Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Cash
Ishould have let her fall.
And if I’d been any kind of an asshole, I would have, and it would have been easier on both of us if this city girl saw immediately how completely out of her depth on this ranch. And with me.
I’m a lot of things. But I’m not an asshole.
So now, I have an armful of soft city girl who smells like roses.
Roses of all damn things. In the middle of February.
On a ranch.
My ranch.
Still.
I hold her a second longer than is strictly necessary and breathe her in before clearing my throat and setting her up on her feet.
“Careful.”
Not sure if I’m warning her or myself.
Kali nods and clutches her purse tighter. “Right. Ice. Got it.”
“Guest cabin is just a bit further down the path.” I start walking away before she can say anything that will get me into trouble.
Which, when it comes to reporters, is pretty much anything.
The path to the guest cabin winds past the main house. It was one of the first outbuildings Wyatt wanted fixed up I was beginning to see why. Maybe getting a journalist out here was part of his master plan all along.
I can’t deny that publicity would be good for the ranch. As long as it’s good publicity. We’ve been fighting an uphill battle changing public perception on this place, and our family, since our dad died and Wyatt got back here.
“What kind of piece are you writing again?” I turn a little as I ask the question. Just enough to notice the way she’s slipping a little with every step she takes.
I swallow back a grunt. Her boots are better suited for the mall. They have no business out here.
“It’s a lifestyle piece,” she says, taking her eyes off her footing for a flash of a second.
“It’ll feature you and all of your brothers, really,” she adds the last bit quickly as if I’ll object.
Which I will. “I really want to capture your story of growing up here and leaving before coming back to—”
“There’s no story there,” I stop her. I won’t be discussing our childhood or why we left this place. Not with a reporter. No way.
“Oh,” she says a little uncertainly. “Well, there is a story here at Rock Creek. I’m sure of it.”
She’s got that same determination as every other reporter I’ve ever met. The type of attitude that means trouble for anyone on the receiving end of whatever story she decides to dig up.
I walk slower than I normally would, aware that Kali’s doing her best to keep up without slipping and falling. The ground is slick, and her boots don’t have much traction.
I’ll be back later to throw down a layer of sand.
I tell myself not to look back again, but I do anyway.
Her eyes are fixed on the ground, brow furrowed in concentration. She’s out of place here, there’s no question about that.
But she’s trying. I’ll give her that.
The little guest cabin comes into view behind a row of pine trees that had been planted when we were children.
“Here we are,” I say, climbing the steps first. “Watch the porch. The wood gets slick when it’s wet.”
She slips again halfway up. I catch her elbow on instinct. Her gloved hand lands against my chest, and I feel that same jolt all over again.
Kali looks up at me with a small smile. “You weren’t kidding.”
“I usually don’t,” I say. “Not where safety’s concerned.” I hold her steady until her boots are flat on the boards. “The ranch can be a dangerous place.”
She looks like she wants to say something, but presses her lips together instead.
The air hums between us a beat too long before I step back and open the door. “You should be comfortable enough in here. There’s electric heat if you don’t want to fuss with the stove.” I wave my arm toward the fireplace. “Of course, if there’s a power outage, you’re going to want it.”
She steps into the newly painted and cleaned-up space before turning back to look at me in surprise. “A power outage?”
“Yeah.” I try and fail to hide my smile. “You know, it’s where the power goes out.”
“That happens?”
I can’t help it, I laugh out loud. “You’ve not been out of the city much, have you?”
She shakes her head a little. “It’s not usually something we have to worry about in Vancouver.”
“Right.” I swallow down the rest of my laughter. “Well, if it does happen, don’t worry. I’ll come and light your fire for you.”
I realize a moment too late how my words sound, but if she notices, she doesn’t say anything.
“It’s cute,” she says instead, turning in a slow circle, taking in her surroundings.
There’s a little kitchen area in one corner, with a small fridge, sink, and coffee maker. A bathroom in the other back corner, a queen-sized bed against the back wall, a desk under the window, and a small couch in front of the fireplace.
Anna did a great job with the finishing details after Wyatt, and I cleaned out the junk.
“If you need anything, the main house is right there. The door is never locked.”
She raises her eyebrows at that, no doubt another thing she’s not used to.
“Wyatt and I will pull your rental out of the snow bank as soon as we can so you can get going.”
“Going?”
“Back to the city,” I say, rougher than I mean to.
Her eyes spark with my unspoken challenge. “I’m not leaving, Cash,” she says. “Not until I get this story. Wyatt said—”
“I’m not Wyatt.”
“No,” she says slowly. “You’re not. And you really don’t want to do this interview, do you?”
“Sure don’t.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Just one.”
She tilts her head, waiting for me to elaborate.
“I don’t like reporters.”
Her eyes widen. “All reporters?”
“Just ones who want to write a story about me,” I clarify, pining her with my gaze. “Don’t trust them.”
Kalli
Ilet out a slow breath and fold my arms. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” I force myself to hold his gaze. He has a way of looking right through me. “What if I’m not here to ruin your life?”
Cash leans against the doorframe, his huge biceps crossed over his chest. “You’d be the first.”
“Well,” I say, forcing a smile to my face, “guess there’s a first time for everything.”
He studies me for a beat, those blue unreadable eyes giving away nothing. “You really believe that?”
“Reporters aren’t all evil, Cash. Some of us just want to report the truth and write a good story.”
He cocks a brow. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that.”
Something flickers across his face, interest, maybe? I can’t be sure. It’s gone before I can decipher it.
“And you’re not going to leave until you get your story?”
I shake my head, holding my ground. “It’s my job.”
“And it’s my job to train and handle the horses,” he says. “So don’t get in my way.”
The corners of my lips twitch up into a small smile. “Does that mean…”
“Yes,” he says wth a shake of his head. “You can ask me a few questions. I’ll even let you watch me work as long as you stay out of my way.”
“I will,” I say eagerly, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice. “You won’t even know I’m here.”
Cash shakes his head and drops his gaze quickly, but I still catch the way his lips flicker up into what looks dangerously similar to a smile. “Somehow I doubt that very much, Miss Collins.”
He turns and slips from the door with a tip of his hat and what I’m almost sure is a chuckle.
The moment he’s gone and the door is closed behind him, I stamp my feet and throw my arms up in the air in a little celebratory dance.
I’m far from winning what I’m sure will be a battle to win over Cash Thorne, but I’m one step closer, and I’ll take it.
Small wins, baby.
This is my first major assignment, and it’s becoming abundantly clear that I’m in way over my head, but I’ve never shied away from a challenge. I’m not about to start now.
Now that I can finally breathe, I take a moment to unpack my suitcase and assess what I packed. It’s clear that the boots and coat I drove up in aren’t going to cut it on the ranch, but lucky for me, I have a few slightly better choices.
The other pair of boots I packed look better suited for a hike in the parks of Vancouver, but they have laces, aren’t made of shiny black leather, and the best part—they have no heels. They’ll have to do.
I’m just about finished unpacking when my phone buzzes from in my purse.
“At least there’s cell service up here,” I say and go in search of my phone.
It’s a text from Brooke Jensen.
I wouldn’t call her a friend. More of a colleague. She’s been with the magazine longer than I have, and she gets most of the best assignments. She’s taken me under her wing a little bit, offering me advice and hints on how to get ahead.
Some of those tips have been on the edge of unethical if you ask me, and there’s something I’m not sure I totally trust about Brooke, but she seems to want the best for me in my career. Women helping women and all that.
The second I see her name on the screen, my thoughts flash to what Cash said about not trusting reporters.
I can’t help but nod and smile a little to myself as I click open the message she sent.
Brooke:
So?? You meet him yet? Is he as hot in person?
Iroll my eyes, but before I can respond, another text comes through.
I bet he’s a hot cowboy fantasy waiting to come true. Shit. I hope I don’t regret turning this one down.
I frown reading her last comment. I know the only reason I got this story is because she turned it down, telling our editor she didn’t ‘do ranches’.
There was no one else available, which is the only reason I got the opportunity to get away from the proofreading desk and get out on an actual assignment.
For my big break, I most certainly did do ranches.
I quickly tap out a response.
Yeah. I met him and his brother and fiancée. They’re nice.
NICE? There’s no good stories in nice.
I swallow hard.
Don’t forget what I said. Big stories come from big risks.
Right. She did say that. It was her last bit of advice before I left the office yesterday.
I’d read all the research material. I knew that Cash had been caught up in an on-set scandal that involved accusations of the mistreatment of animals.
The big risk Brooke is talking about involves digging into that angle for the story.
Even though that was not what my editor asked for.
And from what I read, it didn’t seem that he had anything to do with it.
I remember.
Don’t be afraid to push him a little. Find the truth. The messier the better.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard.
I’ll see what I can do.
I hit send and immediately feel dirty. There’s a reason Cash doesn’t trust reporters, and I’d just promised him that I wasn’t like the others.
Was I?
Somewhere outside, a horse nickers. I imagine him out there with the animals, working. When I close my eyes, I can picture the way his strong, capable arms guide the horses, his big hands stroking their necks.
The mental image makes my stomach flip.
There’s something about the man that commands all of my attention.
And apparently, my fantasies, too.
My phone bings with another incoming text.
Use whatever tactics you need to.
I blink hard and read her text twice. Is she saying what I think she’s saying?
Before I can ask, she offers up the information herself.
Men will say a lot of things when they’re thinking with their dick.
Seriously?
You mean, I should sleep with him?
Her response comes immediately.
It’s not a big deal. It happens all the time, and if he’s half as sexy as he looks in his photos… win-win.
Win-win.
I drop my phone on the bed, unable or unwilling to respond to her last message. Brooke might not think it’s a big deal to sleep with someone for a story, but I do. There are some lines I’m not willing to cross.
Not even if Cash Thorne makes me feel things with a simple look that should come with a warning label.