Winning The Rancher's Heart. Pamela Britton

minutes into her meeting with the man and already she’d managed to antagonize him.

      “Just let the kids try to catch him. I’m sure once Tramp realizes we want to help him, he’ll come around.”

      “Tramp?”

      She nodded. “From the movie. Doesn’t he look just like him?”

      “I don’t know. Never seen it.”

      She sat back in her seat, winced when her spine made contact with the back. “Never?”

      He shrugged. “What can I say? I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

      The poor, sad little man. “Well, trust me. He looks just like him.”

      “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

      She glanced down at the list he handed her again. “Research caterers?” She tipped her head up. “I don’t have a computer.”

      Another blank stare. “Not even a tablet?”

      She shook her head. “I had one, a laptop I mean, but my daughter dropped it on the way here. It fell out of the back seat of my truck and shattered the screen. I have a smart phone, but that’s it.”

      His look was akin to someone being told ten plus ten was two. For some reason, it made her want to smile. Nerves, she told herself. Smiles and silly giggles had always been her go-to reaction when she was tense.

      “Will that be a problem?” she asked.

      He slowly shook his head. “I’ll have a laptop delivered to you by the end of the day.”

      Of course he would. She glanced down at the list again. “I guess that means I can’t do items three, four and five, either. I’d need access to email for that.”

      “You don’t have email?”

      “Of course I do, I just think it’d be easier to research and solicit bids from caterers using a laptop instead of a phone, don’t you?”

      He pressed his lips together. “Okay then. Maybe now would be a good time to go over the housekeeping list I gave you yesterday.”

      “Sure.”

      His brows drew together. “Is there something wrong with your chair?”

      She realized then that she’d been shifting around in it a lot. “This thing is like some kind of medieval torture device. Clearly, whoever you asked to decorate this place didn’t actually expect anyone to live here.”

      He kept doing that—kept looking at her like she had Christmas lights hanging from her nose. Just then the phone on his desk rang. He glanced at the number and answered. He listened intently for a moment and then replied in perfect French, something she didn’t understand, and he spoke it so fluently and so well that it was her turn to have her mouth drop open.

      Who was this man?

      She’d been expecting a sun-bronzed, boot-wearing cowboy. Maybe someone quite a bit older than her. But someone who was kind and approachable, like his sister. Instead she sat across from Clint Eastwood in his younger years. Maybe when he’d played the role of Dirty Harry.

      He hung up and said, “All right, let’s go over the list I gave you yesterday.”

      “I don’t have it with me.”

      “That’s okay.” He clearly had a copy because he read from it. “Floors. As noted, use your best judgment when those need to be done. I’m not around a lot of the time, so you might not need to do them very frequently.” He met her gaze for a moment, but quickly looked away. “Windows, as needed. You’ll find all the cleaning supplies in a pantry in the kitchen. I’ve tried to think of everything you’ll need. Let me know if you’ll need anything else.”

      She nodded, not that he was looking at her.

      “Dusting, empty the trash, cleaning the light fixtures—that’s all self-explanatory, and like the floors, I’ll leave that up to you.”

      He set the paper down. “One thing I wanted to mention was laundry. It’s not on the list, but I was going to ask if you’d mind doing mine in addition to your own.”

      “No. I don’t mind at all.” Could he see how flushed her face had turned at the thought of folding his underwear? She hoped not.

      “I don’t expect you to iron. And if something needs to be dry-cleaned, I’ll take care of that myself.” He picked up the list again. “Let me know if you think anything needs to be professionally cleaned. Carpets. Drapery. And keep your eye on fixtures and whatnot. This is a new home, but things can still break.”

      “Got it.”

      He set the list down again. “Did my sister tell you what I do for a living?”

      She sat up straighter. “Yes.”

      “Good. You should know I have accounts all over the world, which means I travel a lot.”

      “She mentioned that, too.”

      “Although I’ve slowed down lately. I’ve made a commitment to my sister and nephew. I try to spend as much time as I can with them, although sometimes it’s just not possible—my work takes me away from home. That’s where you come in. I’ll need you to keep an eye on the place. I’ve hired someone to manage the ranch and all its livestock affairs, but he’s coming all the way from Texas and he won’t be here for a couple of weeks. Until then, the Reynoldses are a big help.”

      “That’s who we should call about Tramp. Claire Reynolds has her dog rescue.” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of that before. “She’ll know what to do.”

      He nodded. “Good idea. You can add that to your to-do list.”

      The phone on his desk rang again. She expected him to pick it up. Maybe start speaking in Russian or something. Nothing would surprise her with this man. Instead he ignored the call.

      “Back to the security of the ranch.” He leaned toward her. “No houseguests.”

      She lifted her brows. “None?”

      “Not unless they’re authorized by me.”

      “Not even the tooth fairy?” She couldn’t resist. He just seemed so stern.

      He’d gone back to staring at her again. “Tooth fairies are the exception.”

      “What about Santa?”

      “Approved.”

      “And the Easter Bunny?”

      “Roger that.”

      “My kids will be relieved.”

      Lord love a duck, was there an actual living, breathing smile on his face? She’d made him smile. She had no idea why that filled her with such a sense of accomplishment, but it did.

      But then the smile faded. He stared at her. She stared back, and she realized she liked him. She had no idea why. He hadn’t exactly been all warm and fuzzy. She’d spent most of their time together arguing with him and he didn’t seem to mind. Actually, he seemed to enjoy their tooth fairy conversation.

      “Anyone else?” he asked, lifting a brow.

      “I’ll let you know.”

      “Good.” He glanced at his open laptop again. “Once you receive your laptop you’ll receive a pass code for my wireless network. Under no circumstances is it to be shared.”

      “Not even with my kids?”

      “They can have it, too. Just not anyone outside the ranch.”

      “Got it.”

      “You should also be aware that there are security cameras. They’re discreet, but they cover a wide variety of angles, so be mindful.”

      “Good