The Rancher's Redemption. Melinda Curtis
to prepare the quarterly tax paperwork. She needed to refill Nana Nancy’s weekly pillbox. She needed to read through her brief for court tomorrow because solid preparation was going to make her a better lawyer.
She rattled the gate some more.
A few minutes later, Rachel’s rope was secured on her saddle, the bull fidgeted on the other side of the fence, and Ben stood in front of Utah, stroking the gelding’s neck. “Hey, what’s that platform for?” Ben gestured toward a wooden structure by the river. It looked like a dock built too high above the water.
“Zoe calls it the observation platform. It’s on the website as being ideal for watching the sun rise or doing yoga.” Rachel doubted Zoe had done any of those things, either. And as far as Rachel knew, Zoe didn’t understand the significance of the end of this road to Ben and Rachel.
“Zoe built it?” Ben studied it with more attention than Rachel thought it deserved.
She wondered which memory came to his mind first. For her, it was always senior prom. He’d been out riding the morning after that dance and had found Rachel huddled on the bank wearing baggy sweats and no makeup with a nose stuffed with tears.
“Andy broke up with me.” Rachel hadn’t been able to look at Ben when she’d said it.
He hadn’t said anything in response. He’d just settled down beside her, slung his arm over her shoulder and watched the sun come up over the Rockies. Back then, she’d thought he was the best Blackwell ever.
It had taken nearly a decade to prove that wasn’t the case.
“The platform was Zoe’s idea.” Best make that clear. “She paid a ton to have it built.” Rachel turned Utah toward home, pausing to add, “And you can thank me for saving you and letting you traverse Double T land without having you arrested for trespassing.” The ingrate.
“Actually, this part of the road belongs to the Blackwells,” Ben said in an odd voice. And then he ran a hand over his hair and jogged ahead of her.
On the other side of the fence, the bull trotted next to him, like a loyal two-ton dog.
Dismissed, Rachel held Utah back, casting one last look over her shoulder toward the river, glimmering in the sunset. Now that Ben was safe, she could think about the rescue with more detachment. Replay Ben running from a raging bull as if he was running with the football, a pack of defenders at his heels.
In high school, Ben had played all sports. He was still in good shape and looked as if he could pick up where he’d left off on any playing field.
The playing field will be my courtroom to morrow.
Rachel smiled. Now was the time to get into her opponent’s head. “Do you really go out looking like that back east?”
“Yep.” He was pulling away from her in an easy stride.
Down here, the road wasn’t overgrown the way it was on the section from the Double T to the first Blackwell gate. Traffic from Blackwell ranch hands, and now ranch guests, kept the weeds to a minimum.
She kicked Utah into a trot, bringing them alongside Ben. “Must be a city thing.”
His white teeth flashed. “You mean my running clothes don’t do it for you?”
“No.” Couldn’t he have developed a tick? Grown straggly gray hair? “I’ve seen people dress in tights before.” She let that sink in before adding, “Ladies doing Zumba at the community center in Livingston, for instance.”
“You’ve spent a lot of time commenting on my legs.” He sent her a sly glance. “The only reason I can see is that they must please you.”
“Still got that ego, I see.”
“I call ’em as I see ’em, Thompson.”
Thompson. He’d called her that in the seventh grade when he’d accepted her invitation to the Sadie Hawkins dance: Okay, Thompson.
“Okay, Thompson. Let’s do this,” he’d said again, as he led her to the dance floor, his tone as serious as if they were heading into battle against overwhelming odds.
She felt the same tummy shimmy now as she had then. Of course, years ago her nerves were from not knowing what would happen next. Would he accept her invitation? Would they slow dance? Would he try to steal a kiss?
A kiss...
She watched Ben’s athletic stride, thinking about how much she missed kissing and being held in a pair of strong arms. His arms looked rather strong.
Ridiculous.
Rachel put a halt to her wandering thoughts. She wasn’t interested in men right now or Ben ever. She had a ranch to save and a baby to raise. Not to mention Ben was opposing counsel at their hearing tomorrow, her best friend’s ex and completely off-limits. Her mantras echoed in her head:
Win back the water rights.
Set the ranch to rights.
Get a signed custody agreement.
Learn how to be a better rancher.
Her excuses didn’t make a difference. The tummy shimmy persisted.
Ben and Utah kept pace with one another. Neither was winded. If their situations had been reversed and Rachel had been jogging, she would’ve quit by now, clutching a deep stitch in her side. The last time she’d gotten her heart rate up in the red zone, she’d been in labor.
“Speaking of fancy dressers...” Ben half glanced Rachel’s way. “I see you’ve got your Montana date clothes on.”
“Date clothes?” Rachel had forgotten she was wearing her mother’s overalls. They were too short and hit the top of her mother’s fancy boots. Not to mention Mom had embroidered white poodles on the bib. Très chic.
“Are you planning to escort me to my door and kiss me good-night, too?” Ben laughed.
Laughed! Rachel sputtered.
The bull huffed, as if he couldn’t believe Ben’s ego either. Utah just kept trotting. He had a smooth gait, which probably prevented Rachel from falling off in shock.
Ben stopped jogging. “Why don’t you give me a lift?”
“A lift?” Rachel squeaked. She’d barely touched the reins and Utah planted his hooves. Traitor. She would’ve liked to have kept right on going.
“Or you could hurry on home to your Mama just like you did that time we stole some beer from Big E on the Fourth of July.” Ben gave Rachel a wry half smile that pressed in on her chest like a hot humid day.
“We weren’t alone.” She huffed, at a loss as to why Ben was having such an effect on her. “I was with Andy, and you were with Zoe.” There. Reminding him of Zoe ought to burst his bubble.
Or not.
Ben continued speaking as if she hadn’t brought up his ex. “But if I get lost, or Ferdinand here breaks through the fence and tramples me, you’re going to have to explain to the judge why I didn’t show up for court in the morning. And if I don’t show, there will be a continuation, and you’ll look heartless for having left me out here in the cold, possibly injured.”
“Geez, Blackwell.” She sounded as if she was enjoying their banter. Rachel regrouped with her most serious tone. “I know this line of yours doesn’t work on women in New York City.”
“It could.” His grin was classic Ben, delivered with intent to charm. “I haven’t met many horseback-riding women in Central Park, particularly ones wearing such stylish poodle-trimmed overalls.”
Rachel’s cheeks heated. “And you wouldn’t. Not wearing those superhero tights of yours.”
He