Page 50 of Her Boss, Her Rancher: Sunrise On The Ranch

“Fair enough. Got a radio?”

“I’m responsible enough to know to keep one on me at all times out there.” Waving Ty off, he moved to Ziggy’s stall and was thrilled to find the gelding alert, listening for his voice. “Ready for a little light work this morning?”

The horse nickered in response, almost as if he’d understood, tossing his head until Cade had to slow the horse down before he got dangerously wound up and too hard to handle. Clipping a lead on Ziggy’s halter, he took the horse down to the hitching bar just around the corner from the tack room.

“I’ve got to get in the saddle and get a little crazy worn off. You up for it, my man?” Cade asked as he cleaned Ziggy’s hooves, brushed him down and then saddled up the horse.

As he swung up onto the horse’s back, stress from the “Emma Revelation” bled away and Cade took a series of deep, deep breaths. He and Ziggy trotted out of the main pen, breaking into a lope as he hit the first field. Whatever happened, it was going to be all right. He and Emma were going to work this out. No other option was, well, an option.

Operation “Graystone Recovery” was about to get underway.

16

EMMAPULLEDTHEshiny new 4x4 Chevy Silverado into the semicircular drive and slipped it into Park. The engine ticked like an emotional grenade as it cooled, and Emma couldn’t help but wonder at the Fates and their omens.

She hopped down from the truck. The moment her feet hit the dirt, her connection to the place and its people seated itself in her soul. It was a fundamental sense ofknowing. This was her place. This was where she belonged—home, be it as an employee or as something far greater. She had to fight to keep herself from going there, wishing there had been more for her here than a few days.

The screen door to the house slammed shut and Reagan was on Emma in seconds. “Man, I have missed you.” She held Emma at arm’s length, critically assessing her appearance. “You seem too thin. You haven’t been on some starvation-from-stress diet, have you? I mean it. You’re a little underweight. Your boobs were bigger, weren’t they?”

Emma laughed as the woman continued to pepper her with questions. Instead of answering, Emma wrapped the taller woman in her arms the best she could. The woman vibrated with a type of energy that both thrilled and crushed Emma. “He’s here, isn’t he?” she asked quietly. “In the house. Waiting.”

“No. He rode out this morning to check fence. Haven’t seen him all day.” Reagan’s brows furrowed. “Given his general response to your return, I’m a little surprised.”

Emma swallowed the baseball-sized lump of regret. “It’s okay. I really didn’t expect him to be here waiting to carry my bags in.”

Reagan’s face lit but she didn’t say anything, just grabbed Emma’s hands and held on tight.

“I don’t know why not,” the deep voice she’d only been able to pull from her memories for more than four months answered. “I’m sort of a gentleman. If I’m fond of you, that is.” He paused and she heard the scratch of work-toughened hands on an early five-o’clock shadow. “That or if you’re a paying guest. You paying, Emma?”

“No.”

“Guess I must be fond of you then. Unlock the truck?”

She fumbled the key fob and it hit the dirt with a muffled clank.

Cade scooped it up before she could respond. “What’s with the truck as a rental? I figured you’d be more economically and environmentally conscious.”

He was teasing her?Her brows drew together. “I seem to recall someone telling me I’d never get the hang of driving a big-boy truck, so I traded in my Prius and bought a half-ton 4x4 Duramax with the heavy duty Allison transmission.” With measured steps, she faced him. “As it happens, I’m a natural, particularly in the city. But that thing was made for dirt roads, not driveways. So I got the same kind of truck from the rental place.”

The breeze carried his voice. “What color is your truck?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, turning back to Reagan, who watched them curiously.

“I bet the exterior is black or a dark charcoal. Where’s the red, Emma?”

Heat crawled up her neck. She’d never survive this visit if he constantly brought up the little things he knew, the little parts of her that he’d tossed away.

“Where?” he demanded.

“I had custom seats installed,” she ground out. “Black with red piping.”

He responded so softly she almost missed it. Almost, but not quite. “That’s my girl.”

Grief ripped through her, and it took Reagan grasping her hands to keep her from breaking and running.

“I’ll drop your bags in the house, same room.” He headed for the main house, his stride long and confident.

“Cabin!” she called after him.