7. Emerson
CHAPTER 7
Emerson
T he job is both harder and easier than I expected. There is a lot of learning to be done about the ranch and its systems, but the software programs aren’t difficult to navigate. The Collins brothers give me free rein to learn at my own pace.
But the first week is a whirlwind of activity between them, learning the books and administrative tasks with Brock on Monday and today with Owen preparing for an upcoming rodeo event and cattle drive.
People flitter in and out of the office, and I deal with client phone calls and random staff demands throughout the day.
But I barely notice the time flying by, or that we’ve hardly eaten all day. The daytime slips away to the late afternoon, and we find ourselves still working. I’m so consumed with getting these plans finished and working on every detail with Owen, nothing else seems relevant.
A local country station twangs lightly in the background through the speakers, the same song playing for at least the third time today, but I don’t mind. It’s a popular artist I like, and I find myself singing along under my breath.
I’m overwhelmed with the amount of planning involved as Owen effortlessly plots out what we have to do at the rodeo, and I marvel at his notes and organizational skills.
“You’ve got a talent for filling out forms,” I joke, giving him a playful look as we pore over the pages sprawled over the desktop.
He nods, not catching my teasing at first, because his concentration is too great on the work in front of him.
I back off, allowing him his space. I don’t want to distract him.
As I reach for a random flyer, he does the same, and our hands brush. Heat rushes through me, and an image of him bending me over the hotel room bed jumps into my mind as our eyes lock.
His steely-gray eyes widen, and for half a second, I think he recognizes me.
Swallowing a gasp, I dart my eyes downward, my cheeks flaming crimson. I hadn’t even thought of a cover story, an excuse if I were caught, if they recognized me, and now?—
“Am I making you uncomfortable? Working alone with you here so late?”
My head jerks back up in shock, my mouth parting. “No,” I answer quickly. I laugh at the absurdity of the question.
His eyes shadow in annoyance.
“I’m sorry. I laugh when I’m nervous—not that you make me nervous—you don’t. I’m not nervous….”
I trail off when I hear how I’m rambling. Inhaling deeply, I try again. “I’m not uncomfortable.”
He continues to stare at me across the desk. “Why do I feel like we’ve met before?”
A small wave of dizziness overcomes me, and I swallow rapidly. I don’t want to lie to him—to anyone, but obviously, I can’t tell him the truth.
My gaze fixes on the mound of papers in front of me, but before I can speak, my phone rings from the desktop where I’d left it.
“Oh, excuse me!” I breathe gratefully as Mae’s smiling face appears on the screen. “I should take this. She never calls.”
Shrugging indifferently, Owen returns to the forms, and I jump up to hurry into the outer office with my cell. Guilt slices through me as I brace myself to answer Mae’s call.
“Hi,” I mumble into the phone. “I can’t really talk right now.”
“The hell you can’t!” my best friend challenges. “You moved to Pine Sky?!”
I wince. So much for making this a short phone call. “I know. I was going to tell you, but things happened fast?—”
“No, no, no,” Mae cuts me off. “You moved without telling me! And you haven’t returned my calls in weeks. What the hell is this, Emmy?”
I jerk the phone away from my ear as she launches into her tirade, and frankly, I don’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, I’d be just as mad. But Mae doesn’t know about the baby or what happened in Vegas.
“Who told you? My mom?”
“Of course! Who else did you tell? I called there, worried about you because I went to your apartment when you stopped answering my texts. Imagine my surprise to find out you aren’t living there anymore?!”
“I know, Mae?—”
“No, you don’t know!” she fumes. “If you knew, you would’ve called me!”
Shame drills through me, and I hang my head. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I got this job, and I had to move right away. I was going to call as soon as I got settled, but things got so busy and…”
I trail off helplessly. “I’m really sorry.”
My best friend inhales sharply. “What’s the job?”
“I’m a ranch administrator.” I brace myself for another tirade.
“What kind of ranch?” she asks, interest coloring her voice. “Cattle?”
“Horses,” I correct her. “It’s so beautiful out here, Mae. It’s like a fairy tale, or what you’d see in the movies. And my place, it’s so…” I sigh. “Maybe you can come visit when I’m a little more settled.”
Mae’s voice softens. “Of course we’re coming down to visit. What’s the name of this place? I’m going to have Will check it out.”
I balk at the idea. “No! I don’t want?—”
Slowly, I glance over my shoulder to see if Owen is listening from the doorway, but there’s no one there. Lowering my voice to a near-whisper, I continue. “I don’t want Will doing that.”
“Don’t you want to know who you’re working for?” she challenges me.
“That’s my problem, not Will’s. Anyway, you know he’s not allowed to use police resources on private citizens.”
She grumbles incoherently. “Fine. Will you tell me the name of the ranch, anyway?”
I hesitate, unsure if I can trust her not to tell her police officer husband now. But Mae is still my best friend.
“Pine Sky Ranch.”
“I’m looking it up and I expect an invitation,” she tells me. “Soon.”
“I don’t want to push my luck, but I’ll invite you as soon as I can,” I vow.
“Will and me,” she pushes.
“You and Will.” I roll my eyes, even though she can’t see it.
It might not be a bad idea to have a police deputy sniffing around the potential fathers to see if he feels anything off about them. But not before I can find out which one of them is the father of my baby.
“I have to get back to it,” I tell Mae.
“Wait, are you still working? It’s almost six o’clock!” Mae complains. “What kind of hours do they have you working?”
“I’m fine. Everything is fine,” I reassure her with a laugh. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
We hang up and I retreat to the inner office apologetically. “I’m sorry. My best friend didn’t realize I’d left Austin.”
“Your friends are welcome to come here on your off time,” Owen interjects without looking up from his work, his left hand scribbling frantically on a notepad.
I’m not sure what to address first.
“You… you heard my conversation?” I ask warily.
“Were you trying to be quiet?” He glances up. “You didn’t do a very good job. Next time you need privacy, I suggest you go outside. The walls are far too thin in here.”
I’m not upset because he’s right. I wasn’t trying to be quiet. But he also should have pretended not to listen, right?
I decide not to dwell on it.
“I can invite people here?” I ask tentatively, reclaiming my chair as he begins scribbling again.
He nods, his strong hands taking rapid-fire notes. “Sure. You live here.”
Pausing again, he looks at me. “You might even want to wander into the bunkhouse one night. The ranch hands always have something going on, if you’re someone who likes to have a full social calendar.”
My heart skips as his eyes stray toward my lips, and I look away. “I don’t go out much. But I would like to see my mom and friend, Mae.”
I catch the gleam of appreciation in his eyes, but there’s also a shadow of doubt, like he doesn’t believe me.
Unexpectedly, I reach across the table and take his writing hand. Startled, he gawks at me.
I observe him with interest. “You’re left-handed. I never noticed that before.”
His eyes narrow, and I flush again, realizing how bizarre my statement sounded. “I mean, I just—we’ve been working together all day. I’m surprised I didn’t realize it.” I release his hand.
He slides his fingers back over my arm and pulls me closer. “I do know you, don’t I?”
My smile fades, and I pull back, alarmed and flustered as I stand. “I think I should call it a night.” I gather my purse from under the desk. “I’m starving. I’m going into town to find something to eat. Good night.”
I don’t give him a chance to answer as I rush out the door.
One of these days, they’re going to see it. They’re going to look me in the face and recognize me as the woman from Vegas. And then what?
By then, I better have figured out a better plan than whatever the hell I’m doing now because this isn’t going to last.
But why does it feel so comfortable and right, working alongside them?
I bet working with Toby tomorrow will change my mind. He’s the triplet who will ruin the image of the Collins brothers for me, no doubt.