Her Texan to Tame. Sara Orwig

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close enough to home and family, but not too close. It gets me out of Memphis society, which is great. It gets me away from running into my ex a lot. I love Tennessee with all my heart. It’s the most beautiful state—the Smoky Mountains, Chattanooga, the little towns, the cities, Nashville is wonderful with bluegrass and country music, Centennial Park, the beautiful Southern homes and gardens, the best food ever. I don’t want to live anywhere else. I guess you feel that way about Texas, so you should understand.”

      “Actually, it’s the ranch I feel that way about. This is the place where my heart is. I can’t imagine leaving it. This is my idea of paradise.”

      “See? You wouldn’t want Nashville. I wouldn’t want here, not for a lifetime, but for now, this place is perfect.”

      “Speaking of this place and your new job—I prefer breakfast about six a.m.” As he looked at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, the moment was surreal. Instead of flirting, laughing with her, getting closer—what he really wanted to do—he was telling her breakfast at 6:00 a.m. And she was nodding as if she was totally happy with their arrangement.

      “Six is fine. I’ll have everything ready.”

      “Like I said, you can select that menu. I don’t care to plan meals.” At the moment he didn’t care what she made. He was far more interested in spending time with her than what she was going to cook for him.

      “If I select the menu, that makes this job easy.”

      “I’m an easy guy,” he answered. “I’m not a vegan, not on a restricted diet and when I want a steak, I’ll tell you and I’ll grill it. Otherwise, it’s up to you.”

      “Fine. Just like tonight, more or less?”

      “Right,” he said, gazing into her wide blue eyes while she listened. He realized he was going to feel silly eating alone with her waiting on him or hanging out in the kitchen. “Jessica, this is a slightly different situation than I’ve ever had. You’re different from other cooks I’ve had.”

      She gazed solemnly at him except for a faint lift of the corner of her mouth.

      “So just plan on eating with me. Okay? I can’t see myself sitting here eating alone and you waiting on me and watching me eat,” he said, voicing his thoughts.

      “You don’t have to eat with me. I can disappear or ignore you or whatever you want,” she protested.

      “I want you to eat with me,” he said, complicating his life once again. From the moment her red car had pulled to a stop and she had stepped out, his life had been spinning into a strange new orbit. Eating every meal with her and still not flirting would be another horrendous challenge. Right now he wanted to forget this somber conversation and have some fun with her. And he could well imagine there were moments when she could be a lot of fun. He ached to ask her to go dancing.

      “You’ll get tired of seeing me.”

      “Jessica, I wouldn’t get tired of seeing you even if we ate every meal together until you quit this job,” he said, the words tumbling out in spite of his intentions.

      She laughed softly. “Yes, you will, but if that’s what you want, you’re the employer.”

      “It’s not a job requirement,” he answered, wondering what her feelings were. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

      “We’ll start out that way. You said you’re not here much of the time, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” she stated casually, as if the whole matter were insignificant to her and she had no physical reaction to him.

      “Now, what happens when you’re away? Does my job go away? Do I find another job?” she asked.

      “No. I pay the people who work for me whether I’m here or not. I couldn’t keep anyone if I didn’t.”

      “Everyone else has work to do whether you’re here or not. I don’t. Can I help with the cleaning or something while you’re away?”

      “That’s just the problem about having a cook. I can’t think of anything else for you to do unless I have staff working here at the house. Otherwise, they eat at the bunkhouse. Gwen probably won’t let you cook for her and will do her own. You can ask. They’ll let you know if they’ll be here to eat. Gwen cleans, so I don’t need you doing that unless you want to help her, but she probably won’t let you help clean either. Do what you want when you have the chance.”

      “What about the little town where I get groceries? Is there anything going on there where they would need a volunteer to help?”

      “I’ll ask around and see.” Having had his fill of the meal, he sat back and put down his napkin. “That was a delicious dinner and you’re a fine cook.”

      “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him.

      “C’mon. I’ll show you around the house. I can give you a small map of the ranch because it can be confusing when it’s all new to you. As for the house, we’ll just look at the downstairs now because that’s where you’ll be.”

      When they entered the dining room, she glanced around. “This is a beautiful room. If my mother could see this, she would probably stop worrying about me. You have beautiful things,” she said, looking at two tall crystal candelabra on an Edwardian buffet. The dining room table could seat twenty and she wondered when he had such elegant parties.

      She wandered around the formal room, looking at beautiful china and sparkling etched crystal in his fruitwood china cabinet.

      They moved on to a large room that had to be the most occupied room next to the kitchen and the living area there.

      The large family room overlooked the patio and pool. It held a big-screen television, a stone fireplace flanked by bookshelves, family pictures on the walls, comfortable leather furniture. She circled the room and paused in front of a picture box with a large gilt frame. Inside, against black velvet, was what she guessed was an antique pistol. Ryan came to stand beside her.

      “That’s an old family heirloom. It’s a Colt revolver in an antique picture box.”

      “My dad would be impressed by this.”

      “Maybe he’ll see it someday.”

      Laughing, she shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

      “Let’s move back to the patio and watch the sun go down.”

      “I should go unpack,” she said, her smile disappearing.

      “Come sit with me. You can unpack later,” he said, seeing a flicker in her eyes and realizing she was trying to avoid him. That realization might mean she was as aware of him as he was of her. The thought brought another tight clutch to his insides. Both of them were trying to remain professional. If she hadn’t been so hurt, he would toss aside this determination and just have fun.

      As they walked toward the patio, she stopped short. “I almost forgot. I have a chocolate icebox pie for dessert.”

      He inhaled. “Let’s save it for later unless you want a piece now.”

      “Waiting is fine. You sit here on the patio and

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