style="font-size:15px;"> “Aspen means glitz and glamor. I thought that movie stars and European royalty would be my next-door neighbors. Do you know a lot of famous people?”
“Nope.”
They were coming closer to his long, low, ranch house. On the porch, he saw his housekeeper with a striped Indian blanket in her hands. As soon as they got there, he’d turn Gabby over to the care of Rhoda Phillips, who would give her something warm to drink and something dry to wear. That was the neighborly thing to do. Though he enjoyed the way this woman from Brooklyn felt in his arms, they had nothing in common. He wasn’t looking to start up any kind of friendship.
“Did you know my great-aunt?” she asked.
“Yep.”
She waited for five seconds, and then twisted her neck around. “What can you tell me about her?”
“I liked her.”
Michelle Rousseau was a good neighbor, sociable when she needed to be and not a pest. She’d traveled a lot and was well-read. Zach had spent many pleasant evenings drinking coffee on her front porch and listening to her stories about faraway places and unusual ideas. He’d been glad when Charlotte moved into the Roost a few years ago to help out with the chores when the work got to be too much for Michelle to handle on her own.
“What else?” Gabby asked. “Did she ever talk about family? Did she mention me?”
“Yep.”
He was saved from further conversation when they reached the covered porch where Rhoda stood with her blanket. He swung his leg over the rump of his horse and dismounted. Then he held his arms up to help her.
After the clumsy way she’d gotten on the horse, he expected a struggle, but she surprised him by getting both legs on the same side of the saddle. As she slipped down into his arms, her long, lean body slid against his, descending slowly, until her feet touched the ground. The warm sensations he’d been feeling translated into a sensual heat that didn’t bode well for keeping things neighborly and distant.
“Do you want your jacket?” she asked.
The last thing he needed right now was another view of her leopard brassiere. “Keep it.”
He turned Gabby by the shoulders and pointed her toward the porch. “This is Rhoda Phillips. She’ll look after you.”
Zach took the reins of his horse and walked toward the barn. With each step, he told himself not to get attached to Gabby Rousseau. This woman was nothing but trouble.
* * *
ON THE PORCH, Gabby gratefully accepted the warm, dry blanket that was being held toward her by a round-faced little woman with her gray hair sticking out from her head like a cap of feathers. On short legs, she bustled like a pigeon, and her long plaid bathrobe was belted beneath her full breasts.
“Come inside,” Rhoda said. “We’ll have some nice, hot, chamomile tea.”
“That sounds great.” She glanced toward Zach as he and his horse disappeared around the end of the house. “I think I might have made him angry.”
“Don’t worry about Zach. He’s not a big talker.”
“I noticed,” Gabby said.
“But he’s a good man.” Rhoda ushered her through the door into the log house. “When I first came to work for him, I had two teenage boys and no skills. Zach gave me a chance. He was patient and kind. I like to think that he trained me just like he trains his horses.”
Gabby wasn’t sure if horse whisperer methods were suitable for humans. “Trained you to do what?”
“I basically run the place.” She proudly stuck out her breasts. “I do the bookkeeping, the ordering and the billing. Zach isn’t much good with computers, so I handle all the online parts of the business so he can concentrate on his work.”
“This is a ranch, right? Do you have cows?”
“What? We’re not a cattle ranch. Zach breeds, raises and trains horses. My goodness, Gabby, you don’t know a thing about us, do you?”
“I guess not.”
“Ten years ago, Zach was a star on the rodeo circuit. He got injured, and then started up this horse ranch. He’s one of the most sought-after trainers in the West.”
Though Gabby wasn’t sure what a horse trainer did or what happened on the rodeo circuit, she was suitably impressed. “So, he was a star, huh?”
“But don’t mention it. He doesn’t like to talk about the old days.”
In the pine-paneled living room, Rhoda led her toward the fireplace and indicated that she should sit in a padded rocking chair in front of the brick hearth. The heat from the flickering orange flames in the fireplace was heavenly.
“Take off those silly shoes,” Rhoda said, “and warm up your toes. I’ll fetch the tea.”
Gabby hadn’t realized how chilled she was until she began to thaw. Bit by bit, her body relaxed. She unclenched her fists. The tension eased from the muscles in her shoulders. Her long road trip was over. She’d reached her destination, and the overall picture wasn’t too bad. Though her first moments at Roost hadn’t gone well, Crazy Girl seemed to have a reason for her gun-toting behavior. At least, Zach accepted Charlotte as a rational human being.
Could she believe his opinion? Her first impression of his gorgeousness remained intact. If all she’d wanted was to sit and stare at him, she would have been perfectly content, but she wasn’t sure that she could trust the former rodeo star. Rhoda was a lot more forthcoming.
The housekeeper bustled into the room carrying a tray, which she placed on a coffee table beside Gabby’s rocker.
“Herbal tea,” she said. “And oatmeal cookies. I did some baking this afternoon when it started clouding over. I just love the way it makes the house smell.”
The last time Gabby ate was hours ago—a greasy taco and a milk shake. She pounced on the cookies, which tasted healthy in comparison to her diet for the past several days on the road. The lightly sweetened chamomile tea soothed her throat.
“Oh, Rhoda.” She licked her lips. “This is fantastic. Can I live with you?”
“Don’t be silly, dear. You’ve got a wonderful adventure waiting.” Rhoda sat in the overstuffed chair beside her and tucked her short legs underneath her. “I’m guessing the Roost is going to be a different life than you’re used to.”
“I don’t fit in,” Gabby said. “Is it that obvious?”
“The leopard bra and fancy sandals are kind of a clue.” Rhoda grinned. “Your great-aunt told me that you’d spent your whole life in the city. She said she didn’t know you very well, but she thought you had inherited some of her artistic talent.”
“Me?” Gabby took another bite of oatmeal cookie. “I wonder why she said that.”
“You’re a designer, aren’t you?
