Temporary Rancher. Ann Evans

      “Do you know how to take care of horses?”

      The way he looked at her was starting to bug her. As if he was trying to match her face to one he’d seen during his last visit to the post office. “In my résumé I told you we had horses,” she said briskly.

      He cocked his head to one side. “Yes, well…I think we’ve already established that your résumé wasn’t…completely accurate. I’m simply trying to get a feel for what duties you’re capable of handling.”

      She suppressed her annoyance. When it came to her employment for the next three weeks, this man held all the aces. “Yes. I know how to take care of them. My family had a small herd, and we always kept horses at the ranch my husband and I owned.”

      “Can you groom?”

      “Of course.”

      “Pitch hay and carry bags of feed? You’re not very muscular.”

      She opened her mouth to say something she shouldn’t, thought better of it, and instead said, “I’m stronger than I look. I’ll manage fine.”

      “What about hoof care?”

      “What about it?”

      “Do you know how to clean and check for problems?”

      “One of the first things my father ever taught me. No hooves, no horse.”

      “Can you muck out a stall, Mrs. Palmer?”

      His eyes were so watchful now. Did he expect her to balk at that lowly task?

      Deliberately, she gave him her most winning smile. “With the best of them,” she said. “And really, Mr. Avenaco, if we’re going to get down to the nitty-gritty and talk horse manure, I think we should be on a first name basis. Please call me Riley.”

      He gave a little snort and raised his eyebrow infinitesimally. She couldn’t tell if that was a bad sign or not. Then he turned his attention back to the desk, searching for something. Riley sat there, her insides feeling as though they’d just spent time against the rough side of a cheese grater.

      Finally, he handed her a page torn from a legal pad. “This is the schedule for hauling hay to the pastures. You’ll need the truck for that. The ATV can be used to make smaller runs. Extra keys for both are on a hook in the tack room.”

      She scanned the page of instructions. Nothing much out of the norm.

      “I’d like to keep to this schedule as closely as possible,” he said. “If you can’t make a run, then I’ll do it.”

      “I don’t see a problem.” She frowned as something caught her eye. “Pretty heavy on the protein supplements, considering it’s summer. They’ll sweat like crazy.”

      “These animals are going to need a good set of chest muscles for police work.”

      Darn. She should have realized that. She nodded, placed the paper inside her pad and smiled up at him. “All right. What else?”

      He frowned. “What do you mean, what else? That’s it.”

      “Surely there are other things you’ll need me to do.”

      “If I think of any, I’ll let you know.”

      The small blister of annoyance inside her got a little bigger. She sat straighter in her chair, fixing her eyes on him with intense determination. “Mr. Avenaco, let’s be clear with one another. You weren’t looking for a stable hand. You wanted a ranch manager. And while I’m perfectly willing to do the work you’ve just given me, I’m capable of handling a lot more than this.”

      He tilted his head back slightly. “Mrs. Palmer—”

      “Riley.”

      “Riley. Since you’ll only be here until the end of the month, I don’t see the point of involving you in anything long-term.”

      “Perhaps not. But it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, does it? Surely there are things you need help with besides grunt work. I’m good. I’m willing. You’ve already told me you don’t have the luxury of time to waste, so why not make the best use of it?”

      Silence descended again as he seemed to consider her words. She saw the indecision in him, the way his shoulders shifted uncomfortably. His lips pursed to form a rejection but he never voiced it.

      Instead he said in a polite, businesslike and slightly chilly tone, “Have you ever managed men?”

      Her heart bounced upward with hope. “I assume you mean ranch hands. Yes. We often hired seasonal help when we needed them.”

      “But did you manage them?” His mouth quirked. “Please don’t give me the stink eye. I’m the one who has everything at stake here. Just answer the question.”

      The stink eye? It seemed she had something else to work on besides a bitter tone. “Yes. I was the one who managed their work. My husband was…” She almost said that Brad was busy boinking his mistress, but decided against that. “…Brad was needed at the Bar Seven, where he worked.”

      “I have three men starting tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. The Ramseys. Cousins Jim, Steven and Virgil. I don’t know them well, but they seem reliable. They can do most of the manual labor. One of them used to be a carpenter. Jim, I think. If I decide to bulldoze the main barn, I’ll want his input on rebuilding, but right now they should be able to handle the schedule I’ve given you.”

      “I walked the barn yesterday. It needs work, but…” She stopped there, wishing she hadn’t voiced an opinion where it probably wouldn’t be welcomed. “I’m sorry,” she amended quickly. “You were saying?”

      “Tomorrow I’ll get these fellows started. Then you can take over. If they don’t want to take orders from you—”

      “Because I’m a woman?”

      “For whatever reason, then I’ll handle them, and we’ll have to find something else for you. Agreed?”

      “Agreed.” Irritating to think Avenaco had such little faith in her ability, but she’d show him. The relieved smile she gave him was sincere. “What else?”

      For a half second, before he remembered that none of this was to his liking, the man’s mouth tilted upward, just a little, and Riley saw those creases at the corners of his eyes deepen. Oh, yeah, she’d been right. There was a killer smile hiding in there somewhere.

      “You’re a very stubborn woman,” he said.

      “I am. I like to think that’s a good thing.”

      As though resigned, he shook his head slightly, then turned to pull a rolled tube of paper from his credenza. He swung back and opened it across his desk. It was a blueprint of Echo Springs, both the house and the surrounding land.

      “This is a layout of the property,” he said. “Pretty straightforward, really.”

      Riley scooted forward in her chair. She tried to focus on the task at hand. Inside, though, her heart was doing somersaults. He seemed ready to take her seriously.

      “You’ve seen the pasture closest to the house,” her new boss continued. “With the stock I brought in this morning, it’ll be maxed out for grazing soon.” He circled his finger around the area behind the barn. “Two small corrals here, plus a sacrifice paddock in between.” He glanced up at her. “You know what a sacrifice paddock is, right?”

      She resisted the temptation to scowl at him. “Back in Oklahoma, we called them all-weather paddocks. We used to joke that Texans like to make everything sound more dramatic.”

      He barely nodded. “It needs to be torn down, as well. Too much rotted wood.” His finger slid across the drawing to the upper right corner. “This piece will eventually carry most of the herd. It needs work. Right now, those are my priorities.”

      “Is