A Cowboy in Manhattan. Barbara Dunlop

to the kitchen.

      Back in the guest room, she forced the sexy exchange from her mind, firmly telling herself to get it under control. She changed to some casual clothes and went back downstairs.

      Together, they crossed to the main barn, traversing its length to a quiet corner behind a half wall. There she stared in astonishment at the contraption he’d made out of the bicycle.

      “How did you do this?” she asked him. “When did you do this?”

      The mountain bike was propped up on a rack, with the front wheel removed and rollers pressing against the back wheel. The rollers were attached to a long bolt with a butterfly screw that could be used to change the tension.

      “This morning,” he answered. “I told you, I couldn’t sleep.”

      “I didn’t think you were serious.”

      “About not sleeping?”

      “About—” She gestured. “About disabling my bike.”

      “It’s what you wanted.”

      “It’s not what I wanted. It’s what you offered.” She didn’t know why she was annoyed. Maybe because he hadn’t given her a choice. Maybe she was touchy today when it came to men telling her what to do. Or maybe anger was just the easiest emotion for her to deal with right now when it came to Reed.

      “It’s too dangerous for you to be cycling around the ranch,” he informed her.

      “In your opinion.”

      “In everybody’s opinion.”

      “So you decided to stop me?”

      He nodded sharply. “I did.”

      “Don’t you think that might be a little high-handed?”

      “What? Keeping you safe?”

      “I’m a grown woman, Reed.”

      “And?”

      “And it’s not up to you to decide how to keep me safe.”

      He gave a grunt of disbelief. “I’m the one who has to come rescue you.”

      “Nobody asked you to rescue me.”

      “Mandy did.”

      “Well, I didn’t.”

      “So, I should have left you there?”

      “You should have asked me before disabling my bicycle.”

      She wasn’t sure why she was drawing this out. Truth was, it was going to be a whole lot easier to bike in here where it was smoother on her ankle and she didn’t have to watch for obstacles and worry about breakdowns.

      “Do you want me to take it apart?”

      She caught a glimpse of hurt in his tightening expression and instantly regretted her reaction. “No. No, I don’t.”

      “Good enough, then.” His tone was sharp. He turned on his heel, leaving Katrina alone.

      Three

      No good deed ever went unpunished. Reed banged a frying pan against the stovetop, wondering if he was just too stupid to remember that fact.

      He was up to here with being criticized and having his efforts go unappreciated. It was one of his father’s favorite head games, pretending to want one thing, then changing the rules at the last minute and acting as though Reed had misunderstood the instructions.

      He turned the sausages in the big skillet and cracked a couple of more eggs into a glass bowl.

      “Smells good,” came Caleb’s voice as he entered the room, making a show of sniffing the air. “I can’t believe you’re such a good cook.”

      “I can’t believe you’re such a hopeless cook,” Reed returned.

      His brother had spent the past ten years building up his business, Active Equipment, while living in downtown Chicago. If it weren’t for restaurants and take-out food Caleb would have starved to death years ago.

      “I thought you’d be out working by now.” Caleb crossed to the coffeemaker, snagged a cup from the lowest shelf and poured himself some coffee.

      “Guess I’m just lazy.”

      “Whoa,” Caleb drew back at the tone of Reed’s voice. “What’s up?”

      “Nothin’.” Reed took a fork and beat the dozen eggs into a scramble, adding onions, peppers and a dollop of milk.

      Caleb settled back against the countertop. “It’s just you and me here, bro. He’s gone.”

      Reed drew a breath and forced his features to neutral. “I know he’s gone. Corby says the parts are in for the irrigation system on the oat field. Thought I’d start up there.”

      “Get one of the hands to do it.”

      “No need.” Reed wasn’t about to become an armchair rancher. The irrigation system needed fixing, and he knew how to fix it.

      Caleb took a long sip of the black coffee. “Did you get a chance to look at the ranch manager résumés?”

      “Not yet.”

      “Are you ever going to look at the ranch manager résumés?”

      “Said I would.” Reed dumped the egg mixture into a sizzling pan. Caleb was the one who wanted to hire a full-time manager. Reed didn’t have a problem running the ranch himself.

      “Who put the burr under your butt this morning?”

      “Morning, Caleb,” came Katrina’s voice. Her soft footsteps sounded in the pass-through as she entered the kitchen from the living room.

      Reed reached for a spatula, stirring the eggs without turning around. He could feel his brother’s gaze linger on him a moment longer.

      “Morning, Katrina,” Caleb offered cheerfully. “Sleep well?”

      “I did. Thank you.” Her voice was sweet, melodious, without a trace of upset. Obviously, she’d moved on. Well, he would, too.

      He turned to face her. “Eggs?”

      Puzzlement flicked through her blue eyes. “No, thank you.”

      He knew he’d asked her that once already this morning. But what did she expect? That he’d own up to having spent the past hour with her? That he’d give Caleb the details of their argument?

      Offering her some eggs was a perfectly ordinary thing to do in this circumstance.

      “Fruit?” he continued, not quite masking the edge to his tone.

      “Love some,” she responded, lips compressing ever so slightly.

      “There are oranges on the table, grapes and plums in the fridge. Help yourself.”

      Caleb moved into action. “Let me—”

      “I’m sure she’s capable of opening a refrigerator door,” Reed told his brother.

      “What is your problem?” Caleb demanded.

      “It’s fine,” Katrina cut in, heading for the fridge. “He’s worried that I’m nothing but decorative.”

      “She’s our guest,” Caleb exclaimed.

      “Who’s a guest?” asked Mandy, breezing into the kitchen. “Me?” She beelined for Caleb, planting a kiss on his cheek. Her hair was damp, her face free of makeup, and she wore a cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to midforearm, a faded pair of jeans and no-nonsense boots. She was the kind of woman to whom Reed ought to be attracted.

      “Me,” corrected Katrina, from behind the open fridge door. By contrast, she now wore a clingy