Rancher At Risk. Barbara White Daille

you need something?” she asked.

      “Some peace and quiet.”

      “Oh.” She grimaced. “I forgot to close the door, didn’t I?”

      “You forgot more than that.” He glanced at the center of the room. The sound of plastic file trays and a half dozen other items crashing to the floor in front of the desk had played right into the crumpling metal and breaking glass of his dream.

      She followed his gaze. “I guess I got a little involved.”

      And a lot reckless.

      Her cheeks pinker than the T-shirt she was wearing, she stooped and began scooping papers together.

      He dropped to one knee and grabbed her wrist. When she looked up at him, her brows lowered, he gestured toward the floor. “Watch it. You’ll hurt yourself.”

      “You’re worried about paper cuts?”

      “No. This.” From under a flurry of paper, he lifted the jagged pieces of glass and wood.

      She took the broken frame from his hand and turned it over. A trio of smiling faces looked up at them. Caleb. His wife, Tess. Their daughter, Nate.

      “Oh, no. Caleb just had this photo taken.” Lianne stared down, her face stricken. Broken glass had left a deep scratch across the surface.

      “It’s only a picture,” he muttered. “Easy enough to replace.”

      She ignored him.

      He took the frame from her and set it on the desk, then leaned over to start picking up files from the floor.

      “Not those,” she said.

      He looked at her.

      “They’re in order. Organized chaos, I know. But that’s the way I work.”

      “Right. How about I pick up what belongs on the desk and you take care of the rest?”

      When he’d finished that, he rose and looked over at the coffeemaker.

      “Want some?” she asked. “Help yourself.”

      “Might as well. I don’t guess I’ll be going back to sleep tonight.” He looked at the pink-tinged sky through the office window and corrected himself. “This morning.”

      She picked up an empty mug from the desk. “Ranchers have to get up early, don’t they?”

      “Not this early,” he said.

      She flushed again but held out the mug. Once he’d filled it, she took a seat behind the desk. The power position.

      “Maybe sharing this house isn’t the best idea.” Her gesture swept the room. “Obviously, I’m not the quietest person. I’d hate to interfere with your sleep again.”

      “I’m staying.” As if he had a choice. “Once you’re done fixing things up here, there won’t be anything else to bother me. Unless you get hit in the middle of the night with an idea to rearrange heavy furniture.”

      “Very funny.”

      He sat on the small couch near the coffeemaker and stretched out his legs, crossing them at his bare ankles. Might as well make use of the time, too. Show Caleb he’d done his homework. “Tell me about the school.”

      She took a long deep breath followed by a sip of coffee. “Our overall mission is to provide a home for troubled boys. A residential school. They’ll live here, attend classes and group therapy sessions, and have one-on-one meetings, as well.”

      He raised his brows. “Then you’re talking behavioral counselors and teachers as well as camp counselors?”

      “They’ll be called aides, but they’ll act as counselors like at a camp, yes. And only a small staff of teachers, since the older boys will take some of their classes online. We’ll also have a live-in registered nurse.”

      “Sounds like a big operation.”

      “It will be. We’re starting small and plan to increase enrollment in future.” It was the most she’d said to him since their first meeting. She spoke slowly and clearly, ensuring he didn’t miss a thing, as if she wanted to emphasize the importance of what she was saying. Or as if she recalled the conclusion he’d jumped to when they’d first met—that she was drunk.

      At times, he still found her hard to understand, though even when he lost a few words along the way, he got the message. Considering her voice and her niece being deaf, he reckoned Lianne had some hearing loss, too.

      “As part of the noncredit courses,” she continued, “we’ll teach life skills, rolled into lessons that fit with living on a ranch. Cookouts, hikes and nature walks, riding lessons. In fact, that part of the curriculum will run along the lines of a dude ranch. But don’t tell Caleb’s daughter that.”

      “Why not? When I met Nate at the ranch in Montana, she was all about horses.”

      “Oh, she still is. She’s just not a fan of dudes.” She gave a soft, throaty chuckle. “And she’s not alone. When I first suggested Caleb turn this into a dude ranch, you should have heard the reactions of the people around here. It could have been a wise investment. But with the school, we’ve got so many more possibilities to make a difference.” Her eyes shone.

      When she wasn’t glaring at him or counting off points on her fingers, she was a nice-looking woman.

      What did that matter? He tightened his hand around the coffee mug. “And you’re in charge of all this.”

      The light in her eyes dimmed. Her defenses had snapped back into place.

      “I am.” She said it flatly, as if expecting a challenge.

      He’d give her one. “What makes you the right candidate for this job?”

      “Don’t worry about that. We’ll have trained counselors to work with the boys. My role is strictly to take care of the behind-the-scenes operation.”

      “That’s what I meant.”

      She stared him down. “I’ve got a B.A. in business administration and eight years’ experience working with newly established companies.”

      He nodded. “Not in this area of the country, I take it, since you’ve made a move and brought everything with you.”

      “My sister, Kayla, lives here. She’s married to one of the local ranchers. I’m from Chicago.”

      A city girl, then. Probably knew nothing about live critters except maybe for cats. “A boys’ school doesn’t exactly follow along the lines of one of your big-city corporations.”

      Her eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you saying?”

      “For Caleb’s sake, I hope you know something about dealing with kids.” He gripped the mug again.

      “I told you, my job is behind the scenes. And from here I do it all. Budgets, schedules, spreadsheets, insurance—” she gestured around the office again “—and whatever admin work needs to be done. And I have other experience that makes me qualified to deal with the boys. I’m sure they’ll be much easier to work with than some men.” She eyed him steadily.

      No trouble catching any of that. Irritation had made her bite off every word.

      “By the way,” she said in the same clipped tones, “since you’re determined to share the house, then we’ll be taking turns with the meals.” Over the rim of her mug, her eyes gleamed.

      She thought she’d one-upped him.

      He’d go her one better—though he knew the reaction he would get. “I don’t cook.” As she opened her mouth to protest, he added, “I’ll take my meals with the ranch hands in the bunkhouse.”

      “That’s fine with me.”

      “Right,”