wine and gourmet food. He’d called her princess, and he’d thought the name fit—but now he knew better.
She was a part of this world—not the one she’d left behind.
“Do you really want to go back to the corporate stuff?”
He saw the answer in her eyes and his heart leapt with a shot of hope. But he could see her struggling to overcome the reluctance that was at her core.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I do. I have to.”
“Why?”
She fidgeted, clasping and unclasping her hands. He hadn’t seen her do that since she’d left Carrigan. Was he going to have to watch the old, brittle, struggling Sarah come back? Was he going to have to live with a woman who was lying to herself every day?
“It’s a chance to give back to Two Shot.”
That wasn’t the defense he’d expected.
“You were right when you said the town made me what I am,” she continued. “I owe a lot to Two Shot, and Eric’s going to give me a chance to pay it back.” She set her hand on his arm. “What you did was a good thing, Lane. We’re going to get the things we need before the drilling even starts. But I was wondering. Does this mean you’re going to let them on the land?”
“I’ll deal with that when it happens,” he said. “And if it does, it’ll be all right. I can get a conservation easement. They can only drill if they do it clean. They can’t disrupt the landscape or screw up the water.”
She nodded. “Then everybody wins. Including me. I get a chance to really make a difference.”
He nodded. Much as he wanted her on the ranch, he could see that her motives were good. She knew what the town needed. She knew the people and the problems. And for a while, anyway, she’d be based in Two Shot.
But what would happen when the project was over? Eric would want her to move on to another community. And he’d lose her.
“When do you start?” he asked.
“Day after tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He stood. “I need to make a couple of calls.”
He sure as hell did. He needed to sign on for a couple of rodeos, see if they’d accept a late entry. He’d been saving the news of his retirement from rodeo for a time when he and Sarah were alone, but when he pictured her going off to work in the morning, heading into town, he knew his days would be long and empty. He might as well climb back on the bulls.
He was making his calls from the ranch house kitchen when Trevor wheeled into the room.
“July fourteenth,” Lane was saying. “I can make that.”
Trevor waited until he’d hung up, then shot him a questioning glance. “Thought you were hangin’ up your spurs.”
“I changed my mind.”
“That got anything to do with the redhead out there in the barn?”
Lane had left Sarah sitting on the bench by the barn door, working leather conditioner into a saddle that had dried out in the summer heat. She’d nodded when he’d said he had work to do. Just nodded and let him go.
He was going to have to learn that move.
“Heard she’s going back to work for your brother.”
“Yup.” Lane tried not to sound resentful. “She’s pretty excited about it.”
“Really?” Trevor shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think she’d rather work here.”
“I thought so too, but she had a choice and she made it.”
“Not much of a choice when you can’t get yourself on the back of a horse.”
Lane turned, narrowing his eyes at Trevor. “What do you mean? You were the one who told me what a great rider she was.”
“Was is the operative word, though. Girl can’t talk herself into the saddle. I saw her the other day trying to get on Ollie. She must have tried half a dozen times. Then she came in with some lame excuse why she couldn’t lope him out. Haven’t seen her try again.”
Lane stared at him, then glanced out the window where Sarah was bent over the saddle. He’d tried twice to get her to go riding. Both times she’d made an excuse.
“I don’t know what happened, but she can’t bring herself to do it. Looks scared to me,” Trevor said.
“Sarah’s not scared of anything,” Lane said. “She’s sure as hell not scared of horses.”
“No, I don’t think it’s horses.” Trevor spun his chair and motored out of the room. “It’s something in her own head.” He turned back to Lane. “Remember when