The security light, mounted with a motion sensor on a leg of the windmill, flashed on, startling Erin awake. She jerked bolt upright in the chair, blinking in the brightness as she struggled to focus her sleep-dulled mind. What time was it?
A black pickup towing a small trailer was pulling into the ranch yard. That would be the farrier her father had hired, arriving late, without so much as a phone call to let anyone know when he’d be here. What was his name? Matlock? No, Maddox, that was it. Pushing to her feet, she took a deep breath and strode down the steps to meet him.
* * *
Luke Maddox let the truck’s engine idle a moment while he watched the Rimrock welcoming committee walk toward him. He’d expected Will Tyler to come lumbering out of the house, ready to rip a piece out of his hide for showing up after midnight. Instead, here was this woman—a pretty one at that. She was dressed like a boy, in jeans and a plaid shirt. But there was nothing boyish about her lithe, confident walk, her willowy figure, or the honey-colored hair that fluttered in the wind.
She looked young—too young for him, Luke reminded himself. So why did he find himself wishing he’d bought a pack of breath mints before leaving that poker game at the Blue Coyote in town? He would’ve been here sooner, but what the hell, he’d been winning. Tyler couldn’t fault him for that—not as long as he showed up ready for work in the morning.
Mildly intrigued, he opened the door of the cab, swung his feet to the ground, and waited as she approached him. Close up she was even prettier than he’d expected. Maybe younger, too. Boss’s daughter, he guessed from her confident manner. Strictly off limits if he didn’t want to get butt-kicked off the ranch by her father. But glory be, he couldn’t be fired for looking.
Bold and direct, her eyes took his measure before she spoke. “Mr. Maddox?” Her raw, husky voice was too womanly for her age. “I’m Erin Tyler. I told my father I’d stay up and wait for you, but that was hours ago. We’d just about given up on you. I hope you had a good reason for being so late.”
Boss’s daughter. He’d been right. Princess proud and as sassy as a blue jay.
“I had about three hundred good reasons,” he said. “But I won’t be starting work until morning. Till then, I figured my time was my own.”
One dark eyebrow arched upward. “Well, Mr. Maddox, there’s a room waiting for you—door number five, on the second floor of the bunkhouse.” She gestured toward a frame building on the far side of the yard. “There’s a bathroom up there, too. Just remember that the men won’t take kindly to your making noise when they’re trying to sleep. Chores at five, breakfast at six. If you want to eat, be up on time and ready to help out. We’re running a ranch here, not a hotel.”
Sassy as jalapeño sauce. Picante, as the Mexicans would say. That was the word for her. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Luke said. “Where can I park this rig?”
“Over there by the barn for now. The foreman will be here tomorrow. He’ll get you set up with a place to park and work.” She started to walk away, then paused, turning back toward him.
“I’m afraid you’ve come at a bad time. We’ve had a death on the ranch, a loss to us all. Nobody will be in the mood for joking or bad language. Please keep that in mind and be respectful.”
Luke nodded, and she continued.
“The funeral will be on Saturday. The ranch workers who knew the man will be invited to pay their respects. You’ll be expected to work as usual.”
“Understood. The name’s Luke, by the way. I’m guessing you don’t stand on formality with the hired help.” Luke tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but the sudden narrowing of her eyes told him she hadn’t missed it. “Anything else?” he asked.
“I’d say that’s enough for tonight. The foreman can answer any questions you might have in the morning. His name’s Sky Fletcher. I’ll make sure he knows you’re here.”
* * *
Erin turned and began to walk away. She’d said enough. It was time she went back in the house and left Luke Maddox to get to bed on his own. There was something unsettling about the man, and it wasn’t just his size—although six-foot-three inches of solid muscle was impressive enough. It wasn’t even his arrogance. A virile, masculine energy seemed to radiate from him. It crackled in the depths of his sardonic black eyes and flowed subtly, like an invisible aura, over his rugged features, thick, dark hair, and stubbled jaw.
Erin had lived and worked with men all her life. She was neither shy nor nervous around them. But something told her she’d be smart to keep her distance from this one. When she looked at him, a cautionary voice whispered, too hot to handle.
She hadn’t heard him get into his truck, which probably meant that he was standing there, watching her walk away. Damn the man! It would serve him right if she turned around and caught him ogling her backside—except that he probably wouldn’t care.
She’d walked a dozen paces and was about to take another step when he suddenly shouted, “Look out!”
Faster than she’d imagined a big man could move, he lunged for her, seized her by the waist, and yanked her backward—just in time to keep her from stepping on a five-foot bull snake.
She lost her footing and fell back against him. His body was rock hard, his clasp like an iron vise. He smelled of tobacco smoke, horses, and man sweat.
“What the hell?” His grip eased as the snake slithered off into the shadows and he noticed her calm demeanor. “Did I just save your life or did I make a fool of myself?”
“I’m sure you meant well. But don’t worry. I’m fine.” More startled than scared, Erin righted herself and pulled away from him. He was still staring after the snake.
“It didn’t bite you, did it? Do you want me to get a shovel and kill the thing for you?”
Erin managed to laugh. “Heavens, no. Henry’s harmless as long as you leave him alone. He lives under the grain shed and keeps the mice
under control. He discourages the rattlers, too. They don’t want to mess with him. Mostly he stays out of sight. But tonight he probably thought he had the place to himself.”
“Henry? Are you saying the damn thing’s a pet?”