Page 7 of The Cowboy’s Reckoning

“One drink. No fights,” Trev said.

“No promises,” Jordan muttered under his breath as they headed back across the bridge toward the rowdiest bar in Marietta.

*

Lil forked soiled straw out of the goat pen into the wheelbarrow. The pen didn’t really need a full clean and straw replacement, but she’d finished chores shortly after Meg had headed to town for her new employee training at the Marietta School District, and Lil needed to move. If she couldn’t ride—and she couldn’t until this meeting was over—then she’d burn off nervous energy by cleaning pens.

Which Jordan Matthews was going to show up? The hot local cowboy that Aubrey had pointed out in the Graff Hotel bar? Or an out-of-stater who would turn the property over to a management company for the remainder of the lease and leave her and Meg alone?

It shouldn’t be a big deal, although she was making it feel like one. She and whichever Jordan Matthews showed up on the Willow Creek Ranch would introduce themselves. He’d tell her where to send the lease money. She’d give him the list of long overdue repairs that the former management company had ignored during the previous owner’s illness.

She couldn’t see where trouble might edge in, but if she’d learned one thing over the past two years, it was that trouble found a way. It was wearing her down.

She stabbed the fork into the straw. That’s not the kind of thinking that got you where you are today.

She lifted the loaded fork and dropped the contents into the heaping barrow.

Actually, stubbornness, not positive thinking, got her where she was today. That and a little help from her older sister Maya who’d worked for the late Chicago businessman who owned the ranch they now leased. She’d take it.

Lil started wheeling the barrow toward the big bay door at the rear of the barn when she heard the sound of a truck engine. Unless UPS was wildly early, zero hour was here.

She abandoned the wheelbarrow, brushed the loose straw off her jeans, then stepped out of the barn to see a dark blue Ford F-350 pickup crossing the cattleguard. She pulled the brim of her cap down to shade her eyes against the sun, which had topped the trees as he pulled to stop next to her beat-up ranch Chevy. Point to Aubrey. The man behind the wheel was indeed her Jordan Matthews. She tugged the brim of the cap a touch lower.

“Morning,” he said with an easy smile as he stepped out of the truck. Before she could answer, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “I saw you last night.”

Warmth bloomed inside of her, an unexpected and uncomfortable reaction. Last night she’d been dressed in her cowgirl best and her hair had been down and almost tamed. Today she was dressed in jeans and an oversized hoodie, her dark hair caught into a ponytail. Not a huge change, but with the cap shading her eyes, she was surprised he recognized her so quickly. She pushed up the brim that was no longer serving her purpose.

“My friend told me that you had the same name as my landlord, but she didn’t think my new landlord could be you.”

And damn, aren’t you even better up close than you were at a distance?

He gave off a masculine vibe that made her aware of things that she usually wasn’t, like, oh say, the way his jeans fit. And despite her nerves, she liked noticing. Liked the sense of something dormant coming awake. Circumstances, however, demanded that she stop noticing. She needed her wits about her.

“You could have said hello,” he said easily. “Found out if it was true.”

“Wasn’t the time,” she said simply, shaking off the awareness of the man and focusing on business.

“No,” he agreed after a moment’s thought. “Probably not. Where do you want to talk?”

“The kitchen table. Isn’t that where all ranch business is conducted?”

He gestured toward the house. “Lead the way.”

Despite his easy manners, Jordan Matthews had a professional air about him, as if negotiations and meetings were a way of life, and that didn’t exactly jibe with the cowboy exterior.

Lil glanced at him as they walked. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m between things right now, so I’m cowboying for my dad. Moving cattle, stuff like that.”

“You didn’t happen to see some cattle at the Graff last night?”

The instant shift in his expression sparked a ridiculous idea.

“Were those your cows?”

“My friend’s cows.”

She stopped dead. “Why were your friend’s cattle running through the parking lot of the Graff Hotel?”