Read Online Return to Marker Ranch by Claire McEwen - Free Book Online Page B

the mare’s back. “I’d better get going. I’ll come by later today.”
    He was studying her face, obviously puzzled by her sudden change in mood. Well, let him wonder. When you slept with someone and then disappeared, you lost your right to explanations.
    â€œSee you this afternoon, then.” His voice was quiet, his reserve back.
    â€œYup” was all she could get out. She turned Dakota away, trying to breathe through the whirlpool of feelings. Regret, shame, old anger and the newest, unwelcome addition to the general chaos of her emotional life: excitement. This partnership meant they’d be spending more time together. And against all common sense, a part of her was happy about that.
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CHAPTER EIGHT
    C ANCELING THE WATER truck was a huge relief. But driving onto Wade’s ranch to help with the injections brought on a whole other kind of stress. How was she going to handle seeing him regularly? The rutted driveway jolted some sense into her. You’re a mentor. So just treat him the way you’d treat any other rancher in the area who needed some help.
    Ha. Maybe she could pull it off on the outside. She could talk cattle and keep it professional. But that wouldn’t stop her insides from churning with nerves. Or keep her traitorous heart from noticing his beauty and remembering all the things she’d loved about him when they were young.
    She parked her truck and grabbed her tool belt from the back, buckling it tight around her hips. Shoving her hat on her head to block the afternoon sun, she headed toward the dilapidated barn. Wade was around the side of it, leaning on the fence, staring at his cattle. They were a sorry lot. Listless.
    He turned when he heard her footsteps, giving her a weak smile. “Thanks for coming. Here are my sick girls.” He frowned and turned back toward the heifers. “I hate that my ignorance did this.”
    His ignorance. She had a lot of experience with the damage that could wreak. But he looked grateful, which put a pathetic sweetness onto his usually severe face. No. No noticing sweetness. “It’s no problem.”
    He looked down at her waist. “You brought your tool belt? For injections?”
    â€œWe’re not injecting yet. We’re taking a look at your cattle chute first.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with my chute?”
    â€œI don’t know.” She glanced around the run-down property. “Probably a lot. Trust me?”
    â€œSure. But I worked on the chute already. Take a look.” He walked her over. She could see where he’d replaced boards and pounded in loose nails that could tear hide. Maybe a year ago she’d have said it was fine. Now she knew better. “Do you have any plywood?”
    â€œSure.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Why?”
    â€œIf you want them to go in for injections calmly, we should board up the sides of your chute so they can’t see out. Want to try it?”
    â€œLori Allen, Cow Whisperer. Is that what it says on your business card?”
    Her own laugh surprised her. She had no idea he could be funny. “I don’t have a business card. I just took a few classes.”
    â€œI’ll get the wood.” He headed off around the side of the barn, whistling. She tried to remember if he’d ever teased her like this, or whistled like this, when she’d known him years before. He’d been serious, hard and mysterious. That was probably why she’d been crazy about him. He’d been different. Opposite. A better kid than his brothers, but always teetering just on the edge of the dangerous cliff they’d plummeted down years before.
    She’d been drawn to him, recognizing his softness and intelligence under that tough veneer during the rare opportunities they’d had to talk. And that wildness—that edge he walked—had been so compelling. Maybe because sometimes she wished she could do something a