Rancher in Her Bed Page 8

  How could she tell him she was scared he’d ditch her the way he did every other woman?

  If he knew how closely she’d watched ladies come and go over the last eleven months, he’d realize that she’d been having feelings for him for a long time. Too long.

  It was embarrassing and sort of cliché to have a crush on the boss, wasn’t it?

  “Right. Because this isn’t awkward at all.” Sarcasm laid heavy on the words, even though his gentle tone never changed as he straightened up.

  “Do you honestly think me staying longer would have made today any different? It was going to be tense no matter what.”

  For her, anyway.

  Maybe for him, working with someone he slept with wouldn’t have been a big deal. But how long could she pretend to be the kind of woman he preferred—someone who was okay with a casual hookup? Then again, maybe she should try to become that woman. She needed her mind focused on getting into school, not mooning over a man.

  When he didn’t reply right away, she glanced over at him across Thistle’s muzzle and realized he was studying her a bit too thoughtfully.

  “I don’t want to make things difficult for you here,” he said finally. “Did anyone say anything to you to make today uncomfortable?” He took her hand to draw her out of the birthing area.

  Her boots crunched over clean straw until they were back on the concrete floor outside the foaling stall. Xander pulled the door shut to help Thistle relax.

  “No. I don’t think word has gotten around that we attended the gala together.” The whole night seemed like something she’d dreamed.

  Except that she was standing in the barn with Xander today, and he’d given her new responsibilities that would help her on her path to vet school. She appreciated that he took her dreams seriously. That he would try to help her achieve her goals.

  “Even if gossip does spread, why should it matter? It’s no one’s business but ours.” He checked his wristwatch and then glanced back at her. “I can have someone else keep an eye on Thistle for an hour or so to give you time to wash up and get something to eat. It’s going to be a long night and Len told me you were here at dawn.”

  “Are you sure?” Frankie peered back into the stall where the horse paced. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

  This was the whole reason she’d become a ranch hand. Not to fix drainage ditches or mend fences, although she’d understood that was part of the job description. She’d always been in it for the chance to work with animals.

  “She’s a first-timer. We’ve got a lot of hours before she foals.”

  “In that case, I’ll be back in an hour or less. And thank you for giving me the chance to be here.” She felt a pinch of guilt that he’d only extended the opportunity to her because he’d overheard her mentioning her need for hours in the barn to other ranchers at the gala.

  Had she taken unfair advantage of their date?

  “You’ve more than earned it,” he told her easily, not sounding at all taken advantage of as he stepped closer to her. “But I’ll give you fair warning that it’s not just because I want to help you get into veterinary school that I’m inviting you back here tonight.”

  Something about the look in his eyes made her throat dry up. Gave her visions of the two of them twined around each other, peeling clothes off while they kissed. Touched. And more.

  “You have an ulterior motive?” She shook off her imaginings, reminding herself she was still on the clock.

  “I do.” He leaned against the wooden framing of a vacant horse stall, his head inclined toward hers. “Because you might run from me, but I know you won’t leave Thistle’s side tonight. And I’m going to use that time to get to know you better, Frankie. Without the distraction of—” his gaze roamed over her in a way that set her on fire “—everything that distracted us last night.”

  “Then I’ll consider myself warned.” She tried for what she hoped was a playful tone, needing to keep things light.

  With another man, she might be flattered. But Xander wasn’t the type of guy who invested in romantic relationships. She’d been here long enough to take note of that. And she couldn’t afford to get attached. Didn’t dare give him a piece of herself that she wouldn’t be able to get back when he walked away.

  * * *

  Xander’s whole world had been tilted sideways since he’d woken up alone this morning, Frankie’s peaches and roses scent still lingering in his sheets.

  Now, as the clock neared midnight and Thistle’s labor progressed in the birthing stall, he had to admit Frankie was still keeping him off-kilter. She was obviously excited to be in the barn for the delivery, a fact made evident by how many times she hopped up from the portable camp chair he’d moved into the barn for the night. They could both see into the stall from where he’d set up the chairs, a couple of yards away from the foaling area to help Thistle relax as much as possible. The mare’s tail was wrapped and the foaling kit was handy.

  Yet Frankie got out of her seat time after time to take a closer look, especially when the mare’s back was to them or when she lay down in the straw.

  “You must have assisted at plenty of animal births by now, I’ll bet,” he said, honest about wanting to get to know her better.

  Tipping back in his chair, he watched as she settled in beside him again, the scent of hay and horses heavy in the air while fans moved some of the night air through the building.

  “I have. I’ve been shadowing Doc Macallan for almost two years.” She referenced a rural animal practice about ten miles west of Currin Ranch.

  “He fills in here sometimes when our regular vet is away.” Xander remembered him from when he was a kid; the guy was older than his dad.

  “He helped me get hired on here, actually, so I could have a paying job that was close to his practice.” She tightened the band around her ponytail, the crescent moon birthmark on her neck visible as she moved. “And he tries to schedule fieldwork on the days I’m around to shadow him, so I’ve gotten some cool experiences that way—from treating small wounds to emergency surgeries.”

  “And that’s how you spend your days off from the ranch?”

  “Most of them. Sometimes I squeeze in some time volunteering at an animal shelter, too. Because even though Doc Macallan has enough work to keep me busy, it can help my application to have multiple animal experiences.”

  “That’s ambitious.” He’d gotten his MBA in a condensed amount of time, but he hadn’t needed to worry about the cost of the degree. “Will you be able to focus full time on your studies if you get accepted?”

  “When I get accepted,” she said immediately. Then she bit her lip and looked embarrassed. “Sorry. Positive thinking about that is a habit of mine, but I absolutely didn’t mean to put words in your mouth.”

  He chuckled. “It’s fine. Good for you.”

  “But to answer your question, I don’t think I could manage the course load and working full time, too, so I’d definitely have to scale back my hours.”

  He asked her more about the animals she liked working with—dogs and horses were some of her favorites—and those that presented the biggest challenges. Cats could be fractious, she admitted, but apparently her vet had a recovering ostrich at his small farm and the bird had been a bit of a terror.

  But what threw Xander was her caginess about her family and friends. She would discuss animals and her dreams for as long as he wanted, but she didn’t seem inclined to share any more about her unusual upbringing or the fact that she’d left home at eighteen and hadn’t looked back. He hadn’t pushed, but he wondered how tough it must be for her to be without a family.

  He mulled that over while she got up to check on Thistle for the fifth time in the last half hour. She was nothing if not devoted to the dam.

  “Oh!” she called out softly from where she stood at the entrance to the birthing stall, he
r green eyes bright. “Xander, it’s time. I see the hooves.”

  He bolted from his seat, cursing himself for not focusing on the mare. Thistle was lying down, and appeared as comfortable as a first-time mother could be during strong contractions. She was agitated and sweating, but she didn’t seem to be fighting the labor. The mare blew hard.

  “We’ll monitor her over the next half hour.” He wouldn’t interfere unless Thistle stopped making progress.

  The horse whinnied and tossed her head, nudging her side with her nose. The next contraction broke the water sac, and Frankie brought fresh straw while Xander kept his eye on the mother.

  Half an hour later, a perfect black foal emerged.

  It was a nice moment to share with Frankie, and they worked in tandem to clean up the stall and give the new mother room to recover. Once Thistle was on her feet again, they left the stall, taking turns washing up in the utility sink. Then, finally, they had time to watch the foal.

  “She’s so beautiful!” Frankie exclaimed as she returned to the bars of the stall, her voice full of awe. She reached for his arm and squeezed, as if to share her excitement. “Isn’t she most precious thing?”

  Her touch reminded him how amazing their night together had been. How much he wanted to be with her again. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close to his side while they watched the baby’s attempts to stand.

  “She’s a beauty, no doubt.” His gaze slid to Frankie’s profile while she watched the foal navigate her wobbly legs. “Let’s give them some room to bond.”

  Her dark hair was in a ponytail, the end draped over her bare shoulder since she wore a black tank top that said Keep Calm and Cowgirl On.

  “Of course.” She nodded, misty-eyed as she turned toward him. “We don’t want Thistle to reject her own baby.”

  Something about the way she said it—a hint of wryness creeping into her tone—let him know she was thinking about something else. Her own parents? The night he’d driven her home from the rodeo she’d told him that her adoptive family found her wandering a road outside Laredo.

  “It’s very rare for that to happen.” Xander rubbed her shoulder as they turned to sit in the seats outside the stall.

  He flipped off a spotlight in the birthing stall now that the dam had safely delivered her foal. They could still see the animals in the glow of a lower-wattage lantern hanging overhead.

  “Among horses, maybe.” She dropped into the canvas folding chair and crossed one denim-clad leg over the other. “Humans are another story.”

  He reached over to take her hand, thinking how very different it was to sit beside her in a barn tonight after dancing her around a gala the evening before. At the gala, he’d been pursuing her, no question. Tonight, he saw her pain and couldn’t help but feel protective.

  “Do you have any reason to believe your birth parents abandoned you?” he asked gently.

  “No. But I have no reason to believe they wanted me, either.” She lifted her shoulder, as if to shrug it off, and the gesture looked as pained as the words sounded. “Who lets their two-year-old wander the streets?”

  He could see her point. He stroked his thumb along the backs of her knuckles, wishing he could soothe away the hurt she felt. “I told you that my sister Maya was adopted, and I really do think my father’s never told her—or any of us—how she came to be in our family because in his mind, he’s protecting her in some way.”

  “Where is she now? I’m just surprised I’ve never seen her in all the time I’ve worked here.” She peered over at him briefly before turning back to watch the foal nose around the stall in search of her dam.

  “Maya has been away at college. She was supposed to come home this summer but she hasn’t shown up yet. I’m hoping we’ll see her soon, though. I miss her.”

  He’d ask Annabel if she’d heard from her. It seemed strange that she hadn’t flown home for the summer yet.

  “I don’t know if I buy into the whole idea of protecting a child after she’s reached adulthood. Whatever the truth is, it has to be better than not knowing,” she told him with a fierceness in her voice, emotion in her gaze that was visible even in the dim lighting. “You can’t properly process sorrow unless you understand it in the first place.”

  The mare nickered at her foal, encouraging her. Xander watched the baby try again to get on her feet while Frankie’s words chased around his head.

  “I’m not sure there’s a right or wrong way to process sorrow.” The words surprised him. He hadn’t meant to share anything about Rena.

  As much as he wished he could call them back, however, he knew that Frankie deserved to know the truth about him. About his own sense of loss.

  She shifted to face him, her green eyes full of empathy as her fingers flexed around his hand. “I’m sorry, Xander. You lost your mother when you were young—”

  “I did.” He nodded, remembering those dark years when Annabel’s mother had died and then his own mother passed away three years later. His father had barely finished grieving for his wife when Xander came to live with them. “I was fifteen when she died. But I was thinking of my fiancée.”

  She blinked. Twice.

  “I’m so very sorry.” She shook her head, her ponytail sweeping back and forth against her arm. “I didn’t know you’d been engaged.”

  He nodded. “For six months. We were two months away from our wedding date when she died in a riding accident.”

  Even two years after the fact, the words still felt strange to say. Wooden and awkward. He’d never shared anything about Rena with any other woman he’d dated. He wasn’t sure why it had come tumbling out tonight, but with an ache opening up in his chest, he realized now he wasn’t ready to share any more about his convoluted relationship with Rena before her death.

  “That must have been devastating.” Frankie bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to sound insensitive about grieving when I said what I did about sorrow—”

  “You could never sound insensitive.” He squeezed her hand, understanding all at once that the ache in his chest was only going to go away once he had Frankie with him again. He needed her tonight. “I only told you because I wanted you to...” To understand that he could never be that kind of man again? That he didn’t have the emotional resources to be in a relationship like that again? “To know,” he finished lamely.

  He’d shared as much as he could about that. The deeper hurt of his past with his fiancée wasn’t something he was willing to trot out tonight.

  Inside the birthing stall, Thistle’s foal found her mother’s udder and began to nurse. His work here for the night was done. Frankie’s lips curved in a small smile at the sight, a happy note in a conversation that had hit too close to home.

  “Thistle’s a good mama,” Frankie observed deftly, turning the topic away from Rena. “I’m glad I got to be with you tonight for this.”

  He knew she was talking about more than the delivery. And he was so damned grateful she hadn’t pressed to learn more about his past. The relationship that had gutted him.

  “I am, too,” he admitted, needing her in his arms as fast as possible. To forget everything else but her. He tugged her to her feet, pulling her close, all the emotions beneath the surface finding the most appealing outlet. “And I’ll walk you back to your cabin, no expectations, if you’re ready for the night to end.”

  He didn’t want to hurt her. She deserved better than what he could offer her.

  “What’s the alternative?” she asked breathlessly, her green eyes searching his. “Say, for example, I have some expectations about what happens afterward?”

  An answering hunger surged. His fingers flexed on her hips as he restrained himself from kissing her here. Now.

  “In that case, I come home with you, and I don’t leave until the sun comes up.”

  Seven

  Unlocking the door
to her cabin half an hour later, Frankie knew she took a dangerous risk with her heart.

  Xander’s sorrow for his fiancée was tangible; she understood that now. She also recognized that he’d buried it in meaningless relationships. It hurt to know she was just another way to forget about the woman he’d loved.

  And yet, as he followed her inside the cabin, Frankie’s heart whispered that maybe she was different from his other affairs. Hadn’t he confided in her something significant tonight? Hadn’t he told her he was disappointed when he woke up alone this morning?

  What if there was a chance that they could have something more? She understood that he wanted to lose himself in their sizzling chemistry for the night. And since she needed that, too, she couldn’t deny them both. As long as she remembered that this was only temporary, she would be okay.

  She couldn’t let herself forget that Xander had been clear about not wanting more.

  Now, full of emotions from all they’d shared tonight, she hung her keys on a metal hook by the front door and turned into Xander. He was right there, a foot behind her, bolting the door behind them. He didn’t hesitate. Twining his arms around her waist, he drew her more fully against him.

  The scent of hay and antibacterial soap rose from their clothes, the warmth of his body intensifying the last hint of spicy aftershave under his neck as she rose on her toes to kiss him there. Her eyes drifted closed, the feel of him somehow already familiar, but different and exciting at the same time. She tunneled her fingers into his short hair, tilting his mouth down over hers.

  The kiss fired through all her nerve endings, desire spiraling out from that point of contact. Xander’s hands splayed along her back, pressing her to him tighter. Her breasts molded to the wall of muscle that was his chest, the feel of him making her knees weak, her limbs liquid. She made tiny, hungry sounds in the back of her throat as she tried tugging his T-shirt up and off, getting hung up on his wide shoulders until he helped her.