She didn’t want to have to explain herself.
But it didn’t look as if she had a choice.
“Modeling isn’t an option anymore.” She had grown used to saying the words, so she could do it now without a trace of emotion in her voice, even though the frantic fear at having no way to make a living lurked right beneath the surface, threatening her composure.
He stared at her for a few seconds, the intensity of his expression making her feel naked, nervous. She had a terrible need to duck her head, look down, hide what he was seeing. Even worse, his scrutiny of her damaged face was threatening her composure. She had an awful inclination to go back, relive those devastating moments two years ago. Don’t, don’t think about that day, please don’t. The words spilled out into her consciousness, saving her, and somehow she managed to keep staring directly at him. She forced herself not to remember the terrible, heartrending things that had brought her here to his door.
His nod was almost as brusque as hers had been. “If you say it’s not an option, that’s your choice, but that still doesn’t explain your sudden interest in ranching when you hated it before.”
Panic began to swirl within her. She didn’t want to talk about her motives. “Does it matter? As long as I can do the job?”
“It depends,” he said. “If I wasn’t sure a man could do the job he claimed he could do, if his motives were suspect or if I would have to start the hiring process over in a few days because he decided that he’d changed his mind about working here, I’d ask a lot of questions.”
She stood there, staring into those eyes. He didn’t back down. Finally she looked away.
“Fair enough,” she said. “I’m here because the taxes are due on my parents’…that is, on my ranch and I don’t have the money.”
“And you want to keep the property.”
She shook her head. Hard. No, she hated that ranch. Just being there these past few days had brought back bitter memories. “I want to sell the ranch, but I have to pay the taxes before I can do that.” Did the desperation show in her voice? Did she have any pride left at all?
Not much. She’d lost her pride along with her son, her husband and her career in a car crash two years ago, but she wasn’t sharing any of that with this man.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to talk about this. You have the right to ask me why I want the job. The answer is the same one many other people would give. I need work. I know ranching.”
“You hate it. That fact still stands.”
She wouldn’t deny it. Ranching had ruled her father’s world. It hadn’t been good to her.
“I know how to do the work.”
He looked doubtful. He looked as if she could tell him that she’d won the Ranch Hand of the Year award and it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference to him.
“Why not take a job in town?”
Ivy took a deep breath. Should she tell him that she’d been turned away without an interview for every job the town had to offer? That snide smiles had accompanied the “Sorry, but no” responses she’d received?
No. Those were Noah’s neighbors and friends.
“That’s not an option, either,” she said. And, in truth, those had been jobs that were outside her skill set anyway. This one wasn’t.
He was slowly shaking his head. “You seem to have ruled out a lot of options, lady. But working here…it’s just not possible.”
“I’ll work hard,” she promised.
“I never said you wouldn’t.”
“So hire me. I heard that you needed someone.”
“I need a big someone.”
“I’m big.”
For a minute she almost thought he was going to smile. He rubbed one hand over his jaw as if to hide his amusement. “You’re tall. I need someone beefy.”
“I’ll eat more.”
Now he did smile. Just a little. “Ivy…”
“I can do this, Noah.”
He shook his head again. “I’m sorry, Ivy, but you’ll find something else. Something will open up in town. I need a man.”
Now she visibly bristled. “That’s discrimination. It’s illegal.”
“So sue me.”
As if he knew that she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. There just wasn’t time, even if she had the money for a lawyer. And if she had money, she would have already paid the taxes and left town.
“Aren’t you even going to invite me in? Can’t we talk about this? You could give me…I know…you could give me a test. Let me do some chores just to show you—”
“No,” he said stopping her. “I’m sorry, Ivy. It’s not happening. Goodbye.”
With that, he stepped back and shut the door right in her face.
Ivy stood there for a few minutes. Anger, red and hot and simmering, bubbled inside her. Then she turned and walked away. And kept walking until she was out of sight of the house.
Forget it. It’s over, she thought. What was she going to do?
She stopped and looked out over the land, at the barns and outbuildings, the machinery and fences. She could almost hear her father saying, “The land will never let you down.” Maybe not, but it had stolen her life. His obsession with ranching had cost her a childhood, a father and her mother’s life.
Still, standing there gazing at Noah’s ranch, one much larger and more successful than her city-bred father’s had been, she remembered helping pull a calf, feeding cattle in winter. She still knew how to do these things. And doing them would pay her way out of Tallula again. If she could just make it happen.
Turning toward the house again, she remembered Noah’s last words. It’s not happening.
“Maybe not, Noah,” she whispered. “But it won’t be for lack of trying. You haven’t seen the last of me.”
Noah stared out the window, watching Ivy’s retreating back and feeling like the biggest jerk on earth. She walked away tall and proud, but he’d seen the stark disappointment in her eyes before she’d gone.
Not that that changed anything. He’d lived on this ranch all his life. It had been his since his father’s death five years ago, and he had hired and fired a number of people during that time. Ballenger Ranch was what he would leave to his little girl when he was gone, and two-and-a-half-year-old Lily was the most important part of his world. He couldn’t gamble with the ranch. He needed good, solid people working here.
Not someone who would hate the lifestyle and fly away at a moment’s notice, leaving him in the lurch. He needed someone committed to ranching, and he knew all too well about people who weren’t cut out for this life. He had a child with an absentee mother who was living proof of that.
It was his duty to protect his child from more cut-and-run people. So, much as he felt bad for Ivy’s financial difficulties, much as he admired her for having the guts to ask him for this job again once he’d turned her down, he still couldn’t deny that she didn’t belong here.
While they’d been talking, he had been assessing. She was thin, almost fragile looking. Whether it was because of years of enforced model thinness or something else, he didn’t know.
What he knew was that fragile didn’t play well on a ranch.
“You could give me a test,” she’d said, with those