quieted and was wriggling in her arms, so she set him down and resisted the urge to smooth her hair, which she knew was a mess, along with the rest of her. She wore no makeup and was dusty and sweaty, with hay sticking to her clothing, her hair a tangle. “We’ve been unloading hay,” she said, by way of explanation.
“I’ve got some other work to do, so I’ll get on with it,” Rodrigo said. He nodded to Ryder, and sauntered away. Christa resisted the urge to call him back on some pretense. Last night she’d been easy with Ryder, in the café full of people, but now she couldn’t seem to relax. Without the buffer of other people around them, would he sense her attraction to him and get the wrong idea? Even Jet deserted her, distracted by some scent he’d uncovered on the other side of the shed.
“So you grew up here.”
He was still looking toward the house, which sat in the grove of oaks her grandfather had planted when he built the house. “I was born in a hospital in Dallas,” she said. “But I came home to here and didn’t leave until I went to Austin for college.”
“What was that like—being a little girl here?”
“I don’t think I could have asked for a better childhood. I mean, people pay big money to vacation in the kind of environment I lived in every day. I rode horses, swam, went to movies with my friends or hung out at the soda fountain. I knew almost everyone and could safely go almost anywhere in town.” She’d been hoping to recapture a little of those stress-free, uncomplicated times when she’d moved back here. She’d lost more than her job in the city—she’d lost her place in life, her identity. She needed to return to the one place she was always sure of herself in order to figure out where she belonged and what she was supposed to be doing.
“You didn’t long for malls and drive-throughs?” His dimples showed when he smiled and her heart did its trapped butterfly imitation again.
“Maybe sometimes I did,” she said. “I mean, I was a teenage girl. When I left for college in Austin, I was excited about living in the city, being closer to shopping and restaurants and all the things we didn’t have here. But after a while, I missed all of this.” She gestured around her, at the wide-open prairie, the ranch buildings and the little house. “There’s just something about home.”
“I never felt that kind of tie to a place. I’m a little envious.”
He was standing close enough she could smell the faint pine scent of the soap he used, or maybe it was aftershave. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to just below the elbows, revealing muscular forearms dusted with dark hair. She’d worked around men all the time growing up, riding horses, bucking hay and mending fences alongside Rodrigo and Duncan and the other cowboys, but none of them had seemed as masculine and desirable as Ryder did right now.
As if sensing her uneasiness, he stepped back, putting more distance between them. “Would you show me around?”
The request surprised her. “I thought you’d been here before.”
“I have, but that was to talk to your dad. I’d like to see the place through your eyes.”
She brushed hay from her jeans. “I’m a mess.”
“You look fine to me.”
She didn’t dare look up, but she felt his gaze on her, like a caress. Quickly, she whistled for the dog. As she started walking. Ryder fell into step beside her. “These two hay sheds were built in 1979,” she said. “My grandfather was ranching the place then. My dad was a teenager. He went to college at Texas A&M and got a degree in Agriculture Science, then married my mom and they lived in what everybody called the old home place, over near Jade Creek.”
“Does anyone live there now?” Ryder took a long, deep breath and released it.
“Not for a long time. It’s mostly used for storage,” she said. “By the time I was born we’d moved to the main house. Grandpa had died and my grandmother lived
“I’ve got some other work to do, so I’ll get on with it,” Rodrigo said. He nodded to Ryder, and sauntered away. Christa resisted the urge to call him back on some pretense. Last night she’d been easy with Ryder, in the café full of people, but now she couldn’t seem to relax. Without the buffer of other people around them, would he sense her attraction to him and get the wrong idea? Even Jet deserted her, distracted by some scent he’d uncovered on the other side of the shed.
“So you grew up here.”
He was still looking toward the house, which sat in the grove of oaks her grandfather had planted when he built the house. “I was born in a hospital in Dallas,” she said. “But I came home to here and didn’t leave until I went to Austin for college.”
“What was that like—being a little girl here?”
“I don’t think I could have asked for a better childhood. I mean, people pay big money to vacation in the kind of environment I lived in every day. I rode horses, swam, went to movies with my friends or hung out at the soda fountain. I knew almost everyone and could safely go almost anywhere in town.” She’d been hoping to recapture a little of those stress-free, uncomplicated times when she’d moved back here. She’d lost more than her job in the city—she’d lost her place in life, her identity. She needed to return to the one place she was always sure of herself in order to figure out where she belonged and what she was supposed to be doing.
“You didn’t long for malls and drive-throughs?” His dimples showed when he smiled and her heart did its trapped butterfly imitation again.
“Maybe sometimes I did,” she said. “I mean, I was a teenage girl. When I left for college in Austin, I was excited about living in the city, being closer to shopping and restaurants and all the things we didn’t have here. But after a while, I missed all of this.” She gestured around her, at the wide-open prairie, the ranch buildings and the little house. “There’s just something about home.”
“I never felt that kind of tie to a place. I’m a little envious.”
He was standing close enough she could smell the faint pine scent of the soap he used, or maybe it was aftershave. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to just below the elbows, revealing muscular forearms dusted with dark hair. She’d worked around men all the time growing up, riding horses, bucking hay and mending fences alongside Rodrigo and Duncan and the other cowboys, but none of them had seemed as masculine and desirable as Ryder did right now.
As if sensing her uneasiness, he stepped back, putting more distance between them. “Would you show me around?”
The request surprised her. “I thought you’d been here before.”
“I have, but that was to talk to your dad. I’d like to see the place through your eyes.”
She brushed hay from her jeans. “I’m a mess.”
“You look fine to me.”
She didn’t dare look up, but she felt his gaze on her, like a caress. Quickly, she whistled for the dog. As she started walking. Ryder fell into step beside her. “These two hay sheds were built in 1979,” she said. “My grandfather was ranching the place then. My dad was a teenager. He went to college at Texas A&M and got a degree in Agriculture Science, then married my mom and they lived in what everybody called the old home place, over near Jade Creek.”
“Does anyone live there now?” Ryder took a long, deep breath and released it.
“Not for a long time. It’s mostly used for storage,” she said. “By the time I was born we’d moved to the main house. Grandpa had died and my grandmother lived
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