Caleb backed up her effort, making a show of raising his glass. “Let’s hear it for clean cowboys.”

Abigail and Mandy immediately played along. “Clean cowboys.”

Travis grimaced, but Caleb stared him down until he gave in and raised his glass.

Katrina quickly stretched out to snag her own. “Too bad they don’t stay that way long.”

Everyone groaned, but it quickly turned to good-natured laughter.

She took a big swallow.

Reed muttered darkly in her ear. “You about done?”

“Done what?” she asked tartly, reminding herself that she was angry with him. It hadn’t been very gentlemanly of him to break off their kisses. Then again, he’d kind of stood up for her against Travis just now.

“Abigail,” said Reed. “I think Katrina’s ready for bed.”

A saucy comeback was on the tip of Katrina’s tongue. But when she swiveled to deliver it, she caught Reed’s thunderous expression. And she wasn’t quite brave enough to embarrass him.

“Are you going to wrap my ankle?” she asked him instead.

“No.”

“But it’s sore.”

“You’ve had too much champagne.

“It’s still sore.”

She wanted to get him up to the hotel room, alone, where she would… Okay, she wasn’t exactly sure what she’d do, but at least they could talk. This idea that they were going to nobly fight their attraction to each other because of Mandy and Caleb was ludicrous.

“Wrap her ankle?” Abigail asked.

“She strained her tendon dancing,” said Reed. “I’ve been using my herb wrap.”

“Crackerjack cure,” said Caleb.

“You hurt your ankle?” asked Abigail.

“It’s getting better,” said Katrina, somewhat surprised that Mandy hadn’t already shared the information with their sister.

Mandy reached out and took Katrina’s hand. “Maybe you should head back to the hotel. You’ve probably had enough dancing.”

“Sure,” Katrina agreed, playing the dutiful baby sister. Then she glanced innocently up at Reed. “You’ll take me back?”

His jaw tightened. “Abigail? Are you ready to go?”

“Absolutely,” said Abigail, and Katrina heard her rise from her chair. “I’m exhausted.”

Since Katrina and Abigail were sharing a room, there’d be no private conversation with Reed tonight. But Katrina wasn’t giving up. Tomorrow, they’d all troop back to the ranches. Eventually, she and Reed would find themselves alone.


Katrina soon discovered that things Reed didn’t want to happen, didn’t happen. After the charity ball in Lyndon, she and Mandy had spent a couple of days at their own ranch. But her sister soon found a reason to return to Terrells’, and Katrina found an excuse to go with her.

There, Reed was polite but resolute. He spent his days in the far reaches of the ranch, and his evenings in the company of Caleb and Mandy. If Katrina asked him a direct question, he answered. And he continued to wrap her ankle each evening, but he was careful never to get caught alone with her.

So she was surprised on a midday to hear his voice on the porch of the ranch house. She’d run through a workout and a few dance routines in the basement rec room this morning and was now looking for Mandy.

“It’ll only take me a few hours,” Reed was saying.

“That’s not the point,” Caleb returned. “We have hands for those kinds of jobs.”

“I have no intention of spending my entire afternoon in the office.”

“Once we get things set up with a manager, you’ll be able to do or not do any old job you want around here.”

“Good.” Reed’s tone was implacable. “Today I want to fix the well pump at Brome Ridge.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Deal with it. I’ll probably be late getting back tonight.” His boot heels clunked on the porch, and Katrina took her chance.

She burst through the front door. “Did you say Brome Ridge?” she asked Reed.

He stopped dead, as if frozen to the floor.

“I’ve been wanting to get up there before I leave,” she rattled on. “I’ve only got a couple of days left. Would you mind?” she smiled brightly.

“Forget it,” said Reed.

“Take her along,” said Caleb.

Reed shot his brother a glare. “It’s a working trip, not a picnic.”

“I won’t get in the way,” Katrina promised. Trapped in a pickup, Reed would have to talk to her. She’d be heading back to New York City very soon, and she wasn’t ready to pretend their attraction had never happened.

“You always get in the way.” Reed’s glare turned on her, his gray eyes hard as slate.

“Quit being such a jerk,” Caleb put in. “Go ahead, Katrina.”

“Back off, Caleb.”

“Which truck?” asked Katrina.

Caleb nodded. “Parts are in the back of the green one.”

“She’s not going,” Reed ground out.

But Katrina was already on her way down the stairs, heading across the wide driveway turnaround to the green pickup truck.

She hopped in the passenger side, slammed the door shut, and watched Reed argue with Caleb a few minutes longer. Finally, he turned, stalking across the driveway toward the pickup.

He yanked open the passenger door. “Get out.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She nodded to where Caleb was staring at them from the top of the stairs. “Your brother thinks you’ve gone insane.”

“You are not going to do this to me,” he vowed.

“Do what?” She mustered up an expression of calm innocence. “What is it you think I’m doing here, Reed?”

He blinked, a split second of uncertainty crossing his face.

“All I want to do is talk,” she pressed. “I’m going to be gone in a couple days. It may be years before I’m back. You’re a nice guy. You helped me with my ankle. You built me a stationary bike. You don’t want a chance to say goodbye?”

He stared at her in silence, and she could read his hesitation. He was wondering if he’d imagined her intense attraction to him, their near-combustible chemistry, the fact that they shouldn’t be allowed to be alone together if they didn’t want it to race out of control.

He wasn’t imagining a thing. But she didn’t have to tell him that.

“Do you think I can’t keep my hands off you?” She kept her tone light and teasing, even though nervous energy was churning its way through her stomach. “Is your ego really that big?”

His jaw snapped tight, and he stepped back, abruptly slamming the car door.

Katrina let out a breath of relief.

He yanked open the driver’s door, dropped into the seat, started the engine and peeled out of the driveway, leaving a rooster tail of dust and small stones.

Katrina rocked against the passenger door, then flew upright. She grappled with her seat belt, fastening it tight and low across her hips.

Neither of them spoke for a good half hour as they wound their way along the rutted dirt-and-grass road up through the trees to where the pastures fanned out on the higher rangelands. Reed shifted the truck into four-wheel drive, and Katrina hung on as they traversed a shallow creek.

“Is this going to be a long, silent ride?” she finally asked.

“This was always going to be a long silent ride. I expected to be alone.”

“Well, good news,” she announced brightly. “I can make small talk and entertain you.”

He shifted to a lower gear, pointing the truck up a steep, muddy rise. “I guess the cocktail-party circuit had to come in handy at some point.”

“That’s where you want to go? Insulting me?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere. And it was an observation, not an insult.”

“You’re lying.”

“Okay,” he allowed. “It was a joke.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

He quirked a half smile. “I thought it was.”

“You’re not a very nice man, Reed Terrell.”

He looked her way for a long moment.

She glanced to the rutted road, to Reed, and back again. There was a curve coming up. She waited for him to turn his attention to driving. “Uh, Reed.”

“I’m not a nice man,” he confirmed softly. “And you should remember that.” Then he glanced out the windshield and made an abrupt left turn.

Katrina was forced to hold on tight again. “I’m not afraid of you, Reed.”

“That’s okay. I’m scared enough for the both of us.”

Katrina didn’t know how to respond to that. The idea of Reed being afraid of anything was patently absurd.

A long time later, the truck rocked to a halt on the dirt road, an aspen grove fanning out on the downhill side, and a steeper hill running up the other.

Reed shut off the engine. “We’ll have to walk it from here.”

“Walk?”

He pushed the driver’s door open. “Unless you want to wait here. I shouldn’t be more than a few hours.”

“No, no.” She reached for her own door handle. “Walking is fine.” Luckily, she’d worn comfortable runners. Her midcalf, low-rise tights weren’t perfect for bushwhacking, neither was her tank top, but she gamely hopped from the seat.

Reed retrieved a worn leather tool belt from the box of the truck, strapping it around his waist, stuffing a hammer, tape measure, screwdrivers, wrenches and pliers into the loops and pockets. Then he tucked some lengths of rod and pipe beneath his arm, hoisted out a battered red toolbox and turned for a trail that wound up the side of the hill.

Katrina quickly fell into step with him. “You want me to carry anything?”

He snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“I was just trying to be helpful.”

His long strides were incredibly efficient, and she had to work to keep up.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Let’s not pretend you’re going to be any use as a pack animal.”

“Let’s not pretend you’re going to give me a break.”

“You should have stayed back at the ranch house.”

The trail grew steeper, and, as they neared the crest, she was forced to grasp at the branches of trees to pull herself forward. “And miss all this?”

Reed stood tall on the top of the ridge, a sloping meadow splayed out before them, falling away to a deep valley before rising to the next hilltop.

Katrina sucked in a few breaths. “There’s a well up here?”

Reed pointed north along the ridgeline. “It pumps into a pond around the bend. The cattle like it up here in late summer. This meadow catches the prevailing wind and that keeps the bugs down. But if there’s no water source, they have to trek all the way back to the river.”

“See that, you are a nice guy.”

“I’m a practical guy.” His gazed scanned her. “You doing okay?”

“Perfectly fine.”

“Your ankle?”

“Almost better.”

“Okay.” He started along the uneven ridge, quickly outpacing her and drawing away.

If she’d hoped to engage him in a conversation, it wasn’t going to work out. Reed was obviously determined to keep her at a distance. Not that she knew what to say. Just getting him alone had proven so difficult she hadn’t formulated much of a plan beyond that.

After hiking for nearly an hour, they came to a muddy-bottomed pond beneath a twenty-foot windmill tower. The wind had picked up, and the whirring, clunking noise of the windmill made conversation difficult.

Reed set down the toolbox and began inspecting the arms that connected the pump to the windmill. A complex series of tubes and connections ran between the two. After a few moments, he selected a wrench and pulled hard on what seemed to be a stubborn bolt. It broke free, and he disconnected the mechanism.

Now that Katrina was standing still, she began to cool off. It didn’t help that the sun had disappeared behind a thick layer of cloud; they were completely exposed to the wind here on the ridge. She had to fight off the odd mosquito, but she didn’t dare complain. Instead, she gritted her teeth while Reed worked his way through whatever problem he’d discovered.

When the rain started, Reed swore.

He turned to look at Katrina, then he did a double take. “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine,” she responded, but her teeth were chattering.

Reed dropped a big wrench, swore again, and stalked toward her. As he’d done when he found her on the trail with her broken bicycle, he stripped off his shirt.

“I don’t need-”

“Shut up.”

“I’m sorry,” she found herself saying, even as the warmth of his cotton shirt wrapped around her. She tugged the ends together and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Sit down,” he told her. “It’ll be less windy if you’re low to the ground.” Then he glanced up at the sky and heaved a frustrated sigh. “You shouldn’t have come up here.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, perching herself on a clump of meadow grass. He was right, sitting down did help to keep her out of the wind. Now, if only the rain would stop.

But the rain didn’t stop, and the more it rained, the more frustrated Reed became, and the more colorful the language coming out of his mouth. As the rain turned to a downpour, the wrenches kept slipping from his hands. He was obviously having trouble seeing clearly, and he dropped something. He peered into the mud, feeling his way around the tufts of grass.