that fine mouth, that firm jaw. He was six foot four, lean, rangy and muscular—all at the same time. She had no doubt he’d seen a lot of naked women. To him, a naked female wouldn’t be anything new.
She felt a stab of pure green jealousy as she thought of all those beautiful women he dated. Stephanie had loved Grant Clifton with all of her yearning heart since she was five years old. Of course, she knew he would never return her love. He cared for her. A lot. But not in that way.
And she was okay with that…
Or so she kept telling herself.
And what do you know? She wasn’t blushing anymore. Her heart had stopped jumping around in her chest like a spooked jackrabbit and her pulse had even slowed a tad. Maybe hopeless blazing jealousy had its uses, after all.
So all right. He’d seen her naked. Best to get over it. Let it go. Move on.
But for some idiotic reason, she couldn’t stop herself from launching into a totally lame explanation. “Me and Rufus pulled a cow out of that pond in the far pasture…”
Rufus Dale had been the top hand on Clifton’s Pride for as long as Steph could remember. He’d stepped up to run things when Grant started working at the resort. But arthritis had forced the old cowboy to slow down and given Steph her chance to take over for him.
She babbled on, “I sent him on back to the bunkhouse. You know how he gets these days. He hates that he can’t do all the things that used to be so easy for him.”
Grant didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at her, either. Was he mad at her, after all, for being out there in the altogether where anyone could ride up on her?
She tried again. “I was covered in mud. I got to the creek and it was just too darn tempting. I jumped in with my clothes on, to rinse everything off at once and, well, then I was all soggy—like now.” She cast a rueful glance down at her wet shirt and jeans. “And it’s a warm day and I couldn’t help thinking how good the water would feel without… uh. Well, you know.”
He grunted. Didn’t he? Hadn’t that been a grunt she heard?
“Uh, Grant?”
A grunt. A definite grunt. One with sort of a question mark at the end of it.
“I really didn’t expect anyone to ride by. I truly didn’t…”
“Steph.”
She gulped. “Yeah?”
A pause. Her dread increased. Was he irritated? Amused? What? She just couldn’t tell.
Then he actually looked at her again and gave her one of those gorgeous heartbreaker smiles of his. “Don’t sweat it, okay? I know the feeling.”
She felt her mouth bloom wide in a giant smile. “You do?” God. She sounded like such a dumb, innocent kid…
But he was nice about it. He was always nice. “Oh, yeah. Nothin’ like a cold, clear creek on a hot day.”
She clicked her tongue at Trixiebelle, who was showing more interest in cropping grass than in moving it along. “Well,” she said, and couldn’t think of a single clever thing to say. She finished lamely, “Good…”
They rode in silence the rest of the way. Stephanie tried to concentrate on the beauty of the green, rolling land around them and not to think about how he really must be irritated with her no matter how hard he tried to ease her embarrassment. He was so quiet, so reluctant to turn her way.
Bart, the old spotted hound, came out to meet them when they got to the house. He wiggled in delight, whining for attention from his old master.
Grant dismounted and took a moment to greet him, “There’s a good boy.” He gave the dog a nice scratch behind the ear.
Rufus emerged from the tack room as they walked their horses into the barn. He shook Grant’s hand in greeting and then started giving orders.
“Go on in the house, you two. Leave the horses to me. I’m still good for a few things around here, you know.”
So they thanked him and headed across the open dirt yard to the plain, white-shingled, two-story house. On the wide front porch, Steph paused to pull off her muddy boots.
Inside, the old wood floors had a warm scuffed gleam and a short walk through the front hall past the simple oak staircase led them to the kitchen in back.
Marie Julen had the oven door open. She pulled a sheet of cookies out and set it on a rack to cool. And then she turned, her face breaking into a welcoming grin at the sight of Grant. “Well, look what the cat drug in.”
Grant grinned. “Sure does smell good in here.”
“Get over here, you.”
In two long strides, he was across the room, grabbing Steph’s mom in a hug. When he pulled back, he held her by her plump shoulders. “You bake those cookies just for me?”
She grinned up at him. “Well, of course I did—even though I had no idea at all that you were coming to visit today.” She sent Steph a knowing look, taking in her soggy clothes and wet hair. “I’m guessing that cow is now safely out of the pond.”
Steph nodded. “And I really need a shower—hey!” She faked a warning look at Grant, who’d already grabbed a couple of cookies. “Leave some for me.”
“I’m makin’ no promises.” He winked at her when he said it and she dared to hope that the awkwardness between them was past.
She turned for the stairs as her mom tempted him with her fine cooking. “Pot roast for dinner.”
Stephanie’s heart lifted as she heard him answer, “Sounds too good to pass up. I’ll stay.”
Grant was downright relieved when Steph went upstairs.
He needed a little time to collect himself, to get used to the idea that she’d somehow grown up right under his nose, to get over his shock at how damn beautiful she was. How could she have changed so much, so fast? Shouldn’t he have noticed she was becoming a woman—a beautiful woman—before now?
He needed to stop thinking about her. He needed to remember his purpose here today. It wasn’t going to be easy, telling them about the sale.
But then again, now he’d said he’d stay for dinner, there was no big rush to get into it. He’d break the news during the meal. That way Rufus and the other hand, Jim Baylis, would be there, too. He could tell them all at once, answer whatever questions they had right then and there, and reassure them that he’d find other work for all of them.
Steph already gave riding lessons at the resort, by appointment only. He was thinking he could get her something full-time at the stables. And maybe he could arrange to get Marie something where there would be cooking involved. Not at the resort, but possibly in town. She did love to cook and she was damn good at it, too.
He washed his hands in the sink and took a seat at the kitchen table. Marie, as usual, read his mind.
“Beer?”
