Lured by the Rich Rancher. Kathie DeNosky
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“The only buildings I saw close to the ranch house were a couple of barns, a guest cottage and a stable,” she said, sounding skeptical.
“You can’t see the other places from the main house,” he answered. “Those are about five miles down the road where I live.”
“So I won’t be staying with Marlene?” she inquired, as if she might be rethinking her decision to stay with him.
“Nope. The actual ranch headquarters is where we’ll be staying,” he said, wondering if Fee was apprehensive about being alone with him. She needn’t be. He might want to get to know her on a very personal level, but he wasn’t a man who forced his attentions on a woman if she didn’t want them.
Frowning, she nibbled on her lower lip as if deep in thought. “I was led to believe that the main house was the ranch headquarters.”
Chance almost groaned aloud. Nothing would please him more than to cover her mouth with his and do a little nibbling of his own. Fortunately, he didn’t have time to dwell on it. They had arrived at the stop he’d decided to make when he learned she didn’t have a pair of boots.
Steering his truck into the parking lot at the Wild Horse Western Wear store on the northern outskirts of Cheyenne, he parked and turned to face her. “My uncle built the main house when he and my late aunt adopted Sage and Dylan. That’s where we have our family gatherings, entertain guests, and Lassiter Media holds corporate receptions. The actual ranch headquarters has always been at the home my grandfather and grandmother built when they first came to Wyoming. I renovated it about seven years back when my uncle turned the running of the ranch over to me. I’ve lived there ever since.”
She looked confused. “Why not have the headquarters at the main house? Doesn’t that make more sense?”
Laughing, he shook his head. “Headquarters is where we sort cattle for taking them to market and quarantine and treat sick livestock. A herd of cattle can be noisy and churn up a lot of dust when it’s dry. That’s not something you want guests to have to contend with when you’re throwing a party or trying to make a deal with business associates.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” she finally said, as if she was giving it some serious thought.
“Now that we have that settled, let’s go get you fitted for a pair of boots,” he suggested, getting out of the truck and walking around to help her down from the passenger seat. “How many pairs of jeans did you bring?”
“Two,” she said as they walked into the store. “Why?”
“I’m betting your jeans have some designer dude’s name on the hip pocket and cost a small fortune,” he explained as he walked her over to the women’s section.
“As a matter of fact, I did get them from a boutique on Rodeo Drive,” she said, frowning. “Does that make them unsuitable?”
“That depends,” he answered truthfully. “If you don’t mind running the risk of getting them torn or stained up, they’ll be just fine. But if they’re very expensive, I doubt you’ll want to do that. Besides, they probably aren’t boot cut, are they?”
“No. They’re skinny jeans.”
He swallowed hard as he imagined what she would look like in the form-fitting pants. “We’ll pick up a few pairs of jeans and a hat.”
“I don’t wear hats,” she said, her long blond hair swaying as she shook her head.
Without thinking, Chance reached up to run his index finger along her smooth cheek. “I’d hate to see your pretty skin damaged by the sun. You’ll need a hat to protect against sun and windburn.”
As she stared up at him, her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips and it was all he could do to keep from taking her into his arms to find out if they tasted as sweet as they looked. Deciding there would be plenty of time in the next two weeks to find out, he forced himself to move. He suddenly couldn’t wait to get to the ranch.
“Let’s get you squared away with jeans and boots,” he advised. “Then we’ll worry about that hat.”
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