Honeymoon With the Rancher

The bed was gorgeous, an intricately patterned iron bedstead adorned with linens the soothing colour of a summer sky. A basket of towels and toiletries sat on a low dresser, the plush cotton the same blue as the bedspread. Right now all she wanted was to sink into the bed’s softness and let the stress of the day drain away.

She turned back to Tomas, suddenly aware that they were standing in what was now her bedroom. The silence stretched out awkwardly. There was nothing inappropriate about being in here with him. He was filling the role of concierge and apparently so much more. So why did she suddenly feel so self-conscious?

“What a lovely room.”

“I am pleased you like it.” The hard gleam in his eyes softened just a bit, as if her approval validated her in some way. As soon as she glimpsed it, the gleam disappeared.

What would it take to win him over? It was going to be a very long week if this was the extent of their conversation.

“It’s so peaceful. Listen.” She went to the window again, trying to escape his keen gaze. She pushed aside the curtain with a hand, looking out, leaning her head back so that the warm breeze caressed her throat. “Do you hear that?”

He came closer behind her, so close she could feel his presence by her shoulder even though he had to be several inches away. “Hear what?”

She laughed then, a carefree, feel-good laugh that she felt clear to her toes. The sound was unfamiliar to her

ears, but very, very welcome. Suddenly the situation didn’t seem so catastrophic. She had no one to please but herself this week. “That’s just it. Nothing. I hear nothing, and it’s wonderful.” She closed her eyes and let the sunshine and wind bathe her face.

When she turned back around, the severe look on his face had disappeared. He understood, she realized. That took away the self-conscious part of being alone with him but left in its wake the flicker of attraction she’d felt when holding his hand. A flicker she wasn’t sure what to do with.

She needed to escape his gaze and the nearness of him, so she moved to the dresser to touch the towels and trail her fingers over the wood. It was slightly scarred and Sophia loved how the markings added character to the piece. This was no sterile hotel room without a wrinkle or scratch. It wasn’t about perfection. It had a level of familiarity and comfort that simply said home. The kind of home she’d secretly always wished for and had never had.

“That’s the idea,” he replied. “The city has its charms. But sometimes a person needs to get away to where things are…” he broke off the sentence, and Sophia wondered what he had been going to say. The impression she got was that big problems became small ones here. She found herself curious about him. Who was Tomas Mendoza? Why did this simple life hold such allure to him?

“Less complicated?”

Tomas stared out of the window as the moment drew on. “Yes, less complicated,” he confirmed, but Sophia didn’t feel reassured. Had his life been complicated once? For all his good looks, there was a wall around him, as though no matter what, he would keep people at arms’ length. He was impossible to read.

“Just leave the bags,” Sophia suggested. “I think I would like to freshen up and have a nap.”

Sophia shouldered her tote bag and was just reaching for one of her suitcases when the tote slipped off her shoulder, catching on her elbow and knocking her off balance. Her heel caught as her right toe snubbed the edge of her biggest case and she lurched forward.

Straight into Tomas’s arms.

He caught her effortlessly, his strong arms cinched around her as he righted her on her feet. Without thinking, she looked up. It was a mistake. Her cheeks flamed as she realized his hand was pressed firmly against her lower back. It was tempting, having her body pressed close to his, but the real trouble was the way their gazes clashed. She had not been held in such an intimate embrace for a long time, and never with the nerve-tingling effect she was suffering now. A muscle in Tomas’s jaw tightened and Sophia’s breathing was so shallow her chest cramped. For a breath of a moment she wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. Really, truly kissed.

And behind that thought came the intimate realization that for the next several days, it was just the two of them here.

The thought tempted but also made her draw back. There was making a statement of independence by taking this trip alone, and then there was just being foolish. This was not why she had come. A holiday fling was not what she was looking for. She pushed away and out of his arms and straightened her blouse.

“In addition to poor fact checking, I think we can safely add klutz to my list of faults today,” she joked, but the quip fell flat as she saw the wrinkle between his brows form once more.

“I hope not,” he answered, pushing her suitcase into place at the end of the bed and straightening into that damnable rigid posture once more. “This is a working ranch, Miss Hollingsworth.” He’d reverted to her formal English name again, backing away. “The Vista del Cielo was established to give guests an authentic gaucho experience. Our guests live like the locals for the duration of their stay. In the absence of our other facilities, I do hope you take advantage of all the estancia has to offer.” Once again he looked at her shoes, then up at her tidy skirt and linen blouse, which was now wrinkled beyond recognition. “I hope you’ve brought other more…appropriate clothing.”

Sophia felt like an idiot. She’d been so sure and so blindly determined to soak up every entitled minute that she’d thrown her best things in her luggage and jetted off. Now this gaucho was issuing a challenge. She hated the indulgent way he looked at her clothes. She’d show him. She’d do everything on his damned list of activities!

She sniffed. It wasn’t as if she made a habit of falling down all the time, or worse, falling into men. She wasn’t incapable. But he had hit on yet another obstacle—her suitcases were packed with totally inappropriate clothing. Bathing suits for lounging around a pool, a selection of skirts and dresses, all with matching shoes for Michelin-starred dinners with a view. This wasn’t Tomas’s fault. It was hers, for not being more thorough. If she’d known what sort of establishment this was, she would have packed the proper things. Sometimes she felt as if she could do nothing right. She trusted in all the wrong things instead of relying on herself.

If she were determined to change, why not start now? She could fake it until she made it, right? She would show this Tomas that she could take on anything he dished out.

“I’m looking forward to it,” she replied, desperate to save face. Did helping out also mean horseback-riding? She felt herself go pale at the thought. She’d ridden a horse exactly twice in her life. The first time the mare had been led by her halter. The second time had been a few years later when a friend at school had asked her to an afternoon at a local stables where she took lessons. That time Sophia had held the reins. She’d managed a very choppy trot but had nearly panicked when the horse had broken into a canter. She thought she was probably twelve when that had happened.

But she wasn’t twelve any longer. She could handle herself better this time. She didn’t want to look like a fool in front of him. Not when he looked so very perfect.

“First I think I would like to rest,” she suggested, putting reality off a little while longer. When the time came, she’d go with him and she’d do just fine. “It has been a long flight and drive.”

“Very well. While you are resting, I’ll see what I can find out about this mistaken reservation.”

His insistence that she was wrong grated. “Mr. Mendoza…”