Falling For The Rancher

Jarrett bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Technically speaking, it was poor bedside manner to threaten one’s patients. But Vicki’s outraged expression was downright encouraging. It reminded him of fights they’d had in years past, when she’d been whole and spirited. He’d take her anger any day of the week over the hollow-eyed stare she’d developed.

Although he’d wanted to gauge how the two females interacted without his interference, now he spoke up on Sierra’s behalf, defending his hiring decision. “Ms. Bailey’s well qualified for her job—educated and experienced. According to Daniel Baron, she’s one of the best in the state of Texas.”

Sierra glanced back, looking surprised by the endorsement. The smile she flashed him decimated his vow not to notice how attractive she was.

“Thank you. But it’s silly to call me Ms. Bailey. We should be on a first-name basis since we’ll be living together. Who knows—by this time next month, we’ll probably all have nicknames for each other.”

“I have a few ideas,” Vicki muttered.

“So do I. As for my qualifications, I graduated college early and finished my med school program at the top of the class. Before that, I logged hundreds of volunteer hours in clinics and my high school athletic department, learning from the trainers. I’ve been learning everything I can about physical therapy since a PT helped me after I fractured my spine. You’re not the only one held together with screws and plates,” she added softly.

Jarrett was caught off guard by this revelation. During their conversations on the phone and in the study, she’d never volunteered why she’d chosen the field. He hadn’t thought to ask. With the knowledge that they’d faced similar obstacles, maybe Vicki would—

“We’re not gonna be besties just because we’ve both had surgery,” his sister said.

“Definitely not,” Sierra agreed. “I don’t do ‘bonding.’”

Oddly, the disdainful words seemed to mollify his sister.

Vicki was quiet for a long moment. “You’ve only asked me about my wrist. Why not the big thing?”

“You mean the fact that you’re in a wheelchair? Don’t let that loom large in your mind as The Big Thing. In principle, the broken pelvis is just like the broken wrist. Both are physical challenges you can overcome with time to heal and lots of hard work. The question is, are you willing to do the work?”

When Vicki slowly nodded, something like hope shining in her dark eyes, Jarrett knew he owed Daniel Baron a debt of gratitude. Sierra Bailey was definitely the right woman for the job.

* * *

DINNER THAT NIGHT was quiet, and as he washed off the plates, Jarrett found himself anxiously awaiting Sierra’s return in two days. He’d always loved the spacious ranch house, but with just him and his sullen sister, the empty space around them magnified the silence. That wouldn’t be the case when Sierra moved in. Despite being a petite woman, she somehow filled an entire room with her energy.

Jarrett had invited her to stay for supper after her conversation with Vicki, but she’d insisted she needed to get going as soon as possible.

“The sun’s setting earlier every day,” she’d pointed out, “and I need to get at least somewhere close to civilization before it’s completely dark. If I never return, it’s because I got lost on one of your meandering, quaintly unmarked roads. Seriously, is there like a town ordinance against signs?”

In the short time she’d been at the ranch, she’d made several comments suggesting Cupid’s Bow was not her ideal location. Thank God she’d agreed to take the position anyway. He glanced to where Vicki sat at the table, trying to touch her thumb to her finger. It was one of the exercises Sierra had insisted Vicki do.

“You follow this regimen exactly until I get back,” Sierra had said, handing over a sheet of paper. “Or incur my wrath.”

Vicki had rolled her eyes. “You really scare me, shorty.”

Was it wishful thinking on Jarrett’s part or had there almost been a smile in her voice? Even though parts of his sister’s encounter with Sierra had been contentious, it was still the most animated he’d seen her in weeks—not counting the infrequent times her doofus boyfriend bothered to phone.

Jarrett had no real reason to dislike Aaron, but seeing how much those short conversations meant to his sister, he resented that the guy couldn’t make time in his busy college schedule to call more often. Or maybe Aaron’s inattention makes you feel guilty because you know damn well there are women who probably expected a call from you that never came.

He balled up the dish towel and threw it on the counter. “You ready to try that rice thing?” Sierra had left instructions for Jarrett to fill a bucket with dry rice and for Vicki to place her hand inside and try to rotate it. The rice would provide resistance.

The physical therapist had arched an eyebrow at Vicki. “Resistance is right up your alley, yeah?”

Jarrett went into the walk-in pantry for a bag of rice without waiting for his sister’s answer—these days, he couldn’t always count on her to give him one. When he joined her at the table, she was still doing the first set of exercises, wincing in visible pain. He desperately wanted to say something helpful, but what? The closest he could come to empathizing with what she was going through were the many bruises and sore muscles that came with riding rodeo. He’d voluntarily endured those because he liked to win. There was nothing voluntary about her suffering.

As she slid her left hand into the bucket, he tried to sound encouraging. “Sierra is highly recommended. Follow her advice, and I’m sure all of this will get easier.” Eventually.

Beads of sweat dotted Vicki’s forehead as she attempted to turn her wrist. “She’s pretty, too. Like, obnoxiously pretty.” She pinned him with her gaze. “Don’t you think so?”

The question felt like a trap. Saying he hadn’t noticed Sierra’s appearance would be a ridiculous lie and an insult to his sister’s intelligence. But survival instincts warned that admitting Sierra was beautiful would only increase the household tension. “I’m not sure what ‘obnoxiously pretty’ means.”

“Well, she’s way more fun for a guy to look at than old Lucy Aldridge.”

The realization of what she was suggesting bit into him like barbwire through the skin. Shame bubbled to the surface instead of blood. His sister truly believed he was so selfish that he would hire the woman in charge of her well-being based on sex appeal? Of course she does. He had a track record of putting pleasure before loved ones or responsibility.

He clenched his hands into fists, and the reflexive action only heightened his guilt. He could move all ten of his fingers with no effort at all, while Vicki had gone pale in her wheelchair from trying to stir around grains of rice.

“Vic, I would have hired a wart-covered, hunchbacked troll if I thought she could get you better faster. Maybe some guys would find Sierra Bailey ‘fun to look at,’ but I won’t be looking at her. I’ll be working the ranch and staying out of her way so she can focus on you. Your recovery is all that matters to me.”

She cast him a brief, skeptical glance before ducking her gaze without comment. The little sister who’d once idolized him no longer trusted him.

Why should she? He’d given her reason to doubt. I know I let you down, Vic, but I swear it won’t happen again.

Chapter Five

Even though she’d packed up her car with luggage and turned off all her utilities, accepting the job with the Rosses didn’t feel real until Sierra drove past the Welcome to Cupid’s Bow sign on Saturday. Sure, the town welcomes you—then they hide all the other road signs so you can never find your way back out. Cupid’s Bow, Texas. Come for the home cooking, stay for...ever.

On the phone last night, Muriel had asked, “Are you sure about this, darling? Living in some backwater town for a month when you could be at home with your loving family?”

If Sierra hadn’t already been convinced that she should take the job, that would have done the trick.

Now, alone in the car, she reiterated what she’d said to her mother. “This is where I need to be right now.” So why the nervous butterflies in her stomach? Anxiety that Vicki Ross would be a difficult patient?

No way. I am Sierra Bailey, and I eat difficulty for breakfast. I pour it into my coffee to give it that extra kick.

And yet...tummy flutters. She refused to even consider that they might be a reaction to seeing Jarrett Ross again. Sure, the rancher was good-looking, but she’d spent many hands-on hours working with hot athletes. She was not jittery about moving in with a tall, gray-eyed cowboy. The more likely explanation for her apprehensive stomach was that breakfast hadn’t agreed with her.

There was a grocery store up ahead. She could stop for antacids and other essentials she’d want to have on hand for the next few weeks. Plus, Jarrett had mentioned that grocery shopping and meal preparation would be part of her job. Might as well investigate the supermarket’s selection and get her bearings.

Fifteen minutes later, she’d discovered that the local produce prices were fantastic and that she didn’t own enough denim to fit in around Cupid’s Bow. The two pairs of jeans she did own were in a suitcase in her car; she felt conspicuous in her circle skirt, swirled with autumn colors, and green chenille V-neck sweater. The only people she’d seen who weren’t wearing jeans either wore denim shorts or overalls.

Rounding an endcap, she pushed the cart into the pharmaceutical section, gratified to spot a blonde woman, her hair pulled back in a loose French braid, wearing a sundress not made of denim. The bright geometric print and pattern of straps holding the bodice in place made the outfit fashionable without looking ostentatious.

“Love your dress,” she said impulsively.

Turning from the shelf of vitamins she’d been contemplating, the woman flashed her a bright smile. “Thank you. All that jazz.”

“I... Pardon?”

“The boutique just off of town square,” the woman clarified. “All That Jazz. Run by Jasmine Tucker?” She grinned at Sierra’s blank expression. “You must not be from around here.”

At that moment, a teenage boy with a little girl in tow barreled toward them. They weren’t running, exactly, just moving at the uninhibited speed of childhood. “Mom! They didn’t have the brand you normally get,” the boy announced, skidding to a stop by his mother’s cart. “Will one of these work?” He held up two different boxes of cake mix.

Before the woman could answer, the little girl in the unicorn T-shirt tossed a box of crayons into the cart. “I need these.”

“Doubtful,” the boy scoffed. “You own more crayons than anyone else in North America, Aly.”

“These are scented. I don’t have scented.” At Sierra’s chuckle, the girl looked up, registering her presence for the first time. “Hey, we don’t know you!”

Sierra shook her head. “Nope. Today’s my very first day in town.”

“Welcome to Cupid’s Bow,” the blonde said. “I’m Kate Sullivan. This is my son, Luke, and my future stepdaughter Alyssa.”

“She’s marrying my daddy!” From the huge smile on Alyssa’s face, she was obviously excited about the upcoming nuptials. “Me and my sister get to be flower girls, and we’re gonna wear poofy dresses that—”

“How about you go with Luke and return the cake mix we don’t need?” Kate interrupted, taking one of the boxes from her son’s hand. “And don’t run, okay?”

“Okay,” the kids chorused without looking back at her.

“And they’re off,” Kate said with an affectionate sigh. “I came to the vitamin section to get more gummies for the girls, but, honestly, maybe I should be looking for a supplement for me so I can keep up with all of them. Let’s try this again, with fewer interruptions. I’m Kate Sullivan.” She extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Sierra Bailey,” she said as they shook hands.

“I’m so delighted you’re moving here.” Kate grinned. “With you around, people will have to stop referring to me as ‘the new woman in Cupid’s Bow.’ It’s been months!”

“Happy to help,” Sierra said, “but I’m not moving here, exactly, just working for a few weeks at the Twisted R.” Assuming she could successfully locate the ranch again.

“Oh!” A female voice from the other side of the shelf cut into their conversation and an elderly lady peeked over the top, only her tightly rolled white curls and gold spectacles visible. “Are you working with that poor Victoria Ross? Such a tragedy what happened to her. Hello, Kate, dear.”

“Hello, Miss Alma. This is Sierra Bailey.”

“I heard. My new hearing aids are a miracle. I hope you enjoy your stay here in Cupid’s Bow, Sierra. You tell poor Vicki that the whole town’s pulling for her.” She clucked her tongue. “Absolute tragedy.” A minute later, she pushed her cart away and disappeared down the bread aisle.

Kate smiled after her. “Not everyone is as active an eavesdropper as Miss Alma—she’s almost ninety and says living here almost a century gives her a vested interest in local events—but this is a small town. We all heard about Vicki’s accident. The Ross family hasn’t been the same since.”

“I haven’t met her parents.” She only knew they were traveling for “health reasons.” “Just Vicki and her older brother.”

“Jarrett. A real charmer, that one.”

“He’s...attractive,” Sierra said neutrally. “But charming? For the first hour of my interview, he read questions verbatim off a legal pad and barely said anything else. I can count on one hand the number of times he even looked up at me.”

The corners of Kate’s mouth turned down, and sympathy filled her amber eyes. “After his dad’s heart attack, I took some meals to the family. Jarrett was so shell-shocked, not himself at all. I haven’t seen him recently, but I was hoping that with his father and Vicki both doing better... Well. I suppose we all cope in our own time, don’t we?”

Sierra nodded. She’d witnessed patients and their families handle crisis in dozens of ways. Sometimes, catastrophes brought people together; other times it drove a wedge between them. There were patients who spiraled into a dark place and needed help finding their way back; others rebounded with astonishing resiliency.

Kate gave a small shake of her head, as if brushing away her moment of melancholy. “I live near the Twisted R—at least, I do until my wedding. My fiancé, Cole, and I are having a house built that won’t be ready for months. Meanwhile, Luke and I are staying on my grandmother’s farm, which is out the same direction as the Ross place. If you ever need anything, we’re much closer than town. I’ll give you my number. Maybe we can get together if you have an afternoon off.”

“Thank you.” Given Vicki Ross’s surly attitude, Sierra might need to occasionally escape the ranch to keep her sanity intact. “I’d love to visit that boutique you were telling me about.”

They had just finished exchanging cell-phone numbers when the two kids returned.

“Sorry we took so long,” Luke said, jamming his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I—”

“He was talking to a girrrlll,” Aly reported, making the last word three syllables.

He shot her a sidelong glare. “I ran into a classmate—”

“A girl classmate!”

“—who had questions about Friday’s math assignment.”

“No problem,” Kate said. “Sierra and I were busy chatting, too. But I guess we should dash if I’m going to get these groceries to Cole’s house for lunch. He and Mandy are probably starving. Call me soon, Sierra!”

“Will do.”

As she finished her own grocery shopping, Sierra felt a little smug. She’d been told more than once that she didn’t play well with others and that some people mistook her independent nature for aloofness. Yet she hadn’t been in town an hour, and already she’d made her first friend.

Maybe Cupid’s Bow wouldn’t be so bad after all.

* * *

JUST WHEN SIERRA was starting to think she’d driven too far, she spotted the intersection where she needed to turn for the Twisted R. On her first trip out to the ranch, she’d been irritable because she was late for her interview. This time around, she could appreciate the scenery more.

The wide-open space was both tranquil and somehow humbling. Picturesque pastures dotted with clusters of Queen Anne’s lace and mesquite trees framed the road, and she’d never seen a clearer blue sky than the one overhead. A deer lifted its head from the plants it was lazily munching to watch her pass, and she half expected that if she glanced in her rearview mirror she’d find animated woodland creatures singing some kind of welcome song behind her car.

It was all very bucolic. But she still couldn’t imagine living in a place where the closest store was half an hour away. The land that delivery food forgot.

She turned left onto a winding road barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other and saw the sprawling white house atop the hill ahead. She liked the Rosses’ place—it wasn’t as linear and pristine as her parents’ three-story mansion with its pretentious columns in the front and a detached garage in the back. Jarrett’s home was endearingly lopsided, with one corner that seemed out of proportion to the rest of the house—probably a room that had been added on long after the place was originally built. The roof was all crazy angles, hinting at slanted ceilings and interesting attic space. A carport was linked to one side of the house, a screened deck jutted out in the back and there was a generous porch that began within a foot of the front door and wrapped around the opposite corner of the house.

A moment later, she passed beneath the Twisted R sign, her car jostling over the metal grid that kept cattle from wandering out through the entryway between fences. By the time she parked, two dogs had come to greet her. A golden retriever gave an amiable woof as Sierra opened her door; a slightly smaller dog hung back a few feet. It was mostly black with gold paws and a white throat.

“They’re friendly,” Jarrett called from the porch steps. “But they probably have muddy paws, so if Sunshine looks like she’s about to jump on you, tell her no. She’ll listen—she just likes to test boundaries.”

Sierra grinned down at the retriever, scratching behind her ears. “Fellow boundary-pusher? You and I should get along just fine.” She looked up to see Jarrett closing the distance between them with rangy strides. The lighter streaks in his dark hair gleamed in the sun, and the way his jeans fit made her take back any snarky thoughts she’d had about denim.

She spun on her heel toward the back of her car, seizing the distraction of luggage to keep herself from staring at her new boss.

“Can I give you a hand?” he asked from right beside her. Since he was already reaching into the car trunk, the question seemed rhetorical.

She blinked up at him. “You move deceptively fast.”

“Long legs.” He hefted a suitcase. “We’d just finished lunch when I heard the dogs barking. Have you eaten?”

“I’m good, thanks.” She didn’t share that her stomach was twisted in knots. Despite the bravado-filled pep talks she’d given herself during the drive, now that she was here, she acknowledged that moving in—even temporarily—was unnerving. She was used to having sole dominion over things like the television remote and the thermostat. Sharing a living space would be an adjustment, no matter who her roommates were. How much would Jarrett’s appeal complicate the situation? And then there was Vicki’s hostility.

Before Sierra had left the other day, the two women had reached an understanding, but physical therapy was tough. When Vicki was in pain, Sierra would be an easy target for anger. It came with the territory. Sierra was accustomed to dealing with a range of emotions from her patients. But usually she was able to retreat home at the end of a long day and leave the stress of a contrary client behind. Now the contrary client would be sitting across from her at the dinner table.

Good thing I like a challenge.

She passed a large duffel bag to Jarrett, appreciating the ripple of muscles in his forearm as he resituated everything he was carrying. Once they were both loaded down like a couple of pack mules, she followed him up the porch stairs and into the blessedly air-conditioned house. September wasn’t as brutal as July or August had been, but the Texas heat was still enough to make her regret the short-sleeved sweater she wore.

They went through the entry hall and past the study, kitchen and Vicki’s room. At the end of the hall was a living room decorated in Southwest tones and worn but comfy-looking furniture. A spiral staircase in the far corner led to the second story.

Jarrett flashed a sheepish look over his shoulder. “It’s a bit of a climb.”

She gave a one-shouldered shrug to show she didn’t mind. “It’ll help keep me fit.”

His gaze swept over her body, and for a second, she thought he might say something. But he turned around without further comment.

The steps were narrow, and she had to concentrate on not letting her luggage scuff up the walls. At the top, Jarrett gave her the lay of the land. “That’s the master bedroom, and that one is—was—Vicki’s.” He ducked his gaze, his tone flat. They both knew it would be a long time before Vicki Ross climbed those stairs again. “I’m at the other end of the hall, along with the guest room where you’ll be.”

He gestured for her to go ahead, and Sierra chuckled as she got her first good look at her room—the Island of Misfit Furniture. If she had to guess, she’d say that anytime a room in the house had been remodeled and there was a perfectly good piece of furniture they hadn’t wanted to get rid of, it had been shoved in here. The king-size bed was too big for the space. The pink vanity in the corner had probably been Vicki’s when she was twelve. The brass headboard was unlike any she’d seen before, a series of whimsical curlicues that curved around the edges of the bed, hugging the mattress.

A few steps into the room, Jarrett had to duck. Because of how the roof slanted down at the edge of the house, there were places where she could probably touch the ceiling if she stood on her toes.

Jarrett frowned. “I haven’t been in here since I helped Mom move that old wardrobe. I forgot how claustrophobic it is.”

“Not so claustrophobic when you’re five foot one.”

He set down a suitcase. “Would you rather stay in my parents’ room? With as little as we’re paying you, the least we could do is offer you comfortable accommodations.”

She wasn’t her mother, who insisted she couldn’t sleep in sheets with less than an eight hundred thread count. “I like the funky vibe. And the wardrobe reminds me of one of my favorite books when I was a kid.” Stifling the urge to climb inside and look for magical portals, she turned and ran her hand over the lacy vintage comforter. As long as the mattress was comfortable, even Muriel would have to call this bed luxurious. It was freaking huge. Sierra sat on the edge, bouncing slightly to test it. “This bed’s almost too big for one person.”

There was a sudden heat in his gaze that made her skin prickle. He looked away, but not before she realized his mind was in a different place than hers. Great start to the first day—telling your boss you don’t want to sleep alone. Now he was staring fixedly at the wall, as if embarrassed by his wayward thoughts.

She stood, brazening through the moment by making a joke of it. “You don’t mind if I host wild orgies on my nights off, do you?”

For a split second, he didn’t react. But then his lips quirked in a slow smile. “Orgies, huh? Call me old-fashioned, but I think if one guy can’t make you happy, he’s not doing it right.”

Her heart clutched—not at the outrageous teasing, which she’d started, but at how that grin transformed his face. In town, Kate Sullivan had called Jarrett a charmer. The word didn’t fully capture the wicked glint in his eyes or the thrill Sierra got from having coaxed a playful moment. She’d already been drawn to Jarrett more than was appropriate, given their circumstances, but now that she knew about that dangerously tempting smile and his sense of humor?