Page 22 of The Rancher's Heart

“No worries.” She knew exactly what the two lovebirds had on their minds. And she didn’t need Jonas feeling sorry for her. “Hey, did I tell you I’m going white water rafting?”

“But you hate extreme sports,” said the man who knew her better than anyone else.

Hate was a gentle word to describe how she felt about barreling down a raging river in a fragile raft. She shivered. It was worth the risk if it kept Jonas from figuring out how over the moon for him she was. “I should try it at least once, though, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” He didn’t look convinced as he turned them toward the house.

She raised her chin. It wasn’t her who didn’t have more to give than pleasant company.

The steaks were on the counter. Sloane grabbed the platter. Once they were cooking on the grill, Jonas led the way to the office, sat her behind the desk, and turned on the computer. As he hovered at her shoulder, all she could think about was how close he was standing.

Clearing her throat, she suggested, “Grab a chair, and I’ll explain what I’m doing as we go along.”

He settled beside Sloane. He never wore cologne, but he smelled good. Like fall, horses, and high desert, all wrapped in one. “Do you have records we can use to start with?”

“We do for the girls, but not for Duke,” he said, finally breaking the tension that kept her still beside him.

He seemed out of sorts. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine. My brothers get under my skin.” He leaned back in the chair, replacing his grievance with a smirk.

“Nathan likes to stir the pot. But you’re lucky to have brothers. I always wanted to have a brother or sister.”

“You have your dad. I always envied how close you two are.” He pulled out a folder filled with the pedigree information on the horses, pointing to the information she needed. “Let’s start here.”

While he watched, she made the spreadsheet.

“Name, CRHA Registration number, male/female, dam, sire, identifying marks, DNA test number,” she muttered, then looked at Jonas. “Anything else?”

“That should do to start with. I’ll check with the registration form later to see if there is any other information the association needs.”

She started to fill in the columns. “I always thought you were close to your dad. I was jealous that you had a mom and dad and this whole ranch to explore.”

“I thought we were close, too, but—”

She glanced at him. “But?”

“I’ll tell you about it later.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, making Sloane pause her typing.

She wondered what had happened to change the memories he had of his dad. “My memories of your dad are all good ones. He was a great guy. Remember that time he was moving part of the herd to the corral by the barn, and he told me to stand toward the back fence and wave my arms so they couldn’t escape anywhere but into the arena?” For a split second, she was frozen. “But I waved my arms and shouted like your dad said to.”

“That was before—” Jonas didn’t finish. This time Sloane didn’t push him. “He was very fond of you. I think he thought of you as the daughter he never had.” He got up. “You finish here, and I’ll go tend to the steaks and make a salad.”

Sensing he’d wanted to say more, she watched him leave, then went back to filling in the document she was making for Jonas. He would tell her what happened between him and his dad when he was ready.

Ever since they’d met, they’d told each other everything. There was his first kiss with Angela Woolsy in the seventh grade. Her fear of snowboarding the first time they’d gone to Silverton Mountain with his parents. He’d stayed right with her and encouraged her until she stopped falling every few feet. There were times he’d sneak out of the house to go to archery practice with his buddies. His parents didn’t know, but she did. And she—She had so many memories like that.

Finished with the preliminary document, she went looking for Jonas and found him on the back deck. The table was set up buffet style, with Adirondack chairs facing the mountains. He’d poured wine and made the salad he promised.

There wasn’t a better sight in all of Strawberry Ridge—the mountains rising straight out of the ground on the backside of the ranch, jutting into the blue sky, a single cloud hovering close to the peaks.

He placed a bottle of beer and a plate with a steak and salad on the TV tray at her elbow. She didn’t think there was anything Ken could cook that would smell better. Cutting a small bite, she closed her eyes as she chewed slowly, then swallowed. “Thank you. This is so good.”

“I’m glad you like it.” His deep voice made Sloane open her eyes. The gray-green shimmer of his gaze was focused on her face, snagging her awareness. Jonas Lohmen was an intensely handsome guy.

“Um—” She gulped down some wine. “You gave me details for the mares, but nothing about Duke. Is there a story there?”

His gaze stayed on her mouth, warming her up from the inside out before he looked away. “It’s my parents’ story, really.”

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