Wind River Rancher by Lindsay McKenna

Author:Lindsay McKenna [McKenna, Lindsay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-10-26T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

It was all about timing.

Four days had passed since the kiss with Shay, and they had yet to discuss it. In fairness, the last four days had been hectic as hell. Reese felt like he was the little Dutch boy plugging holes in a badly leaking dike, and he didn’t have enough fingers to stop all the leaks.

He sat in his office going over the last of the accounting information. Now, he had something to bring to Shay’s attention. As well as to her father, Ray Crawford. He wasn’t sure how either of them would take the news. But it had to be broached now, not later. There was a continuing feeling of upset among the other vets as well. Everyone was on edge because of Shay’s predicament.

Their agreed-upon morning ride to repair the fence line on Saturday yielded nothing of consequence. It all came down to getting at least one of the five massive pastures repaired so it could be leased for part of the season. The four of them had worked until dark. They were exhausted when they arrived back at the ranch. Luckily, Shay had done the cooking for them and everyone had been grateful.

Now, gathering the pages of his report on the results of his scrutiny of the accounting books, Reese slowly rose. He could hear Shay puttering out in the kitchen, cleaning up after all of the vets left after breakfast. There wasn’t a lack of work around here, that was for sure. On a ranch, there was always something that needed attention, large and small.

He walked into the kitchen, finding it sparkling once again. Shay had gone out and picked some flowers, placing them in a cobalt vase in the center of the table. Reese was struck by her woman’s sense of making a sterile place come alive and feel nurturing. None of the vets had thought about picking wildflowers to set in a vase. Warmth flooded his chest as he halted at the entrance, watching her work with quick efficiency, wiping down the long, L-shaped counter. He tried to ignore her rounded hips and long legs encased in the jeans she wore. Today, he knew Shay would be visiting her father. It was Wednesday and he knew she’d be leaving shortly after lunch.

“Got a minute?” he asked her.

Shay turned. “Oh . . . Reese. Yes . . . hold on.” She quickly finished wiping down the two aluminum sinks. Grabbing a towel, she turned. “What’s in your hand?”

“Just some information I think you need to know about,” he said, keeping his tone neutral.

“Want some coffee?”

“Sure, thanks.” Reese made himself comfortable at the table, watching her pour the coffee. There was an economy to Shay’s motions. He found himself wondering how she had survived in the Marine Corps. At one time, she might have been a lot stronger, before the PTSD hit. When she turned, he admired the pale yellow, short-sleeved T she wore. It lovingly outlined her breasts and long torso. The way her hips moved, that female fluidity, he felt himself responding whether he wanted to or not.

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