Read The Rancher's Untamed Heart Online
Authors: Nicole Jordan
I hated the sense of irritation and fear between us. I wanted it to be easy, like this morning. I wanted to laugh and joke.
That wasn’t happening right now, though, and I needed to get used to it.
When I woke up in the guest bedroom, I took a few minutes to just look around. I loved the rustic wooden walls and simple furniture. The bed was large and comfortable, with a thick white bedspread over the entire thing and a blue and red Navajo rug at my feet.
My stomach growled at the smell of cooking breakfast, and I finally crawled out of bed and stood, in a t-shirt and sleep shorts, in front of the window.
Huh. That’s strange, I thought. There was a small plume of smoke in the distance.
I blinked, and it was gone. I’d probably imagined it.
When I went into the adjoining guest bathroom to take a quick shower, I forgot all about it.
Walking out into the kitchen, wearing old jeans and a faded blue t-shirt, I found Clint at the stove and Brandon and Will at the table.
“Hey, Naomi!” Will said cheerfully. “Brandon and I told Clint that, just because he has a pretty girl now doesn’t mean he can stop cooking us Sunday breakfasts forever.”
I grinned at him. “I’ve been getting in the way of you guys having food you don’t have to cook? Perish the thought.”
Brandon shook his head and got up, walking over to the coffee pot.
“Clint,” he said, loudly, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the other man, “I’m against it.”
He paused, giving Clint a chance to ask him what he was against. When he just kept poking at the bacon, Brandon continued, “I’m against morning people. It’s downright unnatural.”
“Says you,” Clint grumbled.
“Can I help with anything?” I asked, looking around at the mountain of toast and pitcher of juice already on the table.
“Nope,” Clint said.
“Good morning to you, too,” I told him.
He stopped poking the bacon and put the spatula down. “Brandon, that’s on you,” he said.
Turning away from the stove, he smiled at me and walked over, taking my shoulders in his hands and pulling me close for a slow kiss.
I shut my eyes and leaned into him, enjoying the feeling of our bodies against each other.
He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead on mine, looking down into my eyes.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, smiling at me again. “It’s nice to see you. If Brandon burns the bacon, I am going to kick his ass.”
“Get in line,” Will said.
I flicked my eyes sideways to look at the other two men in the room. Will was smirking into his coffee cup and Brandon was standing in front of the stove, not looking at the rest of us, spatula in one hand, flipping the bird in our general directions.
I leaned up and kissed Clint on the cheek. “Good morning, handsome,” I said, quietly.
That was a better reception, for sure, than a silent back.
Clint walked back over to the stove and elbowed Brandon out of the way, taking the spatula back and flipping the bacon.
Brandon walked over to the table and pulled out the chair next to Will, dropping into it in a graceless heap. He fell face-forward on the table, leaning on Will’s arm.
His man smiled and let him lean, running his fingers through Brandon’s hair with his other hand.
Well, weren’t we just a pack of lovebirds this morning?
Clint brought us all big plates of bacon and eggs. Breakfast passed companionably, Clint and Brandon and Will talking about the state of the ranch and what needed to get done the coming week. I listened, and ate, and occasionally asked questions or chimed in.
My empty apartment seemed even colder than usual that night. It was missing the warmth and light of Clint’s big open house with Brandon and Will right nearby.
I dropped my weekend bag on my kitchen table and flipped through the mail that I’d gotten on Saturday.
Nothing interesting. Only bills and coupons.
None of the coupons were even for anything that I buy, so I tossed the whole brightly-colored pile of slick paper into the trash, saving only the power bill.
I would have to pay it, but it felt like an imposition. A waste of time. I didn’t even spend enough waking hours in my apartment right now to bother keeping milk around.
My apartment felt small and cramped, and the road noises from outside were setting my teeth on edge.
When I realized what was wrong, as I was going through my fridge for a snack, I laughed out loud. I was getting used to being at the ranch, that is where I felt at home now.
I went through my nightly routine without Clint a room away, and got into bed without a last embrace.
I fell asleep wishing that I never had to spend a night away from the ranch again.
That Monday morning moved about as slowly as molasses in winter.
I was stuck at my desk, wishing I could be outside, wishing that I could be at the ranch, wishing that I could be anywhere but there.
Sarah stopped by and said hello, teased me about how distracted I was, and left pretty quickly. For all she joked about taking work lightly, she got more done than anyone else around the place.
When she left, I was alone with my thoughts and my paperwork.
Looking at my inspection schedule for the week, I sighed. All enormous corporate operations, enough hands around the place to have everything dusted and scrubbed while I was driving down the lane. Nothing out of place, even if I knew they were getting around some of the laws.
Those inspections were tedious and typical, but they were the main meat of my job. Inspecting smaller, family-run places like Clint's didn't happen often at all for a junior person like me. They were considered cakewalks and usually Sarah or Herman took them.
Just after I began my working lunch of granola and yogurt, Herman stuck his head through the open door to my office.
"Oh, uh, Naomi?" he asked. I noticed that he glanced quickly at the marker on my door.
"Yes, sir?" I asked, hastily putting my yogurt and spoon down.
He stepped into my office and took a seat in the chair that was nominally for clients, but mostly ended up being used by Sarah.
"I have a quick favor to ask you," he said.
I smiled at him, pushing my yogurt a little to the side. "How can I help, sir?" I asked.
"I am afraid that I made a little mistake with a friend's paperwork," he said, wincing self-deprecatingly. "I got busy and didn't get it through in time, would you go ahead and take care of that for me?"
I blinked. That seemed pretty minor, something he'd normally e-mail me about.
Well, me and every other junior in the office at once, knowing that one of us would quickly take care of it.
"Not a problem, sir, happy to help. Do you have it with you?" I asked, gesturing at the folder he had in his hand.
He nodded. "Here you go," he said, opening the folder and passing me one sheet. It was for a basic yearly checklist that all of the farms we worked with had to do. Very simple, ten-minute job on my end.
I smiled at him. "Thank you, sir."
"Ah, Naomi, you'll fill it out just like that, right? Not change anything?" he asked.
I skimmed the paper that I now held.
"Of course, everything but the date will be the same," I said.
He winced again.
"Yes, that's it. It's not really fair that he should pay a fine for a problem on our end, is it? He's been a good farmer for a long time, and five hundred dollars at this time of year isn't always fun to pay out," Herman said.
I hesitated. Five hundred dollars was small potatoes as a fine from our office went, and I didn't have any proof that the rancher had turned in the paperwork on time.
On the other hand, my boss was asking me, and if it wasn't all right, surely he wouldn't get me to do it?
I smiled at him.
"Not a problem, you're right, that doesn't seem fair," I said.
He flashed me a white grin full of teeth. Sarah called it his 'Standard Suckup Smile' and I tried not to show my own amusement, smiling politely back at the boss.
"Great work, Naomi, I knew I could count on you," he said. "I'll see that on my desk by five?"
I nodded.
"Absolutely, sir, I'll take care of it right away," I said. On the last word, he was already walking out of my office.
I started to work on the simple form right away, getting it off my to-do list immediately. It really only took ten minutes, and I didn't even get any granola on it.
As I was giving it a last once-over, I realized that I'd accidentally put the correct date on it, today's date. I hovered over the 'submit' button, but sighed and stopped, changing the date to the one a week before that was written on the sheet Herman had handed me.
It wasn't a big deal, I told myself. Just a favor for my boss, who had made a small mistake.
I tried to ignore the small feeling of wrongness that made the hair on the back of my neck prickle.