Page 32 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

“Thank you.” I patted Frank, who yawned. “Be good.”

He panted at me.

I was going to ask Brooke if I could bring him along to the ranch most days but didn’t want to presume.

She’d been less than pleased after I’d soundly beaten her in mucking out a stall, especially when she’d seen the manure-free state of my shoes. However, she’d adhered to our bargain, and we’d arranged for me to come back today to shadow her. She knew I’d have a few work things to do, but most of the time, I would be at her side.

When I stepped out of the plane, my eyes passed over the nearby hangars to where Brooke’s red truck was parked. Named Lance if I remembered correctly.

The inside of my stomach fluttered when I caught sight of her silhouette in the driver’s seat.

I’d spent the last week purposely avoiding thinking of her. Mostly because, anytime I did, I found myself staring off into space while remembering some specific moment of our time together.

At one point, I’d been in a restaurant, and I’d smelled her lotion or shampoo on someone else. An ache of longing had rushed through me, and it had taken a few seconds to refocus on the conversation I was supposed to be participating in.

Now I was going to spend a week with her, and nothing romantic could come of it.

Why?

Because we barely knew one another, she had all of her walls up, and there was no guarantee that I could be a good romantic partner.

I was hoping to walk away from this as her friend. She seemed to be upset about the sale of the ranch, and I wanted to cushion that blow as much as possible, while also getting to know her better.

At the very least, maybe I’d have someone besides Victoria to console me after a bad day.

I jogged down the metal stairs, and when I reached the tarmac, I walked toward Brooke’s truck.

Every step caused a buzz at the back of my head to get louder. I’d been denying how excited I was to see her again but couldn’t ignore the feeling now.

Brooke jumped out of her truck and came toward me. She was wearing her signature overalls and T-shirt, this one bright yellow, along with cowboy boots and big sunglasses with red frames.

Brooke removed the glasses and looked at me. “Is that all you brought?”

I held up the laptop bag. “Will I need more than this?” I loved that I got an exasperated head shake from her.

She jerked her thumb toward her truck. “Get in.”

My phone buzzed. I took a moment to look at it.

Courtney:So there is a woman!

Several heart emojis followed.

I shook my head.

William:This is just my Uber.

Courtney:Lies.

William:If you say so.

I got to the truck and hopped in. A green recyclable grocery bag sat between us. Brooke pointed at it. “Those are for you.”

“For me?”

“Take a look.” She waved a hand as she started the truck and headed for the exit.

Inside the bag, I found a small pile of folded denim, several thick shirts, and a pair of boots. I looked at Brooke. “What’s this?”

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