she should easily be outside the meddling reach of Muriel Bailey. Ever since Sierra’s last relationship ended, her mother, undaunted by living three and a half hours away, had tried arranging meetings between Sierra and Dallas’s most eligible bachelors. The good news about a town the size of Cupid’s Bow was that there couldn’t be many men who met her mother’s exacting standards.
So when she ended her call with Jarrett by saying “I look forward to meeting you,” she very nearly meant it.
“Knock, knock,” Jarrett said tentatively, unsure of his welcome as he stood in the doorway of his sister’s room. His voice seemed to echo unnaturally. The house had been damned quiet in the hours since their parents had left at the crack of dawn. According to his mother, Vicki had barely said a word when they came into her room to exchange goodbyes. Did she feel like the Rosses were abandoning her?
His mother was excited that Jarrett was interviewing another candidate this afternoon. Until Sierra had called, the family had decided to offer the position to local retired nurse Lucy Aldridge, a grandmother of five. Lucy was kind, if a bit absentminded, but she was also more than three times Vicki’s age. Anne Ross had worried Vicki wouldn’t relate to her. Jarrett didn’t know specifically how old Sierra Bailey was, but judging from the credentials she’d emailed, she’d been out of med school for only a couple of years. And she certainly hadn’t sounded like a woman approaching seventy. When they’d spoken, Sierra had sounded... Feisty was the word that sprang to mind.
“Did you need something?” Vicki asked, her voice empty of inflection. Her wheelchair was pulled up to her desk, and he couldn’t tell if she was looking at her laptop or simply staring out the window. This used to be a guest suite, but since it was on the first floor, they’d relocated Vicki after the accident. All the essentials were here, but she’d said not to bother with miscellaneous belongings, like the posters that hung on her walls upstairs. Or the gleaming softball trophies that sent blades of guilt through him whenever he saw them.
Her blond hair hung crookedly in a limp ponytail. She was able to shower by herself in the remodeled bathroom, but she only bothered to brush her hair when her mother said something about it. And the last time she’d applied makeup was when her boyfriend, Aaron, had visited weeks ago.
“I just wanted to remind you that Sierra should be here in an hour or so.” When Vicki didn’t respond, he prompted, “Sierra Bailey, the potential therapist. I thought you might like to meet her.”
She hadn’t sat in on any of the interviews, dismissing it as unnecessary. All of the candidates had been local, which meant she’d met them all at least in passing. Anne hadn’t pushed the issue, since she’d already had her hands full convincing Gavin to leave the ranch. Jarrett was surprised by his sister’s apathy. Vicki had always been opinionated. Surely she wanted to have a say in who was chosen to be her companion?
“I’ll pass,” she said. “I was about to take a nap. I’m exhausted.”
From all the energy it took to stare out the window? Don’t be an ass. You don’t know anything about the effort it takes her to perform daily tasks you take for granted. Besides, fatigue wasn’t always physical.
He attempted a compromise. “If she seems like a good fit for the job, do you want me to wake you up before she leaves? Then you could—”
“No.” She shot a glance over her shoulder. It was jarring how her dark eyes flashed with so much emotion while her clipped words held none at all. “Makes no difference to me who pushes my wheelchair.”
Nobody pushed the chair. They’d rented an electric one to make her as self-sufficient as possible. “Vicki—”
“I don’t care who you hire, just make it clear she’s not my babysitter. And anytime Aaron visits, we want our privacy.”
He clenched his jaw, conflicted about his little sister’s “alone time” with her boyfriend. Hypocrite. Like you were celibate at nineteen? Hell no. He’d always been ready and willing to hit the sheets with a pretty lady—a character trait he deeply regretted. If he’d had any self-discipline, Vicki wouldn’t be in the wheelchair. Or in this room. She’d be at college with Aaron and her friends.
“Close the door on your way out,” she said woodenly.
“Okay.” As conversations went, he couldn’t call this one a rousing success. On the other hand, it was the most sentences she’d spoken to him at one time all month. Maybe his mother was right about his parents’ trip forcing Vicki to deal with him. Jarrett just wished his sister would let loose and scream at him. Call him an irresponsible ass. Maybe even hurl something at him with that pitcher’s arm of hers. She’d broken her left wrist, but her right was undamaged.
He went to the kitchen, where he pulled a casserole from the freezer for its two hours in the oven and brewed iced tea for his expected guest. He’d briefly spoken to Daniel Baron this week about Sierra. The man sang her praises. Daniel had worked with her after the bull-riding injury that made him quit rodeo for good, not that he sounded disappointed about his new lifestyle. He was happily married in San Antonio with twin toddlers. If Sierra was under fifty and even half as promising as Daniel made her sound, she had a job.
While he waited for Sierra to arrive, Jarrett caught up on emails and the paperwork that accumulated while he spent most of his time outside. In addition to taking care of the cattle and preparing to plant the winter crops, he generated income by offering riding lessons and equine therapy. He was happier doing physical work than crunching numbers, but it was on his shoulders to make sure nothing fell through the cracks while his father recuperated.
He’d just finished entering some figures in the banking spreadsheet when the doorbell rang. If either the golden retriever or shepherd-Lab mix had been close to the house, he would have heard barking long before the visitor reached the front porch, but in pretty weather, the dogs enjoyed the wide-open spaces of ranch life.
In case his sister had been genuine about needing sleep, he hurried to the door to make sure Sierra didn’t ring the bell a second time. Mentally crossing his fingers that the woman on the other side was everything Daniel said, he swung the door open.
He felt his features freeze midsmile. Shock made it momentarily difficult to form words, even one as basic as hello. He’d been hoping for younger than fifty, but the stunning redhead appeared to be in her twenties. And, although his mama would smack him upside the head for the stereotype, she looked more like a lingerie model than a med school graduate.
Well, technically, she was probably too short to be a model, but that body... “Sierra Bailey?” he asked, half hoping she wasn’t.
She nodded. “Jarrett Ross?”
“One and the same.” As he ushered her inside, he tried to recover his composure. The view from behind wasn’t helping. Her slim-fitting suit skirt fell just below her knees, modestly professional, but the material lovingly cupped the flare of her hips and shapely butt.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he spared a dark thought for Daniel Baron. His friend should have warned Jarrett what to expect. Daniel was so head over heels in love with his wife, Nicole, that other women probably paled in comparison, but the man wasn’t blind.
The irony would have been laughable if Jarrett’s sense of humor weren’t dormant. He hadn’t had sex in months. He’d ignored flirty texts and used the isolation of the ranch to avoid temptation, but that hadn’t been penance enough. Karma
