“Fine.” She could hardly believe the word left her lips.
Lifting a hand, he tugged his hat brim. She could see why that side was so worn compared to the other—he was left handed.
He started to walk off. “Follow me. I’m the white truck.”
She lifted her head and called after him. “I don’t even know your name!”
“It’s Bellamy. Aidan Bellamy.”
* * * * *
He never could stand to see a woman cry.
He also might have made a rash decision.
Hell, now he was saddled with a ranch hand. Did she even know anything about horses, cattle or running a spread?
“Damn,” he drawled out to himself. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw her battered pickup that’d seen better days and her face above the steering wheel.
Pretty little thing.
No, beautiful. Blonde wavy hair streaked with red-gold that glinted in the sun caught his attention straight away. A second glance at her had revealed eyes shaped like almonds without the makeup he usually saw on women, they were a striking shade of golden brown.
Add in that patch of freckles across her nose and cheekbones—not to mention her toned forearms…
Crap, he’d noticed too much, and all the wrong things. Were those arms of hers toned enough to sling around bales of hay?
Seeing those big fat tears pouring down the woman’s face had twisted him up good. Maybe it was the fact he’d purchased the land where his great grandmother had been born and reared along with her six siblings that made him extend the offer to the woman. He couldn’t help but think this was what Gramma Helen would want—a chivalrous great-grandson to lend a hand to a woman in distress.
Liberty Baker. Mizz Liberty Baker.
He could only guess at her past if she insisted so strongly on his use of Ms. That alone threw all kinds of red flags into his path. From his experience, women of her age were looking for husbands. A day didn’t go by when he didn’t get hit on at Meyers’ Supermarket or simply walking down the sidewalk in Crossroads. Hell, he hadn’t stepped foot in the coffeeshop in months because one waitress made him so uncomfortable with her advances.
Just because he was a bachelor didn’t mean he didn’t like it that way. In fact, he loved his solo life. Nobody to answer to and he didn’t worry about ticking anybody off. He worked his ranch alone, ate alone and went to bed alone.
Okay, so maybe he didn’t love all the aspects of the bachelor life, but he did appreciate good company more when he exposed himself to it.
He glanced in the rearview mirror again. Liberty stared ahead, at the rear of his truck as she followed him down the road to the short lane leading to his place. Across the fields would take no more than five minutes on horseback to go between his old ranch and the newly acquired one.
Now he had all of two minutes before he parked in front of his house to figure out what to do with this woman who’d gotten thrown into the deal.
After he parked and climbed out, he watched Liberty drive in next to him and cut the engine. While the truck appeared old, the engine sounded in good repair at least.
She hesitated, sitting behind the wheel, and he could only imagine the things going through her head. She might be a crazy, emotional nutter, and if that was the case, he wouldn’t have a problem sending her on down the road. Sometimes things didn’t work out.
If she proved to be remotely helpful, he would appreciate the help to join the ranches’ borders and create one large spread where he could expand his operation.
When she opened the door and stood, he saw she took some effort to mop her face and collect herself. While her eyes were still red-rimmed and her cheeks flushed pink, she wore a new determination on her face.
Their gazes met. God, could the golden-brown depths of her eyes look more pitiful?
He couldn’t turn her out right now. He didn’t know her situation, but any woman who accepted an impromptu job offer from a stranger must be desperate.
He waved a hand. “This is my place. Hundred acres plus. I’ve got a cattle herd I recently added to and plan to move between this and the Windswept.”
She swallowed hard. “What do you call this ranch?”
“Don’t call it nothing at all.”
“Oh, I thought it might be the Bellamy.”
“Nah, that’s my uncle’s ranch. He’s got a big outfit he and my cousins work with him. I’m more of a solo guy.”
She didn’t respond to that, only pivoted in a circle to look at the nearby house, shed, barn and a new outbuilding.
He pointed to the building. “I planned to put the tractor in there, but I guess that wasn’t meant to be today.”
A soft sigh trickled out of her, and her shoulders seemed to deflate like a balloon with the air released. “Guess a lot of things weren’t meant to be today.”
On one hand he felt sorry as hell for the woman. On the other hand, he needed the land that his ancestors had lived upon and worked to feed them and keep them all thriving. He might not have a family of his own, but there wasn’t anything stronger than blood ties in his eyes.
“I’m guessin’ if you were in the market to buy a ranch that you have some knowledge?” he asked.
She nodded. “I grew up riding from a young age. I always had a dream of owning my own place and raising horses.” Her voice didn’t break again, but it did waver. A wrong word would make her snap again.
He had to keep that from happening. “Let me show ya around. Introduce you to my horses.”
When he set off toward the barn, she kept pace. Her legs were longer than he thought. They were also outlined by the jeans she wore in all the right ways. Since he was a leg man, this could become a problem. He didn’t want to be caught staring, so he turned his attention aside.
“I’ll show ya the barn now. The horses are out to pasture.” A big hand-cut field stone acted as a step up to the barn door. He’d rescued the rock from the old foundation of the house where his great-grandma grew up and hauled it all the way here.
He pushed the door open to the silent, shadowed space. Dust swirled in the patches of sunlight seeping through a few cracks in the wallboards, and the scent of fresh straw made his nose tingle.
He stepped inside, and she followed.
“It’s big,” she noted, looking around. “How many horses do you keep here?”
“Right now, only a dozen. I recently sold some newly broken ones at auction. Fetched good prices too.”
“What breed?” The sadness in her eyes was replaced with a bright interest.
“Quarter horses.”
“Good stock.”
“Yeah.” Seeing he wouldn’t be mired down with a woman who completely lacked knowledge, he led her through the barn. “I clean these daily as needed. Here, I keep one horse who likes to chew.” He pointed to the side where the horse had gnawed the wood board.
“He’s bored,” she said at once.
Aidan arched a brow. “Pretty sure that’s the case. I’m thinkin’ about turning him out to run with the herd.”
“Herd?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a dozen more in the smaller of the two fields and a solid shelter for them. These are separated because they’re my breeding stock.”
Her eyes lit at that, shining in the dimness. Caught off guard, he stared at her a beat too long.