skin.
She glared at him, disliking the heat his gaze spread through her. “I need a man who can pull his weight around here.”
The humor drained from his face. “This ain’t my first choice of gigs, either, sweetheart. Why don’t we try it and see how it goes for a week or two? Besides, I can fix that weed whacker you gutted.”
“Two weeks. If you can last that long.” She held out her hand. “I’m Mandy Fielding.”
Rocco looked at her small, long-fingered hand but did not complete the gesture. It was a handshake, for chrissake. A simple handshake. He didn’t touch her. He couldn’t risk it. She dropped her hand almost as quickly as she’d offered it.
“Tell me you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty?”
He didn’t answer her. She had no idea how stained his hands were.
“Right,” she continued, nervously filling the breach his silence caused. She rubbed her palms on the sides of her thighs. “Well, I need some pastures mowed, old barbed wire removed, new fencing put up.” She looked back to the cluttered garage. “And I need someone who can work magic with ancient farm equipment. That sound like something you’re interested in?”
Rocco pulled a long draw of air. Wolf Valley Therapeutic Riding Center was way the hell off the beaten track. He cast a quick glance around them, seeing all the mindless, physical work that needed to be done-work he looked forward to tackling for the very reason that it was mindless. He glanced at Kit’s sister. “It is.”
“It pays $300 a week plus room and board.”
He nodded, making no effort to negotiate. She cocked her head, studying him. He met her look with an unblinking gaze, his features shuttered.
“You know anything about ranching? You ever worked on a ranch before?”
“I grew up on a spread over in Albany County. Always thought I’d be one of the hands there one day.”
“Why aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “Army. Afghanistan. Been gone a long time.”
“When did you get back?”
“A few months ago. I guess Kit didn’t give you my dossier.” He hoped she would take the bait, hoped it would distract her from drilling into the fact he’d been at Walter Reed until about a week ago.
It worked.
She crossed her arms and bit a corner of her mouth as she studied him. “No dossier, but it’s not needed. Kit vouched for you. You’ve got two weeks.”
Mandy turned and led the way to the older, smaller farmhouse. Four steps led up to a deep porch and a front door that opened into a small kitchen. “You’re the only one staying here, so pick your bunk. The kitchen’s stocked and linens are in the closet.” She pushed the door open and stood back while he entered.
He did a quick circuit of the kitchen and living room, then turned down the hallway and looked at both of the bedrooms. Two twin beds were in either room with a bathroom between them that was entered by the hallway. The space was simple, clean. And a long, long way from the beautiful, jagged ranges of the Hindu Kush with its ancient, organic homes and enemies lurking in every shadow.
“You hiring more hands?” Rocco asked as he came back into the kitchen. A house this size would have slept ten or twenty fighters in Afghanistan, but after the fiasco at the shelter, he didn’t feel like sharing the space.
“Not for a while. Not until we’re closer to opening. I’m looking for a barn manager, but he’ll eventually have an apartment in the stable.”
Kit’s sister sent him a measuring glance, and Rocco wondered what those big, green eyes of hers saw. When she backed across the threshold to the open space of the porch, he supposed he had his answer.
He was what he was and couldn’t be anything else until he finished what waited for him. One more mission, one that was personal. When it was over, he would learn to be a civilian. Regular people everywhere managed to live normal lives. He could, too. He would have to.
Rocco took out his phone and dialed her number. “Kit gave me your number. Here’s mine.” He nodded at her phone, which had started ringing. “Save it. Don’t hesitate to call me if something seems odd. I’ve got a pair of walkie-talkies in my truck. Keep one with you at all times so that you can get me anywhere on this ranch if phone reception is bad.”
Kit’s sister saved his number and put her phone away. “Great. When you get settled, come get me.”
“I’m settled.”
She smiled slowly, still trying to figure him. He wished her luck.
“Well, if you can fix the tractor, I need to get those two pastures mowed. Then take down the old barbed wire and posts. I have new fencing being delivered in a couple of weeks. I’m going to be using these pastures as a quarantine area for new horses so that I can work with them before I move them down to the stable to be used in therapy. Several folks have horses to donate, but they’ll need a fair amount of training before I can put a special- needs child or a disabled adult on any of them.”
Rocco listened to her, feeling apart from her, from himself. Her words became muddled. It was too much talking. He could feel his mind shutting down, insulating him from being pulled out of himself and into her world. He had to stay separate, keep focused on his healing. While he was here, he would keep her safe, and he’d throw himself into the work, but he wouldn’t let himself get caught up in the sweetness of her voice or the beauty of her eyes or the strange, melting sensation that being near her spawned inside him.
“Show me around your spread,” he blurted before she elaborated further on a future he wouldn’t be here to see. “And give me a run down of the problems Kit said you’ve been experiencing. Then I’ll decide where I start working.”
Chapter 3
Mandy stepped off the bunkhouse porch. “I shouldn’t have told Kit,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I wouldn’t have except he caught me at an off moment and wouldn’t let it go. There’s nothing going on. Not really. Every construction project has problems. It’s only that I’m up against a tight deadline, and nothing is falling into place. I wanted to open in August, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I don’t know when I’ll be able to open. And if I can’t start earning an income, this whole project is in jeopardy.”
“Talk to me while we walk. I’ll see for myself.”
Mandy faced him, her hands on her hips. “I don’t need a soldier, Mr. Silas. I need a handyman. Please don’t look for trouble that isn’t there.”
“My name’s Rocco. You’ve had to call the cops, true? How many times?”
“Twice. Several tools were taken from the construction site. Another time someone soaked the newly poured foundation in the stable. It froze overnight. Ruined it. Delayed work a week while the old concrete was removed and a fresh foundation was poured.”
“Are your neighbors complaining of troubles? Burglaries? Vandalism? Stuff like this happening to others around here as well?”
“No.”
“Kit said you’ve had a hard time keeping a handyman on staff. What happened with them?”
“You’re the fourth I’ve hired. One needed extended time off to go help his daughter on her ranch. The next worked for a week, then never came back. The third went on a drinking bender. He kept coming to work either drunk or hungover, so I fired him-just this morning.”
Rocco looked around the property. He wanted a handle on the trouble Kit was worried about. He would deal with the work piling up once the situation was secured. “Let’s take that tour.”
Mandy’s property was on the upper slope of a steep ravine overlooking the town of Wolf Creek Bend far to the southeast. The terrain’s natural terraces had been excavated to make the land useable.
Her home, the upper pastures, and the miscellaneous farm buildings that comprised the private ranch area were on the top level. The wide middle tier held the equestrian center buildings that were under construction. And the lower plateau contained several pastures. Mandy led him down the long driveway from the private residence to the first of two lower steppes.
