Chapter One
“No, no, no! Damn. This can not be happening. First I get lost and now this.” Sal looked up at the smoke coming from her engine and burst out laughing. Well, at least she was in the right place. The sign in front of her read: Welcome to Salvation, NM Population 253. “Funny, you'd think Salvation would be more crowded.” At least it should be big enough to have a service station. She threw her wallet, smart phone, and her computer in her backpack and locked up her car. Cam had tried to tell her not to get the cute little red sports car but she couldn't resist. It was her biggest indulgence and right now she seriously wished she had opted for something more sensible. At least the walk in to town wasn't horrible; she could see buildings from where she broke down. Forty-five minutes later she was pretty sure she was going to die when a pickup truck pulled up alongside her. "Ma'am, is that your sports car back there?" Sal was gasping for breath. "Y...yes." "Get in. I'll give ya a lift to town. Not used to the altitude yet, hunh?" "That obvious?" she answered the old man, after she finally managed to climb into the mammoth 4x4. She reminded herself she wanted to be here. Well, in New Mexico anyway. She was stifling in Boston. Maybe she was just bored but Delia had graduated from college and it seemed a good time to get started with the rest of her life. Whatever it was. "Ya got that green around the gills look newbies get. If you're gonna be here a spell you'll get used to it, the thin air I mean. S'pose you'll be wantin’ a wrecker?" "Yeah. I mean yes," she said, correcting herself. She had always been quick to slip into other people's speech patterns; it was one of the things that made her a good writer but it could be embarrassing if people thought you were making fun of them. "Does Salvation have a garage?" "Sure we do, 'cept I don't know as they'd have the parts for somethin' fancy like that." "Hopefully, they can order what they need." Two hours later her car was in the shop and had become something of a celebrity since evidently they didn't see many cute little Italian convertibles around here. Of course, they would need to order the parts. Unfortunately, they didn't even know what to get yet and, being her baby was vintage, she said a silent prayer they'd be able to get them at all. "So we'll need half down and then the rest when you pick 'er up." Sal pulled out her
credit card and the kid coughed. "Sorry, cash or checks only. I don't have a machine to run those." "Oh, I don't even use checks. Can you point me to the bank and I'll get money from the ATM?" The kid turned pink and stammered. "Sorry ma'am, the bank here is kinda old fashioned and..." "We haven't gotten one of those ATMs yet, is what Chester is tryin' to say," the older man who had brought her into town said. She had been informed he was the sheriff. Sal turned to him. "Western Union?" "Ya mean telegraph?" Sal successfully avoided rolling her eyes. "No, sir, I mean money transfer." She thought about explaining that the last telegram was sent back in 2006 but decided she was in enough trouble. "Oh, they do that too now? Naw, we don't have that either." "Where do you get money?" She was getting exasperated now. It had been a long day before the car broke down and she still was going to need to get a room for the next week or so. "Well, from the bank." "But the bank doesn't have an ATM? Is it part of some banking network?" "Nope, we don't really go in for that stuff around here." Sal just stood there, blinking. This was the 21st century; at least it was in the rest of the country. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She turned back to the kid. "Can you keep the car while I get all this straightened out?" "No problem." She turned back to the sheriff. "Sheriff, could you point out a hotel or rooming house or somewhere I could stay for a few days while my car is being repaired?" "Ugh, since Cindy closed up her boarding house there really isn’t any place... Hey! I got an idea. You need cash and a place to stay and I know somebody looking for a cook. Job pays well and it includes room and board. Can ya cook at all?" "I don't really need a job. I'm a writer. I actually have plenty of money, if I could get
to it." "Writer, huh? Bet you and Shep'd get along good then. It would just be temporary, till you can get the cash together to pay for the car or it gets fixed. Come on, I'll give you a lift out there.� "I don't think this is such a good idea." "What's the matter? Can't cook?" "No, I'm a good cook actually. It’s just... I don't know about staying in someone's house." "We'll go out to the ranch and you can meet him. If ya don't like the arrangements then we'll try to come up with somethin' else. Fair 'nuff?" "Fair enough, I guess, since there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of options." As they drove out to the ranch, Sal looked at the landscape and was struck again by the deserted-ness of it. Miles of nothing but sagebrush, red rock, and sand. It wouldn't be hard to imagine this being another world, especially compared to Boston. The sheriff cut into her thoughts. "Where ya from?" "Boston, but I'm on my way to relocate to Taos." "Taos? So you like big cities?" She almost laughed. The last time she had gone to a conference in Taos she had thought how wide open it felt, like you could breathe there. "Taos isn't that big compared to Boston." "Guess not." They sat in silence for a while when she realized she should probably find out something about the ranch she was going to work at. "So tell me about the ranch." "Like what?" "What's the name? How well do you know this Shep guy? Is that his name? How many people would I be expected to cook for? Something so I'm not walking in with..." She broke off. Her brother was always getting on her for sounding like one of his buddies on the force, or worse, the guys they picked up. She figured the sheriff might not appreciate her gutter mouth. "The ranch is called Salvation, just like the town. I've known Ransom Sheppard since before he was born. He was raised on the ranch, probably die there. Solid guy, the kind people don't appreciate till they're in trouble."
Sal smiled. The man sounded like one of the heroes from her books. "I think Shep's got about eight guys working for him now. You ever cook for that many?" "I'm Italian-Irish. That's not even the Saturday lunch crowd at home." He laughed. "Good to know. I won't feel so bad if I stop by uninvited." She smiled back at him. "I haven't even gotten the job yet." Why was she even doing this? Because it didn't look like there were any other places she could stay. Twenty minutes later they pulled into a dirt track with no sign to mark it. "Sheriff, where the hell are you taking me?" She was disoriented enough she forgot to mind her mouth. "Relax. This is just what ranches up here look like. You'll see the house in a little bit." She wanted to laugh. Everything out here was on a different scale than what she was used to. She lay back and closed her eyes. She must have dozed off because she woke up with a start when the truck stopped. The sheriff was out of the truck before she got her bearings. Since she didn't want to appear too forward, she figured she'd let him go in and talk to this Ransom guy. Maybe he wasn't even home. Of course, where the hell would he go? In the last light of the day she looked over the ranch house. It was a mix of adobe, timber, and wood siding that looked like it had been put up over generations. The front porch had a swing that made her smile. There weren't any flowers or anything else decorative so the swing stood out. The sheriff had barged right in, which she didn't think was a good idea considering she had no idea who this guy was. Suddenly there were voices coming out the front door, followed by the sheriff and a taller man. "...is a bad idea. I don't want to be responsible," the taller man was saying. "You need a cook; she needs a place to stay and ready cash. Just consider it." Sal realized they were talking about her and decided that she should get out there unless she wanted to sleep in her car. She was still disoriented from the altitude sickness and having skipped dinner. That was her only excuse for climbing out of the truck the way she did. Ransom was looking over Bert's shoulder when he saw the passenger side door open on the sheriff's truck. He didn't really think anything about it. The next time he looked up there were a pair of small feet hanging below the door that didn't have a hope in hell of reaching the ground. He let Bert talk while he watched as the person belonging to the feet wriggled out of the door on their belly till he could see most of their legs, which were still
a good ten inches off the ground. Then the legs went airborne and kicked out. The person looked as if they were landing a gymnastic routine and missed. The woman, he was sure of that now, stayed on her feet for a half second and then landed flat on her butt. "Sonofabitch! That hurt." Ransom couldn't help it. He started laughing. Not the most gentlemanly thing to do, but he'd never seen a grown woman get out of a truck like that. Bert whipped around and then reached for the crazy woman to help her up. "You all right?" Ransom felt as if he had to say something. "Yeah, um, yes. Sorry." She dusted off her butt, and then wiped her hands on her thighs, which just moved the dirt from the back to the front. "You always laugh at people you don't know, cowboy?" "First off, I'm no cowboy; I'm a rancher. Secondly, yeah when I see something funny I laugh." He looked at her in direct challenge. The little firecracker just stared him right down. "I'm Sal. The sheriff says you need a cook. If you are okay with a temporary arrangement I'd like to give it a try." She couldn't had been more than 5'2". She didn't look as if she would snap like a twig but women were funny like that. Sometimes you just couldn't tell. He looked her up and down. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. With the sun going down, it was hard to see finer details but he could make out dark curly hair about down to her shoulders and pale skin and rosy lips. She looked all right, but it was hard to tell right now with the light doing funny things. He couldn't even tell how old she was. "Bert, I don't think this is such a good idea. I can't have a woman out in the bunkhouse with the guys, so where am I gonna put her?" "You got the room off the kitchen in the main house; put her there." Another cowboy walked up behind Sal, making her jump. "I saw the truck. Hey Bert." "Curley." Sal blinked. A cowboy actually named Curley? Shit, had she fallen into a bad romance novel? "Who is this?" "I'm Sal. I need a place to stay while my car gets fixed but it is likely to be a while. The sheriff seemed to think I could take the cook job temporarily."
"What would you make for breakfast tomorrow?" "Depends on what is in the fridge." "All the usual stuff." "Assuming there is enough to make some for everyone, I'd probably do something easy to start with. Cheese omelets; drop biscuits with jam; ham or bacon, of course; and coffee." "You're hired! If I have to eat one more bowl of cereal and try to work with my stomach growling like a mountain lion all day, he can find himself a new foreman." "Wiseass. Foreman, where you gonna have her sleep? She can't exactly bunk in with you," Ransom growled. Curley looked her up and down. "Well, she's dang cute but..." "I wasn't the one who offered." She glared at Curley and he grinned back at her. Then he burst out laughing. "Ooh, prickly! Yeah, you can stay up here with Shep." "I haven't hired her yet!" "How many others have wanted the job?" "Excuse me boys, if I could interrupt your argument." She felt as if she was back home with Cam and his friends. "Can I make you an offer? I will work the first two days for room and board. If it works out and I need to stay longer, you can pay me for those two days and the rest of the time I'm here but I don't need the cash. I need you to pay the service station where my car is. Does that sound fair?" "Shep, eggs. Biscuits. Bacon!" Curley's stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear. "Fine," Ransom grumbled. He made it sound like it was anything but. "Get one of the guys and bring up a bunk and put it in the storage room off the kitchen. That will work for tonight. Tomorrow we can pull some other furniture if you need it. Am I gonna have any problems hiring you?" "No. I've got all my identification and everything. I'll need help pulling my stuff out of the sheriff's truck. Oh, do you have an internet connection?" Ransom looked at her as if she had sprouted wings. "No. What the hell do you need that for?" Sal looked over the roof of the house to the ridge behind it and saw a cell phone tower. "It should be fine." She pulled her phone out of her pocket and saw she had a full
signal. "No worries; I've got service." Ransom just shook his head at her. "Okay, I guess. Curley, get the lady's bags. Sal, you said your name was? Come on in and I'll show you around." Curley and the sheriff pulled the bags from the truck and the sheriff said his goodbyes. The inside of the house was like the outside: neat, clean, homey without being fake. As they were walking past the living room, she spotted a huge stone hearth and a big leather couch. Further down the hall was the door to the kitchen. The room was whitewashed adobe from the looks of it, with a window over the sink. Opposite the door they came in was the back door leading to a yard. Everything here had that same plainspun charm. She smiled to herself. This was exactly the kind of kitchen she'd love to find when she moved to Taos. Ransom cleared his throat to get her attention. "You're probably used to something fancier but we don't need anything special in the way of food. Eggs, steak, stews, basic meat an'potatoes kind of stuff. The guys work up a pretty good appetite so make sure to make plenty." "That is a dangerous order to give to someone in my family. I'm afraid we live by the motto too much is never enough." "Around here, you make it, they'll eat it." Curley walked in with her bags. Hard to believe that her entire life at this point could be reduced down to two sea duffles and a backpack. "You don't believe in traveling light, do you?" She glared at Ransom. "I'm not here on vacation. I'm relocating to Taos. Those two bags are everything I own, except for my computer." She patted her backpack. The altitude was making her crabby and she needed a snack and to lay down. "Oh, what do you do for a living when you're not a cook?" "I'm never a cook! What I mean is, I'm a writer; make good money at it, too." "Anything I might have read?" The altitude really was getting to her because the image of this Ransom guy sitting with one of her romance novels cracked her up so bad she couldn't stop laughing. "We're a little old fashioned here but we do actually read." He sounded insulted. "Personally, I avoid it at all costs," Curley announced as he walked out of the storage room. "I'll get the bed up here in a sec." He walked out. "Sorry, it is just...I write romance novels, so I don't think you'd have read anything I've ever written.� "Oh, no, guess not. Well, this is the room. There is a bathroom with a shower through
that door." He flushed pink when he said it. "So you won't have to share with anybody." "What time do the guys need breakfast?" "Pretty early, about seven o'clock or so." "No problem. I'm something of an insomniac so I'll be ready in plenty of time. Anything else? 'Cause I am still getting used to the altitude and I never got any dinner so I'm feeling a little loopy." "No, we can take care of everything tomorrow. Go through the cabinets and figure out what you'll need and give me a list so I can run it in to town. They'll deliver the groceries so you don't have to haul it all out here. Here comes Curley with the bed." Curley and some younger guy walked in, carrying a fully made bed like it was doll furniture. She was so happy to see it she almost jumped in before they had set it down. "Alright, well I guess we'll let you settle in. See you tomorrow morning." As they were leaving, she noticed the door. "Um, there isn't a lock on this door." "No, none of the inside doors have locks." The two of them just stared at each other. "I'll just wedge a chair under the handle." He just blinked at her with a pained expression on his face. He swallowed hard and turned away before he said or did something stupid like throw her out on her ass. Did she think she wouldn't be safe here? He walked out the back door and found Curley. They stood there for a minute while he tried calming down. "I want you to let it be known in the bunkhouse that I've got my eye on her." Curley's eyes nearly popped from his head. "Really!" "What do you think? I just don't want that bunch sniffing around her. They'll all be on their best behavior if they think I'm staking a claim.� "True 'nuff. She is kinda cute. All those curls make your fingers kinda itch to play with 'em." "Keep your damn itchy fingers to yourself, too." "I'd give you the same advice 'cept it would be wasted." "Hell, the woman already thinks I'm gonna attack her. Did you miss where she asked about a lock on the door? We never had locks on the doors in this house. If the damn thing was closed it wasn't your place to open it uninvited." "Maybe she didn't grow up that way? Maybe she had somethin' bad happen, you don't know. She is the only woman here with a bunch of rowdy cowboys she doesn't even know. In her shoes I might want a lock, too."
"When you put it that way...I'll figure something out tomorrow. I hope I'm not makin' a mistake here. Geez, what if she can't even cook? You better hit the hay or you'll miss breakfast tomorrow and be stuck with cereal anyway." "Hell no! I'm gonna dream all night about eggs, bacon, biscuits and jam. Mmm." Curley walked off to his quarters, whistling. Ransom shook his head and walked back into the kitchen. He saw one of the kitchen chairs had been removed and shook his head. If he thought about it like Curley said though, he couldn't blame her.
Chapter Two Ransom woke up in a hurry when he heard a crash downstairs. He grabbed the rifle he kept in the closet and raced down the stairs to find the woman he hired standing over a pile of pans on the floor. "What the hell time is it?" When she looked up at him she turned bright red and then looked at the floor again. He looked out the windows but it was still pitch black out. He looked at the clock on the stove and saw it was around four AM. "Why are you starting breakfast now?" "I wanted to get started on the biscuits." She still wouldn't look at him. Then he realized he'd rushed downstairs in just his shorts and well, he was old but not dead yet. He spun around so his back was to her now. "Um, sorry. Not used to having anyone else in the house. I...Shit. I'm going back to bed.” Sal let out the breath she had been holding when he left the kitchen. Nothing like a half-naked cowboy with a gun first thing in the morning, and the rifle was scary too. She giggled to herself. It was that kind of stuff that made people she knew roll their eyes at her. If it weren't for her insomnia, she wouldn't be up this early at all but by this point in the night she usually got up to write. Except, until she got the air card she ordered last night, she couldn't work on the piece she had online. She should be back to writing in a day or two, so she figured she'd get an early start on breakfast. Then the pans went crashing to the floor and‘handsome Ransom' showed up. She blew the curls out of her face as she picked up the baking sheets and put them on the counter. Hmm, it had been a while since she had used a chestnut haired hero; his green-grey eyes weren't bad either. Of course, she didn't write cowboy stories. She hadn't done a Regency in a while, though. She tried to imagine Ransom in Regency full dress and smiled. He'd be miserable. Maybe a highlander; after his dramatic entry she had no trouble imagining him in a kilt with a sword in his hand. Laird Ransom. She could even include the little bits of grey in his chest hair. Problem was she couldn't really see his heroine. She'd have to find out more about him and then she'd be able to see his story. It had made people in her writing groups crazy that she“saw”the whole story at once,
like it was a movie sitting on the shelf just waiting for her. On the one hand, she thought they were a little jealous because she hardly ever lacked for characters. On the other hand, it meant she didn't take criticism of her plot twists all that well. Luckily, her stuff sold so she didn't worry too much about it. Ransom stopped in the hallway and tried to slow his heart rate down a little. Then he heard her giggle. Damn, it wasn't his fault he woke up hard as a post. And what was so damn funny about it anyway? He'd been dreaming when she caused all that racket. Something about full pillowy lips and dark curls shot with copper and... Oh hell no, this was all her fault. He knew having a woman in the house was a bad idea. He left the rifle beside the hall closet and marched upstairs. When he got into bed, he tried to go back to sleep but every time he closed his eyes he was assaulted by blush pink cheeks, full rosy lips, and those damn curls. He just lay there and tried to drift off, but he would get woken up by the sound of her moving around in the kitchen. When she took the food out of the oven, the smells hit him like a cast iron frying pan. At that point he gave up and dove into the shower. At least he'd be the first one there. He walked down the stairs, smiling about grabbing an extra biscuit or two. If they tasted half as good as they smelled - maybe three. Curley wasn't the only one tired of cereal. When he got to the kitchen door his smile disappeared. He wasn't first; he wasn't even in the middle of the pack. Every other man on the ranch was already there. Then he heard a truck drive up and his eyes nearly dropped out of his head as Bert pushed past him on his way in. "Ransom, y'all better hurry if ya want some." Under normal circumstances, Ransom considered himself a pretty even-keeled guy. With no sleep and the possibility of no food either, someone was gonna get hurt. "Bert, what the hell are you doin' here?" he said, way too loud. "Needed to make sure Sal was all right after dumpin' her off here last night. And I wanted some breakfast; she invited me." Ransom highly doubted that but the old codger wasn't really the problem. No, the fact that the boys were eating like they'd never seen food before was the issue. As he looked over, Curley finished what was on his plate and was starting on seconds. Hell, for all he knew it was thirds. He threw one of the smaller guys out of his chair but every time he reached for something, someone stole it out from under him. Sal came over and handed him a cup of coffee. That would have been great except in the time it took him to take it and find a place to put it, the rest of the food was gone. As the guys got up to leave, she yelled to get everyone's attention. "Hold up! This is not a five-star hotel. Here is the way meals work in my kitchen. When you are done with your meal you will pick up your plate, utensils, and whatever. You will scrape any leftovers" - Ransom looked around at nothing but crumbs left on the plates. Curley's and Bert's looked as if they had been licked clean - "into the trash and then you will neatly" - she glared at each and every one of them -"stack them on the left
side of the sink. Failure to follow the rules means no food at the next meal. My judgement is final. Everybody got that?" All the men but him shook their heads mutely and started doing exactly what she asked. Shit. He was stuck with cereal since he didn't see any leftovers. He needed to sit with her to do her paperwork, so he told Curley where to take the guys out to. He noticed she handed Curley a big wrapped package. Curley always got the girls. If he knew what was good for him, he wouldn't touch this one. She was just passing through and he'd best keep that in mind. Once everyone was gone, he drained his coffee. At least that was good: not burned, not too weak. "Did you want to get started on paperwork? And then we can get together a list of what you need to feed this mob." "Didn't you want any breakfast?" "I'll just have cereal." "You hired me as a cook and you aren't even going to taste my food?" "That pack of flea-bitten dogs didn't leave any!" "Oh, good thing I saved you a plate then. When I saw how they were eating I set some aside for you since you hadn't come down yet." She turned and got something out of the oven. When she turned back he saw the extra large plate his mother had used as a serving platter with a metal bowl tipped upside down on it. She set it on the table in front of him. She pulled the bowl off and there was a mound of food big enough to feed, well, just him at the moment since he was starved and it smelled delicious. "There are scrambled eggs with cheese, biscuits and gravy, bacon... Oh." She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a glass bowl covered in plastic wrap and set it down next to him. "And fruit salad. But there wasn't enough for everybody so don't tell, or I'll end up with a mutiny." He smiled as if he was the King of Siam. Yeah, she could stay. For now. He dug in with relish and when he was done and stuffed, he still considered licking the plate. She may just be passing through but at least while she was here he'd eat well. Sal loaded the dishwasher while he ate and then came over and sat on the bench next to him. She pulled out her wallet and passport. "You want to get started on the paperwork?" "Got anymore coffee first?" "Sure." She got up and poured him another cup. He could sure as hell get used to this. The last cook they had made food that was barely edible and wouldn't dream of serving him or any of them. He resisted the urge to rub his stomach but leaned back in his chair to stretch himself out. He picked up her driver's license and thought it must be wrong.
"Says here your name is Sarina." "It is.” "Why would you want to use a guy's name, when you've got a pretty girl's name?” "I was the oldest. Dad kind of wanted a boy but my brother wasn't born for another ten years. I ended up a tomboy, anyway, so I got called Sal and it stuck. Now I wouldn't have it any other way." "So you write under the name Sal Camenitti?" "No! I write under a pseudonym, S. Rossi. I started writing when I was still working as a nurse and I didn't want anyone to know that I was writing romance novels.” "You were a nurse too?" She didn't look old enough to have had two careers already. "Yes, an ER nurse. I was good at it, too, but the hours killed me with a kid and after a while I started just going through the motions. That was when I knew it was time to get out." "How old are you?" "You're looking at my license." "Yeah but this says you're gonna be forty-eight the middle of June. What, did ya change it when you were a kid and then never changed it back?" "My dad was a cop; if he ever caught me with a fake ID he'd have blistered my ass...sorry, behind. What makes you think I couldn't be that old?" Shit, this was one of those conversations you can only get in trouble with. "Honestly, you don't look old enough. I would have put you at early thirties." "You're insane, but I'll take it. Sorry, the license and the passport are both legit. I really am that old. I've got a twenty-two year old daughter. I'm lucky, I guess. I never could go out in the sun without burning to a crisp, so I just stayed inside. I'm short, too, so people expect me to be younger, I guess. I do have a few grey hairs but my mom didn't go really grey till she was in her mid-seventies. Gram still picks up younger men at the retirement community in Florida and she is ninety-five, or close to. Come to think of it, at that age they would almost have to be younger men. How old are you?" She sat back down next to him and he felt like an ass. "I'm fifty-three." She looked him up and down. "Oh." "Oh? Just oh? I don't look good for my age?" He was smiling; he didn't know why but part of him wanted to tease her, rile her up. This was probably the same part of him that
had chased girls with toads when he was a kid. "Good enough.� He wasn't sure he liked her answer but what exactly could he say? "Let me go get the form." He went to his office and found what he needed. As he walked back in, she was refilling his coffee and yawning, which made him yawn. "Are you gonna get up every morning that early?� "Sorry." She looked sheepish. "I always get up that early, I'm afraid. Once I get the air card for my computer, I'll be writing then so it shouldn't be a problem." She looked around the kitchen. "Of course, if they eat every meal like this one I'm going to be doing nothing but cooking." "Speaking of that, what's for lunch?" He couldn't help smiling at her slightly shocked expression. "You can't possibly be..." He burst out laughing. "No, I mean do you have enough to make something to feed those dogs or should I take you into town now?" "Give me about fifteen minutes to get a list together and then yeah, going into town would be great. Can we stop off at the garage and I can tell them what to do with my car?" "Sure thing, Sarina." She glared at him and he just got up and walked away. When he got to the door, he just started laughing. He might like having a woman around after all. **** Sal smiled at the productive morning she had. Then she turned and glared at Ransom. The damn man had called her Sarina every chance he got and every time she corrected him he'd just laugh and say, "Okay Sarina" as if she hadn't even done it. As they were about to turn to go up the drive to the ranch, Ransom slowed down next to a little girl. "Mel, you want some lunch?" "Hell, yeah!" "Language, young lady." "Sorry." She didn't actually sound sorry at all. "Yes, please can I come for lunch? Oh, and to see Shep?" "Hop in."
The girl dove into the back seat of the truck and when she popped up, she squealed when she saw Sal. "Hi, what's your name?" "Mel. What's yours?" "Sal." Mel smiled and Sal almost laughed she was missing her two front teeth. "What are you doing here?" "My car broke down and I needed a place to stay and a job for a little while so Ransom is letting me stay here. I'm cooking for the ranch. How old are you? Wait! Let me guess. I'd say about eight." "I'm going to be nine the middle of June." "Me, too! Well, not the nine part. I'm going to be a little older. So does Ransom tease you about your name all the time?" "No. Never." Mel looked at her as if she was crazy. "Did Shep have puppies yet?" "I had no idea you were expecting." Sal smirked and Ransom turned pink. Oh, there was a story there. She turned to Mel. "Why would a man everyone calls Shep have a female dog named after him?" "Curley," both Mel and Ransom said at the same time. Ransom finished the story. "Curley decided that naming the dog Shep was the only way that a female was ever going to take my name." He just stared straight ahead when he said it. There wasn't a trace of humor on his face. There might be a story there alright but from what she could see it wasn't a pleasant one. "So? Did she have her pups?" Thankfully the little girl pulled him out of his bad mood. She was a cute little thing. A blond braid behind each ear, and freckles across her nose. She had bright brown eyes and a small scar over one cheek. From the looks of it, fairly recently healed. "No, no puppies yet. I told you Mel, unless your dad comes to me and says you can have one..." "I know, I know. He's never gonna say yes." She looked morose for about a second and a half. "Hey, what's for lunch?" "Today, I'm afraid it is just sandwiches. I just got here last night so the rest of the groceries haven't even been delivered yet. But I saved some of the cheese and bacon biscuits I gave the guys, so if you're willing to help put the food out you can munch on one of those."
"How come I didn't get any cheese and bacon biscuits?" Ransom almost roared. "You had just eaten a mountain of food before we left!" "But you saved me some, right?" She shook her head. Scratch a man and you'll find a hungry twelve year old boy underneath. "Maybe. I figured the guys would want something with their coffee." "You sent them out with biscuits and coffee? Woman, you are going to make them into spoiled house cats." "Look, most of my experience feeding men comes from feeding cops. I figured biscuits were better than doughnuts." Mel started licking her lips. "Can you make doughnuts?" "Just the apple cider kind." "Shep, can we keep her?" Mel pleaded. "Um, I'm supposed to be moving to Taos, and as soon as my car is fixed I'm gonna go. But in the meantime, after lunch will one of you show me around the ranch?" "Shep and I can," the little girl offered. "I don't think both of you need to." Mel started cracking up. "I meant me and the dog. You're gonna need to keep up better." She looked over to see Ransom smiling. Well, at least if she was going to play the fool someone was enjoying it. He and Mel obviously spent time together. He looked like the kind of guy who should be married. Would probably even like it, so how come he wasn't? "So are you guys gonna get married?" It was like the kid read her mind. Ransom started choking and she started coughing. Finally, she said no. "I was married once and I don't need to do it again." "That's just because you didn't find your prince." "Maybe, but I did get my princess." If Delia ever heard she'd called her a princess, the kid would deck her. "She is smart and pretty and kicks ass, oops, butt. I mean she kicks butt." Mel giggled at her slip. "Is she near my age?"
"Oh no, sweetheart, she's all grown up now. She just graduated from college. She is a private detective; her specialty is computer security." "Does she have a gun?" "Yes, and she practices with it so she is safe." **** He was hiding in his office while Sarina and Mel put out the fixings for lunch. He was a grown man and the woman in there scared the crap out of him. Well, not her really; more like his reaction to her. He took her to the farm store figuring she'd turn up her nose at a place you could buy clothes, horse feed, hardware, and groceries under one roof. But no, she acted like a kid in a candy store with too much allowance. She flirted with the guys in the grocery section to get exactly what she wanted. He thought he was gonna snap his damn molars off he was grinding his teeth so hard. What was it to him? She decided she needed boots if she was going to be spending time on the ranch. Not a stupid idea since she was wearing tennis shoes. So she goes and picks out boots that may as well have screamed tourist and were gonna give her blisters so bad she couldn't walk. There wasn’t one square inch without stitching on them. He was forced to pull them out of her hands and sit her down so she could try on decent barn boots. That would have been fine, except he'd made the mistake of holding her leg to help her get them on. Tingles shot up his arm and he got covered in goosebumps. He was a grown man. Grown men don't tingle, dammit, and they don't break out in goosebumps and start to stammer because some pretty woman smiles at them. And now it seemed he couldn’t stop touching her and every damn time he did, he had the same reaction. She's admiring her sensible boots. Says she looks authentic now. He just raised his eyebrow at her. But now her problem is her jeans don't work with the boots. What the hell does that even mean? So she traipses off to get jeans, and he just follows her like a damn puppy. Then he's stuck standing outside the door while she tries the damn things on. He didn't even know the farm store had fitting rooms. How hard is it to find your waist and length? When he grumbled, she actually explained to him women have curves. As if he hadn't damn well noticed! Getting jeans to fit her particular curves was evidently a trial. At least it was for him. He felt like an idiot standing there pretending there wasn't a half-naked woman talking to him from the other side of the door. Then she wants him to see if they have her size in petites. That was the last straw. He told her he had to go get the lock for her door and started to leave. She pokes her head out, all smiles, and thanks him for remembering. Remembering. At the rate she was going he was gonna get her a dead bolt so she could lock him out. Thank God he'd spotted Mel on the way home. She'd distract him from the woman who now lived in his house.
After lunch, he set to work putting her lock in while Mel helped Sarina clean up. The kid chattered about everything and he was able to tune most of it out.
"So why don't you want to get married again?" Mel asked her. Now his ears perked up. She had seemed pretty adamant about marriage not working for her but she didn't really strike him as the bitter divorcée either. "I don't think I'm very good at it, being married I mean." That was crazy: she could cook, she was smart so she must be good to talk to, she was definitely good to look at, she didn't strike him as frigid. Maybe the guy she had been married to was a real asshole. "How do you know if you're good at it?" "It helps if you start off with a good man." "Curley's a good man; you could marry him." His screwdriver slipped and gouged into his hand. "Dammit!" Now he was bleeding and he felt like an ass for eavesdropping. Sarina came over with some paper towels and dragged him over to the sink. "I thought the two of you were going to go on a tour. Take Shep with you; she has been hanging around the barn too much.” "I'll get you cleaned up first. Do you have a first aid kit?" "I can take care of my own damn hand. Get out of here for a while." He hadn't meant to yell but she was holding his hand under the water and there were the damn tingles again. Later that afternoon her air card came by overnight delivery. She warned the UPS guy they'd be seeing a lot of each other. She did love those uniforms with the shorts. She ran inside and pulled out her laptop. It was a breeze to set up and soon she was typing away at a story idea: ‘Handsome Ransom' as a highlander. She had no trouble seeing him but his heroine was harder. She needed to be feisty and not a push-over. She needed to be able to counter his brawn with her brains since she couldn't compete with him physically. A woman who could keep him on his toes, make him guess wrong about what she was going to do. Not Scottish, that would be too easy. A guy like that could have his pick of any of the girls in his clan or any other. Maybe she should be shipwrecked? She hadn't done a damsel in distress in ages. Ooh, this was getting good. But she couldn't be English; she'd done another story with a shipwrecked Englishwoman. Merchant's daughter? Might work. She would be savvy, work with her father, shipwrecked so now she is on her own. Laird... She needed a name for the fake Ransom. Ralston? Too English? But maybe he is half English, which is why he is so ornery. He's conflicted. He knows he needs to marry one of the Scottish women to cement his line and legitimize his position but he wants... Damn, she needed a name. She popped over to Google. Isolde? No, too classic. She should be exotic, but not Viking. If her dad was a merchant, he would have picked up stuff on different trading
routes. Hmm, the Middle East maybe? What about Sarah? It was classic Hebrew. The only problem is it sounds more Little House on the Prairie than adventurous. Sarai! Looks cool, sounds good, won't be a pain to type over and over. And it means princess; that could come in handy. She smiled to herself. Yeah, this story could be good. She always knew when she had a winner. She'd get a little tingle in the back of her neck and this one was buzzing like a doorbell. She spent the next hour happily banging out the character sketches and a sort of timeline of what might happen. She'd been doing this long enough that she knew sometimes the stories took control of themselves and you were just taking dictation. At least if she could get their meeting down, then she'd establish their characters and they could take it from there.