights behind the row of cabins. No sign of the dog. Clint’s house stood at the end of the drive. The dark windows gave it a sad air, like it was waiting for him to come home.

  “Clint, what’s that on your front porch?”

  He twisted to see and took off toward his house. She ran to catch up with him.

  Banjo! Clint knelt next to the dog, massaging his ears. Banjo’s tail thumped on the wood, and his tongue hung out. The dog was clearly thrilled to see Clint.

  “I thought we’d lost you, old boy,” he said.

  “I guess he missed you.” She leaned her shoulder against the rail, never imagining Clint could look this happy.

  He continued lavishing Banjo with affection. “Probably looking for a treat or something.”

  “He can stay here with you, you know.”

  “It wouldn’t be right.” He rose.

  “Why not? I can tell you like dogs.”

  “I’ve never owned one.”

  The man whose face lit up like the carnival rides at the rodeo when he saw Banjo had never owned a dog? Impossible.

  “He’s getting old,” Lexi said. “If you don’t want him here, that’s fine, but if you like him, well...maybe he needs some TLC after long days with the cattle.”

  “He is getting old.” Clint straightened, thinking about it. “I’ve been meaning to mention the ranch should add a few more dogs. I’ve trained cattle herders. It takes time for them to learn the ropes. If something happens to Banjo...”

  “I’ll check into it.”

  He looked as if he wanted to say something, then he shook his head. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “It’s not far.” She waved the flashlight in the direction of her house. “The boogeyman won’t get me.”

  “I’m walking you home.” And there was serious Clint again. Only Banjo seemed to lighten him up. “I know you can take care of yourself. But I’d feel better if...”