High Country Hideout. Elle James
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“Give me your hand.”
Taking a deep breath, Reggie reached out to take Angus’s hand.
“I need you to turn and wrap your legs around me.”
“Nope. Not happening,” she said, holding on to the tree with one arm, while squeezing his hand, his grip reassuring.
“Come on, I know you’re tougher than that. You’re a one-woman ranch owner, determined to make this ranch work.”
“I’m tired. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Sure you can. You have a terrific kid who needs you.” Angus tugged her hand, gently guiding her to him. “All you have to do is wrap your arms around me and hold on. Think of it as a great big hug. Come on. I know you’ve been wanting to.”
Despite the desperate fear of falling to her death, Reggie couldn’t resist the warmth of Angus’s voice. God, she wanted to hug him right then and hold on to him for dear life.
High Country
Hideout
Elle James
ELLE JAMES, a New York Times bestselling author, started writing when her sister challenged her to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children and she and her husband even tried ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas). Ask her and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and-fifty-pound bird! Elle loves to hear from fans at [email protected] or www.ellejames.com.
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Contents
“Almost there, Ranger.” Angus Ketchum shifted the truck into low gear and glanced across the seat at the German shepherd.
The animal sat patiently in the passenger seat as they bumped across the curving gravel road. Ranger stared out the window, taking it all in without comment. Angus envied the animal’s calm. The fresh air and wide-open spaces would be good for the dog and hopefully for a washed-up soldier.
Before his last deployment he’d dreamed of owning or working on a place just like this. He’d loved fishing, hunting and working in the outdoors. Having grown up as a foreman’s son, ranching was part of the cowboy he used to be.
Hard work, sweat, cattle and horses were what made his heart sing. He couldn’t think of anything he liked better than riding the range; the quiet sounds of nature were all the music he needed.
When his father had retired from ranching at the ripe old age of fifty-five, Angus had been eighteen and on his way to Texas A&M University on a football scholarship. In the back of his mind, he knew he’d eventually come back to ranching when he could afford to buy his own spread.
His lips twisted as he applied the brake with his left foot. He’d joined the Corps of Cadets at A&M, graduated with a degree in engineering and joined the army as a brand-new second lieutenant.
Eight years and four tours to the Middle East later, his world had