he’s still the same happy cat he’s always been,” Ryder said sarcastically as he shook his head. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Summer?”
“Yes, please. It smells wonderful.”
“Just a little cream?” he asked. They had met for coffee so many times over the past few years, he knew exactly how she liked it. Just as she knew he always liked his coffee black.
“Yes, thank you.” She smiled. “You know, I think Lucifer likes me. He rubbed against my leg and let me pet him when we met on the stairs.”
“See, I told you it’s just you he has a problem with, Ryder.” The woman standing at the stove chortled.
“I don’t know why.” He looked as if he might be a bit insulted by her comment. “Most other animals don’t seem to think I’m all that bad of a guy.”
“Maybe you aren’t home enough for him to get used to you,” Summer suggested.
“Whatever.” Shrugging, he walked over to take a mug from one of the top cabinets, then poured her some coffee. “Betty Lou Harmon, I’d like for you to meet my friend, Summer Patterson.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Harmon,” Summer said warmly as the older woman turned from the stove to face her.
“It’s real nice to meet you, too, child. But don’t go bein’ all formal,” the housekeeper groused, shaking her head. “You call me Betty Lou the same as everybody else, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Summer said, instantly liking the woman. With her dark hair liberally streaked with silver and pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her head, her kind gray eyes and round cheeks flushed from the heat of the stove, Betty Lou looked more like someone’s grandmother than a rancher’s housekeeper.
Wiping her hands on her gingham apron, she waved toward the trestle table where Ryder had been seated when Summer entered the room. “You find yourself a place to sit and I’ll get you fixed up with a plate of eggs, bacon, hash browns and some biscuits and gravy.”
“I don’t eat much for breakfast,” Summer confessed, hoping she didn’t offend the woman. She seated herself in one of the tall ladder-back chairs at the honey oak table. “Normally all I have is a bagel or toast and a cup of coffee.”
“Well, you’d better eat a hearty meal this mornin’ if you’re goin’ horseback ridin’ down to the canyon with Ryder,” Betty Lou said, filling a plate and bringing it over to set on the table in front of her.
“We’re going for a ride?” Summer asked, crestfallen. She thought they were supposed to discuss her request.
“I thought I’d show you around the ranch,” Ryder said, nodding as he brought her coffee over to the table. When Betty Lou went into the pantry, he lowered his voice and leaned close to Summer. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk and no one around to overhear the conversation.”
“We could have done that in my hotel room,” she reminded him.
He raised one dark eyebrow as he sat back down at the head of the table. “For someone who is so concerned with appearances, you haven’t thought of the obvious, darlin’.”
Ryder’s intimate tone and the scent of his clean, masculine skin caused her pulse to beat double time. “Wh-what would that be?” she asked, confused and not at all comfortable with the way she was reacting to him.
“How do you think it would look with us being alone in your room for several hours?” He shrugged. “I doubt anyone would be convinced we were just talking or watching television.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Now eat,” he said, pointing to her plate.
“Aren’t you going to have breakfast?” she asked, taking a bite of the fluffy scrambled eggs.
He took a sip of his coffee and shook his head. “I ate about an hour ago.”
When she finished the last of the delicious food, Summer smiled at Betty Lou when she walked over to pick up the plate. “That was wonderful. Thank you.”
The woman gave her an approving nod. “That should tide you over until you eat the sandwiches I packed for the two of you.”
“We won’t be back in time for lunch?” Summer asked, turning to Ryder. “How far away is the canyon?”
“It’s not that far.” He gave her a smile that made her radiate from within. “But there’s a creek lined with cottonwoods that runs through the canyon, and I thought you might like to have a picnic along the bank.”
“I haven’t done something like that in years,” she said, happy that he had thought of the idea. Going on an outing like the one Ryder suggested was one of the many things she had enjoyed doing with her parents.
“You do know how to ride a horse, don’t you?” he asked. When she nodded, he unclipped his cell phone from his belt. “Good. I’ll call the barn and have my foreman get the horses saddled and ready for us.”
A half hour later as he and Summer rode across the pasture behind the barns, Ryder watched her pat the buckskin mare she was riding. With the autumn sun shining down on her long blond hair, she looked like an angel. A very desirable angel.
He frowned at the thought. They had never been more than friends, and until his brothers started ribbing him about taking her to Sam and Bria’s wedding vows renewal celebration, he had purposely avoided thinking of her in that way. So why was it all he could think about now? Of course, her making her plea last night for him to be her baby’s daddy sure wasn’t helping matters.
“I’m glad you thought of this, Ryder,” she said, distracting him from his confusing inner thoughts. “I love going horseback riding. I used to do it all the time. But after I took the job with the rodeo association, I sold my parents’ farm and all of the horses and I don’t get to ride much anymore.”
“Was there a reason you couldn’t keep it?” he asked. She said she had plenty of money, so that couldn’t be the cause of her selling everything.
She stared off into the distance like the decision might not have been an easy one to make. “With all the travel required for my job, it just didn’t seem practical to hang on to it.”
“I realize you have to arrive in a town a few days before a rodeo in order to get things set up for the media and schedule interviews for some of the riders, but couldn’t you have boarded one of the horses and ridden on the days that you do make it home?” he asked, knowing that was what he would have done.
He could understand her not wanting to hold on to her parents’ home without them being there. It would most likely be a painful reminder of all that she had lost when they were killed. But he didn’t understand her not keeping at least one of the horses if she liked to ride that much.
“I don’t go home,” she answered, shrugging one slender shoulder. “I just go on to the next town on the schedule.”
“You don’t go back to your place on the few days we have off between rodeos?” They normally met up in the next town for the next rodeo and
