asked about the other transportation at the ranch.”
“An old pickup, three horses and a donkey,” she said, glancing over at him and catching a look of annoyance.
“I need to make a call,” he said, and pulled a cell phone from the furry sporran, aka Scottish man-purse, which previously she’d only ever seen on someone dressed up at Halloween.
She’d been dismissed. She’d gotten used to it working with the movers and shakers in her corporate jobs, but that didn’t stop her from being miffed. She watched the road, ignoring the nearness of her passenger, the familiar odor of sweaty male combined with Jones’s own scent of dusty wool and cool, dark earth. She did not, however, find it sexy. Sexy to her nearly thirty-year-old self included a tailored jacket, starched shirt and silk tie, like Harvey Specter from Suits.
She glanced over, thinking his hair was too long and his prickly jaw too sharp. He was also too tall, probably even taller than her brother, Danny. Why had she gotten the short genes?
“I understand that you will be providing meals?”
That was news to her, but she’d promised her friend Gwen, the president of the college, she’d keep this man happy—within reason. “I can certainly do that,” she said calmly, while she scrambled to remember what food she had at the house.
“Then we will not need to stop for supplies.”
“Not unless there’s something specific that you like or need. The ranch isn’t close to any stores.”
“I am certain what you have will be fine until I get settled. I flew in this morning, and jet lag is catching up with me.”
“What? You went right from the airport to the stadium?”
“The team would have had to forfeit. If I hadn’t been here, then they would have been out of the running for the regional competition.”
She looked at him more closely. He did look a little droopy around the eyes. “I’ll make something quick for dinner.”
“Wonderful.”
She nodded and added, “I’ve moved into the in-law quarters. You’ll have the house to yourself.”
“That will work fine, although I plan to be in the field the majority of the time.”
“You do have a hat and sunscreen, right?”
“I’m not a tenderfoot.” He reached easily into the backseat and dug in his bag, pulling out a battered straw cowboy hat.
She hadn’t expected that.
“What?” Jones asked. “We’ve heard of cowboys in Scotland. This hat has been on every dig with me.”
“Surprised it’s made it this far. Jammed into your bag. Is that any way to treat it?”
He tilted the hat. “I didn’t want to forget it. It’s my lucky hat.”
She grinned, thinking, That’s what she said. Professional, she reminded herself. Make small talk. “Did you find that in London or have you been west before?”
“Edinburgh has its own Wild West street in Morningside.”
“I’d never have imagined. Is that where you became interested in Arizona and beans?”
His expression froze. “Something like that.”
He was lying. Why would he lie about that? Crap. She’d nearly missed the turnoff for the ranch. “Not long now,” she said, glancing over at the kilted giant in his cowboy hat. “Well, if you want to go to a rodeo or ride the range, let me know. I’ve got connections.” Connections that she’d mostly severed long ago, right after winning the teen bronc riding championship, but her brother or dad would show him around if she asked...nicely. Of course, then she’d be grilled about what she planned to do with her life. Right now, get this man home and into bed—that’s what she said.
* * *
LAVONDA LED HIM into the long, low, mud-colored ranch house, explaining that it had been on the property for nearly one hundred years. She acted as if that were a great deal of time. He didn’t point out the “new” part of his family home had been built before Arizona was even a territory.
“It doesn’t look like they’ve dropped off your other stuff,” she said as she opened the front door. “The delivery guys just leave whatever here on the front porch. The woman who built the house was originally from Georgia and insisted a house wasn’t a home without a porch, although she probably called it a ‘veranda.’”
He stepped into the dim house, feeling taller than usual. The ceilings didn’t soar and the pixie of a woman who, he’d been told, cared for the property barely reached his shoulder. His nose twitched. “Is that a cat?” he accused, pointing at a feline that was wider than it was tall.
“Um...yeah?” Lavonda said as she kept moving despite the cat’s yowl.
“Get it out.”
“Excuse me? That’s Cat.”
“I bloody well know it’s a cat.” He sneezed. “No one told me you had a bloody cat.”
“The cat’s name is Cat. Why would anyone tell you about her?”
“Because I’m allergic.” Usually cats just made him sneeze. He hadn’t had a full-blown asthma attack since he was a child. He stumbled outside where the desert heat hit him like an anvil in one of those American coyote cartoons. He leaned over and made himself breathe slowly out and in. The stress and jet lag had laid him low, obviously.
“Should I call nine-one-one?” Lavonda asked, her dark eyes even wider than usual.
He shook his head. “I’ll be fine in a moment, but you need to remove that animal.” The damned thing had followed them outside. He stepped away. It followed him, trying to rub against his stockinged leg. Dignity be damned, he danced away and batted at the feline.
“Cat,” Lavonda said, reaching forward, snatching up her pet and dumping it in the yard.
“Has that animal been living in the house?” He’d have to dose himself with antihistamines. Good thing he’d be out in the field soon.
“She usually hangs out in the barn with Reese. They are in one of those weird different-species friendships.”
Damn it. Why couldn’t one thing go smoothly today? Just one bleedin’ thing? “My allergy medication is in the cases that have not been delivered. We’ll need to take a trip to the shops after all.” His eyes itched, but he refused to give in and rub them. He should be right as rain with over-the-counter tablets.
Her frown quickly turned it into a smile. “Sure. Anything else? Maybe you should check the fridge to see what we’re missing.”
His stash of Hobnob biscuits was in the other luggage, too. This sort of day called for a pint and his favorite oat biscuits—or should he say cookies now that he was in the US? Why had he thought flying all night followed by an afternoon at the games
