“Yes,” she said, grateful for the quick change of subject. “I’ve got some papers for him to look over and sign...”
“My daughter’s a fiend for paperwork,” he said, then waved one hand. “Come along with me, I’ll take you to Jake.”
She glanced at her car, thinking about her purse lying on the front seat, but then she realized that this wasn’t Boston and a purse snatcher wasn’t going to reach in and grab anything. So she followed Ben Hawkins, taking careful steps that didn’t come close to matching his long, even strides.
Cassidy had dressed to impress and now that it was too late, she was rethinking that. She wore black slacks, a white dress shirt and a cardinal-red waist-length jacket. Her black heels added an extra three inches to her measly five-foot-four frame, and in the city that gave her extra confidence. Here, walking on gravel, she could only wish for the sneakers tucked into the bottom of her bag.
But first impressions counted, and she’d wanted to come across as sleek and professional to her boss’s son. So she’d find a way to maneuver over tricky ground and make it look good while she was doing it.
“It’s a beautiful place,” she said.
“It is that,” the older man agreed, slowing his steps a bit. “I lived my whole life here, but in the few years Jake’s been in charge he’s made so many changes sometimes I look around and can’t believe what he’s done in so short a time.”
She looked at him. “You sound pleased by that.”
“Oh, I am.” He winked at her. “I know most old men don’t care much for change. But far as I’m concerned, if you’re not changing, you’re dead. So when Jake came to Montana for good, I turned over the ranch to him and said, ‘Do what you want.’” Chuckling again, he added, “He took me up on it.”
Smiling, she decided she liked Ben Hawkins.
“He started right out building the new ranch house,” Ben said, waving one hand at the spectacular building on their left. “Designed it himself and even did a lot of the construction on his own, too.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said, throwing another glance at the gorgeous house.
“It is,” he agreed. “Too much house for a man on his own, though.”
“On his own?” She frowned a little. “Don’t you live there, too?”
Ben laughed. “No, I live there.”
He pointed at one of the smaller buildings, and she noted that it did look older, somehow more settled, than the newer structures around it.
“It’s the original ranch house and for me, it’s home.”
They approached a corral and Ben took her elbow to steady her as she stepped off the gravel onto soft dirt. Her heels sank and she grimaced, but her gaze was caught on the cowboy riding a big black horse around the interior of the corral.
The cowboy looked as comfortable in the saddle as she was in a desk chair. Animal and man moved as one and Cassidy stepped closer to the rail fence, mesmerized as she watched their progress. There was a cold wind blowing, yet she hardly noticed the chill as she kept her gaze fixed on the man on the horse.
“That’s my grandson, Jake,” Ben told her. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Ben walked off but Cassidy didn’t see him go. Instead, she studied the cowboy even more closely. And she realized why it was that her boss hadn’t been able to convince her son to move to the city. A man that at home on a horse would never be happy in a city of concrete and cars. Even from a distance there was a wildness to him that intrigued her even as her mind whispered for caution. After all, she wasn’t here to admire her boss’s son. This visit was not only going to be brief, but strictly business as well. Which didn’t mean, she assured herself silently, that she couldn’t admire the view.
Ben whistled, sharp and short. Jake looked up, then looked to Cassidy when his grandfather pointed her out. She saw his features tighten and she told herself it didn’t matter. But as he rode closer to her, she took a single step back from the corral fence.
Were all horses that big?
Jake Hunter swung down and leaned his forearm on the top rail of the fence even as he rested the toe of one battered boot on the bottom rung. Cassidy swallowed hard. Close up, he was even more intriguing.
Black hair, mostly hidden beneath his hat, curled over the collar of his brown leather jacket. His eyes were so blue and so hard, they looked like chips of ice. Black beard stubble covered his jaws and his mouth was thinned into a straight line. His jeans were faded and worn, and over them, he wore a pair of soft, light brown chaps that seemed to hug what looked like very long, muscular legs.