“I’ve been eagerly anticipating this.” His green eyes lingered on her as he stepped deeper into the barn. “And I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of making a few adjustments to the lunch you ordered from the kitchen.”
He held up a sleekly packaged parcel that she hadn’t noticed he was carrying.
“Perfect.” She’d been planning to stop by the kitchen on their way out. She opened one of the saddlebags. “You can slide it in here.”
He was by her side in a few steps, the heat and warmth of him blocking the cold air blowing in through the open doors.
He smelled like pine trees and soap. A fact she wished she hadn’t noticed. He stepped back from the Appaloosa.
“I see you saddled a different mount for me today.” He patted the mare’s flank while she closed the flap on the saddlebag.
“I know you hoped for something more spirited. Your brother was partial to Evangeline,” she told him smoothly, pretending not to know anything about their enmity. “I thought maybe you’d enjoy her, too.”
Leading his horse out of the barn, he gave a humorless laugh. “Marcus and I have rarely agreed on anything, but I won’t hold that against Evangeline.”
A few moments later, they were mounted and trotting away from the barns at a good clip. Regina tipped her face up into the falling snow, enjoying the fresh air and the beauty of Big Sky Country despite the rider beside her. She found it difficult to relax around him, given her overwhelming need to learn more about his connection to his father and the book that had destroyed her life. But at least his remark about Marcus had given her a toehold into that conversation.
Her cheeks tingled with the chill of the icy snow as she began her most basic introduction to Mesa Falls Ranch, outlining the size and rough parameters of the place, skimming over the ownership, since she assumed Devon knew all about the unique group who managed the property.
“Have you met all of the owners?” Devon asked as they began the steep trek out of Bitterroot Valley.
“I haven’t.” She hadn’t really understood the point of the shared ranch venture. Most ranches were either family owned or held by a major corporation. Yet Mesa Falls was owned equally by six friends who had never made the bottom line a primary concern. “I’ve only met Weston Rivera, who spends the most time on site overseeing things.” She pointed to a break in the trees ahead. “We’ll be able to see his house from just up there.”
“I’ve been to his home. I got to meet a few of the owners at a welcome party they threw at Rivera’s place last week.” Devon appeared more relaxed than he had the day before, even though his mount was definitely more energetic.
For her part, Regina felt on edge, wanting to remain alert to any clues he might give her about his family, his business and his sources of income.
Swaying with the mustang’s movements, she debated the best way to broach those topics.
“I remember hearing about that. Your brother went, too, I think.” She knew a lot about Marcus’s movements even though she hadn’t spoken to him directly. Last week, she’d still been feeling her way around the ranch after landing the job. She’d spied on Marcus more than once.
“He did.” Devon’s answer was clipped.
“The two of you have a business together, and yet you mentioned you don’t see eye to eye on many things.” She glanced his way to gauge his expression. “Doesn’t that make working together difficult?”
“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation. “Thankfully, we have offices on opposite coasts, and that helps.”
She wanted to ask a follow-up question but didn’t want to sound like she was interrogating him. So she waited.
“Do you have siblings, Regina?” he asked as they cleared a rise. The terrain leveled off slightly as the horses picked their way along the narrow trail under the shelter of the pines.
“No.” That wasn’t strictly true since she had two half siblings, her father’s kids she’d never been allowed to meet. Her birth father’s wife was highly protective of her family, resenting Regina’s late appearance in their lives. “I’ve always envied people with bigger families.”
Families that didn’t disown their children.
Birds squawked in the trees overhead, their movements causing more snow to rain down on them as they disturbed the branches.
“Marcus and I didn’t spend any time together growing up,” Devon explained as they left the trees behind and arrived on a plateau above the river. “Our mothers viewed one another as rivals, so Marcus and I did, too.”
“Yet you started a very successful business together.”
He looked sharply at her. “You’ve done your homework.”
Her cheeks heated; yes, she had dug through everything she could find about Salazar Media. Especially since Devon’s father had been a part owner. “You and Marcus are the first guests since I’ve been a trail guide. I figured it doesn’t hurt to know who I’m talking to.”
“I’m flattered,” he admitted. “I’m usually the one doing all the studying about new clients. I can’t remember the last time anyone tried to impress me.”
His gaze collided with hers and she felt the prickle of awareness all over her skin, even with the cold wind blowing off the mountains. Her mouth dried up as she debated how to respond. Thankfully, he had questions about their direction and the next two hours passed uneventfully enough.
She kept up a running patter about the sights, the history of the Bitterroot River, and the best spots for fly-fishing according to the locals she’d asked. They were far from the main ranch house when she spotted a creek side lean-to that one of the ranch hands had told her about. Built by one of the owners for a winter retreat, the lean-to was open on one side, with a picnic table tucked under the shelter.
“Are you ready for lunch?” she asked, shifting in the saddle to see Devon better. “There’s a good spot to make a fire by the water if you want one.”
She could see the fire ring between the lean-to and the creek, the spot sheltered from the wind.
“Sounds good.” He followed her down the snowy hill to the open hut with its bark and branch roof.
She settled the horses close to the water while Devon unpacked the food. She found a few promising sticks to build a fire, kicked away the excess snow, then got to work starting a blaze. By the time she turned around, Devon had flannel blankets on both benches, a clean linen over the table and two glasses of wine poured into stemless glasses. A centerpiece of bread, meats and cheeses was surrounded by fruit, nuts and even a small jar of honey.
With the fire snapping behind her, the flames giving the winter picnic a burnished glow, things had taken a turn for the romantic.
“Wow.” She darted her gaze to his, not sure what to say. “That definitely looks better than the turkey sandwiches I asked the staff chef to make us.”
He waved her closer. “I hope you don’t mind. But I like to combine work with pleasure whenever I can, and Montana is too beautiful not to savor.”
Her heartbeat jumped nervously as she neared him to slide onto one of the bench seats. She needed to be wary of this man’s idea of pleasure. She had too much at stake to lose focus now.
“Of course,” she tried to say in a normal tone, but her voice cracked like a twelve-year-old boy’s. She cleared her throat and tried again. “It’s a treat for me, too.”
“I’m glad.” He took the seat opposite her and waited while she removed her gloves and filled a plate for herself. “So how long have you worked here?”
She took a sip of her wine to steel herself for the inevitable questions