The Rancher's Untamed Heart (10 page)

"Okay..." I said, instead, "What did you want to talk about?"

"You and I are clearly very attracted to each other," he said, and I laughed.

"That's an understatement," I said.

He grinned, and relaxed just a little, the lines of his back unclenching.

"I don't want to just sleep with you," he said, plainly, "I've never been interested in casual sex. I want to get to know you. You seem like a nice, hard-working, interesting girl."

"If you want to get to know me," I said, "I think you actually have to talk to me."

He grinned.

"Not my best skill, is it?" he asked.

"I wouldn't call it stellar," I admitted.

"Well, I don't talk to many people who aren't my hands any more," he said.

"What about Brandon?" I asked.

"It's easier to talk with a bottle in front of me," he said, a little sheepishly, "Or with someone I've known as long as Brandon."

I rolled my eyes.

"Are you trying to be a walking stereotype?" I demanded. "It's okay to talk without getting drunk."

"Hey, what am I doing now?" he asked.

"Talking, sort of," I admitted.

"That's right," he said, "I'm sort of talking here."

I smiled, despite myself. He may be a grumpy tease, but I liked the way Clint talked.

"So, what now?" I asked, "Did you have a plan?"

"Nope," he admitted, "I just wanted to get a chance to talk to you, get to know you a little better."

"We could actually go on a date," I suggested, "Something that doesn't involve sheep or nudity."

"Hey, now you're talking," he said. He stood up and peered at a clock on the kitchen wall. "It's not long after six, we could get in town in time for dinner, and then I could take you home," he said.

"How would I get my car back?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"I could come back and pick you up tomorrow," he said, "Once I'd done the chores around here."

"That actually sounds pretty nice," I admitted.

"Okay, you'll let me take you out?" he asked.

I nodded, and he picked up my purse and held it out to me.

Apparently, we were supposed to head right out. That suited me fine.

I took the purse and followed him out to his big old truck. He held every door open for me, very carefully.

I would have protested, but I'd seen enough of ranch men to know that he expected to do that to every woman for his entire life, and I wouldn't win that battle.

Besides, I had to admit that it was sweet.

"So, where are we headed?" I asked.

"What do you like?" he asked in reply, "Steak? Italian? Mexican?"

"I like all of those," I admitted, "I know that's not helpful, but I'm hungry and all of that sounds great."

"Mexican it is," he said, "I think I could go for something spicy."

He smiled at me a little sidelong, and I rolled my eyes, but smiled back. It had been a long time since I'd gotten cheesy pick-up lines, they were starting to feel novel and interesting again.

Maybe it was just Clint saying them, though.

The ride into town was nice. Companionable.

When we pulled up in front of a Mexican place that had never been, I turned to him and grinned.

"I'm glad you didn't go surly," I said, "It's not fun predicting whether or not you'll talk to me."

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"You're not going to poke around my farm for your job again, are you?" he asked.

"Not planning on it," I said.

"I'm much friendlier with pretty women than with government inspectors," he assured me.

"Brandon said that you're that way with everyone," I protested as he held the door to the restaurant open for me.

"Brandon talks too damn much," he grumbled, "And he's not a pretty girl, so how would he know how I treat them?"

I laughed.

"Fair enough," I said.

The hostess held up two fingers and Clint nodded. She picked up two garish menus and showed us to a quiet booth in the back corner.

"Good spot," he grunted, standing back to give me the choice of seat.

I took the bench nearest the door, and he sat across from me.

"Brandon lives on your property?" I asked, "You don't see that at a lot of ranches any more."

"Yeah, well, I can't handle nighttime emergencies all by myself," Clint said, "I pay him and Will a little extra to live at the ranch."

"Good call," I said, nodding, "I've seen what happens when a ranch is left all alone for a night when someone has to go out of town suddenly."

Clint nodded.

"You know what you want?" he asked, holding up his menu.

"Oh! No, I need to actually read it," I said.

We lapsed into silence for a minute.

When the waitress came by for our drinks, I got a margarita and Clint got a draft beer.

"Ready to order?" she asked.

We looked at each other, and both nodded.

"I'll have chicken enchiladas," I said.

"Good call. I'll have the steak fajitas," he told the waitress, who nodded, and took the menus as she disappeared.

"It's good having Brandon and his fella there, and it's actually nice to have someone to talk to," he said.

"Brandon's fella?" I asked.

"Will," Clint said. He flashed his bright grin at me again. "Brandon doesn't like the pretty girls, he and Will met at the rodeo."

“Oh,” I said, “Huh.”

“That a problem?” he asked.

“No, not at all. Not for me, but I would have pegged you for a little less..” I trailed off.

“Brandon’s my best friend, and Will’s a good guy. Anything else is their business,” he said, firmly.

“Good way to look at it,” I said. “How long have you known Brandon?”

“Pretty much forever,” he said, “I suppose we’re more like brothers, he spent all his time at the ranch when we were kids.”

“He mentioned your parents,” I said, “He, uh, actually said that they passed a few years back. I don’t want to be nosy, but, well, I am.”

He took a swig of the beer that had just arrived.

“Car accident,” he said, “My father, at least. Four years back. He lost my mother to cancer a few years before that.”

I winced and reached out, squeezing his free hand briefly.

“That’s rough, I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.

He nodded.

“Your parents?” he asked.

I tried to resist the urge to roll my eyes again.

“They split when I was a kid, and each remarried a while back,” I said. I took a sip of my own margarita.

“They live nearby?” he asked.

“No, he lives in Washington state, and she lives in Florida,” I said, “They’re as far away from each other as they can get and stay in the country.”

He winced.

“That bad?”

I nodded.

“How did you end up in Texas?” he asked.

“I didn’t end up here, I lived here until I was eleven, and as soon as they stopped dragging me all over the country, I came right back,” I said.

“Good call, no reason to leave,” he said.

I laughed.

"That big a fan of Texas?" I asked.

"Well, what's not to like? I wouldn't want to live anywhere else, that's for sure," he said.

"Yeah, I have to admit, I am with you," I said, "I came back as soon as I could, went to college at A&T."

"What did you major in to become a U-S-D-A inspector?" he asked, drawing the letters out.

I did roll my eyes this time.

"I love my job," I said, tartly.

"I'm sure you do," he said, taking another swig of his beer and not looking me in the eyes.

"I majored in Agriculture," I said.

“Oh, are you going to tell me how to run my ranch?” he asked.

I raised my eyebrows and put my margarita down hard, almost splashing it on the table.

“Look, I do like you, Clint, you seem like a nice guy, but you can’t keep pulling that,” I said.

He looked at me and said nothing.

“I love my job, and I enjoyed getting my degree, and I haven’t said the first thing about what you could change on your ranch to be more modern,” I continued, “I don’t think that new is always good, and your way is obviously working for you, just stop being so damn defensive.”

He looked a little sheepish.

"I'll get off your back," he said.

"You'd better," I warned him.

We both were silent for a minute. The bustle of the busy restaurant around us provided a welcome distraction.

I really liked Clint, but if he was going to keep fussing at me for my job, I didn't know how much time I could spend around him.

"How did you get your job?" he asked.

I looked at him, wary.

"Are you going to make jokes?" I asked.

"No," he said, and uncrossed his arms. "I'm trying not to be defensive. You like your job, how did you get it?"

I smiled at him.

"Well, I came down here and applied everywhere I could. Got an interview, thought I would stay a few months until I found something better, but it turns out that I really enjoy it," I said.

Just then, the food came. Big steaming oval plates of way too much Mexican food to eat in one sitting. We both thanked the waitress and then turned our attention to our meals.

"Oh, yes," I said to Clint, "You pick a good restaurant. I hate small portions."

"Girl after my own heart," he said, smiling a slow, sweet smile at me.

I could feel myself melting. I stretched my foot out until I found his jeans-clad leg and stroked his calf.

His smile widened.

"What made you stay?" he asked, stretching his leg out closer to me.

"I love getting out to see all the different ranches," I said, "I thought that I wanted to choose one ranch and settle down, become a long-term employee and make a lot of good changes, but I haven't seen a chance for something like that."

"Long as you aren't stuck in an office?" he asked.

"Pretty much," I said, and sighed. "That's what I thought would happen for the first few years after college. I've been able to get out in the fresh air for two years, and I don't think I could go back."

"When did you graduate?" he asked.

I eyed him.

"Are you asking when I graduated, or asking how old I am?" I asked.

He laughed, and speared a big bite of food.

"I'm asking how old you are," he said.

"Brandon said that you were thirty-one," I replied, sticking my tongue out.

"Brandon can remember his own age, congratulations to him," Clint grumbled.

"I'm twenty-six," I said, relenting.

Clint grunted.

"What? Too young? Too old? I've heard both," I said.

He laughed out loud.

"What in blazes are you too old for?" he asked.

"My fertility has obviously dried up and blown away," I said, "It's been too long since I've graduated high school, and no babies. Shame on me."

"Some people," Clint said, gesturing with his fork for emphasis, "Just don't understand how biology works."

It was my turn to laugh out loud.

"I'm glad to hear that you do," I said.

"Okay," he said, abruptly, "What would you change?"

"Sorry?" I asked.