The Rancher's Untamed Heart

“Come on in,” she said, and smiled at me.

I walked into the office and took the seat she gestured at.

“I am going to head back out to the Cannon’ farm,” I said. “After that, I think I’ll probably head straight home. I’ve put out all of the fires that needed to be taken care of before Monday.”

“All right, that sounds just fine. If you’re done a little early, don’t worry about coming into the office to make up the time, I know you stayed several hours late on Wednesday,” she said. Glancing out the door to make sure no one was in earshot, she leaned towards me with a conspiratorial grin. “So, do you have any fun plans this weekend? Any dates? It’s been almost a year since you and Justin broke up, it’s past time for you to go out and meet someone new!”

Normally, when Sarah spoke of finding someone new, I just laughed and moved on, but this time I blushed redder than red and she pounced.

“I knew it had to happen eventually! Who is the lucky fellow?” she asked.

“There’s no one, Sarah,” I said. “Really, I have to get going or I’ll be late.”

“Oh, all right, get out of here, liar,” she said fondly.

As I drove back down the gravel road, my heart started to beat quickly at the thought of meeting Clint again. Would he touch me? Would our passionate kiss earlier this week be a fluke? Perhaps he'd realize that he could do better, or perhaps our bodies would no longer ignite one another.

Even still, under all of my insecurity, arousal started to coil in the bottom of my stomach, and my nipples started to tingle against my bra.

When I got to the ranch, I didn't see anyone nearby, so I pulled my truck into the same shady spot where I parked before.

I checked to make sure I had my cell phone and wallet and, after a moment of hesitation, picked up the purse with my spare clothing in it and threw it over my shoulder before grabbing my clipboard.

When I stepped out of the truck, I called "Hello! Inspector here!"

Two men stepped out of the nearest barn. One was short and stocky, with brown hair in a ponytail. He was handsome enough, and his smile would normally have made my heart turn over, but I only had eyes for the man next to him.

Clint Cannon was tall and lean, with dark hair and amazing blue eyes. Like the strange man, he was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. The shirt stretched over his broad shoulders and an open button at the top allowed me a glimpse of a dark shadow of chest hair.

I felt a smile start to spread across my face, just as the coiled arousal in my stomach started to spread until I could feel tingles up my spine and heat in my groin.

Waving once at the two men, I walked over to them, sticking my clipboard under my left arm and sticking my right hand out to shake.

"Good afternoon," I said, and the strange man shook my hand, grinning broadly. His skin was smooth and supple, with the hard calluses of any good ranch hand, but his touch did not electrify me in the way Clint’s had earlier in the week - or in my thoughts.

"Afternoon," he said, "My name's Liam Marshall, but you can call me Brandon."

Clint did not smile. He didn't shake my hand, either. He only stood and stared off into the distance, looking over my shoulder without seeming to see me.

Brandon asked me a question about my work, but I didn’t want to think about my work. I wanted to cry, or storm away, or yell at Clint, and more than anything, I wanted to feel his soft mouth on mine.

I blinked, and shook my head a little to clear it.

“Uh, yes. I’d like to go ahead and start by checking the hay,” I said. “Would that be all right, Mr. Cannon?”

“Fine,” he said. Curt. Sharp. “Brandon’ll show you.”

With that, he walked away, leaving me blinking after him in the dust.

“He does that to everyone, you know,” Brandon said. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“Sorry?” I asked. I really had to start paying more attention to the other man.

“That brooding thing, where he says two dozen words all day and none of them are ‘please’ or ‘thank you,’” Brand

on replied. “His daddy was the same way. Worse, even. Clint’ll perk up sometimes and give you a smile or ask about your day, but I don’t think I ever once heard his father say anything that wasn’t about sheep or supper.”

“Is his father still around the place?” I asked. If Brandon wanted to talk about Clint instead of sheep, that would be fine by me.