Barbara Dunlop - A Cowboy in Manhattan

“I know.” She nodded. “Could have happened to anyone.”

Reed set his jaw in annoyance and moved through the doorway.

Once in the hall, he turned back to glare his annoyance at Katrina.

“You’re not funny,” he admonished. But a split second later, his frank, heated gaze slid from her towel-covered hair to her bare feet and back again.

Her toes curled into the soft carpet, and her stomach rolled anxiously. Hoo boy.

Katrina woke up in the Terrells’ guest room in the early, dark hours of the morning and couldn’t seem to get back to sleep. Bothered by the time-zone change, her nagging ankle, and the fact that Reed was sleeping on the other side of the thin bedroom wall, her brain couldn’t seem to relax.

Since Mandy had brought all of Katrina’s sister’s clothes to the Terrells’ house, she had options. She changed into a simple black-and-white leotard, then searched her way through the house for a suitable space to exercise. She found a big rec room in the basement that was perfect. It had a smooth Berber carpet, a big open space in the middle and a ledge that ran the length of the room at a height where she could brace her hand for balance.

She plugged in her earbuds, turned on her player and made her way through a low-impact aerobic workout, getting the blood flowing and warming up her muscles. Then she ran through a familiar stretching routine, easing down into the splits, bending sideways first, then forward at the waist, stretching out her arms.

After a few minutes, she paused, sensing someone watching.

She turned toward the door to find Reed leaning laconically against the doorjamb.

“I saw the lights.” He straightened and ambled into the room, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, hair tousled, muscles bulging everywhere.

She pulled her legs beneath her and rolled to her feet. “I couldn’t sleep. Time-zone change.”

“Yeah, me, too. Not the time-zone thing. But I couldn’t sleep.” He pointed above his head. “I’m cooking sausage and eggs. You hungry?”

She shook her head. “I’m not much of a breakfast eater.”

Reluctant to stop while her muscles were warmed up, she crossed to the edge of the room, bracing her hand on the ledge. Facing Reed, she raised one leg behind her, gently gripped her toes and stretched out her quad.

“You don’t seem to be much of an eater at all,” he observed.

“Weight’s an issue in my profession.” Not only was a sleek form vital to her look on stage, but she had her partners to think about.

“How much do you weigh?”

She shot him a look of disbelief. “Do you really expect me to answer that?”

He shrugged and moved farther into the room. “Why not? I must weigh two, three times what you do.”

“Reed, you don’t ask a lady her weight.”

“Say that again.”

“You don’t ask a lady her weight?”

“No, the Reed part.”

She gave him a frown. What was that? Was he flirting? Why would he flirt?

He stared back in silence for a long moment. Then he said, “I made you something.”

Though the words took her by surprise, she rolled with it, telling herself it was better to move on. If Reed started flirting with her, she’d have to decide how to react. She knew how she was supposed to react, but it was completely different from the way she wanted to react.

She pulled her feet together and bent forward, putting her hands flat on the floor. “What did you make me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“You want me to guess?” She stood again and raised her leg to the ledge, stretching her body along its length.

“No, I…” He paused. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Go all pretzel-like.”

“Practice.” She’d started when she was ten years old, when everything about her body had been extraordinarily flexible. “Is it something to eat?” she asked him. “If it is, you should know I like fruit and whole grains.”

“Is that why you skipped the brownies last night?”

“I noticed you ate mine.”

“Always happy to help a lady in distress.”

She couldn’t help laughing at that. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Yes, I am.”

She straightened. “Okay, I’ll admit, you’ve got me curious.”

His eyes warmed. “You want to come and see?”

“Depends. Where are we going?”

“The barn.” His gaze scanned her body. “You’ll have to put on something warmer than that. And remember, the hands are working out there.”

She glanced down at her simple leotard set. “You know I go up on stage in less than this.”

“Not in Colorado, you don’t.”

“Fine.” She started for the door, passing by him and calling over her shoulder. “You got any more of those cotton shirts? That’ll cover up everything that counts.”

“What’s mine is yours.” He started in behind her. “In fact, I’ve got a nice set of pajamas you might like. Red-and-gray plaid, very boxy. You take the tops.”

And he’d take the bottoms.

Oh, he was definitely flirting. She stopped abruptly in the doorway and he almost barreled into her.

He raised a hand and braced himself on the doorjamb. “What?”

She turned. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk about sharing pajamas.”

His lips curled up in the barest of smirks. “Is that what you thought I meant?”

“You know you did.”

There was a silent pause.

“Okay,” he admitted.

He stared down at her, and a pulse pounded in her temple, while heat coiled in the center of her body.

He leaned almost imperceptibly in, and his voice went husky. “You should get dressed.”

“I know.”

He blinked. “Now,” he muttered.

He was absolutely right. They’d taken this as far as they dared. She quickly turned and mounted the staircase.

She felt him behind her as far as the main floor. Then, she noted thankfully, he broke off to return to the kitchen.

Back in the guest room, she forced the sexy exchange from her mind, firmly telling herself to get it under control. She changed to some casual clothes and went back downstairs.

Together, they crossed to the main barn, traversing its length to a quiet corner behind a half wall. There she stared in astonishment at the contraption he’d made out of the bicycle.

“How did you do this?” she asked him. “When did you do this?”

The mountain bike was propped up on a rack, with the front wheel removed and rollers pressing against the back wheel. The rollers were attached to a long bolt with a butterfly screw that could be used to change the tension.

“This morning,” he answered. “I told you, I couldn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t think you were serious.”

“About not sleeping?”

“About-” She gestured. “About disabling my bike.”

“It’s what you wanted.”

“It’s not what I wanted. It’s what you offered.” She didn’t know why she was annoyed. Maybe because he hadn’t given her a choice. Maybe she was touchy today when it came to men telling her what to do. Or maybe anger was just the easiest emotion for her to deal with right now when it came to Reed.

“It’s too dangerous for you to be cycling around the ranch,” he informed her.

“In your opinion.”

“In everybody’s opinion.”

“So you decided to stop me?”

He nodded sharply. “I did.”

“Don’t you think that might be a little high-handed?”

“What? Keeping you safe?”

“I’m a grown woman, Reed.”

“And?”

“And it’s not up to you to decide how to keep me safe.”

He gave a grunt of disbelief. “I’m the one who has to come rescue you.”

“Nobody asked you to rescue me.”

“Mandy did.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“So, I should have left you there?”

“You should have asked me before disabling my bicycle.”

She wasn’t sure why she was drawing this out. Truth was, it was going to be a whole lot easier to bike in here where it was smoother on her ankle and she didn’t have to watch for obstacles and worry about breakdowns.

“Do you want me to take it apart?”

She caught a glimpse of hurt in his tightening expression and instantly regretted her reaction. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Good enough, then.” His tone was sharp. He turned on his heel, leaving Katrina alone.

No good deed ever went unpunished. Reed banged a frying pan against the stovetop, wondering if he was just too stupid to remember that fact.

He was up to here with being criticized and having his efforts go unappreciated. It was one of his father’s favorite head games, pretending to want one thing, then changing the rules at the last minute and acting as though Reed had misunderstood the instructions.

He turned the sausages in the big skillet and cracked a couple of more eggs into a glass bowl.

“Smells good,” came Caleb’s voice as he entered the room, making a show of sniffing the air. “I can’t believe you’re such a good cook.”

“I can’t believe you’re such a hopeless cook,” Reed returned.

His brother had spent the past ten years building up his business, Active Equipment, while living in downtown Chicago. If it weren’t for restaurants and take-out food Caleb would have starved to death years ago.

“I thought you’d be out working by now.” Caleb crossed to the coffeemaker, snagged a cup from the lowest shelf and poured himself some coffee.

“Guess I’m just lazy.”

“Whoa,” Caleb drew back at the tone of Reed’s voice. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’.” Reed took a fork and beat the dozen eggs into a scramble, adding onions, peppers and a dollop of milk.

Caleb settled back against the countertop. “It’s just you and me here, bro. He’s gone.”

Reed drew a breath and forced his features to neutral. “I know he’s gone. Corby says the parts are in for the irrigation system on the oat field. Thought I’d start up there.”

“Get one of the hands to do it.”

“No need.” Reed wasn’t about to become an armchair rancher. The irrigation system needed fixing, and he knew how to fix it.

Caleb took a long sip of the black coffee. “Did you get a chance to look at the ranch manager résumés?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you ever going to look at the ranch manager résumés?”

“Said I would.” Reed dumped the egg mixture into a sizzling pan. Caleb was the one who wanted to hire a full-time manager. Reed didn’t have a problem running the ranch himself.

“Who put the burr under your butt this morning?”

“Morning, Caleb,” came Katrina’s voice. Her soft footsteps sounded in the pass-through as she entered the kitchen from the living room.

Reed reached for a spatula, stirring the eggs without turning around. He could feel his brother’s gaze linger on him a moment longer.

“Morning, Katrina,” Caleb offered cheerfully. “Sleep well?”

“I did. Thank you.” Her voice was sweet, melodious, without a trace of upset. Obviously, she’d moved on. Well, he would, too.

He turned to face her. “Eggs?”

Puzzlement flicked through her blue eyes. “No, thank you.”

He knew he’d asked her that once already this morning. But what did she expect? That he’d own up to having spent the past hour with her? That he’d give Caleb the details of their argument?

Offering her some eggs was a perfectly ordinary thing to do in this circumstance.

“Fruit?” he continued, not quite masking the edge to his tone.

“Love some,” she responded, lips compressing ever so slightly.

“There are oranges on the table, grapes and plums in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Caleb moved into action. “Let me-”

“I’m sure she’s capable of opening a refrigerator door,” Reed told his brother.

“What is your problem?” Caleb demanded.

“It’s fine,” Katrina cut in, heading for the fridge. “He’s worried that I’m nothing but decorative.”

“She’s our guest,” Caleb exclaimed.

“Who’s a guest?” asked Mandy, breezing into the kitchen. “Me?” She beelined for Caleb, planting a kiss on his cheek. Her hair was damp, her face free of makeup, and she wore a cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to midforearm, a faded pair of jeans and no-nonsense boots. She was the kind of woman to whom Reed ought to be attracted.

“Me,” corrected Katrina, from behind the open fridge door. By contrast, she now wore a clingy pair of hunter-green slacks with rhinestones decorating the pockets and the hems. Her butter-yellow tank top was cropped, showing off smooth arms, a strip of skin above her waistband, her navel winking sexily every time she moved. Her earrings sparkled with tiny green stones while a silver medallion dangled above the scooped neckline of her top.

She was on a cattle ranch for goodness’ sake, not at a nightclub.

“Okay…” Mandy drawled, obviously waiting to be brought up to speed on the discussion.