didn’t want this eye candy of a cowboy to think this was a done deal.
“Of course,” Griff said.
“Andy invited us to get a cup of coffee and go outside to talk.” Val gestured toward the coffee station.
Griff gave his a boss a quick look. “My break time?”
“Yep,” Andy said with a grin.
Val couldn’t get her heart to settle down. The man walked a respectful distance behind her. She strained to pour the hot coffee into an awaiting paper cup without spilling it. Mouth dry, she felt tongue-tied in front of this iconic-looking cowboy. She had to repeatedly warn herself he was a city slicker in disguise.
“I’ll meet you outside.” Val hastily opened the door. She saw him nod as he reached to pour himself a cup of coffee.
On the back porch, Val took a long, calming breath. The wrangler had rattled her. Her reaction wasn’t something she’d expected. Val tried to steady her heart and breathing. How could a stranger take away her breath? She knew she’d been too long without a relationship. The last man she had been with, Dan Bradley, was a Marine major who had gone to Afghanistan and been killed two years ago. He’d stolen her heart, infused her dreams and she had been looking forward to marrying him once his tour was over. She had yet to fully recover from the loss. The next year, her mother had died. Most recently, she’d had to walk away from her career to save the Bar H. Pressing a hand to her chest, Val tried not to dwell on all the loss and sadness she carried within her. Funny enough, Griff made her forget all of the baggage and scars life had given her. It was an amazing and shocking moment. Val had no answer as to why he could have affected her so.
“Miss Val?” Griff murmured, meeting her out on the platform. He settled his hat on his head as he approached her. He noticed she looked distracted and nervous and he wondered why. Griff remained a respectful distance from the woman. He silently appreciated her rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes that spoke of such life in their depths. Why hadn’t he seen her around Jackson Hole? Was she a stranger to the area? Had she just bought a ranch? Griff’s curiosity was piqued.
“Yes, Mr. McPherson. My grandmother, Gus, would like me to find a wrangler who can help us around the Bar H ranch.” She gulped inwardly and looked up to meet his narrowing green gaze. He had such large, black pupils and it made him look incredibly handsome. His mouth…oh, sweet Lord, his mouth was sinfully shaped, the lips neither too thin nor too thick. The corners were curved slightly upward. She wondered if he had a good sense of humor.
“The Bar H? Isn’t that a two-hundred-acre spread south of Jackson Hole?”
“Yes, it is.” Val moved uneasily and barely tolerated his interested gaze. Why did McPherson have to be so blatantly masculine? “Gus broke her hip recently. She can’t do the work as she did before and we need help. Good help.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Griff sipped his coffee. He liked the way Val’s slightly curled red hair lay across her shoulders. She stood with her back straight, her chin at an angle. She was a proud woman. “I’ve heard of Gus. My brother, Slade, said there were several matriarchs in the valley. Iris Mason is one and I’ve met her. And he also mentioned Gus. I don’t suppose there would be another Gus?”
“No, just the one.” She liked his low, mellow voice. It was the kind of voice that could soothe a fractious horse. Or a nervous female like herself. “I had to come home to help her. And even I can’t do it all alone.”
He bit back his questions. Val was tense, her shoulders locked. Was he affecting her that way? Griff hoped not, because if it was him he could kiss this job goodbye. “I see. You don’t have any wranglers at the Bar H right now?”
“No.” Val grimaced. “My mother didn’t hire any good ones. They left the place a wreck, took her money and disappeared into the night.”
Ouch. Griff nodded and frowned. She was probably tense because she wanted to hire someone with better morals and values. He hoped Andy had spoken well of him because his dream job was to become a full-time wrangler on a ranch. Andy knew working here was temporary until some rancher could hire him. “Wranglers are the grist that make a ranch work.”
His modulated voice wafted through her like a feather gently settling upon her wildly beating heart. Val could tell Griff was sincere. “No question about that.” Val cleared her throat. “I need to know what your skills are, Mr. McPherson.”
“I’m a hard worker,” he said, opening his hand to show her the palm, “but I think my calluses will attest to that.” He smiled a little.
Val stared at his large, well-shaped hand. Indeed, there were thick calluses across his palm. What a beautiful hand. For a blinding instant, she wondered what it would be like to have those fingers graze her flesh. The thought was so startling, so out of the blue, that Val unexpectedly coughed. She stepped away from him, a hand pressed against her slender throat.
Griff allowed his hand to drop back to his side. Val Hunter looked absolutely confused. About him? Something was going on between them but he couldn’t ferret out exactly what it was. One thing Griff knew for sure: Val was very athletic. She wore a set of Levi’s that showed off her shapely hips and long, long legs. The pink blouse she wore had its long sleeves rolled up to her elbows, showing that she was ready to work. He liked the way the breeze played with some of the strands of her copper-colored hair. The freckles across her cheeks and nose seemed darker for a moment. She looked like a young teen, although Griff suspected she was probably in her late twenties.
“I can mend fence, fix trucks and other farm equipment, do any odd jobs you need done,” he said after she seemed to have regained her composure.
“Have you done any cattle breeding? Vaccinating? Do you know the signs of a cow in distress?”
“No,” he admitted slowly, “but I’m willing to learn if you’re willing to show me.” He wanted to lie and say he did, but Griff wouldn’t do that. He had the integrity of a Westerner in his blood. He knew from his old job that young men and women would lie all the time about their skills and experience just to get a job. He wasn’t going to lie to Val. Griff saw her brows dip over his admittance.
“Do you even ride a horse?” she demanded. Val saw his mouth curve faintly.
“Yes, ma’am, I do ride.”
Looking down, Val studied his long, muscular legs. “Most wranglers I’ve met have bowed legs, from all the riding they do. You don’t.”
“I only got here a few months ago.” Griff realized this interview wasn’t going well. “I worked at my brother’s ranch. I did a lot of riding, moving cattle, roping and branding there.” He gave her a slight grin and pointed to his legs. “I haven’t had enough saddle time to bow them properly—yet.”
“Do you have your own horse?”
“No, I don’t. I rent a room at the MacMurray house on the west side of town and there’s no room there to own a dog or cat, much less a horse.”
“Andy said you just came from back east?”
The question was hurled like a gauntlet at him. Griff didn’t lose his slight smile. “New York City. Yes, I’m a city slicker, Miss Val.” He saw surprise in her expression. A faint blush fanned across her cheeks and her freckles momentarily darkened.
“Andy said you
