Temporary Rancher. Ann Evans

It occurred to him that she might not have enough money to get home. “Or tell me what I owe you right now,” he added.

      Quintin tugged on the lead rope and the gelding followed. He opened the paddock gate, unhooked the halter and sent the animal off with a light slap. Resting his arms on the top of the gate, he stood there, pretending to admire the wild gallop of a creature delighting in its freedom.

      “Courageous. Friendly. Intelligent. Dependable. Eager to work.”

      The Palmer woman stood looking at him, and though her eyes were full of challenge, he thought he saw little tremors in the muscles around her mouth.

      He frowned at her. “What?”

      She came closer, facing him, jaw set. “Those are the five attributes you need in a mounted police horse. The ones you’re probably looking for in a Dutch Warmblood.”

      “How do you know that?”

      “As I said, I learn quickly. You told me in one of your emails what you wanted to do with this place. I made it my business to find out the kind of horse you would look for, and what kind of care they’d need. I assumed it would all be part of the ranch manager’s job.”

      Scowling, he stared at her, and this time he studied her from head to toe. She didn’t flinch or look away. She didn’t say a word. Maybe she’d run out of them. Or out of arguments, at least.

      He told himself that anyone could parrot back a few lines from the internet or a book. And even if she’d burned the midnight oil learning everything she could, that didn’t take the place of real experience. So she was a woman who’d been forced to run the ranch while her husband did his thing on a bigger spread. Did that mean she knew anything, really? Did that mean she’d be an asset to him?

      In order for Echo Springs to make the October deadline, the ranch manager would need to work his ass off. Hard, demanding, hands-on work, not simply overseeing a bunch of hired help. The toughest guy in the business would have found it a challenge. But this woman? With two kids in tow?

      “Look…” he began with what he considered an air of great reasonableness.

      “I know how to properly fertilize, test pH levels, correct for mineral deficiencies and maintain disease control.” She rattled off the list. “I managed for herbicides and parasites. I’ve treated horses for colic and thrush, and I’ve even floated teeth. If yours need something special, I can learn to do it. I’ll do anything I can to help you succeed.” She stopped, and he watched as her lips turned inward, making her mouth disappear as she bit on them. “Isn’t that what’s important here?” Her voice sank lower, as if it had begun to tire.

      He remained silent for a long time, unsure he could speak. He’d never met any woman more willing to fight for what she wanted. Sure, she was probably desperate, but there was something else, too. There was some quicksilver quality about Riley Palmer, something nimble in her spirit. He had the random, unexpected thought that she’d probably make one heck of a partner in bed. Full of passion and life. He could imagine what being married to her must have been like. Her husband probably thought he’d hooked up with dynamite.

      Quintin knew it would be a major miscalculation in judgment if he let her stay, but he had to admit he was curious about her.

      His silence must have smacked of rejection. Her shoulders moved impatiently, and she said with more anger than she’d likely intended, “I guess hiring me is a chance you’re not willing to take. Too bad, really. You’d have gotten more than your money’s worth.” She raked a hand through her already mussed hair. “We’ll be off your property in fifteen minutes.”

      She marched away, looking as dignified as a person could in a bathrobe and unlaced sneakers.

      “What about the kids?” he called after her.

      She swung around. “What about them?”

      “This isn’t the place for them.”

      She walked back. Those blue eyes were watchful, but tinted with hope. “Why not? They’ve been raised on a ranch. That’s all they know. If you’re worried that they’ll get in the way, they won’t.” A little more quickly, she added, “I’ve already lined up a summer day camp that starts tomorrow. When they’re on the ranch, I won’t allow them near anything, and I’ll have a baby monitor with me to keep tabs on them. You’ll hardly know they’re here.”

      He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re their mother. Is that what you want to do? Work like a dog and hardly see them?”

      “I’m a divorced mother,” she replied, her neck arching back. “I’ve learned that there are things a single parent has to accept. I need the money. Besides, your email said half days off on Saturday, and all of Sunday. I’ll have nights and weekends with them.”

      She radiated confidence, and as far as bluffs went, she was damn good. Given the challenges ahead, Quintin thought he could use someone that positive. But again, was she the right someone? He couldn’t afford to make too many mistakes between now and October.

      “No, I’m sorry….” He shook his head and watched her blink in disappointment. “But I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he continued. “You and your children can stay here for a while—”

      “I’m not asking for charity—”

      He lifted his hand to stop her. “Hold on. I’m not offering any.” When she pressed her lips tightly together, and he seemed to have her full attention once more, he said. “Stay and work for me until the end of the month.”

      “That’s barely three weeks away!”

      “That will give me time to do what I should have done in the first place—run an ad, interview, do a background check. Once I get someone hired, you’re done here. But you’ll have enough time to regroup.”

      “And you’ll have enough time to see what I can do.”

      He shook his head again. “That’s not the way this is going to play out.”

      She pinned him with a shrewd glance. “If I prove to you that I can do this job better than anyone else, would you be honest enough to admit it and hire me?”

      His brow lifted as he feigned surprise. “Do you really think it’s my honesty we have to worry about here?”

      Her mouth quirked. “Touché.”

      “So three weeks,” he said. “Take it or leave it.”

      “I’ll take it,” she replied quickly.

      He felt suddenly weary and yet oddly invigorated at the same time. He wouldn’t allow himself to wonder if, by this time in his life, he shouldn’t have had a little more sense than to make such a foolish offer. But it was too late for rational acts and plain logic.

      They shook hands, and she began walking toward the apartment. Her stride was confident, her back straight.

      “It’s not your day off yet, Mrs. Palmer,” he called out to her. “Meet me at the house in thirty minutes, and we’ll get started. Bring your list.”

      “I’ll be there in twenty,” she said without looking back.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      RILEY SAT THE TWINS DOWN in front of the Cartoon Network with bowls of cereal and some toast.

      Quickly, she slipped into a pair of jeans and comfortable boots. She bypassed her most worn work shirts for a fairly new one the color of Texas bluebonnets. Makeup had never been her thing, so she kept it pretty simple. A little mascara and lipstick, and she was done. She didn’t want to look like she wasn’t willing to get down and dirty for this job. First impressions were important.

      Although it was probably too late for that.

      She picked up her pad and pen, then went back out to join the girls.

      Seated on the rug behind