Nope. Not only was Carol Ann happily married, but she also hadn’t undressed him with her eyes in a very long time. Not since high school.
Only then did Nick remember that at the moment there wasn’t much of him to undress. He was wearing just a towel and a scowl. Neither the lack of clothing nor expression seemed to bother Lindsay. In fact, her smile widened as if there were something to actually smile about.
There wasn’t.
This wasn’t exactly a welcome reunion. Yes, he’d dated her sister for two years way back when, and Lindsay and he had been friendly enough—in a hands-off, keep-his-distance sort of way. Since she worked at a large ranch just one county over and often came back to town to visit her sister, Nick had seen her from time to time.
And he’d run into her that night.
A night about six months ago at the Longhorn Bar that he’d tried hard to keep in his “stuff to forget” box. It hadn’t worked. He still remembered that he’d noticed then what he was noticing now.
That she had curves in all the right places.
Something he really wished he hadn’t spotted right off. Actually, he wished her face hadn’t caught his attention, either. She was a looker, always had been. He’d especially seen it that night at the Longhorn, but he’d blamed that on too much beer and too little sleep.
“Nick,” Lindsay said. She went to him, outstretching her arms as if she might hug him. She stopped, though, and glanced at the towel. A long glance. “I should probably save a friendly hug for later, or it might go beyond the friendly point.” Then she chuckled.
Again, Nick saw nothing chuckle-worthy about this, especially since he’d noticed things about her that he shouldn’t be noticing about his ex-girlfriend’s sister. And he was also confused.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
Lindsay shrugged. “I moved back to Wrangler’s Creek.”
As if that explained everything, which it most certainly didn’t, she turned and went back to the bunk where he’d first seen her. The bunk that was just below his. She opened a suitcase that she’d put on the bed and started unpacking.
Nick made sure he got a good grip on his towel, and barefoot, he padded across the room. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She smiled, lifted her eyebrow. “Well, it’s generally called unpacking.” She tipped her head to his bare chest. “Is this a peep show I’m going to get every night, or is this a special occasion?”
Nick was certain there was a big-ass dumbfounded look on his face, and apparently it was effective because her forehead bunched up. “You don’t know?” she added. “Dylan didn’t tell you?”
Dylan was almost certainly Dylan Granger, his boss and one of the owners of the Granger Ranch, where Nick had worked for ten years, since he’d turned twenty-three. “Dylan got called out of town.” To handle some snags on a cattle deal he’d put together. Nick wouldn’t mention that, though, to an outsider.
Except maybe Lindsay didn’t fall into that “outsider” category.
The uneasy feeling went through him, and Nick didn’t think it was because of his lack of clothes or the way Lindsay kept glancing at him. The suitcase, the fact that she was here and mentioning Dylan all added up to one thing.
“You’re the new horse trainer Dylan hired,” Nick concluded.
“Bingo.” That smile came again, and she gave her long, dark ponytail an adjustment before she started removing more clothes from the suitcase.
Nick took hold of her hand. Not the brightest idea he’d ever had since now not only was he touching her, but the looser grip caused his towel to shift, and the darn thing nearly slid off his hips before he caught it.
Her attention shifted from his re-grip on the towel to her hand that he’d touched and then to the suitcase that kept snagging his volleyed gaze. “You didn’t know I’d be staying at the ranch until my own place is ready?”
Now it was his turn to say “bingo” because Lindsay had nailed it.
“Well, I’m having some repairs done on the house I just bought. It’s the little cabin at the end of Creek Road that Mrs. Farley used to own. It has an acre of land and a small barn to hold a horse, but the place won’t be ready for a week or so.”
A week was way too long. Heck, five minutes was. But at least Nick had a fix for this. “This is the old bunkhouse. There’s a new one, and that’s where the other hands stay.”
Her quick nod made him think his fix wasn’t the solution she had in mind. “It’s full. Well, with the exception of a cot that’s in the corner of an unfinished room. That’s why I’m here.”
He hadn’t known about the full part, but Dylan had said something about taking on extra hands for some seasonal work. Still, if there was a cot, even if it happened to be in an unfinished room, that’s where she should be. Or her sister’s place. Though come to think of it, Carol Ann’s house was on the small side, and she did have a toddler.
She stared at him, not annoyed. More like amused. “You don’t know how jealous I always was of Carol Ann,” Lindsay said before he could speak.
Nick stared at her, confusion now mixed with his own annoyance. He was about to point out that he’d been her sister’s boyfriend and that she shouldn’t have been having thoughts like that about him, but that would be like the pot calling the kettle black.
Because he had indeed had thoughts like that about Lindsay.
Nick figured that was natural since they were identical twins, but it had always made him want to kick himself for noticing anything about her. That she was more outgoing, for instance. A risk-taker. Whereas Carol Ann had always made it clear she had deep roots in Wrangler’s Creek and had wanted to have and raise a family here.
The family plans hadn’t actually appealed much to Nick since he’d been a teenager, but Carol Ann was the “safe” twin. She had the good-girl label whereas Lindsay had been dubbed the wild child. There’d been no risk of getting in trouble or being arrested while he was with Carol Ann.
Staying out of jail had been a big priority for him in those days, since his dad had had repeated run-ins with the law. His father had been a screwup, and Nick had seen how it messed up his life. No way had he wanted to be Screwup Junior.
Nick still didn’t want that label, and while he was no longer concerned about arrests and such, that didn’t make this situation all right. Far from it. Because Lindsay could be a big problem.
He’d learned his lesson about taking his hand off the towel, but he used his head to motion to various parts of the room. Other than one chair, a small table and the bunk bed frames, there was no furniture. In fact, there were only two mattresses on the frames because the others had been taken to the new bunkhouse. Everything was scuffed, frayed or just plain old, and the smells of livestock and sweat had seeped permanently into the wood.
“Obviously, this isn’t a good place for you to stay,” he clarified.
She glanced around at the same things he’d just pointed out with his head tips. “It’s better than sleeping under the roof with sixteen other hands. Plus, if it’s good enough for you—”
“I want to be here,” Nick growled. Of course, that was a bad argument, one that only caused Lindsay to lift her eyebrow again.
“So do I.” She opened her mouth, probably to give him a better argument than the one he’d just given her, but then her expression changed when he shifted his position.
At first Nick thought that was because the towel had gaped in the wrong place and he’d flashed her, but she wasn’t looking at his groin area. She’d noticed the fist-sized bruise on his side. The one that was contributing significantly to his pissed-off mood. Of course,