The Trouble With Cowgirls. Amanda Renee
as they met hers. Subtle lines had creased his features over the years. A day’s worth of stubble shadowed his upper lip and jawline. While he appeared harder than she remembered, his expression had softened since earlier that day. And he was close. So close his breath kissed her cheek. “I—I feel like I need to leave a popcorn trail around here.” She shifted, creating more of a distance between them. “I can’t believe how much has changed.”
“It’s been a while.” Lane sighed loudly and started down one of the corridors. “Come on, let’s make a map.”
“Uh...are you sure?” Lucy needed someone to show her around, but she had no doubt there were many other people who could handle the task. Anyone besides Lane would do. “I don’t want to keep you from anything.”
“You’re keeping me from my promotion.” Lane halted midstep and turned to face her. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I’m still trying to accept losing the job I thought I had on top of my ex-girlfriend’s sudden reappearance. You have to admit it’s a potent combination.” For a moment, Lucy thought he was about to take her hand in his. He didn’t, and she wasn’t sure why that made her a touch sad. It certainly would have been inappropriate if he had. “I’d love to say it’s not personal,” he continued, “but we both know a part of it is. I hate this, but there’s more to it. And I’m not sure if it’s me finally getting some closure or if it’s because I’m happy to see you again.”
Lucy steadied herself with a few deep breaths. This can’t be happening. I can’t still have feelings for Lane.
The guilt she carried after losing their baby four months into the pregnancy had never faded. Their son never took his first breath or said his first words. She never had the chance to hold him in her arms or even kiss him goodbye. She’d named him Lane, much to her family’s dismay, but Antonio had understood and supported her decision. She’d lost both Lanes and her heart wasn’t strong enough to let one back in without the other.
* * *
GIVING LUCY A tour was the absolute last thing Lane wanted to do, but he wasn’t going to walk away from his job just yet. The physical closeness to Lucy was almost unbearable. The honey scent of her long mahogany hair was intoxicating and distracting at the same time. He wondered if her skin still felt as silky as it once had beneath his rough palms. Thoughts he shouldn’t think churned in his mind. The woman had been back in his life for a few hours and already she’d gotten to him.
“Tell me about the ranch you worked on in Italy.” Considering Nicolino had introduced Lucy using her maiden name, he wanted to ask about her husband, but he resolved to keep it professional. “What horses did you breed?”
“I—I didn’t.” Her voice was barely audible. “I went to school and managed the horses on our estate.”
Lane froze at the entrance to the grain room. “Estate?” He hadn’t expected that answer. “How many horses did you have?”
“Twenty.” Lucy reached past him and opened the door, leaving him standing in the hallway.
Lane forced himself to follow her inside despite his shock at her response. “You do realize this is the state’s largest paint and cutting horse ranch, right?”
Lucy cleared her throat. “Yes, Lane. I’m well aware of its size. Thank you for reminding me, though.”
How could Nicolino hire someone with zero hands-on experience? If that wasn’t a kick in the teeth. No—she wouldn’t last. He’d give her a week before she realized how unprepared she was. He’d help Lucy, but no way would he train her. It took years of apprenticeship to learn the job and he wasn’t about to mentor his boss. Lane doubted it would ever come to that. If Lucy didn’t realize she was underqualified, then the Langtrys ultimately would. They prided themselves on the quality of Bridle Dance stock, and inexperience meant safety concerns. Lane might take issue with Nicolino, but allowing the company to suffer was not an option. Until he could prove Lucy unsuitable, he’d have to ensure she did nothing to harm the operation, the horses or herself. He didn’t relish having to babysit his ex-girlfriend.
Lane continued to show Lucy around each wing of the Bridle Dance stables and introduced her to the majority of the people on the day staff. The state-of-the-art breeding lab fascinated Lucy the most and her knowledge of the process surprised him. There had been a breeding program in place when she’d last visited Ramblewood, but it had grown significantly since then. Maybe a nudge or two in that direction would tempt her to explore other options. He’d prefer her off the ranch entirely, but that wasn’t his choice to make. Seeing her in any other position would be more tolerable than in the one he’d earned.
“Here’s our home base.” Lane opened the door to a small room located on the main stable floor near the entrance. One thing he hadn’t factored in was that they’d be sharing an office. Not that they’d have the opportunity to spend much time in it together. The majority of their day would be spent either in the stables or outside. Being next to her inside the cramped space just about short-circuited his brain. He noticed beads of sweat forming above her lip and he wondered if she was nervous about being alone with him or if she was hot from the relentless September heat. He didn’t dare ask.
Even though he hated that Lucy had the job he wanted, he couldn’t blame her for getting an education. He was the same age, and she was a reminder that he should be further along in his career. He’d been on his own since his eighteenth birthday. Lucy had been a year older when she’d had Carina. He gave her credit for raising a child while going to college.
Lane sat at the desk across from hers. He cleared his throat. “It’s rare that we’ll have a chance to sit down like this during most days. Is there anything you want to ask that I haven’t already covered? I’m all yours.” He wanted to take back the words the moment he’d said them. Flirting with Lucy was not an option, not that he was attempting to flirt with her. He would not ride down that trail again, especially now that he knew the extent of her betrayal.
Lucy flipped open her notebook and removed a sheet of paper printed on both sides, resembling a scan from a classroom workbook rather than something she’d typed. Couldn’t she have come up with her own questions to ask? “How often does the farrier come in?”
“He never leaves. Well, we allow him to go home at night. We have an on-site farrier named Jorge—he works exclusively for Bridle Dance. He’s responsible for all shoeing and hoof trimming.”
“Who manages that schedule?” Lucy continued to take notes without bothering to look at him. He should have been relieved, but he found it almost dismissive. Okay, so their time together had ended a decade ago; it was still history—a lot of history. He wasn’t a stranger, yet she was treating him like one.
It was a battle to concentrate on her questions and not ask any of his own. “You do.” Lane stood and pulled a binder from the shelf. The movement caused her to glance up at him. When their gazes met, he instantly regretted wishing for eye contact moments ago. Unprepared for the disruption to his thought process, his mind struggled for words. “It’s impossible...” Lane cleared his throat again. “It’s impossible for you to check every horse on the ranch yourself. We have a schedule depending on the horse’s age, what stage of training it’s in, its activity level and so on. We handle the yearlings more frequently, so they’ll get accustomed to the process. This allows us to see if they require any corrective shoeing. Jorge will email you a daily log sheet and you’ll need to print, review and file it in here every day.”
Lane felt as though he were talking at warp speed. After he’d explained employee schedules, payroll procedures and supply ordering and had answered every question she had asked, the afternoon was almost over. It was too much time together—too much closeness. He was wrong before. The past needed to stay in the past. Too many of the times they’d shared together thrashed wildly in his brain like a bull trying to buck its rider. Lane stood and reached for the doorknob, wondering why he’d ever closed the door in the first place. “There’s also a checklist we run through at the end of the day and give to Brad—the night manager—when he comes in, which should be shortly. He’ll repeat