Finn Gallagher leaned his cane against the desk and swiveled his chair around to face the open window. He loved solitude, but with overseeing Redemption Ranch’s kennels, dealing with suppliers and workers and the public, he didn’t get enough of it. These early-morning moments when he could sip coffee and look out across the flat plain toward the Sangre de Cristo Mountains were precious and few.
He was reaching over to turn on the window fan—June in Colorado could be hot—when he heard a knock behind him. “Pardon me,” said a quiet female voice. “I’ve come about the job.”
So much for solitude.
He swiveled around and got the impression of a small brown sparrow. Plain, with no identifying markers. Brown tied-back hair, gray flannel shirt, jeans, no-brand sneakers.
Well, she was plain until you noticed those high cheekbones and striking blue eyes.
“How’d you find us?” he asked.
“Ad in the paper.” She said it Southern style: “Aaa-yud.” Not from around here. “Kennel assistant, general cleaning.”
“Come on in. Sit down,” he said and gestured to a chair, not because he wanted her there but because he felt rude sitting while she was standing. And his days of getting to his feet the moment a lady walked into the room were over. “I’m Finn Gallagher. I run the day-to-day operations here at the ranch.”
“Kayla White.” She sat down like a sparrow, too, perching. Ready for flight.
“Actually,” he said, “for this position, we were looking for a man.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “That’s discriminatory. I can do the work. I’m stronger than I look.”
He studied her a little closer and noticed that she wore long sleeves, buttoned down. In this heat? Weird. She looked healthy, not like a druggie hiding track marks, but lately more and more people seemed to be turning in that desperate direction.
“It’s pretty remote here.” He’d rather she removed herself from consideration for the job so he wouldn’t have to openly turn her down. She was right about the discrimination thing. With all their financial troubles, the last thing Redemption Ranch needed was a lawsuit. “A good ten miles to the nearest town, over bad roads.”
She nodded patiently. And didn’t ask to be withdrawn from consideration.
“The position requires you to live in. Not much chance to meet people and socialize.” He glanced at her bare left hand.
“I’m not big on socializing. More of a bookworm, actually.”
That almost made him like her. He spent most of his evenings at home with a dog and a good book, himself. “Small cabin,” he warned.
“I’ll fit.” She gestured at her petite self as the hint of a smile crossed her face and was just as quickly gone. “I’m relocating,” she clarified, “so living in would be easier than finding a job and a place to stay, both.”
So she wasn’t going to give up. Which was fine, really; there was no reason the new hire had to be male. He just had a vision of a woman needing a lot of attention and guidance, gossiping up a blue streak, causing trouble with the veterans.
Both his mother and his boss would have scolded him for that type of prejudice.
Anyway, Kayla seemed independent and not much of a talker. The more Finn looked at her, though, the more he thought she might cause a little interest, at least, among the guys.
And if she were using... “There’s a drug test,” he said abruptly and watched her reaction.
“Not a problem.” Her response was instant and unambiguous.
Okay, then. Maybe she was a possibility.
They talked through the duties of the job—feeding and walking the dogs, some housekeeping in the offices, but mostly cleaning kennels. She had experience cleaning, references. She liked dogs. She’d done cooking, too, which wasn’t a need they had now, but they might in the future.
Now he wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk her into the job or talk her out of it. Something about her, some hint of self-sufficiency, made him like her, at least as much as he liked any woman. And they did need to hire someone soon. But he got the feeling there was a lot she wasn’t saying.
Would it be okay to have a woman around? He tested the notion on himself. He didn’t date, didn’t deserve to after what he’d done. That meant he spent almost no time around women his age. A nice, quiet woman might be a welcome change.
Or she might be a big complication he didn’t need.
“What’s the living situation?” she asked. “You said a cabin. Where’s it located?”
He gestured west. “There’s a row of seven cabins. Small, like I said. And a little run-down. Seeing as you’re female, we’d put you on the end of the row—that’s what we did with the one female vet who stayed here—but eventually they’ll fill up, mostly with men. Veterans with issues.”
She blanched, visibly.
He waited. From the bird feeder outside his window, a chickadee scolded. The smell of mountain sage drifted in.
“What kind of issues?” Her voice came out a little husky.
“PTSD related, mostly. Some physical disabilities, too. Anything