Page 208 of Promise Not to Fall for the Rich & Famous

If Geneva only knew. Ellie lifted her gaze to catch a glimpse of the crystal blue sky. Against the backdrop, she guessed the view wasn’t so bad to look at. Part of her wanted to confide in Geneva, to let her know just how low Dad had gone over the years. But for whatever reason, Ellie couldn't find it in her to expose him for the crook he was.

She could, however, participate in the weekly goings-on to earn a good report for her case worker. She could even pretend she was enjoying herself if it meant making Geneva happy, too. After all, if there was one thing Ellie was good at, it was acting. She’d view her time there as part of the job. She only wished she could count it as her last.

CHAPTER 5

Nash hoisted the shovel and flung a hot heap of muck into the wheelbarrow.

Sothiswas what he got for coming back? No Ride Free meetings to participate in, no trail ride tours through the majestic lands; he got stuck with grunt work.

Not only that, but Nash hadn't taken much of a weekend for himself since he'd been making up for his absence at home. Sure, Uncle Lloyd had the ranch hands fill in for him the best they could, but there were certain tasks Nash took pride in having mastered. One of those was properly surveying the land for downed posts to keep the cattle from straying. Another was taking care of predators threatening the livestock. Both areas had caused chaos over the weekend, making Nash’s absence all the more cumbersome for those at home.

The self-righteous side of Nash was convinced he had every reason to rightfully step down from his self-imposed obligations at Wild Buck’s, but his conscience was putting up a fight. Besides, Uncle Lloyd would never hear of it. Once a man gave his word, he needed to honor it.

A glance at the shadows across the corral told Nash it was well past noon. In fact, it was probably closer to 2:00 by now,and Nash had been there since 8:00 a.m. Never mind the fact that he could only log four hours a day to complete the eighty hours he’d committed to. Tucker had found extra chores to keep him around even still. Like cleaning out the stable where one of the horses had stayed while in wait of a vet. A horse that had abad case of the irregulars, as Tucker put it.

Addanotherrightful reason to quit. He was putting in more hours than he was getting credit forandcleaning up crap.

Nash began role-playing the conversation in his head:

I didn't want to have to do this, but unfortunately, my uncle Lloyd is really struggling to keep things afloat, and I need to be there.That didn't sound so bad.

Gee, you know, I've really been enjoying my time here, and I fullyintendedto put in all eighty hours and more; unfortunately, I just didn't realize how much it would affect things back at home. Yeah, I know it's tough, ranch life, dealing with coyotes, loss of livestock… Thanks, Yeah, I'll be sure and tell my Uncle Lloyd thanks for lending me as long as he did.

That should do it.

Nash jabbed the shovel beneath the last pile in the pen, telling himself the next time he shoveled muck, it would be at his own ranch, not here.

He was done being the errand boy—the do-whatever-they-had-in-mind guy. As far as he was concerned, his obligation ended when the facility went back on their end of things. Nash hadn’t signed up to do crud like this; he’d signed up to help with horse activities for the guests.

“Hey, son?”

Nash stiffened at the sound of Tucker's voice. He imaginedaccidentallyflinging the steaming pile in his direction.

“I know you're wrapping things up for the day,” Tucker continued, “but we have a certain guest here who’d like a littletime with the horses. Not to ride them, mind you, but to get acquainted. I think Buttercup would be a nice fit.”

That did it. “Sorry,” Nash blurted, “but activity time is over. And since I've been shoveling crap for two hours past my shift, thatcertain guestand Buttercup are gonna have to pucker up and kiss me goodbye.”

“Is that so?”

Nash’s eyes doubled in size at the sound of that question. Because Tucker wasn't the one who asked it.

And heaven help him, but Nash’s mind must be playing tricks on him because he was 99.9% sure he recognized that voice. It was the same voice that, inCome Out Swinging,told the team they needed to stick together like birds of a feather. The same voice that told a very lucky James Marsh that she'd fallen madly in love with him even though they’d only been pretending to like each other inFake This.

Nash straightened, leaned the shovel against the railing, and looked down at the mucking boots he'd stepped into before cleaning the stall.

Why?Why, in the name of everything holy, did he have to meet her under circumstances like this? He had shown up on his first day looking like a million cowboy bucks, ready to make heads turn and cheeks blush.

If she had to stumble on him doing something other than working with the horses, he’d have preferred she walked in while he was fixing Tucker’s drain beneath the sink. That was more civilized and far more manly. Beyond that, Nash had just insulted her with his childish rant.

He stifled a groan and, with great effort, set his shoulders upright where they belonged. Slowly then, he spun on one muck-covered boot.

Blonde hair, wide eyes, a flawless face he’d admired more often than he wanted to admit. He trailed his gaze down her poised stature, slender figure, and the lean she had on one hip.

His heart dropped like an anchor in the deep blue sea.

“Nash, meet Eleanor Blaire.”

Cheeks were warming all right, but it was Nash’s. It was few and far between that he heard Ellie Blaire's full name, Eleanor. It felt intimate, in a way, especially as he moved his gaze back up to her amused expression.