Cowgirl in High Heels. Jeannie Watt

areas.”

      Ryan started brushing Skipper. “Walt says you’re bringing in a consultant,” he said without looking at Ellison.

      “My uncle is.”

      “Do your aunt and uncle plan to take residence soon?”

      “They’d originally planned to move to the ranch at the end of the summer, but my uncle recently took a promotion instead of retiring.” Ellison’s expression told him that she wasn’t one bit surprised that her uncle had chosen work over retirement. “Now he’s chief of staff at his hospital and the move has been pushed back.”

      “And you’re here to hold down the fort.”

      “Milo wanted someone from the family here while the consultant did his evaluation.”

      “And you happened to be at loose ends.”

      “Yes,” she said, meeting his eyes as if daring him to ask more. A nerve touched there.

      Tempting as it was, he decided not to press matters. “Do you know anything about this consultant?”

      “He comes highly recommended.”

      “By?”

      “One of the neighboring ranchers.” He cocked his head and she added, “The Kenyons.”

      “Is his name George Monroe?”

      “You know him?” Ellison asked.

      “I’m familiar,” he said flatly.

      “You don’t seem too pleased.”

      Ryan turned toward her, keeping one hand on Skipper’s damp back. “I don’t know how to say this politely, so I’m just going to say it. The guy’s a tool.”

      Her eyebrows lifted. “Why do you think that?”

      “He fired a totally competent crew at the Vineyard and brought in another that was no better than the first. He shakes things up just because he can.”

      “That’s your perception,” Ellison replied calmly.

      “Yes. That’s my perception.” Ryan tossed the brush into the bucket in the trailer tack room.

      “One reason I’m here is to determine if I agree with his recommendations.”

      Was she trying to make him feel better? If so, it wasn’t working. “By your own admission, you know nothing about ranching.”

      “I know about people and employee efficiency.”

      “But if you don’t know this business, how can you judge its efficiency?”

      Ellison’s chin came up as he spoke, making it more than obvious that she didn’t like being challenged any more than she liked being wrong.

      “Efficiency is usually evident. Like, say, if someone leaves a gate open and then spends the entire day looking for the cattle that got out.”

      The first shot fired. All right. “They didn’t get out through an open gate.”

      She settled a hand on her hip. “But if you mentioned the possibility, then I assume it has happened.”

      “Ranch gates are almost always left open by people who don’t work on the ranch. Hikers. Hunters.”

      Her mouth made an O before she said, “Regardless, searching for lost animals doesn’t seem the best use of time.”

      “Seem being the key word here, because, by your own admission, you don’t know enough to make a judgment,” Ryan pointed out reasonably, pulling his attention away from her lips.

      “Then perhaps you could edify me.”

      “I’d be happy to,” he said. “But not tonight.” Even though it was only six o’clock, he had four hours of driving ahead of him.

      “Plans?” she asked.

      “Yeah.” He didn’t elaborate and after a few seconds Ellison nodded.

      “I won’t keep you,” she said, her cool demeanor slipping back into place. She gave him a faint smile, then turned and walked back toward the house.

      Ryan coiled Skipper’s lead rope and then, despite his best intentions, glanced over the horse’s broad back to watch Ellison retreat, feeling an unexpected twinge of regret. He could have made some inroads into her good graces, since it appeared that she’d come to the barn just to talk. But once George’s name came up, everything had gone to hell, which was probably only a taste of what was going to happen once the consultant got there.

      Ryan couldn’t wait.

      He heard the door to the main house close as he led Skipper toward the pasture. Ellison was back in her sanctuary, a place where he was fairly certain she was ready to climb the walls or she wouldn’t be seeking out his company. She was lonely and because of that a few cracks seemed to be appearing in her walled-off facade.

      He hated to admit it, but there was something about her touch-me-not quality that was drawing him in—no doubt the challenge of discovering if there was more to her than met the eye.

      A challenge best not acted upon.

      * * *

      ELLIE GLANCED OUT the kitchen window and saw Ryan loading his black horse into the trailer. He disappeared into his house, then came out carrying a small gym bag and a cooler, stowed those in the front of his pickup and then drove away.

      To where?

      Did it matter? As long as he did his job, Ryan Madison was none of Ellie’s concern...except that she was interested in where he was going so late with a horse and a cooler.

      At least he had something to do. Tomorrow Ellie planned to touch base with some business acquaintances, let people know she’d be looking for a job soon, but at the moment she had nothing but TV to fill her time. Or she did until the wind suddenly rose around ten o’clock that night, howling through the trees and bending the birches in the front yard at an alarming angle. The lights flickered a couple times and then went out, leaving Ellie in the dark, staring in the direction of the blank TV screen and wondering how on earth she’d managed to get to this point in her life. It was then that she noticed that although the lights were off in the house, the yard light was still on. She was no expert, but that seemed wrong.