Chapter 3
“Where’s your washroom?” Abby set her hat on the tree by the kitchen’s back door, feeling the ache in her body of a good workout. “I need to wash the sweat and dirt off my face in the worst way.”
Lady trotted at Brady’s side as he followed Abby into the house, then closed the door behind him. He tossed his hat, which ringed the hook next to where she’d hung hers and he pointed toward the hallway. “The guest bathroom is first door on your left. Help yourself to a clean hand towel and washcloth out of the second drawer on the right.”
“Thanks, Brady.” She headed through the archway to the hall, dreading what she’d see in the mirror—she probably looked like crap and no doubt had hat-hair. Brady, on the other hand, wore sweat and dirt in a way that made him look even more sexy and masculine.
Yep, like she’d told her sister, some men—make that a very few—smelled good when they were hot and sweaty and even deliciously of testosterone. Brady was one of those few.
She walked into the small bathroom, flipped on the light switch, and came face-to-face with the mirror over the sink and groaned. “Yep,” she muttered. “Worst case of hat-hair in the known cowboy universe.”
With a sigh, she found a pile of rust-colored towels and washcloths in the drawer he’d indicated and set one of each aside on the cream and brown granite countertop. It was a nice bathroom with beige-painted walls, western fixtures, and rust-colored shower curtain and bath towels.
She closed the door before she splashed cold water on her face and neck and used the washcloth to wipe away the dirt and sweat. She patted herself dry with the hand towel. The water cooled and refreshed her, and she did her best to smooth her hair back and re-secure her ponytail.
After she used the facility and felt reasonably better, she headed to the kitchen and heard a strong male voice singing.
She paused in the archway and swallowed hard when she saw Brady standing at a counter, his back to her. He focused on what he was doing as he sang an old country song. His voice was to die for. Deep, rich, and strong, the kind of voice that made a woman shiver.
He had the sexiest backside she’d ever seen—God, could he fill out a pair of Wranglers—he had such a tight ass and powerful thighs. His broad shoulders stretched out a black tee he’d changed into, and he’d taken off his boots and stood in his sock-feet.
Just watching him made her heart beat faster. What would it be like to get to know this man better?
“Are you going to stand there or come in?” He spoke in a light, teasing tone, but she flushed head to toe. He cast a glance over his shoulder with an amused expression on his handsome features. “Looks like you got more sun than I realized.”
She burned hotter. “Curse of being a redhead.” She moved toward him. “You could make it big with the kind of voice you have.”
“Nah.” He shrugged and went back to making sandwiches. “I’ve enjoyed singing since I was a kid, and I can’t go long without a guitar.”
She leaned back against the countertop. “I’d love to hear you play your guitar and sing someday.”
“You never know.” He flashed her a grin. “One or two sandwiches?”
“One would be great.” She braced her hand on the counter. “What can I do to help?”
He gave a nod in the direction of a large stainless-steel fridge. “There’s a stoneware pitcher of iced tea, if you don’t mind grabbing it.”
“On it.” She strode across the kitchen. “No fair you got to change shirts.”
“I don’t look as beautiful as you do after a hard ride.”
Abby snorted with laughter. “I saw myself in the mirror. I’m not buying your sweet-talk, cowboy.”
Brady laughed. “What do I have to do to convince you that it’s not sweet talk?”
“Humph.” She grabbed the pitcher out of the fridge and set it on the island. “Have any lemon?”
“Wedges are in the plastic container to the right of where you found the tea.”
“Got ’em.” She set the container on the island and closed the fridge door. “Sugar?”
“Right here.” He pointed to a can in a row of stainless-steel canisters near him. “The fake stuff is in packets in the container to the left of the sugar.”
“I’m all about real.” She retrieved the sugar canister and put it with the tea and lemon wedges. “No fake stuff for me.”
“Girl after my own heart.” He smiled at her and told her the cabinet where she’d find the glasses and the drawer with the iced teaspoons. “But no sugar for me in my tea.”
“Loads for me.” She poured two glasses and put sugar in hers. When she finished, she peeked around his shoulder and saw the multi-layered sandwiches he’d made. “I love roast beef and cheese.”
“Good thing.” He put one thick sandwich for her and two for himself on heavy green stoneware plates. “It’s all I have. Caesar’s doing the grocery shopping in addition to ranch errands.”
Abby set the glasses on the kitchen nook table and Brady placed the plates of sandwiches in front of their seats. She slid onto a bench seat. “Thanks for lunch.”
“You’re welcome.” He sat on the bench across from her. Lady curled up on the floor a few feet away. “I appreciate you helping with the neighbor’s cattle. Would have taken Caesar, Lady, and me a good deal longer without you. Ever think of a career as a small ranch cowgirl?”
She grinned. “You can take the girl out of the ranch, but you can’t take the ranch out of the girl. But no, I enjoy my occupation. I get to travel and meet lots of people with what I do. It’s my kind of job.”
“Just think of all the cows you’re missing.” He grinned then took a bite of his sandwich.
She did the same and chewed slowly, enjoying the thick bread and roast beef. She swallowed. “Is this bread homemade?”
His mouth quirked into a grin. “One of my guilty secrets is that I like baking breads.”
“Okay, now you are officially one of my favorite people.” She held up the sandwich, ready to take another bite. “I love homemade bread stuffs.”
She took a big bite and chewed as he said, “You should try my country-sized cinnamon rolls.”
Abby swallowed. “Please don’t tease me. I’ll be dreaming of them until I get some.”
He chuckled. “You never know.”
“You keep saying that.”
When she finished eating the big sandwich, she sank back in her seat and put her hand on her belly. “That was so good, and I am so full. I don’t think I’ll have to eat for the rest of the day.”
He wiped his fingers on his paper napkin then pushed his plate aside. “Tell me how a ranching family got into fencing over seventy years ago.”
Abby shrugged. “Cherry pies and black-eyed Susans.”
Brady leaned forward, folding his tanned forearms on the table. “Okay, I’ll bite.”
“My great-grandma had two loves: baking pies and tending her flower garden. The neighbor’s cattle had two loves: Great Grandma’s cherry pies that she’d let cool on the windowsills and her black-eyed Susans.” Abby smiled as she thought about the story her grandpa enjoyed telling.
Brady laughed. “I can imagine what came next.”
Abby pushed her ponytail over her shoulder and let it fall down her back. “She told Great Grandpa that if he didn’t put up a fence and a good one, she was going to leave him. So, he bought up a bunch of old fencing and installed it. Neighbor needed a new fence and Great Grandpa had extra materials, so he used that to help the neighbor, who, in turn, paid him.” Abby raised her hands. “And there you have it.”
“Best origin story I think I’ve heard.” Brady was shaking his head. She loved the way his soft hair fell across his forehead. “Now, what about you? What made you decide to stay with the family business?”
She shrugged. “I thought I had no interest in it, but I wanted to have a career in some field of agriculture. I headed to Tucson to attend the University of Arizona, which has one of the best agribusiness programs.” She spread her hands on the table. “When I graduated, I decided the family business was a great way to start my career. Found out I loved it, and here I am.”
“I attended the U of A College of Agriculture, too.” His handsome features looked intrigued. “What years did you attend?”
They compared dates and discovered they’d missed each other by one year.
She smiled. “Wildcats all the way.”
Brady nodded his agreement and sat back in his seat. He found he enjoyed talking with Abby. Not to mention he’d never been around a woman who looked as sexy as she did after a hard ride—dust suited her. She even smelled good.
“Tell me why a Montana rancher like Elmer Thompson would up and move to Arizona?” Brady cocked his head. “It takes a whole lot of dynamite to get an old cowboy off his ranch.”
“Perfectly true analogy.” Abby smiled, which did strange things to his insides. She had a gorgeous smile.
“Elmer has COPD and as you know, the Phoenix area is about 1100 feet above sea level, and it’s a dry heat.” She shifted in her seat. “Where we live in Montana, we have an elevation close to 4500. Elmer’s daughter lives in Tempe, so he decided to move out here where he can breathe easier and be closer to her. His son runs his operation in Montana while Elmer is developing a smaller one here.”
“I can understand why he’d have to relocate.” Brady couldn’t take his eyes off Abby’s face. He hadn’t dated a woman who didn’t mind getting a little dirty or could keep up with him in the saddle since his younger days. Not that he was interested in dating Abby.
Keep telling yourself that, McLeod.
Truth was, she tempted him to throw out all his firm beliefs about not dating.
He realized she had asked him a question, and he had to draw himself back from his thoughts to answer. It took him a moment to gather what she’d said.
“I’ve been riding since I was two.” He smiled as he remembered riding when he was young. “Started out on the family pet pony.”
Abby gave him a brilliant smile. “My first time in the saddle was as a two-year-old and on a pony, too. Jasper was his name.”
“Ours was Petunia.” He shook his head at the memory. “Grandma Frances named her after her favorite flowers. My first horse was a sorrel named Crispy.” At Abby’s look of amusement, he added, “Short for Rice Crispy treat. It was my favorite—especially when Mom made them with peanut butter.” He smiled. “I competed in youth rodeo with Crispy.”
“I competed in youth rodeo, too.” Abby perked up at that. “Mine was a buckskin Quarter Horse named Buttermilk and my favorite activities were team roping and barrel racing. Buttermilk and I chased the cans together through high school.”
“You sure can ride.” He stretched out his legs to the side of the table. “I’d bet you were great at it.”
“We did pretty well together,” she said. “I imagine you weren’t so bad yourself.”
“I loved every moment of it.” He crossed his ankles and wiggled his sock-covered toes. “Do you have siblings?”
“Three sisters and three brothers, all younger than me—I’m the oldest by five years over the next brother in line. Our mama died when the baby of the family was two, so I helped raise the whole damn bunch.” Abby’s dimple was adorable when she smiled. “Daddy’s so proud of all seven of us. My sisters and brothers also rode and worked the ranch from childhood. I was a tomboy growing up, but my sisters are more girly girl than I am.”
Abby was perfectly feminine to Brady. “Do your brothers and sisters help out with the fencing business?”
“Most of them do. Our youngest, Emma, is twenty and our accountant, and she’s marrying our foreman’s son in a year.”
That hit a little close to home. He’d almost married his foreman’s daughter.
“How about you—brothers and sisters?” she asked.
“I have three younger sisters, like you,” Brady said. “But I’ve got one up on you because I have four brothers.”
“Holy moly.” Abby grinned. “Our poor moms.”
“I get that a lot.” Brady matched her grin. “I have to agree—I don’t think there’s a one of us who didn’t give her gray hairs, but I think my brothers and I were the worst.”
“Our mama had her share of silver in her hair.” Sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains by the kitchen table and kissed the freckles on Abby’s cheeks and the bridge of her nose. “I think we were all terrors.” She shook her head. “Scratch that. I know we were.”
“That’s a mom’s job, to hear my mama tell it,” Brady said. “To worry about her kids, no matter how old they are.”
“Truth.” Abby glanced at her watch. “I’d better get back to the B B and take a shower and put on clean clothes. I need to get to work.”
Brady looked across the kitchen at the wall clock, in the shape of a copper teakettle. “You’re right. Time to get back at it.”
Lady got to her feet as he stood and gathered their lunch plates and took them to the sink. Lady trotted after Brady, and Abby followed with their iced tea glasses, then he put everything into the dishwasher.
“Give me a minute and I’ll walk you to your car.” He grabbed his boots, sat on the bench seat, tugged them on, and stood. “You made this a very enjoyable lunch.”
“It was fun.” She walked with him to the kitchen door, Lady right beside them. “Thanks for the sandwiches.”
He swiped his Stetson off the hat rack and settled it on his head. He took his time, working to come up with a good way to meet with her again.
She stopped in front of him and tipped her head to look into his eyes. “I’d like to invite you out to dinner Friday night and if you’d like, we can talk a little bit about fencing.”
That’s right, this all started with fencing. As much fun as he’d had with her, he’d forgotten. He appreciated that she hadn’t tried to sell him fencing over lunch.
“I’d like that, Abby.” He fought to keep a boyish smile of enthusiasm off his face at the chance to spend more time with her. “Have you tried Black Bear’s Barbeque?”
She shook her head. “I’ve planned to, but it hasn’t worked out to go there.”
“Great.” He opened the door and they stepped outside into the early afternoon blast of heat, the Border collie bounding ahead. “You’re gonna love it. Would you like me to pick you up from your bed and breakfast?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure how my schedule will go Friday. I might have to drive straight there. How about six-thirty?”
“You’ve got it.” He pushed aside his disappointment that she didn’t want him to pick her up. He had a feeling it was to keep some distance between them and give her the chance to leave separately.
They reached her red Escape and he stood a few feet away from the driver’s side door, and Lady parked her butt beside him. She stroked the dog’s head. “Bye, Lady.”
She grasped the door handle and made her way into her vehicle. She started the SUV before buzzing down the window and shutting the door.
She rested her arm on the window frame. “I had a good time helping you with the cattle and lunch was great. Thank you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re thanking me for putting you to work?”
“I thoroughly enjoyed it.” She held his gaze. “I don’t get into the saddle that often anymore with all the traveling I do, and it’s been a good long while since I’ve been involved in a roundup. So yes, thank you.”
“Anytime.” And he meant that—something that brought him up short.
Were his declarations of permanent bachelorhood all talk? He hadn’t thought so, but he also hadn’t expected to find himself attracted to a beautiful redhead who was good on a horse and looked sexy in dirt, had freckles, a dimple, and a killer smile. A woman who was intelligent, fun, and had a whole lot in common with him, from what he’d gathered so far. Nope, hadn’t seen this coming.
She gave him her dizzyingly gorgeous smile. “Friday, six-thirty.”
Brady gave her a nod, contenting himself with the fact it wouldn’t be long before he’d see her again. “I’ll be there.”
Abby buzzed up the window, backed up, and drove away down the dirt road. He couldn’t take his eyes off her vehicle and just stood and watched until he couldn’t see her SUV any longer.
He blew out his breath and looked down at Lady. “What do you think?”
Lady gave a sharp bark and looked at him expectantly.
“Yeah, I like her, too.” He frowned as he thought over their lunch. She hadn’t flirted with him, and she just seemed to have fun. Would she be interested in him?
Hell, he didn’t know what to think. He’d always had problems reading women, which was why he’d gotten his heart stomped on way too many times.
What made this different? What made Abby different than any other woman he’d known? She just was, in so many ways.
But, what did he know about women? A good bunch of nuthin’.
Still, he was sure looking forward to Friday night.
He turned and headed for the barn. There was always work to do on a ranch. Especially a new one.