with Halle or any woman was never a sure thing, he knew one thing for certain. Halle made the best kind of friend. She was trustworthy and true to her word. Not boastful but sure of her capabilities and not afraid to use them, as she had been to scare the snake away.
Halle Ford was a woman that Alastair suspected would be difficult to say goodbye to, whether she ended up being his friend or lover.
What he’d really like best would be for her to be both.
* * *
Halle used the lunch break to get her imagination under control. Because it was a total nightmare to even contemplate a sexual rodeo with Alastair, but contemplate she had as she’d been up close and personal with him. When his hard body had backed away from the rattler and into hers, she couldn’t help but wonder how all of that hard muscle would feel, naked under her hands.
Her unintentional vow of chastity to Bluewood was making her crazy. Maybe she needed to start dating again, once she had the ranch running at a profit, or enough of a cash flow for nicer groceries, anyway. Halle wasn’t a food snob by any means but she enjoyed sushi and other less economical treats as much as the next millennial.
“You’re worried about the rain. Is it supposed to flood?” His Adam’s apple moved under his skin as he finished the last of his bottle of sparkling water. Halle noted that he hadn’t spoken as he ate. More like wolfed down his meal—the man might be a gazillionaire but money didn’t take away his basic makeup.
He was incredibly attractive. The man was a sex swizzle stick, for God’s sake. Yet he didn’t act like a jerk, didn’t make a play for her. He treated her like a professional.
Which of course made him even more attractive. Not only for how the integrity that simmered underneath his all-business, all-the-time demeanor. He was a true gentleman in that he hadn’t flung a crude come-on at her or tried to flirt with her in a creepy way. His good manners reminded her of her father’s. Although she had to admit she’d love it if he decided to make any kind of romantic move. Client and all. She’d always enjoyed the challenge, the push and pull, the delicate balance of tension that surrounded a full flirtation. She was her father’s daughter, for sure. Chancellor Ford had never backed away from any challenge.
White-hot anger seared her heart. Her father’s life had ended horribly, in a car accident he’d had no warning was coming. He’d been murdered in cold blood by a hit-and-run driver, a woman Halle would never forgive. She had to physically shake her head to break free of the grief that threatened to swamp her.
“Halle? The rain—is it going to be that bad?” Alastair’s concern was in the lines around his mouth, the intensity of his stare. The words were about weather but the subtext was clear. Are you okay? Are you nuts or something?
Halle wrapped her waxed paper and napkin into a ball. “Worried is a strong word. I’m concerned that we’ll get caught in the downpour and get soaked. Hypothermia would be a quick end to our adventure.”
“The rattlesnake could have ended it, too. And while I still hope that I can sleep directly under the stars tonight, I’ll take you up on the spare tent if you think it’s best. But only after we get yours set up, and you convince me you’ll be safe. You’re my trusted tour guide, after all. It wouldn’t be prudent to have you hurt this early in the adventure.”
Halle’s heart warmed. It had to be a major concession for such a worldly man, even though he’d couched it as her decision, to sleep in the tent instead of under the stars directly. His manner of trying to disguise his concern for her as selfishness on his part was downright adorable. And sexy as all get-out.
“All of the riders I bring out here dream of sleeping under the stars, but I have to say that rattlesnakes and scorpions can ruin a perfectly good night’s sleep. The tent is the easiest solution. We’ll set them both up. You can see the stars best before sunup, anyhow. We’ll have our coffee with the dawn.”
Alastair laughed and with growing dread Halle realized it was a sound she could get used to. Too fast, too deep.
“I wouldn’t want to meet our friend from earlier in my bedroll. Or make you have to shoot it in the middle of the night.”
“Trust me, if there’s a snake in your bed, you’re on your own.”
“Really?” The gray-blue gaze, the relaxed mouth, the day’s rough growth of stubble. Her face heated at Alastair’s innuendo. A normal reaction, but the heat that entered farther down her belly and into her female core went too far for her sense of professionalism.
“Since neither of us wants that, let’s get going. We’ve got a couple of hours till we’re at the first night’s campsite.” She couldn’t get astride Buttercup fast enough.
“You don’t have to keep running away from me. Unlike the rattlesnakes and scorpions, I don’t bite.” He’d maneuvered Buster up next to her and Buttercup with the ease of a skilled horseman. She had to give him credit—he may not appreciate just how brutal “roughing it” could be in Texas, but he knew his way around a horse.
“I’m sorry to give you the impression that I’m avoiding you. I’m used to leading a dozen folks at a time, many beginner riders. They usually like to be together with someone they know, to keep their conversation easy. Even when I take out single guests, I’m not used to making more than small talk on the trail.”
“Our conversation can be easy. And I’ll follow you wherever you want to go.”
Zing. Her attraction to him lit up like a Christmas tree. The way it made her body feel was like a special gift. She knew her face was flushed and hoped he couldn’t see her hardened nipples under her shirt. Because as much as she loved Christmas and the live tree she continued to cut down, drag in and set up each year in Bluewood Ranch’s modest living room, she didn’t need her sexual desires on full display in front of a business client.
“You don’t strike me as the easy-talking type, Alastair. You don’t run a successful business like Clyde Whiskey without being very exacting.”
“True, but that’s work. Which I can’t seem to get away from these days.” He lifted his hat and let the breeze lift his short locks before replacing it. “It’s never done, never secure. Not in the age of HFT.”
“HFT?”
“High-frequency trading. Have you thought of investing your profits from the ranch into the market, when you’re ready?” He was so sincere, so earnest in his concern for her financial well-being.
Halle couldn’t have stopped the laugh if she’d wanted to. “I’m lucky to be able to invest in groceries at the end of a month.”
Alastair’s eyes filled with compassion. “Getting a business up and running is difficult, but continuing to successfully run one year after year can prove just as challenging, if not more so. We’re two of a kind, Halle Ford. I suspect we both have a passion for our businesses, and that’s why we do what we do. All the sacrifice. Tell me about your business, Halle.”
To her surprise, she did.
* * *
Alastair kept his eyes on Halle the entire time she confided in him. He was so touched, so damn honored that she trusted him enough to tell him what she’d been through. His concern over her welfare spiked as he listened. Halle spoke as if the tragic death of her father, which she clearly blamed a dead woman named Livia Colton
