“No.” But how did she explain that sitting on a horse in the middle of the night, surrounded by her pregnant cows, she felt as if everything was perfect in her world? “But when I’m out here I think about my dad smiling down and I know he’d be happy with me.”
She didn’t talk about her dad all that much to anyone. But because of Shane’s awestruck reaction to tonight’s calving, she was feeling sentimental.
“Happy because you’re doing what he wanted?”
“Yes.”
“How about what you want?”
“It’s the same thing.” Brandee’s buoyant mood suddenly drooped like a thirsty flower. “Being a rancher is all I ever wanted to do.”
“And yet you started a fashion business instead of coming back to find work as a ranch hand. You couldn’t know that what you were doing with your clothing line would make you rich.”
“No.” She’d never really thought about why she’d chosen waitressing and creating clothing and accessories after running away from her mother’s house over getting work on a ranch. “I guess I wasn’t sure anyone would take me serious as a ranch hand.” And it was a job dominated by men.
“You might be right.”
When they arrived at the barn, this time Brandee insisted Shane take her truck back to the ranch house. She wasn’t going to finish up work until much later. He seemed reluctant, but in the end he agreed.
The instant the truck’s taillights disappeared down the driveway, Brandee was struck by a ridiculous feeling of loneliness. She turned on the computer and recorded the ranch’s newest addition. Then, hiding a yawn behind her hand, she made her way to the barn where they housed cows and calves that needed more attention.
Cayenne was a week old. A couple days ago a ranch hand had noticed her hanging out on her own by the hay, abandoned by her mother. At this age it didn’t take long for a calf to slide downhill, so it paid to be vigilant. Jimmy had brought her in and the guys had tended to a cut on her hind left hoof.
They’d given her a bottle with some electrolytes and a painkiller and the calf had turned around in two days. She was a feisty thing and it made Brandee glad to see the way she charged toward the half wall as if she intended to smash through it. At the very last second she wheeled away, bucking and kicking her way around the edge of the enclosure.
Brandee leaned her arms on the wood and spent a few minutes watching the calf, wondering if the mother would take back her daughter when they were reunited. Sometimes a cow just wasn’t much of a mother and when that happened they’d load her up and take her to the sales barn. No reason to feed an unproductive cow.
Talking about being abandoned by her own mother wasn’t something Brandee normally did, but it had proven easy to tell Shane. So easy that she’d also divulged the theft of her inheritance, something she’d only ever told to one other person, her best friend, Chelsea.
In the aftermath of the conversation, she’d felt exposed and edgy. It was partially why she’d picked a fight with him about his “brokenhearted ex-lovers” comment. She’d wanted to bring antagonism back into their interaction. Fighting with him put her back on solid ground, kept her from worrying that he’d see her as weak and her past hurts as exploitable.
At the same time his offhand comment had unknowingly touched a nerve. She’d asked if he saw her as the sort of woman who’d use a man and cast him aside. Yet she’d done it before and had barely hesitated before deciding to do so with Shane. She was going to make him fall for her and trick him into giving up his legal claim to Hope Springs Ranch. What sort of a terrible person did that make her?
Reminding herself that he intended to take the ranch didn’t make her feel better about what she was doing. He had no clue about the enormity of their wager. Keeping him in the dark wasn’t fair or right. Yet, if he discovered the truth, she stood to lose everything.
As during her teen years living with her mother, she was in pure survival mode. It was the only thing that kept her conscience from hamstringing her. She didn’t enjoy what she was doing. It was necessary to protect what belonged to her and keep herself safe. Like a cat cornered by a big dog, she would play as dirty as it took to win free and clear.
Several hours later, after one final sweep of the pasture, she turned the watch over to her ranch hands and had one of them drop her off at home. She probably could’ve walked the quarter-mile-long driveway to her house, but the emotional night had taken a toll on her body as well as her spirit.
The smell of bacon hit her as she entered the back door and her stomach groaned in delight. With loud country music spilling from the recessed speakers above her kitchen and living room, she was able to drop her boots in the mudroom and hang up her coat and hat, then sneak through the doorway to catch a glimpse of Shane without him being aware.
Her heart did a strange sort of hiccup in her chest at the sight of him clad in baggy pajama bottoms, a pale blue T-shirt riding his chest and abs like a second skin. She gulped at the thought of running her hands beneath the cotton and finding the silky, warm texture beneath. While the man might be a piece of work, his body was a work of art.
“Hey.” She spoke the word softly, but he heard.
His gaze shifted toward her and the slow smile that curved his lips gave her nerve endings a delicious jolt. She had to hold on to the door frame while her knees returned to a solid state capable of supporting her. He was definitely working the sexy-roommate angle for all it was worth. She’d better up her game.
“I’m making breakfast just the way you like it.” He held up the skillet and showed her the eggs he’d scrambled. “And there’s French toast, bacon and coffee.”
Damn. And he could cook, too. Conscious of her disheveled hair and the distinctive fragrance of horse and barn that clung to her clothes, Brandee debated slinking off to grab a quick shower or just owning these badges of hard work.
“It all sounds great.” Her stomach growled loudly enough to be heard and Shane’s eyebrows went up.
“Let me make you a plate,” he said, laughter dancing at the edges of his voice. “Here’s a cup of coffee. Go sit down before you fall over.”
That he’d misinterpreted why she was leaning against the doorway was just fine with Brandee. She a
ccepted the coffee and made her way toward the bar stools that lined her kitchen island. Unconcerned about whether the caffeine zap would keep her awake, she gladly sipped the dark, rich brew.