Page 48 of White Collar Rancher

Justin squinted in the direction Aaron was looking. Twisting to look over his shoulder and out of the cab, he spotted Priya. Her puffy white coat blended with the surroundings, but her maroon leggings and knee-high wedge boots stuck out. This pair of boots wasn’t suede. They were faux fur lined, but sexy as hell. She had on a knit hat that probably cost as much as the coat, and she was shoveling the sidewalk. The receiver for the baby monitor was hooked to the collar of her coat so she’d hear Isaiah if he woke.

“Fuck me.” He hadn’t meant to stay that out loud. The guilt sinking into him was at war with the desire that was swiftly rising. She was the sexiest snow bunny he’d ever seen, and he had done plenty of wining and dining at the snow lodges in Colorado.

Aaron’s laugh carried over the line. “Maybe I should apologize. She’s no longer snowed in with you.”

He hoped Aaron could make out his glare. “Thanks for checking on us—me.”

More laughter. “If you think you and Priya are a secret, you’re not. But no worries, we’re keeping it in the family. I don’t know why. Daisy’s dealt with her in the ER, and she admires the new doc.”

Interest cut through his irritation. Aaron’s wife—Dalisay to the rest of them, Daisy to Aaron—was a paramedic. He’d thought Brigit was the only one to cross paths with Priya. “Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Dr. Patel treats Daisy like a professional. When that other guy is on call, he’s always condescending.”

Was that the same guy whose name Priya practically growled? “Dr. B-something?”

“That’s the one. I guess the guy has a friend who works in the ER and convinced him to refer patients to him for follow-up.”

“So Priya gets fewer follow-up patients.”

“Daisy said there was a reason there was an OB opening. The last lady couldn’t take the bullshit and left.”

What was Priya going to do?

He didn’t have a chance to reply when Aaron broke in. “But I’m sure you’ve heard all about it. I’ll leave so you can help your girlfriend. She’s not getting anywhere fast.”

Aaron’s tractor started beeping as he backed out of the drive. Justin looked over his shoulder again. Priya was watching the other tractor. He could see where she’d shoveled, and Aaron was right. It’d take her an hour to get off the landing. She spotted him staring at her and waved.

He couldn’t help his smile as she went back to tackling the drift. She was shaving inches off the top, working her way down to the cement. She might not have the upper body strength to throw full shovel loads of wet snow, but she used that sharp mind of hers to tackle the problem.

But then her intellect was never the problem. His was being smart enough not to fall for her.

Justin hadn’t stopped to chat when he switched tractors. Now he was cruising around in a Bobcat and arranging piles of snow she thought were already out of the way. For a guy who left his pants on the floor wherever they landed, he was particular about the outside of the house.

The shop doors were open, and nothing was parked haphazardly. She couldn’t name all the equipment inside, but each one had its spot. The big green contraption Justin used for the bulk of the snow was parked outside for now, giving her a view into rancher Justin.

The barn was dirty. Dirt floor, straw, and manure, but beyond all that, the stalls were ordered. Gates didn’t hang off hinges and equipment didn’t litter the floor.

He took pride in his work. In his home? Not so much.

Her life was the opposite. During surgery, she had nurses and surgical techs who cleaned up after her. Environmental staff wiped, dusted, and mopped. After each appointment, the nurse or CNA readied each room. She went to work and could leave a trail behind her that others were literally trained to clean up. She didn’t, but she could. At home, she bordered on militant about every item having its spot.

Both areas of her life were all about order and cleanliness. Maybe what she needed was an outlet, one other than baking. It might need to be a hobby that satisfied her craving for order—or one that burned that need for order to cinders.

How she was going to make order out of this snow, she didn’t know, but she wanted to be productive. When he’d come out to move snow, he’d seemed cranky—perhaps it was the magnitude of the storm in addition to all the normal work he struggled to attend to that had him in a mood. If that wasn’t it… Was she annoying him? So she’d folded, done dishes, and packed most of her items. She’d only wanted to help out.

With Justin’s tracks busting through the compact drifts, she could hack away at the looser areas around his footprints. Hack away with the muscles she didn’t have.

Sports hadn’t been her thing in school. She’d been buried in books, earning those As, and gathering volunteer hours at the clinic for the honor society. There’d been nothing about the sports life she missed until now.

Stuffing the shovel into the snowbank, she heaved upward. Too much. She yanked out the shovel and picked another spot that would pile less snow on. No wonder heart attacks were so prevalent after a person shoveled a driveway. She was weak as hell.

Sweat dotted her brow, frosting across the material of her hat. Her arms burned, but exhilaration flooded through her. Fresh air, hard work, and the short path she’d already cleared gave her a sense of accomplishment. Lifting weights might have to replace her cleaning time as an outlet for stress relief.

She was breathing hard and sweat soaked through her shirt. They’d go into the wash immediately. She hadn’t turned over that big of a leaf.

Snow crunched behind her. So zoned into her work, she hadn’t noticed that Justin was done with the Bobcat. She stabbed the shovel into the pile she’d built up at the edge of the sidewalk and turned around.

How could the man be covered from head to toe and still have that sexy swagger? Breath puffed around him as he stalked toward her. “You don’t have to be out here.”

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