be careful around Andy—”
“Careful?” She laughed. “Why?”
“Because he dropped himself on my doorstep last night, whining about the woman who was two months away from marrying him, and I don’t want to give him any ideas. I have every intention of sending him back home to Ida ASAP.”
Mackenzie frowned. What was Chet more worried about—the big developers or his brother’s broken engagement?
“What ideas, exactly?”
“Ideas about you.” The statement was loaded, and after he’d said it, silence and implication stretched between them. Andy was barely single again, and Chet thought she’d swoop in and scoop him up? It was insulting.
“Is that what you think of me?” she demanded.
“Excuse me?”
“You think I’m back here looking for romance?” Anger bubbled up within her. A woman inherited four hundred acres of Montana ranch land, and he thought she’d wander off after Andy Granger? “I’m here to run a ranch, and you and Andy can work out your family issues on your own. You and Ida can rest easy, Chet. I have no intention of selling out to some faceless corporation, and I have no intention of starting up with Andy again, either.”
“That’s good.”
Mackenzie wanted to reach out and smack this man, but instead she shook her head and smiled coldly.
“I think I’ll take care of my own blisters,” she said, hopping out of the truck.
“Wait—you’re mad?” Chet asked incredulously, leaning down and looking out the open truck window at her. “What just happened here?”
Just like a man, Chet had missed everything between the lines, and Mack turned back toward him in anger.
“I’m a grown woman, Chet. I’m college educated, and I’m the sole owner of four hundred acres. I’m no longer seventeen, and while this might shock you, I don’t need a man. I’m also not stupid. So you can stop standing guard and—”
Chet opened the truck door and slammed it shut harder than necessary. He leaned back into the open window and pinned her with an annoyed glare. “I’m not standing guard.”
He stalked around the vehicle and up the back stairs to her house.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“I’m helping you with those blisters,” he retorted, turning flashing gray eyes onto her. “This is ranching lesson number one—you need people. You can never do this on your own. You’re going to need neighbors and you’re going to need to pitch in to help them, too, because one of these days, you’re going to get the flu, or you’re going to get your tractor stuck in the mud, or you’re going to lose cows through a broken fence... The potential emergencies are pretty much countless. So get off your high horse, get into that house and let me help you sort out your blisters, or tomorrow you’re going to be bleeding through your gloves!”
Mack stared at him, stunned. Without another word, he disappeared into the house, leaving Mackenzie outside. She had two choices—go in there and let him help her, or stomp off to the barn or somewhere and make some elaborate point about her independence. She looked down at her hands—they hurt. A little bit of nursing would be nice, she had to admit, so she blew out a sigh and headed into the house.
Chet seemed to know his way around well enough, his boots thunking against the kitchen floor as he paced about, gathering his supplies. He wrenched open a cupboard above the fridge and pulled out a first-aid kit. So that was where Granny had kept it. Good to know.
“Wash up,” he said and marched down the hall, his footsteps echoing from the bathroom. She did as he told her—not that she wouldn’t have washed her hands, she mentally noted with an eye roll. Then he came back, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in hand. He deposited everything onto the table and pulled out a chair.
“Sit.”
“You’re a bossy one,” she said with a slight smile.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He pointed to the chair. “I said sit.”
Mackenzie gave him an arch look, then complied. He sat in the chair next to her and took her closer hand in his. He pressed his knees together and laid her open hand against the warm valley between them.
“These blisters are too big,” he said. “I’ll pop the ones that haven’t already with a needle, and after they’ve drained, we’ll disinfect it all and let it dry out.”
“That’s the secret?” she said.
“Yup.” He set to work, his hands moving more gently than she’d have thought possible. He pulled out a needle, and she looked away. Thank goodness he finished the job quickly enough. Her hands were still tender, but they’d heal up. She wasn’t the first person on the planet to get a blister, and she felt a little ridiculous getting this kind of attention for something so ordinary.
When he was through, Chet stood back up again.
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “But do me a favor and wait for me before evening chores tonight. You’re going to have to build up to this kind of work, and there’s no way around that.”
She could see that he was right, and she nodded mutely.
“And one more thing.” He pulled open the door and looked back at her, gray eyes boring into hers. “I wasn’t suggesting that you’d take advantage of Andy. I was saying that he’s not completely over you. Just...be careful.”
Andy was the boy who’d unceremoniously dumped her...the boy she’d always wondered about in spite of herself. He’d been her first big heartbreak, the one she’d always fantasized about running into when she looked fantastic and successful. And Chet was saying that he still had feelings for her?
Chet didn’t mention anything further, and she didn’t ask. He simply stepped outside, slamming the door behind him. She went to the window and watched him stride away from the house, hop up into his truck and drive off without so much as a backward glance.
She looked down at her newly bandaged hands. Chet had a point about needing neighbors. She couldn’t be responsible for even fifteen cows without someone else to lean on if the worst should happen. And it looked as if Chet wasn’t going to let her be choosy about whom she chose to lean on, either.
After a sunny morning, clouds had been rolling in all afternoon, sweeping across the landscape but so far leaving them without any rain. Montana needed the moisture, and like every other landholder in these parts, Chet had been watching the sky, hoping for more than an overcast day. This evening, he stood by the back door of Mackenzie’s barn as the cows filed inside, hooves plodding hollowly against concrete, and watched as Mackenzie closed them into their stalls.
He’d never seen Mack as much of a rancher in their youth. She’d always been the city girl visiting her grandmother’s ranch, but the past decade had changed a lot. Her teenage spunk had matured into a stubborn fortitude. The accidental flirtation that she’d never seemed entirely aware of had evaporated. She now seemed to know what she could make a man feel and her appropriate reserve made him only all the more drawn to her. She knew what she had to offer, and she wasn’t playing games. All of that potential had blossomed. If he’d been smitten back then, he knew that he could fall even harder now if he wasn’t careful.
The goats came in after the cows, and Butter Cream ambled in last of all, her belly less full and a tiny white kid in tow. Chet hadn’t seen the kid when they’d opened the pasture gates. It looked as if Butter Cream had taken care of things herself—a week early, at that. The baby was mussed up from having been licked by its mother, and Chet crouched down to do a quick sex check. The kid was a buck, and its belly was full of milk—an