After securing the deadbolt behind her, she made her way across the knotty pine floor to the bathroom, her fingers trailing along the rough-hewn wall. A smile tugged at her lips when she spotted the gleaming jacuzzi tub nestled in the corner, the B and B’s small luxury that promised to soothe her tense muscles. But first, she fished her phone from her back pocket and called her boss, the screen illuminating her face.
“Ryan, how’s it going?” Doris Cox’s warm voice came through the phone, her distinctive lilt softening the edges of each word. As editor-in-chief, she loved her employees and that maternaltone of hers always managed to make even the most nerve-wracking conversations feel like a friendly chat.
“Doris, why did you have to send Sean?” Ryan’s voice cracked slightly, betraying her emotional exhaustion.
“Honey, that was not my idea.” Doris’s tone softened apologetically. “That was Drew. I told him it was a bad idea, but he said you two need to get past your past. He’s my husband and owns this magazine. I just work here. I’m sorry. I would have called you, but I just found out about it.”
Ryan hung her head, her hair falling forward to curtain her face as she sighed. The maternal affection she felt for Doris, like the aunt she’d always needed but never had, made the situation even more difficult. She perched on the edge of the claw-foot jacuzzi tub, running her finger along its cool porcelain rim.
“It’s alright. I just can’t stand him. He’s so smug,” she muttered, the words bitter on her tongue.
“I know. If I could change it, I would. You have to know that.” Doris’s voice was earnest, laced with genuine regret.
“I do, but you know how he is.” Ryan pinched the bridge of her nose. “He just had to tell Mr. Harrison that we used to be an item.”
“Why the hell would he do that?” Doris’s indignation came through the phone.
“Probably to try to impress Seth.” Ryan leaned back against the cool tile wall. “I had asked Seth if he knew when the journalist would be here, and when I found out it was Sean, I told Seth about me and Sean, so he was a little prepared, but I’ll tell you this, he saw right through Sean.”
“Then he sounds like a smart man.” The approval in Doris’s voice was evident.
“He is.” Ryan’s lips curved into an involuntary smile, her reflection catching it in the antique mirror across from her. “He is also a tall, cool drink of water. That man is gorgeous, broadshoulders and piercing green eyes that seem to see right through you.”
“Well, there you go.” Doris chuckled. “Have a fling while you’re there.”
“Don’t think I wouldn’t,” Ryan admitted, twisting a strand of hair around her finger, “but he’s not interested.”
“Oh, is he married or something?”
“No and not involved with anyone,” Ryan sighed, watching the rays of sunlight peek through the dark clouds stream through the frosted octagon bathroom window, casting prisms on the floor, then it disappeared. “But I kind of let him know I wouldn’t mind it, but he said there was no reason to start something we both know would end.”
“Damn, good-looking and smart.” Doris’s laughter bubbled through the phone, warm and familiar.
“He must be six foot four or five with those long legs, and his body, all lean muscle under those worn T-shirts. I saw him lifting hay bales, and his forearms flexed like he’s not even trying.”
“Sounds like you’re a little infatuated,” Doris teased.
“We butt heads. We have since the first day I arrived.”
“Honey, that’s sexual tension crackling between you.”
“I know. There’s electricity whenever we’re in the same area, but nothing will happen. I’ve got my desk overlooking the Pacific, and he’s got... this. He already said he wouldn’t leave Montana. Oh, I’ll send you a picture I snapped of him, the light catching his profile just right. If he knew, he’d kick me off his ranch or farm or whatever the hell they call those sprawling acres. Along with growing the feed, he trains cutting horses.”
“A cowboy.” Doris sighed dreamily, the sound drifting through the phone. “I have always loved cowboys, ever since I watched those old Westerns.”
“Yes, he is definitely that.” Ryan pictured him, hat tipped low, boots scuffed from honest work. “He wears the hat like he was born in it, and those worn boots are just so sexy to me. You know, if you had told me I’d be infatuated with a man in Wranglers that hug his ass just right, instead of Italian cotton, I’d have said you were crazy.”
“I knew never to say that to you. You always preferred men in tailored suits with cufflinks worth more than my car.”
“Yeah, and now I can’t remember why.” She grinned.
“Well, get some rest. Email me some photos of everything. I hope you’re not just taking photos of Mr. Harrison’s backside when he’s not looking.”
“I’m not that obvious. Oh! It’s snowing,” Ryan said.
“Snowing?”
“Yes. It’s beautiful,” Ryan said with a sigh. “I’m getting in the jacuzzi. My ass is sore from being in that saddle.”
