Reece (Stud Ranch 4)

Not this guy, though. He was willing to try to understand Ruth’s side of it, even when he didn’t like how she acted.

I reached out on impulse and touched his arm, smiling up at him. “Don’t even worry about it. I get it.”

It was a mistake to touch him, though. I jerked my hand back almost immediately after making contact with the hard muscle of his forearm. He was warm, and solid, and did I mention warm?

I swallowed and took a step back.

“Well, I guess I’ll be getting on my way now.” I shoved Ruth’s sheets into the washer and filled the top catch with detergent that was on a little shelf above the machines. I looked back at Reece after I’d turned it on. “I really do appreciate you helping me out last night.”

He shook his head. “No, you were the one who helped me. I needed an extra pair of hands and you showed up out of the blue.”

I laughed at that. “Pretty sure all I did was open and close a couple gates.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Uh, and you helped distract that angry heifer when I was cornered on top of that tractor. It was both of us that got her in that chute. And if it had been any longer, who knows if she would’ve had a live birth.”

Well damn, now I felt all warm and fuzzy. Jeff only ever tore me down, he never ever complimented me or said anything nice. It was ridiculous that even the smallest bit of kindness could make me feel so lovely and lit up inside.

Yep, it was definitely time to make my exit. My emotions were too all over the place around this guy. I was like a little puppy who’d been kicked so many times that I was hungry for any scrap of kindness. I couldn’t decide if it was pathetic or refreshing. But it was definitely all far too confusing for whatever time in the morning it was.

Still, when I looked back up at Reece, I was caught in his blue-gray eyes and his gentle smile. He was handsome—in a rugged, genuine way that was completely different from Jeff’s suave, over-moisturized face and perfectly coifed hair. Reece’s hair flopped this way and that—a little too long, with some bits that stuck out in funny angles that was the result of genuine bed-head and not the artfully arranged city boy version.

Reece was just so real. I had the most absurd impulse to throw myself in his arms and hug him. I bet he gave really great hugs. I hadn’t been hugged, just hugged and reassured that it would be okay, in so long I couldn’t even remember when.

It was a ridiculous impulse and instead I swallowed hard again and stepped back.

“Well.” I nodded. “Thanks again.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could—

“That goddamned bastard! How dare he show his face here?” Ruth yelled, and then, before either Reece or I could move, she stormed into the mud room. Both Reece and I barely had time to jump back before she barreled between us and out the door.

“What now?” Reece’s brother asked, sounding exasperated as he followed her out. Reece went after his brother and well, I was in no hurry so I went out to see too. As long as Ruth was aiming her ire at someone other than me.

It was cold as all get out and I regretted not grabbing a coat, but the humongous truck had pulled to a stop in front of the ranch house, gravel and dust only just now settling. It was no time to go back for my hoodie.

A relatively short man jumped down from the tall cab, giant ten-gallon hat balanced on his head and wranglers about two sizes too tight suckered to his legs. I crossed my arms, glad I at least had my flannel as I settled in to watch the drama.

“Get off my property,” Ruth called out. “You aren’t welcome here.”

“Ain’t your property no more, Ruthie,” the man called out. “I came by to introduce myself to the new owners.”

“That’s us,” Reece’s brother said, stepping forward. “Jeremiah Walker. This here’s my brother, Reece. We’re part owners and we’re working the place now. You are?”

The man stepped forward, hand out.

“A snake in the grass,” Ruth said at the same time as the man said, “Trent. Trent Patterson of Patterson Ranch.”

Jeremiah shook Trent’s hand. Trent had a wide smile. Wide and charming. I shivered. It was a Jeff smile. Fake as a plastic toy from a fast-food joint—it’d make you smile for an hour and then it breaks and you’re crying in disappointment.

Trent kept on smiling at Jeremiah, then at Reece. He didn’t even look at Ruth. Or at me for that matter.

So he was one of those. The kind that only considered other men as worthy of their notice. I’d met plenty of the sort when Jeff paraded me around as his trophy wife. Sometimes they’d look my way—or at least my body’s way. They’d just never quite get to looking at my face, or bother with learning my name.