a forensic anthropologist.”
He waited until he’d safely passed a horse trailer parked on the shoulder of the highway and then glanced her way. She was tightening her ponytail and with her arms raised, her T-shirt clung to her breasts. Odd he hadn’t noticed before how full and round they were. “I’m not sure what that means.”
“I study remains mostly.”
“Like bones?”
She chuckled. “Yeah, like bones.”
“Man, that would creep me out.”
“Wimp.”
He grunted but ignored her teasing. Figured she had a job like that. “So what? You work with law enforcement?”
“Actually, I’ve spent the last six months in Vietnam and Cambodia, identifying remains of missing soldiers.” The teasing tone was gone. Her voice had softened. “It’s so sad that families have had to wait this long to find out what happened to their missing loved ones from the war.”
“That’s true, all right,” he agreed quietly. “They’re lucky they have people like you to finally give them some closure.”
“Yeah, well, the findings are always kind of bittersweet, you know?”
“I can imagine.” His gaze went to her hands. Her nails were uneven but clean, the skin badly scraped on two of her knuckles. He understood now why she wasn’t like Kate’s other two friends. They seemed like nice enough women, pretty, well put together, his type actually. Stupid when he stopped to think about it, but the high maintenance ones were the kind that attracted him. Maybe that’s why he’d never entertained the thought of marriage. Too damn much work.
“Hey, look.” She straightened and pointed to an eagle soaring low against the cloudless blue sky. “Beautiful, isn’t he?”
Clint slowed down so he could appreciate the grace of the bird, and grinned. “How do you know it’s a he?”
“Guys have to try harder to attract a mate. That’s why males in most species have all the stunning feathers and bright colors,” she said matter-of-factly. “When it’s time to mate, girls just have to show up.”
He chuckled. She did have a point.
2
DORY WAS SURPRISED when they turned down a dirt road under an arching sign that announced the Double R Ranch. It had seemed more like twenty minutes instead of an hour since they’d left the Manning’s place, which was quite a spread as it turned out…about two thousand acres. Mostly flat pastureland, much of it fenced off for grazing cattle. For the entire ride, that pretty much had been all there was to see, more grazing land. Although she hadn’t focused on the scenery half as much as she had the man sitting beside her.
She liked watching his hands as they confidently gripped the wheel. They were large and tanned, the back of his fingers sprinkled sparingly with crisp dark hair. Rolled-back sleeves exposed broad, big-boned wrists and muscled forearms, and his blue cotton shirt did nothing to hide his well-formed biceps.
He obviously hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and she wondered if that omission had been deliberate. Had he tried for that perfect, rugged, cowboy look? No, he seemed like a man who enjoyed the outdoors and wasn’t afraid to sweat. Sure, she worked with a lot of big, muscular guys like that on digs, but unlike them, Clint had a lithe grace that had caught her attention earlier when he hooked up the trailer.
Weird, because she wasn’t normally attracted to a man based on physical attributes, even one as good-looking as Clint. In fact, she tended to ignore the head-turners. She figured they got enough female attention.
The road to the Double R had obviously once been graveled and graded but not well maintained, and the truck dipped and bounced for nearly a mile before a large white house and outbuildings came into view. Good thing. Her fanny had had enough, and that was saying something since she seemed to spend half her life in a Jeep lately.
“I hope some of the hands are close by to help load the lumber.” Clint pulled the truck up to the front of the barn. “Kate was supposed to have called ahead.”
“I don’t see anybody.”
“The Reynoldses own this place, but times have been kind of tough for them lately,” he said grimly. “They lost a good deal of their herd to cattle rustlers last year and had to lay off half their men.”
“Rustlers? You’re kidding.”
“Wish I was.”
“That sounds like something out of the old west.”
“Darlin’, out here, it still is the old west at times.” He opened his door. “That’s why I told Joe that we’ve got to start looking at—” He cut himself off, shaking his head, and then slid out from behind the wheel.
Dory scrambled out on her side. “What did you tell him?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters.” At his annoyed expression, she shrugged a shoulder. “Look, I’m just curious. What was your idea?”
The way he set his jaw told her it was time to leave the subject alone. He picked up his hat, pushed a hand through his hair in obvious frustration, and then reset the Stetson on his head. “I’m gonna go check if anyone’s in the barn.”
She leaned a hip against the truck and watched him walk away, his strides long and purposeful. Was he in a hurry to get away from her probing questions? Or worried about getting the load of lumber back in time to start working on the game booths? Probably both, she thought, sighing.
It wasn’t that she was being nosy. She didn’t have brothers or sisters, and although she understood sibling dynamics on a textbook level, she lacked the human experience. She did know that Kate adored both of her brothers, and that the older one had become more a father figure over the years. But Clint was older than Kate, about thirty was Dory’s guess, so he probably didn’t appreciate the perception of being kept under Joe’s thumb.
Still, Joe obviously knew what he was doing to keep a ranch that large profitable. Dory wisely kept the observation to herself.
She shaded her eyes and gazed around the Double R. The place was spread out with a barn, what looked like a bunkhouse, stables and a corral where three horses grazed. But, unlike the Manning’s ranch, there was no buzz of activity. Then again, she knew some of the goings-on had to do with the big July Fourth get-together.
Clint emerged from the barn, solo, his expression grim, and she had a feeling they had a ton of work ahead of them. She didn’t mind. She just hoped he had a spare pair of gloves. Getting dirty was one thing, but getting pricked by splinters was something else.
“The lumber is stacked behind the barn,” he said, shaking his head as he closed the distance between them. “But we’re not gonna get much help loading. Part of their south fence came down last night in the wind and most of the men are rounding up strays.”
“No problem. We should be able to handle it. But I’ll need some gloves.”
He
