He had recognized what was happening. That there was a spark underneath that touch. That if he kept going, created the right friction, a spark could become a flame. But she didn’t recognize it.
A blessing.
Still, it didn’t do anything to ease the fire banked in his gut. Great for her that she didn’t know what the hell it could become. Great for them both.
“I figured you’d know where I would be,” he said.
“Well, I need your help,” she said. “I was moving hay and something in the damn tractor blew. I’ve got it taken apart, but I’m having trouble identifying the problem.”
“If you can’t fix it, I doubt I’m going to be able to figure it out. We’re probably going to have to call Dan Swift out.”
“Yeah, probably. Still, if you could go have a look before we do that.”
“Sure.”
“Have you eaten?”
He hesitated. “No.”
“I brought food. Because I figured that was probably the case if you are out here driving cattle. You know, you shouldn’t do that by yourself.”
“It was a pretty short move.”
“Still. If one of them decides to break off...”
“I know what I’m doing,” he said, testier than he intended to.
“I didn’t say you didn’t,” she said, dismounting her horse and reaching into one of the saddlebags in the back. She produced sandwiches. And bags of chips. And soda. And then he found he couldn’t be as irritated with her as he wanted to be.
“You going to tie her up?” He indicated her mare.
“No. I’m going to let her graze for a minute.”
He shrugged his shoulders and dismounted, leaving his gelding to do the same. Rose plopped down, right there in the field, a testament to how comfortable she was with the place. Not worried about cows or cow pies.
This ranch would have always been Rose’s reality. But he wondered... He did wonder if she would have decided to work here if she’d still had her parents.
She liked to help people. Maybe she’d have gone to school. Gotten into medicine or teaching. He could see her excelling in either field. She was tireless, relentless and good down to her soul.
She took all that and poured it into the ranch, but where else could she have channeled that?
And he didn’t need to know the answer to that. There was no point pushing for that kind of discussion. Not now. Not when he should be shoving his sandwich down as quickly as possible and getting back to work.
“So,” Rose said around a mouthful of sandwich. “Did you get lucky?”
Heat crept up the back of his neck like fire burning along a line of gunpowder. “Excuse me?”
“With the blonde,” she said, still chewing. “You were very friendly with her.”
“Are you asking me if I had sex?” He asked the question baldly, making deliberate eye contact with her. And was gratified when she looked away.
“I guess so.” She sounded a little bit shamed, but also stubborn. And he could tell that she was in no kind of mood to back down.
That was the problem with Rose. The problem and the beauty of her all at the same time.
Her name was well suited to her.
He had often thought the other two girls had been saddled with albatrosses when it came to their names. Iris had basically been born the old maiden aunt. Pansy had a name that was so opposed to who she was as a person, a tough-talking police chief. The name added a layer of difficulty to her life. Combined with the fact that she was petite and a woman, she tended to have trouble getting taken seriously in her chosen profession anyway.
Rose, on the other hand...
She was beautiful. Even sitting there with her knees up, her forearms resting on them as she ate her sandwich. Wearing practical jeans and that top that was offering him tempting views of skin he shouldn’t be thinking about.
The wind whipped up then, blowing strands of light brown hair over her face. Beautiful just like her namesake. Her lips were a pale pink that reminded him of the flower, too. And looked soft as velvet.
But she had thorns.
Often, he gave thanks for those thorns. Because they were what made Rose resilient enough to get through the hard times that life had dumped onto her.
But right now, they were kind of a pain in his ass. It was that part of her that didn’t back down. And right now, he kind of wanted her to back down.
He could lie to her. He could tell her that he had. It would destroy any camaraderie in the moment, and he wasn’t sure why he was so certain of that. But something told him she would be upset if he had.
But he hadn’t.
He hadn’t wanted that woman. Not with the memory of Rose in his arms so close to the surface. He’d thought it might be convenient if he could.
But at that point he’d realized that if he was trying to put an effort toward wanting a woman it was a lost cause. He’d just kept on dancing with her to keep some distance between himself and the object of his torture.
He managed to deal with Rose just fine in general. Every so often things whipped up to the surface. Typically when physical contact was involved.
But he’d been coping pretty well for the last couple of years.
He’d struggled for a while with the initial, skin-crawling disgust of finding himself attracted to his best friend’s younger sister. A woman he’d known since she was a child. And now, it wasn’t about that.
The thing was, he’d been working with Rose since she was sixteen. And he’d watched her change. There was no doubt in his mind that she was a woman. Tough and capable, with a clear-eyed view of the world.
In many ways.
It was the way she didn’t see the world at all that concerned him.
She had lost both of her parents. She had dealt with bringing calves into the world, and burying them
