Page 11 of Westin

“You put on a show?”

“It’s more like a history lecture.” He adjusted himself in the chair, sliding down a little further to get more comfortable. “Boring stuff, but the tourists eat it up.”

Lea nodded, her eyelids beginning to drift downward. She’d driven all day yesterday and all night. Her eyes felt like they were covered in sand. Watching him pretend to nap was just making it harder for her to keep her eyes open. Something in the back of her mind reminded her that she was alone in a room with a stranger and dressed in nothing but a towel, and she was about to become as vulnerable as a woman could. She should stay awake, but she couldn’t fight it anymore. In seconds, her world grew dark and she was out, drifting into a sound sleep that was deeper and more restful than anything she’d experienced in a very long time.

Chapter 3

Miss Dulcie watched Clint come toward her across the long room, a simple smile on her dry lips. She admired the way he walked, the little saunter to his every step. He reminded her of Asa back in the early days of their relationship, back when he’d come find her in the apple orchard during the summer, that saunter belying his excitement—excitement she could always see in his green eyes.

“What can I do for you, Clint?”

He stopped in front of her desk, twisting his gloves between his hands. “Ma’am, I just wanted to let you know that we’ve readied the guest bunkhouse for the tourists arriving today. They should begin to arrive around noon.”

Miss Dulcie glanced at her watch, noting that noon was less than fifteen minutes away. “All right. Inform the staff to prepare for their arrival.”

“They’re already out there, ma’am.”

Miss Dulcie sat back a little in her tall chair, aware that it dwarfed her slight body. It had been Asa’s, and she didn’t have the heart to get rid of it. There were few things that belonged to Asa she’d felt right about getting rid of. It kept him close, keeping his things around her.

“Is there something else, Clint?”

He cleared his throat. “There’s a guest in the other bunkhouse. We had an issue in town this morning, and we invited a woman back to the ranch with us.”

“Is that true?” She crossed her arms over her chest, studying him closely, watching for signs of deception. Clint had never lied to her before—that she was aware of—so she had no reason to be suspicious. Yet, there were firsts to everything. “What happened?”

“A man was attacking her in the parking lot of the diner. Remington interfered, but the guy took off with all this woman’s things. She had nowhere else to go.”

Miss Dulcie nodded, her eyes falling to the stack of paperwork on her desk. She had never appreciated how much paper-pushing there was on this ranch when Asa was alive. She knew he spent hours in this office but, honestly, she’d always kind of thought he spent all that time in here to escape her. Not that they didn’t get along, but Asa was a cowboy before anything else. He preferred his own company to anyone else’s, including his wife. If he couldn’t be out on a horse, he liked to lock himself up in this room where he could be alone with his thoughts. And, apparently, all this paperwork.

“I’d like to meet her. See that you bring her up to the house this evening. And make sure she has everything she needs.”

“I will, Miss Dulcie.”

She nodded, pulling the top sheet of paper toward her before shooing him away with a movement of her hand. “Get to work. Those guests will be expecting your attention.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She watched him go, once again reminded of Asa. It seemed everything reminded her of Asa lately. The smell of the horses coming from her boys, the sight of the cows roaming in the distant paddocks, the simple sight of the apple orchard, the barn in sunset. They’d had more than twenty years together, she and Asa, but she often wished it had been more. She missed the simple sight of him sitting here, hunched over this desk, hiding from her as much as dealing with the business of this place.

She sighed as she focused on her work once more. It was her place now.

***

Westin took a light blanket from the closet and draped it over the woman, covering the places on her body that had become exposed by the shifting of her towel. Any other man might have left her uncovered, might have waited to see what she’d eventually reveal. But he wasn’t one of those men.

He dropped back into his chair and leaned forward, running his fingers through his hair. If he’d known he’d be babysitting a sleeping beauty, he might have gone to the bunkhouse and gotten his book. He wasn’t good with idle hands, and was even worse with idle thoughts. His mind moved immediately to Rena and all she might represent for him, and he really didn’t want to think about that right now. When he over-thought things, he tended to screw them up.

A knock on the door rescued him from his thoughts. He got up and slipped into the corridor, not surprised to find Clint there.

“How is she?”

Westin rolled his shoulders. “She’s sleeping at the moment.”

“Did you have a chance to ask her anything?”

Westin glanced over his shoulder at the door, recalling the brief conversation he’d had with the woman. “She claims the guy was a former boyfriend. Then she made a phone call.”

“A phone call? Using what?”

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