Teaching the Cowboy (6 page)

He widened his eyes so both eyebrows got lost beneath the blond shag of his hair. “Phil did? I read on a few forums that State’s pretty conservative compared to some liberal arts schools in the area.”

She snorted and then laughed outright. “Oh, honey, it is. But Phil just has a way of blending in while simultaneously being over-the-top ridiculous. It’s his gift.”

“Guess so.”

Upon approach to the Lundstrom Ranch, Landon tapped the dashboard. “Hey, why don’t you go ahead to the Erickson place so I can help you unload all this?”

“Don’t you have stuff to do at the ranch?”

“I could probably find something to do, but Dad plugged a ranch hand into my jobs for the day. He’s already adjusting for me not being here.”

“He seems really eager to get you out of here.”

“Seems that way, but I assure you he’ll have a sixteen-hundred-mile-long bungee cord wrapped around my waist he’ll probably yank back at the slightest provocation. He wants to modernize the ranch, and I guess he thinks I’m the one that’ll come back and do it.”

As they navigated the three miles down the ranch road, Ronnie spied a minivan parked in front of her little house. When she got even closer, she saw Becka Erickson standing on her stoop, apparently wringing her hands as she waited.

What in the world?

“Uh-oh,” Landon said as he unsheathed his seatbelt buckle. “Becka’s wearing her cry-face.”

“Cry-face?”

“You’ll see.”

The two fetched parcels from the trunk and carefully picked across the sparse grass to the tiny house. Ronnie spread on her beauty-queen grin. “Hi, Becka. What’s up?”

A high-pitched keening noise came from her throat instead of words, and Becka’s bottom lip quivered.

Ronnie’s smile faltered.

Oh, shit.

“R-r-r-ronnie, is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable here?” She said it all so fast and jumbled together at that high-pitched tone, Ronnie couldn’t be sure if Becka was actually speaking English or calling the chickens home to roost.

Ronnie gaped. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you need anything? We can get you a bigger sofa or have a new refrigerator brought in, anything, just.” Her bottom lip quivered so fast now Ronnie worried it’d take flight. “Anything.”

Landon snickered, and Ronnie cut a warning gaze to him. “Becka, what are you talking about?”

Becka shifted her weight to her other hip and wrung her now-scarlet hands even tighter. She sniffled. “John came over earlier and said he would move you over to his guest house and—and—I just—I just don’t know what to do.”

Now she was crying in earnest. It was as if faucets behind her eyes had become wrenched open. Ronnie had never seen such a thing in all her years of teaching, not even from the girls who she warned she’d be assigning failing grades to. Apparently, whatever John had done to Becka was
worse
.

Ronnie looked at Landon.

He shrugged.

Thanks for the help, buddy-roe.

She sighed and shifted the weight of her heavy box to her other arm. “Becka, I’m not going anywhere. I never said anything about moving.”

“But John said—”

“Becka, John was here last night. He said if I wanted to move I could. I think I made it very clear that I was fine here.”

“It’s just—” That lip took up trembling again, this time even faster.

Shit.

“Becka, I’m okay. I mean it. I swear I didn’t send John over here. Not my style.”

Becka wrung the hem of her shirt with her clenched fists, but fortunately, her lip calmed down. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? Want me to have one of the boys till up a little garden for you? Install a satellite dish?”

Actually…
Ronnie pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed thoughtfully.
Nah, when am I going to have time to watch television?

“Yes. Positive.”

“Oh, good.” Becka sprang forward with arms extended, ostensibly to hug Ronnie, but stopped at the last possible moment when Ronnie’s box became an obstacle. “Oh.”

Ronnie grinned. “Sorry.”

“Let me get out of your way, then.”

Ronnie managed to unlock and push the door in while propping the weight of the box onto one forearm.

Becka followed them in and walked around, her raw hands now clasped behind her back. “Did you find everything you needed? Anything I can order for you?”

Ronnie let her box fall with a heavy plop onto the floor beside the sofa. “Why are you so agitated about this?”

“Oh, Ronnie, I don’t know what’d I do if you left. The kids, they—” That lip again.

Ronnie cut her gaze toward Landon. His eyes went wide and, like a coward, he loped through the open front door.

Damn it.

She chuckled nervously and draped her arms over the trembling woman’s round shoulders, stilling her. “It’s okay, Becka. I have everything I need, and if I didn’t I’d tell you. I’m pretty vocal that way.”

Becka patted Ronnie’s back as they locked in an embrace. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t lie to you. Now, is there anything else I can do to reassure you?”

“Can you talk to John? Tell him you’re not moving?”

“Of course. Not a problem.”
Oh, I’ll talk to him, all right.

“You’re getting pretty far up there, aren’t you old girl?” John cooed to Sandy.

Sandy offered a neigh in response and nuzzled her snout against his hand to lick off the oats he offered.

“Ready to retire? I probably feel like an anvil on your back. It’s all Anna’s good cooking creeping up on me.”

Sandy blinked and kept on chewing. She was a horse. What’d he expect?

“I can probably find you a nice stretch of pasture to graze in. Something near the house. Would you like that?”

“Cute. You like keeping your employees and horses within arm’s reach?” a sultry voice from behind him asked. Sure as hell wasn’t a horse. He turned around to find Ronnie leaning against the barn entrance, wearing tight jeans, a loose-fitting, white button-up shirt, and a scowl. The jeans and shirt he liked. The scowl, not so much.

He ground his teeth and pulled the currycomb from his pocket. He started working it over Sandy’s coat, meditating a bit on the sloughing sounds before responding. “I’m guessing Becka got over to you. You need some help moving your things?”

“No, I do not. I’m not going anywhere. I thought I made that clear last night. I don’t want to be treated any differently than any other ranch hand. I’m just staff.”

He stopped brushing. Before turning around, he blew out a long breath. “No, you’re a little different than the typical ranch hand. You’re working with my kids, so that means I care a little more. Sue me.” Besides, he’d never had a ranch hand who looked like that in a pair of jeans. He narrowed his eyes, wondering just how many ranch hands she’d passed on the way to the barn. He’d have to send out a memo or something:
Don’t touch the teacher.

Her cheek twitched and nostrils flared, so he braced himself.

“That’s all well and good, but you can care just fine without me living on this property. I don’t need to be watched.”

“Don’t you?” He could think of at least three single ranchers around Storafalt who’d be circling her like land sharks once they caught a whiff. Not to mention all the undersexed cowhands. Yeah, she needed to be watched, and by him.

“No. I don’t.”

“If you say so. Listen, your phone is here. Why don’t you drive me back to the house and I’ll hand it over to you. Will you at least let me do that?”

She pointed an index finger at him. “Do you promise to stop antagonizing Becka? You really hurt her feelings.”

He ground his teeth again. He didn’t give a shit about Becka’s feelings. That is, no more than anyone’s feelings who he didn’t interact with on a daily basis. All Becka cared about was being a gracious hostess, just like her mother-in-law, the former Mrs. Erickson, had been. She had a standard to uphold and probably worried she failed at it. John wasn’t worried about hospitality so much. That was an estrogen thing. A very different hormone spurred his actions.

“Fine. Next time I’ll just have
you
deliver the news,” he said.

“There’s not going to be any news worth delivering.”

He tipped his hat. “If you say so.” He tossed the brush onto a nearby supply table and indicated the door. “Shall we?”

She spun her key ring around on her index finger several times before nodding. “After you.”

They rode to the house in an uncomfortable silence with him making the occasional glance over at her. He couldn’t help but to acknowledge the hard set of her jaw, and the longer they sat there, the scent of her perfume, a sweet, floral scent that was decidedly out of place on a ranch. It suited her to a tee, though. He wanted to press his nose against the warm flesh of her neck and take it all in until there was nothing left for anyone else.

She parked the little car at the back door and waited for him to exit before she shut off the ignition and followed him out. He looked over his shoulder and acknowledged her defensive posture as he pushed in the door. Dark kitchen. Anna must have gone home for the day. Hallway was dark, too. She must have taken Liss and Peter to the Ericksons’.

Hmm.

“Ronnie, why don’t you have a seat in the living room? I’ll be right back with the phone. I’d already started charging it when I headed out to the Ericksons’ earlier. Sit tight.”

“Mm-hmm.” She sidled around him, just barely brushing his side as she walked around.

Damn, she’s soft.

He watched her hips sway and appreciated her rear end as she walked away, and it wasn’t until she was completely out of his line of vision that he turned toward the office. He just knew that woman was going to get him into a heap of trouble. Good trouble or bad trouble, he didn’t care which at that particular moment.

He grabbed the phone and its charger and wound his way through the maze that was the downstairs of the sprawling, open house his father built. When he made it to the living room, he found Ronnie in an utterly relaxed pose on the sofa, flip-flopped feet up on the coffee table, legs crossed at the ankles. Her hair’s bun peeked over the back of the cushions. She was so still. But of course she should have been, because when he made it around to the front of the chair, her eyes were closed and lips slightly parted. Asleep.

He smiled. Relaxed in her sleep, there was that beauty again, that same loveliness he’d noticed and admired the day before when she sat across from his desk in those linen shorts. He sat gingerly on the chair beside her, and before he could help himself ran the pad of a thumb along her cheek.

She stirred, and it must have taken her a moment to focus because for five seconds or so she stared at him before drawing back.

“Sorry.” He handed her the phone.

She wrapped her fingers around it, barely touching his in the process, but giving him just enough contact that a jolt passed from his fingertips down to his crotch. Her proximity alone was undoing him. He cleared his throat. “Programmed my number in there and Landon’s. You can put in anyone else’s you need.”

She stuffed the phone into the inside pocket of her jacket and stood. “Do you want me to drive you back to the stables?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got the truck here. Have to go check on some pasture.”

“Great, then. I guess I’ll be going. I’ve still got unpacking to do, and I left Landon over there. That was rude of me.”

“Sit down. He can blame me for it later.” He patted the seat next to him, indicating she should return to her former position.

“I really should be going.”

“You can spare a few minutes, can’t you?” He tried to push the corners of his mouth up into a grin, but he feared the closest he’d get was a sneer. He gave up. “If I can, you can.”

She sat and put her back against the armrest, putting just enough distance between the two of them that their knees didn’t touch. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Nothing. I just want to look at you.”

She furrowed her forehead, but if she was offended, she didn’t otherwise show it.

“That was out of the blue.”

“No, not really.” He stared down at his hands and picked at the ragged cuticle on one thumb.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Might as well be candid. Waste less time that way. Been thinking about you non-stop since you showed up here.”

A smile spread across her face, and not a beauty queen one, either. Oh, he knew about that. The moment he had five minutes to himself, he’d Googled her. She was popular back east. Got invited to a lot of big social functions and was photographed a lot on the arms of important people. Local politicians, businessmen, athletes.

“Probably about how much you want to fire me.”

“Trust me, woman, if I fired you at this point, it’d only be so I could keep my business transactions separate from my private life.”

“What are you talking abo—”

He silenced her by cradling her face between his hands. When she didn’t react to their roughness beyond the slight widening of her eyes, he lowered his lips to hers.

Soft
.

He licked around their edges all the while grazing her cheeks and edge of her jaw with the pad of his thumbs. When she didn’t resist, but instead closed her eyes and tipped up her chin to give him access to her neck, he kissed down her chin to her shoulder, working the top button of her shirt free so he could push her collar to the side. He kissed her neck, licked it, and finally sucked at the tender flesh just over her collarbone.