Page 61 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

Which, ironically, I had.

“Was that stupid?” I asked Gemma.

“What will you use it for?”

“I want to expand the horse operation. We’re known around the area for our stock. We have some of the best genetics but mostly, we have skill. Cash is one of the best horse trainers around. He’s wasted on guest activities.”

A smile tugged at her mouth. “So you bought this place for your brother?”

“Partly. And because my gut says it will be a success. Worst case, we use the land for more pasture and expand our cattle operation.”

“You did your homework?”

“I did.” I had profit and loss projections at my home office and every worst-case scenario plotted out.

“Then no. I don’t think this was stupid.” She turned to the window again, surveying the frozen ground.

The ice crystals clung to the flaxen grass, reflecting the bright morning sun. The sky stretched powder blue above us, wrapping around the snow-capped mountains rising up around us.

And Gemma seemed to soak it all in. She seemed at ease this morning. She looked comfortable in that seat, wearing my flannel and not minding the smell of dirt and hay that, no matter how many times I cleaned this truck, was permanent.

I’d seen plenty of people come and go from the ranch. It was easy to pick out the guests who’d return on another vacation. Because Montana’s rugged and raw landscape called to something deeper in their soul.

They’d found peace here.

It wasn’t for everyone but it was in Gemma. How could she not know that she fit here?

Maybe she needed more time. Maybe she needed to see more than the lodge and the cabin.

“What are you doing today?” I asked.

“Nothing much. Why?”

I grinned. “Because I’m going to put you to work.”

* * *

“Oh, sweet Jesus, that stinks.” Gemma gagged and plugged her nose. “I’m never eating eggs again.”

I chuckled and placed another two eggs in the bucket she was carrying. “When I was a kid, Mom’s favorite punishment was to make us clean out the chicken coop. I always made sure I was on my best behavior when it had been a couple of months between cleanings.”

“I don’t think I like chickens.” She gave one of the hens perched a sideways glance. “How do I get the eggs from under her butt?”

“Just reach in there and take them.”

“You do it.”

“Don’t be scared. Just brush her aside. She’ll move.”

“I can’t. Please don’t make me.” Gemma turned her eyes up to me, those hazel orbs melting me into oblivion. How was I supposed to say no to that face?

“Fine.” I moved the hen aside, sending her fluttering to the floor and took the eggs.

“Is that it?” Before I had a chance to agree, Gemma ducked out the door.

I shook my head, a smile on my face, and walked out to catch her.

The two of us had spent the morning working together. First, we’d driven to one of the pastures where we’d recently moved a group of about two hundred cows. We drove through, checking on them and looking for any that might be injured. Then we’d circled through an empty meadow that would be next on the rotation, making sure the fence was in good shape.