to ride for a month or tend the horses and work the herd six days a week.”
Hank ground his teeth. He didn’t like either choice.
“Did she say she was staying until she learned to ride, or the full month?”
“She’s paying in advance for a full month, so she’s staying.”
“Damn, damn, damn,” Hank muttered.
“It won’t be that bad, Hank,” Jess interjected. “She’ll probably be too sore to ride much in the beginning.”
“True, Jess,” her husband concurred. He turned to Hank. “And you’ve got to promise not to try to get rid of her before the end of the month. Be nice to her.”
Hank frowned at Jim again. “Fine,” he said.
He picked up his fork again, but the food that had enticed him only minutes ago no longer appealed. He pushed away from the table.
“With my luck she’ll be three hundred pounds and ugly as sin.”
HANK FOUND HIMSELF in the Denver airport two days later. He’d made an effort to clean himself up, wearing a nice western shirt with pressed jeans, a belt buckle he’d won in a Cheyenne rodeo and his dress Resistol hat. He was even wearing his dress boots, all for this wealthy woman.
Jess had given him the seal of approval before he left the ranch earlier that morning. Then she’d handed him a sign to hold up, with the lady’s name printed on it. Andrea Jacobs.
Her name made her sound stuck up. Just one more fault to add to the long list Hank had drawn up in his mind. His imagination had already turned her into one damn near impossible woman.
He leaned against the wall in the baggage-claim area, watching people come and go. When the first group of travelers came through the door, he held up the sign, figuring she’d be traveling first-class. A rather large woman came through the door, and Hank grimaced behind the placard, certain she had to be the one.
“Excuse me,” said a voice beside him. “I’m Andrea Jacobs.”
He turned his head and stared. Slender and young, the woman had long, wavy, brown hair that shone with red highlights. She was more than pretty. “You are?” he asked, shocked by her appearance—and his luck.
“Last time I checked my ID I was.” The woman smiled and showed perfect white teeth. “Thank you for holding up a sign. Your manager said to look for a tall man with a cowboy hat, but—” she looked around “—there seem to be a lot of tall men with cowboy hats in the terminal.”
He stiffened a bit. “It’s ranch country, ma’am.” He wanted to remind her she wasn’t in New York anymore, but held his tongue. “Did you bring luggage?”
She looked at him as if he was crazy. “You expected me to arrive without luggage for a month’s stay?”
Little Miss Andrea Jacobs sure had an attitude. He was beginning to wish the heavyset woman he’d spotted earlier was his new pupil. She might have been easier to manage. “Let’s get your bags, then,” he growled.
It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but he’d promised his sister and brother-in-law he’d be on best behavior.
ANDREA JACOBS was irritated.
She followed the cowboy to the baggage-claim area and now he just stood there as the luggage spun around on the carousel. He hadn’t asked her what her bags looked like. Were they going to wait until everyone else had claimed their luggage?
What kind of man was this?
He hadn’t even bothered to introduce himself when they met.
When she’d decided to take these lessons, she’d had all these romantic notions about a cowboy who would teach her how to ride. Maybe she’d read too many books and seen too many westerns, but she’d expected a strong, old-fashioned kind of man, one who could ride like the wind and rope a rustling steer, but treat a woman like a prized possession.
Instead she got him.
When the couple beside her heaved their bags off the carousel, he finally turned to her. “How many bags do you have?”
“Three. They’re bright blue,” she said begrudgingly.
She began to think that maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. Maybe she should never have decided to learn to ride just so she could impress her—
“Aren’t you even looking for your luggage?”
She turned to him. “Excuse me?”
“You look like you’re daydreaming and meanwhile a couple of blue bags have been going around. I don’t know what your suitcases look like, so you’d best pay attention.”
This oaf wasn’t anything like the nice man from the Lazy L dude ranch she’d spoken to on the phone. He’d promised she’d be a great rider in a month and gather memories to last a lifetime.
“Are those your bags coming up?” His impatient voice intruded on her thoughts again.
She looked up. “Yes, those three.”
She grabbed two of the bags and set them at her feet. Then he chased after the third bag.
“I’ll carry the middle bag,” she said when he returned.
“I can manage,” he said tersely.
“Fine.” She’d been trying to be gracious but if he insisted on carrying everything, then so be it. She stepped back so he could lead the way to his vehicle. She only hoped it was comfortable. She’d gotten up very early this morning to catch her flight. Though she’d planned to sleep on the flight, she’d sat next to a woman who had talked to her the entire trip.
Certainly, Mr. Sourpuss wouldn’t intrude on her naptime.
Though she’d have liked to stop somewhere for lunch, she wouldn’t suggest such a nicety to this man. The sooner they got to the ranch, the better.
His vehicle was a late-model Lexus sedan. She could take a nice nap in that car. He stowed her luggage in the trunk, then opened the passenger-side door for her. The small courtesy warmed her, but she certainly wasn’t won over yet.
When he pulled the car into traffic, she expected he’d talk about the ranch, but he was quiet, only the sounds of country music on the radio preventing total silence.
Fine with her. She lay her head back and was almost asleep when she felt the car slowing. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m hungry,” the cowboy replied.
Looking around, she noticed they’d pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant called The Prime Rib. She inhaled the scent of barbecued beef.
“The ranch is two hours away. I need to eat.” With that he got out of the car.
Andrea sat there, not sure if she should follow.
Her door opened. “Are you getting out?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand that you…” Never mind, she told herself. She simply got out of the car and followed him into the restaurant.
The place was much nicer than she would expect the oaf beside her to frequent.
When they were seated and the server approached their table, he barked, “We’ll take a ‘mucho nacho’ and two iced teas to start.”
“Are the nachos good?” Andrea asked when the waitress left, trying to make conversation, though she didn’t know why she was bothering.
“I like them.”
She tried again. “I’m surprised you ordered an iced tea. I figured you for a beer man.”
He shot her a look. In the bright light she could see that his eyes were dark brown laced with topaz. Almost the same brown as