being formed around the infant’s rosebud lips.
Chloe laughed, delighted. She shifted the baby, holding Sydney a little closer to her as she rose and began to head for the door.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Chloe told the baby.
Sydney responded by making even more bubbles.
Chloe opened the door, but whatever greeting she had come up with to offer the person on the other side temporarily vanished.
This was not the type of person she had expected to see when she opened the door. Given the position that she assumed they were both competing for, Chloe had unconsciously thought that he’d be a rather scholarly-looking man. The kind who seemed to fade into the woodwork without anyone taking notice of him.
Instead, what she found herself looking at was a cowboy, most definitely an adrenaline-stirring cowboy. The kind whom women were given to fantasizing about whenever the word cowboy came up.
The man standing before her had to be about six foot three with shoulders wide enough to give him trouble getting through narrow doorways. He had somewhat unruly, dirty-blond hair and eyes so blue they looked as if they’d been cut right out of the sky. He was wearing tight jeans, a long-sleeved denim shirt, boots and a Stetson—set at what could only be described as a sexy angle. In summation, he looked picture-perfect.
If she had to guess, she would have said that the cowboy was somewhere in his late twenties.
What she didn’t have to guess at was that the man was utterly gorgeous.
The second the thought occurred to her, it hit her with the force of a thunderbolt.
Gorgeous?
She hadn’t even so much as noticed another man since Donnie had died, much less labeled that man as “gorgeous.” What was happening here? she upbraided herself. Had she just lost her mind?
Chance Howell realized that he wasn’t just looking at the petite blonde holding the baby, he was actually staring at her. That couldn’t be viewed as exactly getting off to a good start with who he assumed was the potential boss’s wife. He’d gathered some background on Graham Fortune Robinson and knew the man had two kids, one of whom was an infant. Hence the logical leap.
“Um, excuse me,” he began, feeling rather tongue-tied as he took off his hat and held it in his hands. “I’m Chance Howell. I’ve got an appointment with Graham.”
“He’s not here right now,” the woman told him. “He was called away because of an emergency, but he wanted me to tell you that he’ll be back soon.”
“You must be Sasha. His wife,” Chance added when the woman who was looking at him with large cornflower-blue eyes gave no indication that he had guessed her name correctly.
“What? Oh, no, no, I’m not. I’m Graham’s half sister.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, ‘Graham’s half sister,’” Chance acknowledged, putting his hand out to her.
The woman shifted the baby to her other side so that she could shake hands with him.
“Chloe,” she told him. “My name is Chloe. Chloe Elliott. And I guess we’ll be interviewing for the same job once Graham gets back.”
Chance could only stare at her. What was she, five-one, five-two? Did she say they were going to be competing for the same job? She didn’t look like a rancher, and she certainly didn’t look like any former military person he’d ever met. The ad he was answering was for a rancher, and it had said that preference would be given to any veterans who applied.
But then, what did he know? The world had been doing a lot of changing in these last few years. Black was white and white was black, and he’d heard that with proper drilling, tiny little ladies like her could mop the floor with guys like him.
That might even turn out to be an interesting experience, Chance caught himself thinking. The one thing he was certain of was that he was glad that the petite blonde wasn’t married to the man who he hoped would be hiring him.
He glanced down at her hand, which she had tucked around the baby. It was still clearly visible for his purposes.
There was no wedding ring.
Maybe things were looking up, Chance mused. He could use a little good luck right about now.
“What branch of the service were you in?” he asked her, curious.
Chloe looked at him quizzically. “Service?” she repeated.
“Yeah, you know, navy, army, marines, air force. Service,” he repeated. Had she been in some sort of secret branch? he wondered. Was that why she looked so reluctant to say anything?
“I wasn’t in any branch,” Chloe told him, looking bewildered. “What makes you think I was in the service?”
Aware he might have made a mistake, Chance backtracked. He didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot by insulting the woman.
“Well, the ad said that preference would be given to veterans,” he began, feeling as if he was on really shaky ground here.
“I didn’t see the ad,” she told Chance. “Graham just called to tell me about the position and he asked me to come out to the ranch to interview for it. And then he got called away because of that emergency.”
He nodded. “Right. The emergency,” he repeated. “So you said. Um, do you have any idea when he might be coming back?” He wasn’t much for small talk, but this had to be a new low, even for him.
Chloe shrugged. “Not a clue. He just said he’d be back as soon as he could.” She paused for a moment, as if searching for something to say in order to fill the stillness. “So, you served?” she asked.
Chance nodded. “Special Forces in Afghanistan—until that IED sent me straight to the hospital, and eventually, stateside.”
“Recently?” she asked, trying but failing to covertly scan his appearance.
The cowboy looked perfect, but she knew that there were some injuries and scars that weren’t visible.
But in her opinion, the worst ones were the ones that didn’t allow you to come home at all, other than in a coffin.
“No, I’ve been home for a few years now,” Chance told her.
“Where’s home?”
“Here and there,” he answered vaguely. “I go wherever the work is.” He didn’t want it to sound as if the reason for his nomadic existence was because he didn’t do a good job and was let go. “I don’t stick around long in any one place,” he confessed.
“Why? Are you looking for something?” Chloe asked.
“Not particularly.”
It wasn’t that Chance felt he was actually searching for something specific,
