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Colleen stood not a foot from the ladder, watching him, and he wondered why he hadn’t heard her walk up. Too busy thinking of her, he told himself wryly. Yeah, this seduction plan was working out nicely.
“Loose shingles on the stable roof,” he said, hitting the ground, then bending over to snatch up the bucket before straightening to look into her eyes. Instantly, he felt that punch of something raw and elemental—and it was getting harder to ignore.
He’d missed her at breakfast, too. Deliberately. He’d grabbed a cup of coffee and one of his housekeeper’s famous muffins and headed outside—where he’d stayed, keeping as busy as he could. “The wind kicked up last night, and after last winter a few of the shingles were ready to go.”
She looked up, squinting into the late-morning sunlight, as if she could see where he’d been working. “You do the repairs yourself?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted, and hefted the ladder across one shoulder. When he started walking toward the equipment shed where tools were stored, she followed him. “Why sound so surprised? It is my ranch.”
The golden retriever rose lazily from his spot by the barn and stretched before trotting to Colleen’s side. She stopped, dropped to one knee and smoothed both hands across the top of the lucky dog’s head. A hell of a thing, Sage thought, when a man envied his dog.
“He’s so sweet,” she said, throwing a quick look up at Sage. “But I don’t understand his name.”
In spite of what he was feeling, Sage choked out a laugh. “You mean Beback?”
She scrubbed the dog’s ears, then stood up, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “Yes. What kind of name is that?”
Shrugging, Sage said, “When he was a pup, he kept running off into the forest, but he was always running right back. One of the guys said it reminded him of a famous line in a movie...I’ll be back.”
Colleen laughed and, God, he loved the sound of it. And as soon as that thought slid through his mind, he pushed it back out again. Love? What the hell?
“Beback. I like it,” she said with a grin as she watched the dog race off after one of the cowboys. “I always wanted a dog. In fact, I’m going to get one as soon as I find my place.”
“Not the Jackson cabin?”
She threw him a quick look and her eyes flared as if she were remembering their encounter. “I don’t know yet. Maybe.”
Nodding, Sage continued on to the shed and sensed rather than heard her follow him. And naturally, she was still talking.
“Going back to me being surprised at you doing the repairs to one of the buildings...I don’t know, I guess I thought you would have one of the men who work for you do the minor repairs.” She waved one hand to encompass the whole of the yard and the half dozen or so ranch hands working at different tasks.
His long strides never slowed, though he knew she had to be hurrying to keep up with him. “J.D. always said, ‘Don’t be afraid to do your own work. Men will respect you for it.’”
Frowning, he wondered where that had come from. He wasn’t really in the habit of quoting his father. Yet it seemed that since J.D. died, Sage had thought more about him than he had in years. And the situation wasn’t helped by Colleen’s presence. After all, the only reason they were together at all was because of the old man.
“So you do have some good memories of J.D.”
“Didn’t say they were good ones,” he muttered, leading the way into the shed. “Just memories.”
Inside it was cool and dark. The walls were covered with hooks from which clean, cared-for tools hung neatly. One wall contained a long workbench with drawers beneath it and the rest of the place held everything from shovels to snowplows.
With her standing so close to him, it was hard to keep hold of his own self-control. Desire pulsed heavily inside him even while his brain kept shouting for caution. If he had any hope of keeping his mind clear, he needed some distance between them. Releasing a breath, Colleen glanced around the shed. “I won’t need anywhere near this much equipment,” she said as if to herself.
“You’ll need plenty of it, though,” he warned, taking the opportunity to spread a little more doubt in her mind. “Snowblower or plow. Shovels, pickaxes, and by the way, that old Jeep of yours isn’t going to cut it up here, either.”
“What?” She flashed him a stunned look. “Why not?”
“For one thing, it’s too small. You’ll need a truck.”
