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At lunchtime, done working cattle for the day, Bryce, Frank, and Tim assembled at the ranch. Derek was busy with budgets, spreadsheets, ordering supplies, and all the things that made Bryce happy to be a ranch hand and not higher up the food chain. Whether there’d been time to add researching Grady’s father to the list as well—Bryce figured that would be the main topic of conversation at lunch.
While Derek worked inside, he, Frank, and Tim had spent the last few hours separating and moving a batch of steers to a separate pasture where they’d stay until being shipped off. There’d been a few who might have known they were being handed the equivalent of their last meals, because they’d insisted on bolting from the herd every chance they got.
Before that, Bryce had spread the accumulated manure, and, seeing Cecily’s car parked behind the house, he wondered if he could detour to the guest house and shower before lunch. Frank and Tim must have noticed her car, too, because Frank said, “Looks like we have company. Sure you want to be in the same room with her? You smell like—a cowboy.”
Tim jabbed Bryce in the ribs. “More like a cow. What’d you do? Roll around in the manure spreader?”
“Can’t say either of you smell any better,” Bryce said. “Besides, Cecily’s a rancher’s daughter.”
“Eau de manure,” Tim said, taking an exaggerated breath. “The sure way to win a lady’s heart.”
Frank grinned. “We can deal with the horses if you want to grab a shower.”
Tim snickered.
So, Bryce’s attraction to Cecily wasn’t a secret. “She takes me the way I am, or not at all.” He smacked his Stetson against his thigh, sending up a cloud of dust. “But I’ll take you up on your offer to deal with the horses.” He clomped across the yard toward the back door.
Inside, as always, the aromas of lunch had his mouth watering. He couldn’t identify the dish, but he hoped Tanya hadn’t made her bean-laden chili today. He sniffed again, catching a whiff of her tangy barbeque sauce. Not chili, then. Good.
He spent longer than usual washing up, but it was his clothes, not his skin, that carried the ranch smells. Besides, he’d meant what he said to Frank. Cecily would have to take him for what he was—a working ranch hand, smells and all.
He padded to the ajar kitchen door and pushed it open a few more inches. No sounds of conversation. Only Tanya’s singing. He stepped into the kitchen. “Smells good, as always, Tanya. What’s for lunch?”
“And you smell like a cowboy, as always, Mr. Barrett.” She grabbed some red oven mitts and took a casserole dish out of the oven. “Baked short ribs. Rolls and a salad, although I don’t know why I bother. There ain’t no food value in iceberg lettuce, but I end up throwing out anything else. What you got against green is beyond me.”
Frank and Tim burst through the doorway and inspected the dishes Tanya was setting on the counter. “Another fantastic lunch, Tanya,” Frank said.
She set her hands on her hips. “Buffet style today, and you eat your salad or no dessert. Ain’t set the table yet. You cowboys can get your own dishes.”
Frank went to the bank of cabinets and pulled out plates. Tim grabbed napkins and silverware. Bryce went to the fridge for the lemonade pitcher.
Tanya laughed. “Love to see teamwork.”
“Tell me what’s for dessert before I waste my time on this green stuff,” Tim said.
“Cherry cobbler good enough?” Tanya asked.
“Depends,” Tim said. “There gonna be ice cream?”
“Ain’t there always?” Tanya set out the serving utensils. “I’ll let the boss and Miss Cooper know lunch is ready.”
Bryce held back, letting Frank and Tim fill their plates first. He wanted them to be out of the way, not shooting him snarky glances or jabbing him in the ribs when Cecily walked in. Tanya returned and took a spot by the counter, watching as everyone filled his plate. Bryce piled a generous helping of salad on his, smiling at Tanya as he did so.
When Cecily and Derek entered the kitchen, an unexpected heat rose to Bryce’s face. He studied the arrangement of food on his plate. Frank and Tim, thank goodness, were already on their way to the dining room. “Afternoon, Derek. Cecily,” Bryce said.
Cecily smiled. “Hey, Bryce. How’s Ginger?”
“Doing fine this morning, last I checked.”
Ginger, it appeared, was neutral territory. Their safe place.
Once everyone was seated around the table, all eyes turned to Derek. Normally, they’d be discussing the day’s work, recapping what they’d done and talking about what needed to be finished before the day was over. Today was a short day, and Derek seemed to understand that everything had gone well, or they’d have mentioned it.
“I suppose you’re wondering about Grady,” Derek said. “Between what Cecily found out and what I could dig up, we have a slightly better picture of the boy, but still no effective leads as to his whereabouts.”
“However,” Cecily added, “there’s a Missing Persons Report on file, and we have cops keeping an eye out for him in two counties. It’s not the same as an Amber Alert, and since Grady didn’t commit a crime, they won’t be looking for him the same way, but it’s better than nothing.”
“So, if they happen to stumble across him, they’ll pick him up?” Tim poked at his iceberg wedge. “Better than nothing, I guess.”
“We have a new trail to follow,” Cecily said. “Derek is trying to dig into Grady’s stepfather. It appears he, not his mother, might have been the reason Grady left home.”
With Cecily’s words, Bryce’s lunch dropped like a weight in his belly as his thoughts flew to his own childhood, his own father. The reason he’d left home and joined the army. Bryce picked up his half-empty plate and carried it to the kitchen. Tanya eyed the plate, then him.
“You don’t like my ribs?” she asked.
“No. Yes. They’re great. Overestimated my appetite.” He scraped the remnants of his meal into the garbage and put the plate in the dishwasher. “Forgot I had something to do in the barn.”
He shoved his feet into his boots and dashed across the yard.
Admonishing himself for overreacting to a memory that might have nothing whatsoever to do with Grady’s previous home life, Bryce grabbed a halter, some detangler, and a mane brush and went to the paddock to work on Shadow. Not that the horse needed the work, but Bryce did.
He called his mare over. She nosed around for a treat. “Sorry, girl. I’ll get you one in a few minutes.” He fastened her to a fence rail outside the paddock and went to work. “You’re a mess. What have you been doing?”
She stamped a hoof, but let Bryce work with slow, steady strokes. Brushing the tangles out of Shadow’s mane calmed him. He was about to start on her tail, but stopped when Frank and Tim showed up.
“You left before cobbler,” Tim said with his usual slow grin. “Not to worry. I ate your portion.”
Bryce snorted. “Much obliged.” He went back to working detangler into Shadow’s tail.
“What set you off?” Frank said. “Whatever it was, brace yourself because Cecily’s going to be out here in a minute.”
“Drop it.” Bryce’s tone was harsher than his friends deserved, but he didn’t need to think about his old man. Hell, the bastard was dead, and he could still punch Bryce’s buttons. “See you tomorrow.”
The men shook their heads, casting a few puzzled glances over their shoulders as they went to their trucks. They hadn’t been gone more than a minute before Cecily found him.
Ignoring Bryce, she stroked Shadow’s jaw. “How are you, pretty lady? Bryce making you all beautiful? Got a hot date tonight?”
Ginger shuffled to the fence, and Cecily turned her affections to the old mare. “You’re not jealous, are you baby? Would you like a stroll? You wait here, I’ll get your walking duds.”
Bryce turned toward Cecily, trying to figure out what he should say, but she’d already gone to the barn. He unhitched Shadow and set her loose in the paddock. “No rolling around, girl. Understand?”
Cecily returned and got Ginger ready for a walk. She and the horse headed toward the trail. Without stopping, she half-turned to face Bryce. “Are you coming?”
He didn’t believe, not for a fraction of a second, she hadn’t thought something was wrong when he’d left the dining room. He didn’t want to talk about it—and definitely not to Cecily.
So, why was he following after her?
Cecily walked alongside Ginger, refusing to watch for Bryce. They’d rounded the first curve on the trail, walking at Ginger’s slow pace. Bryce could have caught up by now.
She spoke softly to the mare. “I don’t know what to do about him, baby. He keeps everything corked up inside. One day, it’s all going to come bursting out, like opening a warm bottle of champagne.”
Ginger plodded along.
“You liked Grady, didn’t you? He was coming around. Everyone is saying he took off with someone, but I don’t buy it.”
Ginger’s ears pricked, and faint sounds of boots on gravel approached. Cecily didn’t slow her pace, but her heart beat faster as she waited for Bryce to catch up. Should she turn? Make sure it was Bryce? No, who else could it be? How would she greet him?
She wouldn’t. Let him make the first move. Although, she mused, that could make for a long, silent walk.
It would be a long, silent walk with Bryce.
She thought about Andy. With him, she’d know where she stood. He was polite. Attentive. And boring. No zing.
Bryce fell into step on the other side of Ginger. They walked in silence as Cecily expected until they reached the turnaround point. Bryce reached under Ginger’s neck and placed his hand on the lead rope, his fingers brushing against Cecily’s for a fleeting moment of contact.
There was the zing.
She released the rope, and followed as Bryce led Ginger off the trail and tied her to a shrub. Leaving the horse, he took Cecily’s hand and scuffed along a narrow path to a grouping of small boulders. He sat on one, his legs stretched in front of him. Although there was room for two, Cecily chose a second rock a short distance away, across from him, where she could see his eyes. Today, their normal silvery-blue was the color of clouds before a snowfall. He hadn’t pulled her off the trail to kiss her, that much she knew. She waited.
He picked up a piece of gravel and tossed it from hand to hand. “Ginger’s walking pretty good. Think the liniment is helping.”
“I noticed. Didn’t know about the liniment, but yeah, it’d be good for her.”
“Thought it would give Grady something to do. The bonding you’re always going on about.”
“It was good for both of them.” He’d brought Grady up. She might as well follow through. “Do you think he’s okay? I can’t see him going home to his parents.”
Bryce picked up a bigger piece of gravel and threw it into the trees. Talked to the ground. “Can’t see him doing that, no.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I like being with you. Even when we’re fighting. There’s stuff I can’t talk about. Won’t talk about.” He lifted his head. “You okay with that?”
Wasn’t that the question of the century?
A noncommittal “Maybe” was the best she could do now. Thinking you could change someone, and basing a relationship on the person you thought you could change someone into, was a stupid way to go. She couldn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t for Bryce, and couldn’t expect him to change because she had a different image of him.
No, she saw Bryce as Bryce, and as long as the zings were still coming through—which they were, loud and clear—she’d have to take what he offered. “I mean, maybe we should keep trying,” she added.
Bryce’s expression hardly changed, but he rose and extended a hand to help her up. Their fingers connected. Yep. Zing.
“You think Ginger would mind if I kissed you?” Bryce asked.
There was something needy in the way he spoke. Not a sexual need. More of an I need a hug need, but Bryce didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who would ask for a hug. Maybe he’d allow one. She slid her arms around his torso and leaned into him. The shuddering exhale as she leaned her head against his chest said she’d been right. They stood that way, wrapped in an embrace, neither moving, barely breathing, for several heartbeats before she tipped her head up to accept his offer of a kiss.
She inhaled his warmth, his scent. Heavier on the cow than usual, but not overwhelming. Still Bryce. Or maybe it took some cow to generate his unique Bryce smell.
He touched his lips to hers. Nothing more than a whisper, a feather-light touch. His hands caressed her back, drawing small circles. She mirrored his moves, pulling him closer. His lips pressed harder against hers. His tongue slid across the seam of her lips, as if asking permission to enter. She welcomed him, invited him deeper for more.
He groaned into her mouth. The pressure of his caresses increased until he wrapped his arms around her, as if he couldn’t get close enough. He might not be one to talk, but his body language spoke volumes. What he needed was comfort. To know someone cared.
She broke away from the kiss, ran her fingers down his temples, his jaw, across his parted lips. The pain in his eyes tugged at her heart.
She ached to know what had happened, what it was he couldn’t—wouldn’t—talk about. What would it take to get him to share? To understand he could share? That she’d be there for him?
Words about feelings would mean nothing to him. She took his hands in hers, brought them to her lips. Uttered words she hoped he’d understand. “Supper at my house? Maybe watch a movie? Around five?”
He exhaled another shaky sigh and nodded.
They were at the barn, setting Ginger into her stall before he broke the silence. “Thanks,” he whispered.
She stood on tiptoe and brushed a quick kiss across his lips. “No matter what, you’re always going to be special to me.”
He brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. A wistful expression crossed his. “Thanks. But I won’t hold you to it.”
Her thoughts alternated between wondering why Bryce had said that, and worrying about Grady as she drove home.