The Mechanics of Mistletoe - Liz Isaacson Page 0,63
okay?” someone asked, a light touch on her shoulder.
Fire raced through her blood as Oakley turned back to Ranger.
“Yeah,” she said with a scoff. She waved toward where Nick had departed. “Yeah, that was….” She met Ranger’s eyes again, the zinging and ringing of adrenaline and heat only increasing as she looked into those beautiful eyes. “So weird, right?” She laughed, glad when Ranger Glover did too.
Tingles ran across her shoulders and down her arms just from the sound of his deep laugh, and Oakley looked at the handsome cowboy in front of her. Really looked. She’d seen Ranger before, of course. She’d talked to him. But there was something different about him this morning.
Or maybe there was something different about her this morning. Maybe she was seeing him for the first time.
“Ranger,” a man called, and both Oakley and Ranger turned that way. Another tall cowboy and a pretty woman—Samantha Benton, the mechanic—looked toward Ranger.
“Have a good day, ma’am.” Ranger tipped his hat at her and walked away, and his departure was so different than Nick’s had been.
Oakley didn’t want Ranger to walk away from her, and she had half a mind to call him back over and ask him if was seeing anyone. He was too far away now, and Oakley settled for watching him for a few minutes until she lost sight of him.
“Stalker,” she muttered to herself, and she finally headed to the parking lot. She did have another date to get ready for, though she suddenly wasn’t as excited to go on it.
Thinking quickly, she tapped out a message to Vanessa, her assistant manager at the dealership. Hey, have we sold anything to Ranger Glover? If so, do we have a number for him?
Oakley wasn’t dating exclusively, and the reason was because she’d not met someone in Three Rivers she wanted to commit to. She had a distinct feeling that had changed ten minutes ago, with a pair of blue eyes and a deep laugh that had ignited something inside Oakley that had died the day she’d retired from racing.
Not Ranger, Vanessa said. His cousin Bear. Here’s his number.
Oakley didn’t need Bear Glover’s number, but it was one step closer to Ranger.
Chapter Twenty
Ranger sat behind the wheel of the big rig, the guttural grumbling of the engine vibrating through his whole body. He loved driving the semi to market day, though his stomach twisted and knotted as he opened the door and dropped to the ground.
“Load ‘em up,” he called to his brothers and cousins, and they started packing the calves into the truck. He’d drive them two hours to the weigh station, where they’d know how much they’d made that year.
Everything depended on market day.
Ranger thought of the bank accounts for the ranch and for himself personally. He went over everything with Ward at least once a week, and their money situation was healthy. More than healthy. They could lose all their cows for a few years—or maybe a decade or two—and still keep the ranch operational.
Shiloh Ridge hardly spent any money, because of that darn family motto that had Ranger still tinkering with the trucks when they broke down. Then, Uncle Stone had bought the failing ranch to the southwest for dirt cheap, found oil on it, and sold it for more money than any family should have in their lifetime.
Ranger and his siblings, as well as Bear and all of his, had plenty of money from that. Still, he wanted to be fiscally responsible. It was more than a want; it was a seething need that existed in his soul.
Not only that, but Ranger loved nothing more than working from the back of a horse, checking cattle, rotating pastures, and living off the land.
He took a deep breath of the clear September morning, glad the temperature had cooled the last couple of days. It wouldn’t stay that way; it was just a cold snap coming through. They still had fields to harvest and prep for winter, and Bear had ordered all the pest control and fertilization from Payne’s Pest-free a couple of days ago.
He walked away from the rear of the truck, the sounds of cattle lowing, a few metallic bangs as hooves hit the sides of the truck, and men calling brought him so much joy. Ranger closed his eyes and just listened, enjoying the scent of dust in the air and the smell of manure, men, and sunshine accompanying that.