“She has figured out how to open every latch we put on her pen. I’d rather she didn’t roam around the yard and leave patties everywhere.” He bit his lip, and she knew he was trying not to grin.
“I see. So, that patty I stepped in was a gift from her?”
“She’s the only cow that stays around the barns.”
Ryan tilted her head. “And why do you only have one cow?”
“I don’t have just one cow. I own several head of young Charolais steers and heifers. I use them when I train horses. She was raised by hand. Her mama died when she was born and no other female cow would feed her, so we did. She’s friendly.”
Ryan turned to look at the cow again. “Hi, Elsie,” she said then laughed when the cow mooed.
“I got boots,” she said with a smile, nodding toward her feet.
Seth looked down to her feet, then met her eyes. “Damn good thing, Ms. Carroll, otherwise you’d be wasting another day for us.”
Ryan gasped. “Are you always this grumpy or is it just with me?”
He stared at her for a few seconds, then looked at the cow. “Come on, Elsie. Back to the paddock for you, then I have paperwork to do.”
Ryan watched as Seth strode into the barn, her mouth dropping open when the cow followed him. She couldn’t take her eyes off those tight Wranglers, and the black T-shirt he wore clung to his broad back as it did the front. His boots kicked up dust as he walked away from her. He didn’t seem to like her, but it could be he wasn’t happy about her following him around to watch how Beckett Feed was processed.
“Well, too bad, Mr. Harrison, I’m following you no matter what. I want my photos in this article, and you are not going to stop me. Besides, Mr. Beckett wanted it, so you, Seth Harrison, have to deal with me. Whether you like it or not.” With a deep sigh, Ryan strode through the barn, snapping photos as she did.
****
After putting Elsie in the paddock, Seth entered his house, placed his hands on his hips and let his shoulders slump, staring at the floor as if it could swallow every ounce of his patience.That woman was going to drive him insane. He lifted his Stetson from his head and hung it on a wooden peg by the door. He trudged down the hallway to his office, where ledgers and invoices lay stacked in precarious piles.
He swept around the heavy oak desk, eased his chair from beneath it, sat and clicked on the computer monitor. Rows of numbers filled the screen, planting costs, payroll, tractor maintenance. But even as he typed, his mind drifted to Ryan Carroll; her sharp, smoky voice; the tilt of her chin; the way she’d snapped ‘Mr. Harrison’ with such effortless confidence. What a damn pain in the ass.
Leaning back, Seth clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “Just stay the hell away from her,” he muttered, imagining her politely outraged expression. “Let Cull deal with her.”
He forced himself upright, reached for the mouse, and plunged into the day’s bookkeeping. Yet every click brought him back to the first day she’d shown up; her tailored blouse, the faint perfume lingering around her. He needed a plan to clear her out of his head. She was too striking, too noticeable; any man on the ranch would look twice. Maybe if he made her walk the field in this muck, she’d hate it and quit. Two straight days of rain had turned the soil to thick, clinging mud.
He nodded to himself. That was it. Tomorrow morning, he’d have her follow him through the field. He liked checking the soil before they tilled the land, then he would walk ahead of the planters, feeling the rhythm of the land. She wouldn’t be expecting that.
After a few hours, he pushed his chair back, stood, and went into the kitchen area. He snagged his hat from the peg, slipped it on, and opened the back door. A cool breeze carried the scent of rain as he jogged down the steps, past the scatter of bare lilac bushes in the yard, and into the barn. The warm, sweet tang ofhay dust danced in the late morning light slanting through high windows.
In the corner by the corn planter, Cull and Ryan stood close, talking. She wore dark jeans and a red T-shirt covered by a flannel shirt. He strode across the spill of straw to them.
“Ms. Carroll?” His voice echoed off the rafters.
She turned, her smoky tone soft but firm. “Mr. Harrison.” The syllables rolled off her tongue like silk. Seth felt a twinge in his chest.
“Tomorrow morning, eight sharp,” he said, planting his feet in the strewn straw. “You’ll come out to the field with me.”
Her blue eyes lifted, unflinching. “Alright.”
He looked over at Cull. “Get her a pair of muck boots, please.”
“I have boots, Mr. Harrison,” she offered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Just like you told me. Why muck boots?”
“I already told you it’s too muddy for regular boots,” he replied, his voice taut.
“Are you telling me I’m going to be walking in mud?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” he said, tone steely. “I’ll see you here at eight. For now, you can ask Cull any questions you have. I have to work with a horse today.” He pivoted and strolled along the aisle toward the door.
“Seth.” Cull’s voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned to see his manager and friend walking toward him. He folded his arms when he reached him.
