This is the first audiobook in the Three Rivers Ranch Romance™ series. The talented Becky Doughty narrates Second Chance Ranch!
The walls in Kelly Russell’s life had never seemed so close. Of course, they hadn’t been this putrid shade of yellow for a long time, either. Her parents lived with the motto of “use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without,” and kitchen wall paint was no exception.
But if Kelly could ace this morning’s job interview, she had a chance of getting her own walls again. Soon. And she’d paint them. Maybe blue, or purple, or green. Something cool. Anything but the stark white she’d had in California—or this dark yellow.
“I have to drive out to the ranch.” She straightened her jacket as she glanced toward her mom and son, who sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast. She’d sailed through her college admissions interview in this jacket. She’d been hired for her first real job in this jacket. She’d also worn this jacket in divorce court and been granted full custody of her son, Finn.
She hoped the turquoise number would work its magic today. She tugged down the hemline, wondering when her black skirt had gotten a smidge too small.
Probably while you were sitting on the beach these past five years. She knew there’d be no sitting at Three Rivers Ranch, though she hoped the accountant would at least have an office.
“It’s about twenty-five miles on that old, dirt road,” she continued, knowing her four-year-old son wasn’t listening, but hoping her mother was. “So I’ll be gone for, I don’t know, at least two hours. Maybe three.”
“We’ll be fine,” her mom said. “I’ve taken care of children before.”
“I know.” Kelly pressed her lips together and determined that she did not need another layer of lipstick. She’d slick on clear gloss just before the interview. “But it’s been a long time.”
It had been twenty-four years, to be exact, since Kelly had been four. And her mother didn’t seem as sharp as she once had.
Her dad grumped his way into the kitchen, but Kelly knew his frowny face was an act. “Hey, Finny,” he said. “Want to go throw the pigskin?”
“Just a second, Daddy.” Kelly crouched down and drew her son into a hug. “Love you, baby. Be good for Grandma and Grandpa.”
She stood, and a sliver of nervous energy ran through her as she thought about returning to the ranch she’d loved as a teenager. She could practically smell the dust, hear the horses whinnying, and picture her best friend waving from the front porch, though Chelsea lived in Dallas now.
“Three Rivers needs a new financial controller,” her mom said as she walked with Kelly to the front door. “You’re qualified, and Frank knows you. He’d have to be dead not to hire you.”
“Didn’t you say he was going to be retiring soon?” Kelly worried the inside of her bottom lip with her teeth.
“That’s what Glenda said.” Mom put both hands on Kelly’s shoulders as Kelly pictured the ladies down at the hair salon gossiping about everything from the price of beef to who’d moved in over the weekend. “You’ve got this.” Her mom nodded and released her.
A rush of appreciation lifted Kelly’s lips into a smile. “Thanks, Mom.”
As she drove away from her childhood home, she made a mental list of things she could thank her parents for. Giving her a fabulous childhood under the wide, Texas sky. Paying for fifteen years of dance classes, which had provided her with a skill she’d used to fund her college education. Teaching her how to laugh.
Allowing her and Finn to take over their basement after her divorce.
She thought of her work at the local grocer as she pointed her pathetic excuse for a car toward the ranch. She’d been back in Three Rivers for several weeks, and she’d taken the first job she could get. But ringing up milk didn’t pay well enough for her to buy her own house and raise a child. And the nearest dance studio was in Amarillo, fifty miles away. The investment of time and money to get there and back didn’t make teaching ballet a viable option.
Kelly’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I’ve got this,” she repeated. The gently rolling hills calmed her, as they always had. She’d spent countless hours out here with nothing but her thoughts, the wind, and her friends. The open, blue sky further anchored her. She’d loved lying on her back in Chelsea’s backyard, creating stories from the clouds that rolled by. And the summer storms—she and Chelsea had made up their own songs, their own lyrics, their own choreography, all to the sound of thunder.
By the time she turned down the dirt driveway that led to the homestead, a sense of peace filled her. This ranch had been her second home growing up, and coming back to it now felt right. If she could get this job, it would be the first step toward getting her whole life back.
The nerves returned. She took a deep breath at the sight of the familiar house, imposing the first time you saw it. But Kelly knew better. She’d been in every room, felt the love and warmth from the family pictures hanging on the walls.
Kelly laughed at the memory at the same time her chest squeezed. Working at Three Rivers would provide a little safety at a time when Kelly had none. No pressure or anything.
She noted the American flag flying in the front yard of the ranch-style home. She’d kept in touch with Chelsea over the years and knew her younger brother, Squire, had joined the Army. His mother was obviously proud.
Kelly wondered if she’d get to see Heidi today, maybe experience one of her powder-scented hugs. A nostalgic smile played at her lips. She hoped so.
She left the house behind as she drove to the edge of the homestead, passing the barns, stables, and grain towers. Three industrial trailers edged the property before it gave way to the bull yards, and Kelly parked next to a row of dirty trucks, her little sedan a miniature vehicle among the bulky ranch equipment.
She glanced around as she walked through the packed-dirt parking lot, noticing that not much had changed. The clucking of chickens and the lowing of cattle met her ears, attributes that indicated this was indeed a working ranch. Kelly sidestepped a particularly large stone in the path. She’d have dust all the way to her knees by the time she made it inside. Everything about her spoke of a city businesswoman entering a whole new world, but she’d had to wear her heels. This was an interview.
Unfortunately, the metal steps and ramp were grated, creating a veritable gauntlet for her Jimmy Choo’s. She supposed the heels, though fashionable and absolutely the perfect statement for this outfit, weren’t exactly ranch attire.
She shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet and made it up four steps before her right heel sank through the metal. She set down her purse and tried to wrench the shoe free as she balanced on her toes. The Texas heat caused a trickle of sweat to form on her forehead. She did not want to enter the interview dusty, heelless, and now sticky.
She swung her hair over her shoulder, the movement throwing her off-balance. She gripped the railing to steady herself and prepared to make another attempt at freeing her shoe.
“You know, most ranch hands wear boots,” a man said behind her.
Kelly’s heart tripped as a strangled sound came out of her throat. She straightened, her hand smoothing down the back of her skirt, where a high slit was located. Had he seen anything?
She pressed her eyes closed. She’d never felt out of place on this ranch, and she wasn’t going to start now. “Yes, I can see why,” she agreed. “However, I didn’t get the memo.” Kelly opened her eyes and twisted to see who she’d need to avoid on the ranch. Because she was going to get this job, sweaty, mismatched, and dirty notwithstanding. She expected to see a cowboy—preferably one with a multi-purpose tool he could use to cut her free.
But this man, standing over six feet tall, didn’t wear the regular stonewashed jeans and long-sleeved shirt. No siree. Not a boot or a belt buckle was in sight. Instead his pressed khakis and black polo accentuated his athletic body. Biceps strained against the sleeves of his shirt, a clear testament that ranching did a body good. Maybe he drank a gallon of milk everyday too. The only two indicators that he belonged in Texas were the cowboy hat perched naturally on his head and the panting dog at his side.
Kelly’s reasons for wanting the position suddenly shifted to a completely new level. She gave herself a mental shake—she needed a job, not a boyfriend.
“Ma’am.” He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his thick, brown hair. She couldn’t tell from his sly smile and the amused sparkle in his eye if he was secretly laughing at her predicament or if he’d seen way more leg than she’d intended. She found herself returning his devilish smirk. Why was her stomach doing that floaty thing? She suppressed it and smoothed her hand over the back of her skirt again.
As he settled his hat back on his head, Kelly twisted and slid her feet out of the toes of her shoes. She turned around carefully so as to avoid touching the jagged metal, and placed her feet back on her shoes. Good thing she’d taken all those dance lessons. Still, her calf muscles hadn’t been used this way for a long time.
As she took in his form again, she recognized his cobalt blue eyes still sparking with mischief, his straight, long nose, and his square jaw where that smile remained.
“Squire?” She wobbled a little as she spoke.
He seemed startled at the use of his name, his smile fading. Squire studied her for a moment, thunderclouds darkening his eyes into a shade of gray that reminded Kelly of the churning ocean. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he said.
Oh, they had. He just possessed a lot more to admire now than he had in high school, including a pair of unforgettable dimples that appeared as his grin returned. “Are you going to clue me in?” he asked. “Or just stare at me until your name appears in my mind?” He folded his arms across his broad chest and quirked his eyebrows.
She blinked rapidly, embarrassed that she’d been caught gawking. “I’m Kelly Russell.” She shook her head, wishing she could shake away the words just as easily. “I mean Armstrong. Kelly Armstrong.”
“Like, Bond. James Bond?” His throaty laugh tickled her ears. “Sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell.”
He shrugged like it was no big deal that he didn’t remember her. Kelly couldn’t understand how he could’ve forgotten. She’d practically lived down the hall in his sister’s room.
“Yeah,” she said, still balancing backward in her shoes, the heel still jammed into the metal steps. “Remember, I was on the cheer squad with Chelsea? I slept over here all the time?” She peered at him, but his face remained impassive, stoic.
“Chelsea had a lot of friends,” he said. “Were you one of the gigglers?”
“No!” Kelly blew her hair out of her eyes, but it stuck to her forehead. She gave up hope of going into the interview without a bucket of sweat dripping from her face. “Remember how we used to choreograph dances and make you judge us?” Kelly emitted a nervous giggle before she could quell the sound.
“You just wanted to watch football, and we’d drag you into the back yard and make you watch us do our high kicks.” She attempted the move now, realizing too late that her skirt was too tight for such things. Her foot barely made it above her knee and that slit allowed a blast of air to go up her skirt.
Squire’s eyes closed briefly as she pressed down her clothes once more. The dog whined, somehow sensing her stupidity and warning her to stop now!
She’d lost her mind. So this is what it feels like, she thought. She’d let Squire completely undo her composure. Still, it bothered her that he didn’t remember her. She took a deep breath, trying to refocus on the impending interview.
“Okay, well, whatever. Maybe you can help me get out of this mess.” She pointed at her shoe and tried for a carefree chuckle. It sounded more like a strangled cat. At least it wasn’t a giggle.
Squire joined her on the fourth step, steadying her as she turned around and stepped back into her shoes properly. “Why don’t you just take off the shoe and then yank it out?” He released her and continued up the stairs while his dog slipped past them to lie in the shade. “In fact, I would’ve removed my shoes first, climbed the steps and then put them back on. At least shoes like that.” He gave her a flirtatious wink, and her memory stumbled. Maybe this man wasn’t Squire Ackerman. Kelly had certainly never seen him with more muscles in his body than stars in the sky. And he’d never flirted with her.
“I’d like to see you wear shoes like this,” she muttered, her gaze murderous as she glared at him.
“I would rock shoes like that, darlin’,” he said. “And Kelly? I remember your high kick being much…higher.”
Her heart cartwheeled through her chest. He did know who she was! That little snake.
Before she could formulate an answer, he entered the building and let the door crash closed behind him.
“Take the shoe off, darlin’,” she mimicked, but she did what Squire had suggested. The metal was just as hot and ragged as it looked. She balanced on the ball of her foot, trying to do as little damage as possible, this time to her skin. Her heel came free, and thankfully, it had only suffered a few minor scrapes.
“Is he always like that?” she asked his border collie, but he simply looked at her with a pleading expression, as if to say, Please don’t attempt that high kick again. She vaguely recognized the animal, but she couldn’t recall his name. She did remember that Squire had always loved his dogs. “Bet he’d help you if you got stuck.”
She removed her other shoe and scampered up the rest of the steps barefoot. As she slipped back into her heels on the safety of the rubber mat outside the door, Kelly wiped her brow, sent a prayer heavenward that she could ace this interview, and took a deep breath. Then she pushed open the door.
* * *
Squire Ackerman winced at the sound of the door banging closed behind him, the metal on metal reminding him of being trapped in the tank. Immediately, the smell of hot gears and diesel fuel assaulted him, though the more accurate scent in the administration trailer would be men who worked with horses.
He took a moment to center himself, grateful he’d managed to navigate the stairs and enter the building without Kelly seeing his limp. As he strode down the aisle toward the ranch hands, he wasn’t as successful. He’d been back at Three Rivers long enough for them to get used to his somewhat stunted gait, and they all busied themselves as they sensed his approaching fury.
“Where’s Ethan?” he growled at Tom Lovell, the only cowboy who hadn’t found a pretended task upon Squire’s arrival.
“Sent him out to the north fence, Boss.” Tom’s gum snapped as he chewed it. “You said it had popped its rungs.”
“How long’s he been gone?”
“He left about seven.” Tom stared steadily back at Squire, something the Army major appreciated. Tom would make a good general controller, Squire thought. But Clark sat at the front desk, and he’d run the operations on the ranch for almost as long as Squire had been alive.
Squire grunted his acceptance of Tom’s answer and hurried around the short, semi-permanent partition. The shoulder-height wall separated the front area of the trailer, where the cowboys met and received their assignments, from the row of permanent offices he’d built into the back.
His father’s door was the first on the left, Squire’s second, and their accountant occupied the last office.
He might as well start thinking of it as Kelly’s. Squire knew his father had already hired her in his mind. The interview was simply a formality.
Squire’s phone buzzed in his front pocket, but he waited until he’d made it inside his office, shut the door, and flipped the lock. Only then did he remove his phone, already knowing who had texted. Squire sighed, wishing he’d never taught his mother how to use technology.
Has Kelly arrived?
Like she didn’t have her nose pressed against the front windows, watching and waiting for Kelly’s car, simply so she could text him about it. She’d also sent message after message last night, each asking if Squire could handle seeing Kelly again. Her last one had said, Forget about last time. This is your second chance.
He’d ignored all her messages until that one. Then he’d sent back, There was no last time, and there is no this time. Mom, stop!
He definitely wanted there to be a last time. His invitation to her senior prom proved that. Her rejection screamed through him as loudly now as it had a decade ago. There would definitely not be a this time.
He leaned against the locked door and closed his eyes.
She hadn’t driven the forty minutes to the ranch to find a new husband, he knew that for certain. He couldn’t let the lines between them blur like they had last time.
At least he’d assigned Ethan a task in a remote quarter of the ranch. A calculated move, since Squire knew Ethan was the best looking cowboy employed at the ranch, with the biggest ego. He would’ve hit on Kelly before she even made it into his father’s office. Squire had sent him away to protect her from Ethan—not because he was jealous or worried about the competition. Definitely not because of that.
Squire knew the moment Kelly entered the building, and not only from the way the walls vibrated as the door slammed shut. That sound would never become familiar, and Squire blinked away the blinding images of smoke rising from a mangled heap of metal that used to be a tank. The one driven by Lou.
Though dangerous, he focused on what he could remember about Kelly to help drive away the memories of his last deployment. The scent of her perfume had stuck with him through the years. As he’d passed her on the stairs, he’d caught the same whiff of cocoa butter and honeysuckle he’d always associated with her.
Kelly’s voice floated through the thin walls of his office. “Thank you, Tom.” Squire stuffed away the twinge of guilt that he’d caused her embarrassment. He hadn’t worn impractical footwear to the ranch.
The walls shook again, Squire’s signal that his dad had arrived. He’d expect Squire in the interview, though he’d already decided to hire Kelly. Squire didn’t understand the point of the interview if he was going to hire the first person who walked through the door.
She’s the only person, he reminded himself. Still, she’d barely made it through the door, what with those ridiculous shoes. He’d had to employ his military training to keep his face blank while he’d spoken to her.
Pretending he didn’t know her may have been childish. Crossing his arms made him appear imposing and big, and he knew it. He’d done both on purpose to keep her at arm’s length. He hated that she turned him to mush with a tropical scent and a smattering of freckles.
He took a cleansing breath, praying for the strength he lacked. He’d experienced plenty of frustrating situations during his dual deployments overseas. He could weather this too, especially since Kelly Armstrong had made her interest clear years ago. Nothing between them had changed. He was still Chelsea’s little brother, someone Kelly had overlooked so often Squire had felt so completely invisible he’d sometimes startled when she spoke to him.
His phone buzzed again, but he chucked it on his desk before yanking open the door and heading toward his father’s office, taking careful seconds to make sure his left leg didn’t outpace his right.
Squire studied Kelly from a distance before he entered the room. Her turquoise blazer gave her a feminine figure, with a white blouse barely visible underneath. She wore those four-inch black heels and just the right amount of makeup to be professional. Her sandy hair fell halfway down her back; her light green eyes were as magnetic now as they’d been ten years ago.
He crossed his arms. A stampede of raging bulls did not scare Squire Ackerman. Bad weather could not deter him. Women did not affect him.
Major Squire Ackerman had complete control over himself, his emotions, and what he let other people see.
Especially Kelly.
“I am fearless,” he heard her say as he stepped closer to the doorway. “Who else would leave their cheating husband in California, trek halfway across the country with their four-year-old son, and attempt to start over?” She tried for a carefree chuckle, but her eyes caught his as he moved into the office. The sound stalled in her throat. She crossed her legs and gave him a pointed stare, but her gaze didn’t flicker to his injured leg.
“Sorry I’m late.” He settled on the corner of his dad’s desk, ignoring Kelly completely though his fingers curled into fists, needing to corner and interrogate the man who’d cheated on her. “What did I miss?”
His father glanced up at Squire. “Miss Kelly said she can get Three Rivers back in the black.”
Squire snorted. “How did Miss Kelly say she’d do that?” He reached down and opened a drawer in the desk. He pulled out a thick stack of file folders. “Because our last guy left us in a mess of trouble.” He dropped the files, which were incomplete financial records, on the desk. They made a deafening bang.
Kelly flinched. She swallowed, a nervous movement that drew his attention to the slender column of her neck. Frustration frothed inside his chest, filling and fighting and overflowing until he felt choked with longing for a future that could never come to fruition. He wished he could go back in time and stop himself from asking her to the prom. Maybe then he’d have his dignity. Maybe then he could look her in the eye. Maybe then he’d be glad she’d applied for this job.
“I’d need to see the files in order to articulate a proper plan,” she said, only a slight tremor in her voice.
His dad nudged the stack forward. “Take ‘em.”
Kelly eyed the paperwork, which probably weighed more than she did. She stood and dragged the folders toward the edge of the desk, staying a healthy distance from Squire. “I can come back tomorrow with a proposal.”
“No need,” his dad said, and Squire knew what was coming next. He stood up and put his hands in his pockets in an attempt to look bored.
Sure enough, his dad said, “You’re our only applicant. If you think you can do this, the job is yours.”
Kelly stared at him, unblinking.
A shiver squirreled down Squire’s back at the same time his stomach clenched. “Dad, let’s not be hasty.” He glared at Kelly like she’d somehow bewitched his father into offering her the job. He knew she hadn’t, just like he knew it was easier to act like a jerk to put distance between them. If she didn’t like him, then she’d avoid him. The very thought made his heart tumble to his shoes, but he needed the distance.
He turned away from her and leaned closer to his father. “We can’t afford another disaster.”
“I won’t let you down,” she said.
Squire’s blood squirmed in his veins at the assurance in her voice. He couldn’t believe her. She’d let him down before and didn’t even have the decency to admit it. He gave her another sweeping glare as his father clapped his shoulder.
“Show her to her office, son.” He tipped his head her way. “Clark out front will give you the paperwork you need.”
“Thank you.” Kelly smiled and shook his father’s hand, but he pulled her into a hug.
“It’s good to see you back in Three Rivers, Miss Kelly.”
Squire wished he didn’t think so too. The fresh ink on her divorce papers felt like a shield he should wield.
“Thank you, Frank.” She turned to Squire, almost like she would shake his hand too. He stepped back, a clear message for her to keep her handshakes to herself.
“This way.” He led her down the hall, past his office, and into the last one in the back corner of the trailer. It was where he’d discovered the discrepancies between his father’s bank accounts and the quarterly reports.
He’d never been so angry. So frustrated. So helpless. Not even when his tank platoon had been targeted in Kandahar and he’d lost four men in his company, been injured himself, and witnessed the more horrific things that fire did to human flesh. No, this betrayal ran deep, and it meant his parents couldn’t afford to retire anytime soon.
Squire had never felt the love of ranching the way his father had, and his father’s father before him. The ranch needed to stay in the family if his parents had any chance at surviving financially, which made it disappointing that Squire didn’t have an older brother.
But he understood duty, always had. Even though he wanted a different life, somewhere else, if his dad wanted to retire, Squire would do whatever he could to make the transition easier.
Kelly flipped on the light and entered her office. She’d lugged the files with her, and Squire considered taking them from her. What could it hurt?
But he knew what it would hurt. He’d worked too hard for too long to build those walls around his heart.
“Let me take those,” he said anyway, his voice much softer now that he was alone with her. She had to stretch up while he bent down, his forearm cradling hers, as she transferred the load to him.
She stumbled, her shoulder crashing into his ribcage. A grunt escaped his mouth, and she gasped. “I’m sorry.” She stepped back and tugged on the bottom of her jacket.
“It’s fine.” He moved to the desk, a definite limp in his step and a flush rising through his neck. He watched as she inspected the built-in filing cabinets, ran her finger along the blinds covering the single window, and tested out the chair behind her desk.
She finally looked at him. “I like it.”
“Great,” he said dryly. “It’s not like we’d change it if you didn’t.”
She gave him a withering look. “Come on. It’s me, Kelly.” She tried a smile, and he allowed himself to return it halfway.
He knew who she was. She was the girl who danced with his sister. Who slept over on the weekends. Who’d bewitched him so completely he’d convinced himself a senior would go to her prom with a sophomore. If she’d gone with someone else, he might’ve understood.
He shoved the sourness down his throat where it belonged.
While he hadn’t been this close to Kelly in years, the real prize she offered was solving the ranch’s financial problems. He couldn’t forget that.
He’d moved on with his life. So had she. She’d gone to college, gotten married, had a kid. And now a divorce.
He allowed himself to fully smile. Maybe she wasn’t out of his league anymore. She most definitely is, he corrected himself as he stepped closer to where she sat. “You still know any of your dance moves? Besides that pathetic high kick, of course.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “I’m sure I could choreograph something for you. Remember when I used to do that?”
“Yeah. You and Chelsea were so annoying.”
“I’m sure we were.” The glint in her eye spelled mischievous. “So do you make it a habit to leave helpless women trapped in your stairs?”
“You’re hardly helpless, darlin’.” Squire sat in the chair opposite of her desk with his arms crossed.
She busied herself with the files, shifting them around without really changing anything. “I also don’t remember you being such a scoundrel.” Though she’d moved away from Three Rivers, her Texas twang remained. He liked it, and wanted to hear her say his name in her pretty little voice.
“I don’t remember you wearing such high heels,” he shot back.
The silence lengthened between them, until Kelly asked, “How’s your mother?”
She hadn’t forgotten her Texas manners while she’d been gone. Squire would give her that. “She’s good. She’s given new definition to the word overbearing now that she knows how to text. But she’s good.”
Kelly leaned forward, and Squire caught a glimpse of her younger self, the girl he’d crushed on so long ago. “You don’t like your mother texting you? Why? It cramps your style while you’re out digging ditches?”
Squire could’ve sworn she was flirting with him, but the idea was ridiculous. She was coming off a messy divorce and had moved in with her parents. He’d heard what she’d said about moving halfway across the country alone. She wasn’t looking for a relationship, especially with her new boss.
“As a matter of fact,” he said. “It does. Digging ditches requires a lot of concentration. Texting is distracting.”
“Don’t dig and text.” The flirtatious sound of her voice wormed its way straight into his heart. He’d remembered a lot about her, but her voice had faded quickly. He realized now how much he liked listening to her talk. “That is so you.”
His pulse galloped, slowing to a trot as he leaned forward, like they might share something meaningful if they got just a little closer to each other.
Her phone chimed, and she jumped up. “That’s my alarm. I need to get back.” The playfulness and hope drained from her voice and face. She glanced up and smiled, but it had lost its savor. Squire watched the weight of real life descend on her, clouding the girl he’d once known.
“Can you help me get these to my car?” She indicated the folders.
“You don’t need to look at them tonight,” he said. “You start tomorrow. Look at them then.”
She blinked a couple of times, confusion racing through those beautiful eyes. “I’ll just take a couple folders.” She picked them up and stepped toward the door just as Squire did.
Close enough to feel the gentle heat from her skin, Squire found a flicker of fear in her expression. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, ask her what her ex had done to her to make her so nervous, demand to know how he could have changed her into someone other than the Kelly she’d been.
Instead, he said, “You really don’t need to take those. The ranch’ll still need your help tomorrow.” He moved into the hall ahead of her.
“Is it really that bad?” She joined him, her purse swinging between them.
“Just about.” Squire noticed the silence in the front of the trailer. The cowhands had gone out on their assignments for the day, leaving Clark alone at the controller’s desk.
“Miss Kelly,” Clark said, heavy on the cowboy accent as he handed her a manila folder. “If you fill these out and bring ‘em back tomorrow, I’ll get y’all on the payroll.”
Kelly grinned, tucked the folder into her purse along with the others, and thanked him. Clark barely acknowledged Squire, something he was used to. Clark knew everything about the ranch, from how to run it to how to let it run itself. If Squire was being honest, Clark should’ve taken over as foreman.
They both knew it, and it seemed like every other cowboy on the ranch did too. He had his work cut out for him to win over the staff and figure out how to manage something as vast as a cattle ranch. He’d tried some of the tactics he’d learned in the Army about taking over a company when the commander had been killed in action. But cowhands weren’t soldiers, and they hadn’t quite warmed to him the way his comrades in Afghanistan had. Squire had learned that men would trust him when he showed them they could.
He needed to do that at Three Rivers, but he hadn’t quite figured out how.
Kelly didn’t know any of his failures on the ranch, and she didn’t need to. He wouldn’t burden her with his unrealized dreams, permanent physical injuries, and financial troubles.
She removed her heels before stepping out of the admin building, and he had a momentary flash of him sweeping her off her feet and carrying her down the steps.
Longing lashed his internal organs like a whip. Thoughts like that were why he needed to put so much distance between them, why he needed to constantly remind himself of the duties he’d taken upon himself as ranch foreman. He had to find the missing money before he could even think about anything but the ranch.
“See you tomorrow.”
Squire focused, the fantasy of him and Kelly dissolving as he realized she’d already made her way down the stairs and to her car. She waved, and he watched her climb into her sedan and drive down the road, kicking up dust as she went.
He frowned at himself, needing a cattle gate on his emotions to keep them contained. He glanced toward the stables, wondering how he could possibly endure day after day with Kelly so close.
Listen to chapter 2 HERE!
