Big Sky Bachelor
Автор
Lesley Ann McDaniel
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Chapter 1
Janessa Greene could have sworn her old hatchback lost a little more oomph with each passing day. As she pulled off the highway and through the Bar-G Ranch gate, she sent up a prayer. No way could she spend money on her car right now—not with all the expenses she had coming up. Both she and her car would have to go the extra mile for just a little longer.
As she gunned down the long stretch toward the house, the sight of twenty or so impatient-looking parents standing outside their horse trailers made her stomach buckle. She checked the clock on the dash and grimaced. Why did they all have to be so prompt on the days when she was running behind?
She clattered to a halt between the house and the barn, then gathered up her work bag and purse. Leaping out of the car, she gave the parents a quick wave. “I’ll only be a sec!”
A grating mixture of grumbles and moans followed her as she ran toward the front porch steps. She winced. Those folks had paid good money to have her teach their kids to ride this summer, and they had every right to expect her to deliver her best. She had tried to get there on time. If only the restaurant would stop being so busy on her class days.
She scurried inside, slowing only to push the door shut and to gather up the mail from the table next to it. Flipping through the stack as she bounded across the foyer, she held her breath. Today had to be the day.
“Argh!” She tossed the pile of pure disappointment onto the bench at the base of the staircase, gripped the bannister, and charged up. It was July already. Shouldn’t she have heard from Le Cordon Bleu by now?
Reaching the top step in record time, she darted across the hall and into her room. She kicked the door closed, dropped her bags on the bed, and tore off her grease-splattered tee, then grabbed a plaid cotton Western shirt from the back of her desk chair. As she yanked it on, a rap on the door gave her a jolt.
“Ness, it’s Courtney.”
Her fingers found the shirt buttons as she searched the floor for a pair of jeans. “I’ll be right out.”
“I can go down and get the kids started if you want.”
“Really?” Relief surged as she retrieved some decently clean Levi’s off the window seat. “That would make you my favorite sister-in-law.”
Courtney’s laugh sounded through the door. “I’m your only sister-in-law. Besides, you know I love those kids.”
Janessa breathed a little easier. The parents would feel better seeing Courtney, but she’d still have to hustle.
As she fumbled with her cuff button, her focus fixed on the poster over the desk. A plain chef’s jacket hung on a fancy wire hanger with the words Le Cordon Bleu—L’Art Culinaire above, and the logo of the school below.
Leaving her second cuff undone, she tugged at the laces on her white SlipGrips—great for the kitchen but definitely not for the arena—and allowed her thoughts to stray. Le Cordon Bleu had been her dream ever since she’d realized she wanted to be a chef. Not only was it a great school, but they had a location in Seattle, not far from Thornton Springs. She bit her lip and yanked at the second lace. Okay, not too far to drive home for holidays and an occasional weekend, anyway. Montana only seemed like a million miles away from everything truly exciting in the world.
She kicked off the shoes. For as long as she could remember, all she’d wanted was to get out of Thornton Springs. Now that she had finally graduated from high school and worked for a year to save up money, her plans were just about to jell.
Flinging herself onto the bed, she quickly replaced her white Dockers with the jeans. She rolled onto her belly to reach under the bed, pulling out one boot, followed by a second.
She maneuvered into a sitting position, then yanked on the boots and scanned the immediate vicinity for her belt. Her eyes flicked across the framed photo that sat on her bedside table, momentarily sidetracking her with the familiar combination of comfort and sorrow that always accompanied it. Absentmindedly fingering the ever-present heart-shaped-diamond necklace at her throat, she wondered for the zillionth time how different her life would be if her dad was still here. He had her heart, even after he’d been gone for so many years.
Forcing her thoughts back to the task at hand, she plucked up her floral-shammed pillow from the head of the bed and let out a mini-cry of victory. She dove for a large gold buckle that peeked out from under her sloppily placed duvet, then swung her legs around and clambered to her feet. She quickly looped the belt into her jeans and grabbed a hair band off her bedside table, then dug through the pile of hats on the chair next to the door. She paused, running her hand over her Le Cordon Bleu ball cap. Her mind latched on to the one problem with her plan, the probability of which grew with each passing day: What if the school didn’t accept her?
Shoving away the thought, she snapped up her favorite white cowgirl hat and plunked it onto her head. She just couldn’t let herself think that way. It was only July. There was still plenty of time for her to hear from them. Besides, if she didn’t get in, they’d send a rejection letter. No news didn’t necessarily mean bad news.
She darted back out into the hallway and took the stairs two at a time, awkwardly yanking her hair into a ponytail as she flew.
Making her way across the drive, she saw that Courtney had gotten the class started preparing their horses. A few parents lingered along the outside of the fence, but most of them had left, probably furious at her for cutting short the hour they counted on to get things done while their kids were occupied.
Rushing into the barn, she grabbed a currycomb off its hook on the wall and greeted her horse. “Hey, Miss Molly.” As she ran the comb quickly across Molly’s back, she mumbled to herself. She’d have to do a better job of grooming her later on.
Tossing down the comb, she took up the brush. “Sorry, baby. You deserve better than this.” Moving around to the horse’s other side, she realized she’d left her second cuff undone. She fumbled with the button as she continued to brush Molly, but since she actually needed both hands to accomplish each task, she succeeded only in scratching her wrist with the bristles.
“Youch!” She jumped back, pulling up her sleeve to examine the scratch.
“Works better if you use the brush on the horse.”
The confident baritone behind her nearly startled her out of her skin. She whipped around to see a guy hoisting a saddle up onto the rack on the wall, glancing over his shoulder and smirking like the feline friend of the recently departed canary.
“What in the...” Her tone came out a little more venomous than she’d intended, but he looked like a guy who could handle it. She’d been standing there talking to her horse. Why hadn’t he made his presence known?
“Hey, I noticed that mare has some weeds stuck in her mane.” Speaking without even looking at her now, he secured the saddle. “You know, if you don’t have time to groom your horse correctly, you don’t have time to own a horse.”
Her jaw went slack. She’d been riding her whole life. This was her horse and her barn, and this guy—whoever he was—had no right to admonish her. Questions swirled in her brain, and she spat out the first one she could latch on to. “Who are you?”
Chuckling lightly as he finally turned to face her, he radiated an air of belonging that implied she was the outsider here, not him. His lack of a swift answer to her question gave the impression that he thought she should somehow already know who he was—like he was some kind of celebrity or something.
“Well?” She seethed. Not only had he made her even later by springing up behind her like that, but he had implied that she wasn’t properly caring for her horse. And now he wouldn’t even identify himself.
Flashing a gleaming white smile that dented a dimple in his cheek, he ambled toward her. He pushed up the brim of his well-worn tan Stetson, revealing tousled blond hair and a pair of eyes so clear and blue they conjured an instant image of Flathead Lake on a hot summer day.
She gulped. As much as she hated to admit it, this guy was the best looking thing to hit Thornton Springs since Jeffrey Mark Caulfield came to town to make that movie last year.
“Name’s Micah.” Stepping confidently close to her, he held out a hand. “I started work here this morning.”
Oh. Of course. She’d forgotten all about the new ranch hand her brother, Adam, had hired.
Twisting her mouth in irritation at his obvious lack of first-day self-consciousness, she reached out for a quick shake. “I’m Janessa.” Hoping to convey a lack of interest in further conversation, she returned to brushing Molly. Time was wasting.
“Pleasure to meet you, Janessa.” After a long moment studying her the way he would an auction horse he was considering bidding on, he dipped the brim of his hat and strode out of the barn.
Her hand slowed on Molly’s back as she furtively witnessed his exit. She gave herself a mental shake. What was the matter with her? Standing there gawking like a schoolgirl when she needed to get to her class.
Irritation swelled in her gut. Just what she didn’t need, another pointless distraction from what really mattered—making the money to escape Thornton Springs and get her life off the ground.
As she hurried over to fetch her tack, her gaze again drifted to the doorway, but he had moved out of view. Guys. That was one thing she just couldn’t waste time thinking about right now.
She clicked her tongue. Of course, not thinking about them would be a whole lot easier if God didn’t make some of them so all-fired nice to look at.
* * *
Micah thrust the tip of his shovel into the dirt, propped his foot on it, and leaned his arm on the handle. Angling back his hat and wiping his brow on his sleeve, he snuck a look at Janessa as she demonstrated cantering to a bunch of kids. Not only was that girl as pretty as a wild Montana daisy, but she rode a horse like an expert.
“...likely the biggest thing to happen around here in years.” Owen, a ranch hand of probably about twenty, had spent the better part of an hour regaling Micah with the details of how Thornton Springs was “practically famous” because a movie had been filmed there the previous summer. “It’s officially opening here this Friday. That’s why there’s so many tourists around town.”
Micah grunted. He had only a passing interest in the topic. He remembered hearing about a movie being shot in Montana, but he’d been too busy with his own disaster of a life to pay it much heed.
“And that big movie director Travis Bloom bought the Circle-O Ranch right next to the Bar-G.” Owen looked off in what Micah assumed to be the direction of said ranch, apparently highly impressed with his town’s brush with the movie business. “The boss’s wife works for him.”
Appreciating the discourse, but only half listening to the content, Micah stole another glance at Janessa off in the distance. Her dark brown ponytail hung from beneath her cowgirl hat and bounced as she rode. She seemed so focused on the kids. He admired that focus.
It was plain as day she hadn’t recognized him earlier in the barn, but what had he expected? It wasn’t like he had gone out of his way to tell Adam anything more than his ranch experience when he’d applied for the job. Not that he was hiding anything—he was just trying to find his way in the world now that everything had changed.
Still, it gnawed at him. He wasn’t used to women acting the way she had around him, and that threw him like a mean bull. Would all women treat him that way if they didn’t know who he was? Talk about a slam to the ego.
He muscled the shovel farther into the ground, then pitched more soft dirt onto the pile he had going.
Owen paused, apparently noticing Micah’s distant focal point. “You met the boss’s kid sister yet?”
“Oh, yeah.” Allowing a slight smile, Micah nodded. “I’ve had the pleasure.” He flung another shovelful of dirt as he watched Janessa give instructions to the kids. “That gal sure knows how to ride.”
Owen leaned on his own shovel and ran his sleeve across his forehead. “That she does. Been riding since she could walk, to hear Adam brag about her. ’Course he’s a mite biased.”
Gripping the shovel again, Owen grunted. “Probably best to keep your eyes on your work if you favor keeping this job.”
“Hey.” Micah’s defenses rankled. “I’m not thinking anything.”
“Maybe not, but you should know the boss is extra protective of his sister. He’s had to pick up the slack since their dad died about eleven years back.”
Micah paused, allowing the shovel to hover in midair for a moment before plunging it into the ground again. Janessa had lost a parent. And at a young age, too. Could be that was why he’d felt an instant kinship with her.
He forced his focus to the ditch at his feet. “All I’m saying is she looks right at home on a horse.”
“You should see her rope a calf.” Owen sounded almost awestruck. “She’s a regular champion of our little local rodeo.”
The words hit a cold hollow place in Micah’s gut. “No kidding?” His emotions ricocheted between admiration and anxiety, as a second wave of understanding washed over him. He’d found another area of kinship with her. In an attempt to conceal the impact of that groundswell, he kept the conversation safe. “So, this town has its own rodeo?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s in August. Most everyone in town gets pretty worked up over it.” Owen stuck his shovel into the ground. “You much into rodeos?”
Micah cast a fleeting look at Owen, gauging his awareness of the deeper implications of that question. His eyes returned to his work, assured that Owen wasn’t guileful enough to harbor any hidden motives. He shrugged his response. “Not much.”
“Me, either.” Owen continued to dig. “I competed one time, but it didn’t go so great.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It’s okay.” Owen lifted a shoulder as though shaking off the thought and its attendant emotion. “I only did it to impress a girl.”
The shameless admission amused Micah. “What was her name?”
“Her name’s Keely. She’s great. She’s roped in our rodeo since we were kids. Trouble is she’ll only talk to guys who are in the rodeo, so I pretty much don’t stand a chance with her.”
Micah kept silent. He knew that type, all right.
Continuing to work, Micah allowed himself the occasional glance at Janessa. She looked to be no more than twenty, with that innocent girl-next-door way about her. Not the type of girl he normally went for, but maybe that was because that wasn’t the type who normally went after him. Her kind typically held back, looking all dreamy-eyed while the brazen ones charged to the front of the pack. Watching Janessa, he had to wonder if things might have been different for him in the romance department if he’d done more of the choosing and less of the getting chosen.
He forced his eyes off her and back onto the task at hand. It really didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he was looking for a woman to settle down with or anything. No way was that in the cards for him.
Suddenly aware of the hot sun drawing rivulets of sweat down his back, he stuck his shovel in the ground and moved toward the shady area next to the old garage by the barn. Tandy, the ranch cook, had left them a small cooler filled with water bottles. He grabbed one, cracked it open, and took a swig, then angled his head to peer through the window of the garage.
Adam had accommodated his request for a covered place to keep his truck, and Micah gave it a quick check. That and his bank account were pretty much all he had left of his old life.
Pleased to note that his truck had remained undisturbed, he shifted his focus to the old blue pickup next to it. It looked to be a Chevy from the 1940s. Quite a sharp contrast to his own rig, which was barely a year old and gleamed as new as the day he’d taken delivery of it.
“That’s a nice old truck.” He stepped closer, leaning in to get a better look. “Does it run?”
“Don’t know.” Owen had joined him by the cooler. “It’s Janessa’s, but nobody ever drives it.”
Micah nodded. So the girl had an appreciation for old farm trucks. Alarmed by his growing list of reasons to want to get to know her better, he determined to steer his mind in another direction.
He looked over at the house, which was at least ten times the size of the ranch house he’d lived in as a kid. This place looked like it belonged in a movie with its white siding and round towerlike things. That front porch alone was probably the size of their whole main floor back home.
Home. Funny that he should think of that word to describe the place he hadn’t been back to in the twelve years since he and his dad had walked away. He choked down the hard knot that tried to creep up his throat whenever he pictured that place. That was so long ago, and so much had happened. But a part of him wanted to never forget what it had felt like to be there.
Not now, he told himself. Let it go, Micah.
Taking another draw of the cold liquid, he scanned the field where the lesson was still in full swing. “So, who are the kids?”
“They come from all over the county to learn to ride. Janessa’s one of the best teachers around.”
“No kidding.” He looked up at her again, his admiration growing. So much for getting his mind off her.
“Yeah.” Owen cuffed Micah’s arm. “I hate to break it to ya, but she’s planning on leaving in the fall for school.”
Micah’s heart sank a little, although that didn’t make sense. It was good news that she’d be leaving. Great news, in fact. He wasn’t about to get anything started with anybody, especially not the sister of his overly protective new boss. She’d only be a distraction, and that was one thing he did not need right now.
Forcing his attention back to the partially dug ditch, Micah firmed his resolve. He wasn’t about to let himself get roped in by anyone, no matter how cute she looked in or out of the saddle.
