Page 128 of Holiday Hire

Her cheeks turn red. She refocuses on the path, offering, "Sorry. It was just a joke."

We need to talk.

"Hold on," I order, clicking twice and kicking Trojan.

He picks up speed, and I veer out of the woods and across a small field.

"What's that?" she asks, pointing to an old cabin.

"It's the old ranch hands' bunkhouse," I inform her, stopping Trojan several feet from the porch. "Want to go see the inside?"

"Sure."

I jump off Trojan and instruct, "Put your foot in the stirrup, then swing your leg over."

She masters the task perfectly, and I praise, "Look at you go!"

She beams. "I did okay, didn't I?"

"You did." I loop the reins over the post, then grab her hand. "Come on." I lead her up the steps and open the door.

"You don't lock it?" she questions.

I chuckle. "The ranch is secure at all times."

"I know, but still..."

Amusement fills me. I've never felt anything but safe on the ranch. It's fenced and has a gate. Plus, no one would ever attempt to mess with my family.

So I tease, "You aren't in California anymore."

"Guess not," she says.

I flip the light switch, and a lightbulb flickers a few times before staying on.

"It doesn't look or smell abandoned," Phoebe comments, glancing around the room.

I admit, "That's because I come here quite a bit."

She arches her eyebrows. "You do?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

My chest tightens. I take a few moments, then confess, "I love my family, but sometimes, I need to be alone."

She briefly studies me, then states, "That makes sense."

I put my hand on her cheek. "All I've wanted to do since the morning I woke up with you in my bed is bring you here."

She swallows hard and then opens her mouth. Nothing comes out.

My pulse pounds harder. I slide my thumb over her chin. "I think we need to talk."

She takes a deep breath, a flush growing on her cheeks. "Alexander…" She bites on her lip.

"I think we made the wrong decision and need to talk this through."

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