Page 9 of Waiting for the Rancher
Maverick.
He was disheveled, his Stetson crooked, one sleeve of his flannel shirt rolled up and the other down, one of his denim trouser legs tucked into his boots and the other half out. His jaw and chin were unshaven and covered in a layer of scruff, and his eyes were dark and brooding, absent of the good-natured cheer that usually filled them. Also missing was his grin. Instead, his mouth was set into a tight line, almost as if he wasn’t pleased to see her there.
Her pulse tripped with sudden unsteadiness. Had she been presumptuous in assuming her job would still be available? Maybe after all that had happened, Maverick was just as ready as Sterling to put distance between their families.
She braced herself for the worst. Would he tell her to leave?
“I’m surprised to see you here.” His tone was laced with frustration. Or was it defeat?
Her heart stirred with compassion even though she didn’t want it to. “Your pa hired me to manage the mares, and that’s what I intend to keep doing.”
He didn’t respond, but his expression said it all—the haggard drop of his chin, the weariness in his eyes, the lines grooved into his forehead. He probably hadn’t slept any more than Sterling had.
Even though he looked like he’d been run over by a herd of cattle, he still was the most handsome man she’d ever met. Itreally wasn’t fair that no matter what he went through, he always had an appeal about him that made a woman want to rush to him, throw her arms around his shoulders, and kiss him.
Of course, she didn’t want to rush to him like that. But she couldn’t deny his magnetism—never had been able to. She just had to put it out of her mind and focus instead on what he’d done to Sterling and Violet—how he’d ruined Sterling’s chances at happiness. She couldn’t forget that.
“So you don’t mind working with the marriage wrecker?” His question held a note of bitterness, as if he’d just read her mind.
She drew in a steadying breath. “I can do my job without having to interact with you. In fact, it would probably be best if we keep our distance.”
He released a short humorless laugh. “Probably.”
Guilt pricked her. Her words had been unkind. He didn’t deserve to be ostracized and punished by everyone. “I’m sure everything will be all right eventually.” She offered the olive branch of peace, or at least as much of it as she could.
He shrugged as if to say he didn’t quite believe her but stepped aside and waved her through.
She gave a final nod to Alonzo. Then she pushed forward past Maverick into the barn, letting the warmth and scent of horseflesh greet her. Even though it was like walking into her home, she had the unsettled feeling that nothing would ever be the same again.
4
He was a wreck. He had been since he’d ridden away from Sterling’s wedding.
Maverick slowed his gelding at the sight of Hazel in the horse corral, leading one of the new Oakley foals with the mama grazing a dozen feet away. All he wanted to do was go talk with Hazel and try to apologize, but her words from when she’d come in that morning hadn’t stopped ringing in his head.I can do my job without having to interact with you. In fact, it would probably be best if we keep our distance.
All morning, he’d tried to stay out of her way, tried to keep his distance the way she wanted. He’d spent most of his time out in the south horse pasture with one of the ranch hands, examining the Clydesdale that had a lame foot.
After much prodding and poking, they’d discovered the horse had a foot abscess. Since the creature had been too lame to cross the distance to the barn, Maverick had used his knife to carve down through the hoof right then and there in the middle of the field. When he’d reached the soft sole and the abscess, he’d cut into it, and a thin spurt of pus had been followed by a steady trickle. He’d had to enlarge the drainage hole, and by the time he’d finished, the horse had been able to bear his weight on all feet.
Even so, they’d brought the Clydesdale back and now needed to soak the foot in a bucket of warm Epsom salts to not only clean the spot but to also keep the problem from reoccurring.
Now, as he led the creature toward the barn, he couldn’t stop himself from watching Hazel as she interacted with the foal, petting and scratching its belly, ears, feet, and hind end. She was training it, getting it used to being handled, so that when it came time for haltering and tacking, it would be accustomed to the process.
Hazel straightened and arched her back, as though working out a kink. Her hair was tucked away under her battered black Stetson, and she was wearing her baggy duster coat.
As she took a step away from the foal, her gaze landed upon him and the Clydesdale trotting along behind him. She lifted a hand to wave, but then she must have remembered the conflict of the past weekend, and she quick-like brushed a loose strand of hair off her cheek instead.
Maverick’s gut tightened in protest. Even though she’d only been there for half a day, he’d had enough of the strained interaction and tiptoeing around. He was gonna have to go over and have a good jawing about everything. That’s all there was to it.
He tossed the Clydesdale’s lead line to Ross, the cowhand riding with him. “Take him on in. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Without waiting for a reply, Maverick aimed his gelding toward Hazel and the corral. He could tell when she realized he was coming by the way she focused on the foal and began rubbing the creature again.
Even when he reached the corral, she kept her attention squarely on the foal and didn’t glance his way. From the side, he got a view of her profile—her dainty pointed chin, the narrow stretch of her jaw, the delicate shape of her ear, the blond wisps of hair circling about her barren neck.
She looked so mature, so grown-up.
When had she stopped being that sweet little girl who’d followed Sterling and him around? It had been a while. In fact,he couldn’t remember the last time she’d tagged along with them for anything.
