But she’s closer than I anticipated and slams into my chest with an “Oof” from our collision, bouncing back from impact.
I catch her wrist, my voice rough as sandpaper as I pull her back. “Sorry, didn’t realize—”
“That I could keep up?” she asks, winded and blinking up at me. “I’m from New York. We don’t dawdle.”
I scowl, annoyed that this girl seems to have an answer for everything, but at the same time, still holding her wrist like I need some reassurance she’s all right.
Her voice is shaky as she tears her gaze off where we’re connected and looks up. That smooth throat of hers working asshe swallows. She pulls her hand free, composing herself. “Shall I call you ‘boss’ too? Or do you prefer ‘sir’?” Her lip quirks mischievously.
I clear my throat, trying to stay composed as my mind races to whatever she’s implying. But my body betrays me as heat rises to my skin. “I don’t care what you call me,” I snap. “As long as you answer when I do and you show up on time. I’ve got a ranch to run, and I’m pretty much on my own, so I need you to take this seriously and hold some level of respect.”
She stares at me, any humor wiped from her face. “What exactly has my brother been telling you about me?”
I leave her question unanswered but note the hint of hurt in her eyes.
“I need some confirmation that I’m understood.”
She perks a brow. “Yes, sir.”
“Cute,” I mutter, before stalking toward my red truck parked near the gate of my long driveway. I don’t usually park it this far from my house but needed to unload a delivery earlier onto a tractor.
I open the passenger door and toss her backpack inside.
I feel her sprint behind me. “Whoa—we can’t just leave my stuff.” She points back to the house where the three suitcases sit on the gravel driveway. “Two of those suitcases are art supplies. They’ll get fried out here.”
That makes me pause.Shebroughtmoreartsuppliesthanclothes?I flick my gaze to her worried one. “I’ll text my brother to bring them inside.” I cock my head. “Get in.”
Her eyes narrow at my tone. “Still single, I presume?” she mutters before sliding in, giving me another whiff of that tangy scent.
I don’t bother confirming her assumption and shut the door, then quickly shoot Dallas a text to bring the suitcases inside the house and I’ll pick them up later.
Our first stop is the main office, which is nestled at the entrance to the property.
“Blue River Ranch,” Rose says as she looks up at the hand-painted wooden sign on the building. “In Blue River Springs .?.?.” She squints up at me. “How original.”
Without comment, I yank the door open and hold it for her.
Following her inside, I’m hit with the scent of burnt coffee and leather.
Rose must notice it too as she inhales softly with a frown, then scans the dark paneled walls that showcase photographs of the ranch’s history.
“Well, afternoon, Wild,” Ginger greets me. But it’s not her usual greeting. She’s looking at Rose. “This must be the new assistant.”
“Ginger, this is Rose, Wesley’s kid sister. She’s going to be helping us out this summer until we—” My office manager and I lock eyes in an unspoken exchange. “Well, until we’re adequately staffed again. Rose, this is—”
“Oh, you’re nokid.” Ginger waves me off and pushes out of her chair, coming around the reception desk. “Look at you, you’re as grown up as I am.” She takes Rose’s delicate hands into hers with a firm grip.
To my surprise, Rose beams at her.
“Can’t argue with that,” I mutter. Despite her mature age of sixty-two, Ginger is as serious as a kid in grade school.
“This is Ginger,” I continue with a sigh. “Our office manager and the glue that’s been holding this place together since my father opened it thirty years ago.”
Rose smiles. “Oh, you must be Gingerbread. Wes has told meso much about you.” Rose hugs the woman that’s been like a mother to me for decades—even when my own was still with us.
“Oh.” Ginger presses a hand against her chest. “That boy’s as sweet as those cookies he bakes me.” She grips Rose’s hands. “Now you listen, this grumpy cowboy here gives you any lip, you come talk to me.” She winks.
I roll my eyes. “You two about done?”
