A Cowboy in Manhattan. Barbara Dunlop
Caleb was saying into the phone as he paced from the living room into the entry hall. He lifted his chin in a greeting to them both. “I don’t think Danielle wants to fly all the way down to Brazil.” He paused. “In person? Really?” He braced his hand against the end of the archway and gave a disgusted shake of his head.
Mandy moved down the hall to the kitchen, glanced inside, then came back.
“Katrina here?” she stage-whispered to Caleb.
He narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“Is Katrina here?” she repeated.
He gave her a shrug of incomprehension. “Tell her to take the jet,” he said into the phone. “We’re going to have to give that woman a huge bonus.”
Mandy turned to Reed, her forehead wrinkling in worry. “She was going to ride up the river trail. She should have been here by now.”
“On it,” said Reed, moving immediately back to the door and heading outside.
Katrina was probably stuck somewhere along the trail. Or maybe she’d grown tired and was resting. There was a slim chance she gotten herself into real trouble. But the river trail was well-marked and relatively smooth and safe. The odds were definitely on the side of a delay rather than a catastrophe.
He strode back across the driveway, hopping onto an ATV that was parked next to the barn. He turned the key and the machine roared to life beneath him. He glanced at the sky, judging he had at least an hour before dark. It should be plenty of time, but he wasn’t going to waste any of it.
He drove about four miles down the trail before he spotted her. The bike was tipped at the edge of the trail, and Katrina was crouched over it, looking small and forlorn in the midst of an aspen grove. She stood as he approached, and her shoulders relaxed as she obviously recognized that it was him. He saw the chain was off the bike, and her small hands were black with oil.
He’d give her an A for effort, but a failing grade for actual accomplishment. He knew six-year-olds who could reattach a bicycle chain. He brought the ATV to a stop and killed the engine as he dismounted.
“Looks like you’ve got a problem,” he opened, struggling not to smile at her rather adorable helplessness.
She gestured to the bike. “I came around the corner, hit a bump, and the chain fell off.”
His smile broke through as he checked out her blackened hands. “Any luck putting it back on?”
“Are you mocking me?”
He moved on to inspect the broken-down bicycle. “I’m making small talk, Katrina. Quit being so sensitive.”
“I’m not being—”
“You’ve got a chip a mile wide on those skinny little shoulders.”
“I’m not an auto mechanic,” she harrumphed.
“And I’m not a ballerina.”
She didn’t seem to have a response to that.
“There’s no point in getting my hands dirty fixing it here,” he noted, lifting the bike by the frame and carrying it to the ATV. “Unless you’re set on riding it the rest of the way.”
“In the dark?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it.” He balanced the bike on the wide front rack, uncoiling a bungee cord to fasten it down. “But it’s up to you.”
“No,” she responded tartly. “I don’t want to ride a bike the rest of the way.”
“You okay?” he asked belatedly, wrapping the cord around the bike frame and hooking the end to the rack. She didn’t appear hurt, but he supposed that should have been the first question out of his mouth. That was a miss.
“I’m fine,” she huffed.
He glanced up, taking a more detailed look at her. “You didn’t fall or anything?”
She shook her head. “The chain came off.” She held up her hands. “I stopped and I tried to put it back on.”
“I can see that.”
“I didn’t just sit down and wait for a knight in shining armor.”
“That’s a relief. Because you got me instead.”
She blinked sheepishly, seeming to remember her own manners. “Thank you,” she offered.
He couldn’t help but grin at her discomfort. “That wasn’t what I was fishing for. But you’re welcome.” The sight of her looking so vulnerable in the vastness of the landscape tightened his chest. “Anytime.”
“I guess these things come in threes.”
“Threes?” He glanced around, wondering if he’d missed something.
“I had that ballet shoe come apart on me,” she offered ruefully, glancing at her ankle. “And I almost took a tumble over some cables near the stage because they were partially hidden by a curtain.”
He sure didn’t like that mental picture. But he kept his tone easy. “You do seem to be accident-prone.”
“Ironic.” She sighed. “Because this time I was purposely attempting to stay out of trouble.”
“Admirable,” he acknowledged.
“Mandy wanted me to go horseback riding,” she continued. “And my brothers wouldn’t let me say no, and I knew I’d just slow the whole process down. And I thought …” She gestured to the disabled bike. “Bike-riding is one of my favorite exercises.”
Surely she didn’t ride a bike in the bumper-to-bumper traffic of New York City. “Through Central Park?” he hoped.
“In my gym,” she admitted. “A stationary bike.”
He wanted to tease her about that. But the truth was, he was glad to hear it. Better to be inside a building than fighting for road space with delivery vans, buses and taxis.
“I can set this one up as a stationary for you,” he found himself offering. “In the barn. On a stand. It wouldn’t be high-tech, but I can add a little resistance, and you’ll stay safe and sound.” Even as the words poured out of this mouth, he asked himself what the hell he thought he was doing? He had a million more pressing jobs that needed his attention.
She moved toward the ATV. “Wouldn’t my brothers have a laugh at that.”
He watched her grow close, transfixed by her beautiful face, the depths of her eyes, the motion of her deep pink mouth.
“We can keep it our secret,” he offered.
She hesitated, watching him closely. “I’d jog, but I can’t because of my ankle. And I have to do something.” She drew a deep sigh. “I spent all day yesterday sitting on airplanes. I was going to warm up on this ride, and then get in some stretching. But now, my muscles are cold.”
“You’re cold?”
“Too cold to stretch.”
He quickly unbuttoned his shirt.
“What are you—”
He stepped in and draped it over her shoulders. “Put it on,” he said gruffly. It was going to get even colder once they got up to speed on the trail and the wind hit them.
“I don’t need—” Her gaze caught and held on his bare chest. She blinked twice, then looked away, wordlessly slipping her arms into the sleeves. They hung about six inches past her fingertips, so she rolled them up to a thick band around her forearms.
She fastened the shirt buttons, and her cute black tights and pink T-shirt disappeared beneath the voluminous cotton.
She glanced down at herself. “Lovely.”
He cocked