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Chapter Six
Ginger left Nate alone for the afternoon on Sunday, telling herself she couldn’t glue herself to his side just because she found him handsome. She’d seen a glint in his eye a couple of times, but she had no idea what it meant. In her experience, ex-cons could lie like it was breathing, and she had all the proof she needed of that in her past.
So she’d made herself scarce while Emma and Jess went over the babysitting with him, while Spencer ordered pizza for the cowboys in the East Annex, and while Nate took Connor down the dirt path behind the huge homestead and out onto the ranch. She’d watched them for a few minutes, ducking down behind the counter when Nate turned and looked back toward the house, as if he could sense her eyes on his broad shoulders.
Monday morning, she arrived at the East Annex at nine o’clock, already having put in three hours out on the ranch. Nate wore a pair of the jeans she’d bought with the money from the BOP, as well as one of the T-shirts, this one in a dark gray that made him seem stormy and sexy at the same time. She’d been right, and the shirt didn’t fit well around his shoulders. But she wasn’t going to embarrass herself again, and she said nothing.
Jill arrived to take Connor for the morning, and the boy skipped happily with her across the back deck and down the steps to the yard, Ursula going with them. “I think she likes Connor more than Spencer,” Ginger said, still watching them.
“That’s because Connor lets that beast lick his face,” Nate said, and Ginger burst out laughing.
Nate chuckled with her, and their eyes met in that same magnetic power they had before. She wondered if he’d laughed a lot in prison, but she felt like she already knew the answer to that question, so she didn’t ask it.
“Ready?” she asked instead, clearing her throat afterward.
“Yes,” he said. “I found my personal ID, so I think I’m good.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his old driver’s license. He had nothing else, and Ginger had known he wouldn’t. She’d just forgotten she needed to schedule a few days of errands so her ex-cons could get their lives settled before they started on the ranch. She was simply desperate for the manpower, and she’d been hoping Nate could start that day.
“Is that still good?” Ginger asked. She hadn’t looked at any of his personal effects.
“Yes,” he said. “I have a couple of months until my birthday.”
Ginger’s extreme curiosity got the best of her. “And then you’ll be…?”
“Thirty-six,” he said, his expression turning cold for a moment. Just as quickly, he thawed again. “And I know better than to ask a lady her age.” He gave her what she would classify as a flirty smile. Maybe sly. Whatever it was, it held some heat behind it.
Ginger felt that heat rise through her whole body, and she turned away from him. “I don’t mind.” She wanted to share a few things with him. She told herself she didn’t have to date him or kiss him if he knew how old she was. “I’m already thirty-six.”
“How long have you been running this place?” he asked from behind her as they walked toward the front door.
“Oh, about six years now,” she said. “I’m the oldest child in my family, and my father sustained an injury, so.” She shrugged. “I’ve always wanted the ranch, and now I have it.” She flashed him a smile as she opened the door. He held it for her, and she went through first. She couldn’t help thinking about the time she’d almost lost the ranch, but she wasn’t going to detail that for Nate. Not right now.
Not ever, she told herself firmly. If she was talking about Hyrum Charles—her last boyfriend, as well as the last man she’d taken from the BOP into the RRC program—that meant she was talking about her past relationships. And she only did that with a potential boyfriend—or a man who’d already become her boyfriend.
Nate wasn’t going to be either.Nope, nope, she told herself.Not happening.
She had about five hundred things to get done that day, so she drove a little fast on the way into town. Nate directed her to the bank he wanted, and Ginger stared at the steel and glass building. “You bank here?”
“Ward does,” Nate said without any inflection in his voice. Ginger tossed a look in his direction to see if speaking his brother’s name bothered him. It didn’t seem to. “Do you come in, or wait here…?”
“I’ll come in,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’ll sit clear across the room.” That way, she could observe him better, and he wouldn’t know. Ginger couldn’t believe her hormones were betraying her so badly. No wonder she’d never agreed to another inmate.
She recited to herself all the work around the ranch that needed to be done, and how with Nate, she could get caught up faster.New fields to plow for next year.
Six more bird blinds to be built.
A waiting list for horseback riding lessons.With Nate, she could register everyone on the list and make a lot more money.
The fact was, she needed him. Just not in a romantic way. But as he reached the door and opened it, stepping back to let her go in first, Ginger had the thought that he was the most polite ex-con she’d ever met.
Everything about Nate wasn’t what she’d expected based on her past experience with Hyrum, and her mind betrayed her by thinking,Maybe we can get to know him. Maybe we can hold his hand. Maybe we can kiss him…
She cut off the thoughts there, because they were already too dangerous. “I’ll be right here,” she said, plunking herself down in a plush chair just inside the lobby, near the door they’d come in. She didn’t think Nate would make a run for it, though there was another door on the far side of the bank.
He proceeded over to a desk and started speaking with a man, who took him up the steps and into a fancy office where Ginger could see through the walls of glass. The two of them sat down at an oversize desk and started talking.
She just watched, but grew bored of that very quickly. Nate took an enormous amount of time at the bank, and by the time he came downstairs, he was tucking a couple of cards into a brand-new wallet. Ginger gaped at him. Since when did banks give out genuine leather wallets?
She rose, her back protesting at her long lapse in movement. “All good?”
