A Tall, Dark Cowboy Christmas. Maisey Yates

then, I don’t see why we can’t give you a job. We can always fire you if you’re terrible at it.” She looked over at her husband when she said that part.

      “Fine with me,” Wyatt said. “We were going to have to hire someone else, anyway.”

      She blinked. “I...”

      “We also have a place for you to stay. One that isn’t that horrible cabin in the middle of the woods that doesn’t have anything but spiderwebs in it for warmth.”

      “Oh... You can’t do that.”

      “Sure we can,” Lindy said. “We have a bunch of extra room.”

      Throughout the entire exchange, her man stood there mute. A solid, silent presence that fairly radiated with disapproval.

      “It’s fine with me,” Wyatt said. “But I don’t have time to train anyone right now.”

      He shot a meaningful look over at her man. The look that he got back was not friendly at all.

      “I’m going to go get dressed,” Wyatt said.

      Lindy pushed up from her seat. “Ditto. Enjoy your breakfast.”

      The two of them left the room, and they left her standing there with... With him. And he did not look happy.

      “I guess I work here now,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

      “I guess so.”

      “Sorry,” she responded.

      He shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

      “You don’t look happy.”

      The corner of his mouth lifted upward. “I never look happy.”

      “Oh. Well. That’s good to know.”

      And then he stuck out his hand, his dark, serious eyes meeting hers. “I’m Grant Dodge. And I guess I’m your new boss.”

       CHAPTER TWO

      GRANT FELT LIKE the biggest asshole curmudgeon on the planet. Not that that was a new feeling for him necessarily. But he resented the fact that he had to show this girl around the ranch, and he shouldn’t. Really, he should be proud of the fact that Wyatt and Lindy were using what they had to give her a shot at digging out of the bad pit she seemed to find herself in.

      But Grant didn’t have a hell of a lot of altruism left inside of him.

      If they had done it without putting her in his jurisdiction, he might have been able to muster a little bit up. As it was, not so much.

      “Come on, McKenna Tate,” he said, turning and walking out of the dining area, trusting that she was going to follow him. The sound of her footsteps behind him indicated that she had.

      “Where are we going?”

      “I expect that you’re going to want to get a look around the place. And that you’d probably like to see where you’re going to be sleeping.”

      He would have to pull up the ledger to see which cabins were available, but that would be easy enough. It wasn’t that any of this was difficult. It was all getting rolled into his daily responsibilities, after all. Wasn’t extra. Not really.

      But a mother hen he was not. Not even on a good day. And after the awful sleep he’d gotten, today was not a very good day.

      “It doesn’t really matter if I like it or not,” she fired back. “I don’t have any other options.”

      “I’m not here for this tough-girl thing you’re doing,” he said, stopping and turning to face her. “My brother is doing a damn nice thing for you. If you have to pretend that you don’t care, you can stay quiet. Otherwise, feel free to add commentary.”

      Her expression went from defiant to subdued, softening slightly. Well. Apparently, she did have feelings. And wasn’t made entirely of prickles and spite.

      He pushed open the front door and the two of them walked out of the house. She stayed silent, her boots loud on the steps as they made their way down to the driveway. Grant paused and looked around, always surprised at how the place looked. New, and somehow the same all at once. The cabins around the main house had been restored, each one with its own flower bed and carefully manicured walk that led up to the front door.

      The entire property was refreshed. The barns painted, the hiking trails into the woods cleared.

      The bones remained. The foundation. The earth. Same as it had always been.

      He didn’t know if he took comfort in that or not.

      He didn’t know if he took comfort in anything, really.

      He just kept on living.

      To do anything else would be a damn insult to Lindsay.

      “Let’s walk up this way,” he said. “I’m going to show you the barn, and then we’ll walk out to the cabin you’ll be staying in. Hitting all the highlights on the way.”

      His companion was much quieter than she’d been, but he imagined snapping at her had done its job. He wasn’t sorry about the silence. Having to make stupid small talk was the only thing that was worse than dealing with comforting strangers over his grief.

      He led her down a gravel drive that took them to the big red barn, the one that the guests liked to see, not the one that housed the equipment. But this one had hay bales, and was a fun place to hang out and drink coffee. And really, that was its primary function. They had dinners in it, and sometimes small events.

      And by they, he meant the ranch. Because he didn’t get anywhere near social engagements of that kind.

      For his part, Grant preferred to do demonstrations with the animals. And any sort of behind-the-scenes work that needed doing. Things that didn’t require talking. Just another reason this little babysitting job wasn’t to his liking.

      “This is like... Like ranches you see on TV,” she said, looking around the barn.

      Grant turned around and he couldn’t stop the kick he felt in his chest when he got a look at the expression on McKenna’s face. It was like something had released inside her, all the tightness in her face gone slack. Her mouth had dropped open slightly, her brown eyes wide as she took in the sight of the large red structure, and the backdrop of dark green mountains dusted with pure white snow behind.

      Suddenly, the place didn’t look so familiar. For one small moment he saw it for the first time, right along with her.

      He was a tired man. Down to his bones. He hadn’t felt a moment of wonder in longer than he could recall. There was nothing new here. Nothing new in him.

      But right then it felt like the world stopped turning, just for a second, and in that space, between his last breath and his next heartbeat, he forgot everything but the beauty around him.

      And it seemed new.

      But then the world moved again, and that feeling was gone.

      “It’s nice,” he said, clearing his throat and charging on through to the inside of the barn.

      He turned to make sure that McKenna was with him, and she was, almost hunched forward, looking around them with a strange mix of trepidation and wonder.

      “Have you not been in a barn before?”

      “No,” she said.

      “I thought you’d done all the manual labor there was to do. There’s a lot of it to be done in barns, McKenna, let me tell you.”

      “Clearly I’ve done all the city-type varieties of manual labor.”

      “Have you spent most of your time living in the city?” He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t care.