capable of—Josh didn’t. So many mountain ranching families couldn’t make a living and had to sell out, but Nate had found a way to bring more money in. His wide variety of investments—rodeo stock, organic farms, even a winery at lower altitude—were a challenge to manage, and he’d certainly never imagined the pleasure he’d take in coordinating so much, including the Silver Creek Rodeo, a month away.
That reminded him—after his phone call with the parts supplier, he could check out the online registration and make sure all the program advertising was in place.
There was always so much to do, enough to keep thoughts of Emily Murphy at bay, to his complete satisfaction.
As Emily got dressed after her shower, thoughts of Nate kept interfering. He’d looked so damn good riding toward her like a cowboy out of a Western movie. She had no idea cowboys still wore chaps, but they’d covered his jeans, fringe flapping at the edge. He’d worn a heavy work jacket, gloves dangled from his belt, and even had a scarf about his neck as if he’d need to cover his face in a dust storm. A dust storm in the Rockies? That almost made her smile.
But she hadn’t been smiling when she’d seen him. She’d been panting, and not out of lust but out of stupidity. Of course she’d heard about taking it easy when exercising at altitude. She’d just totally forgotten. Did he think she’d done it on purpose to get his attention? After all, she’d been jogging on his family land. But she’d stuck to the road. She’d been all ready to be upset at the implication she couldn’t take care of herself, and once again, he’d simply thanked her in regard to his grandmother. Nate Thalberg was making it too easy to forget what they’d done together that first night.
No, that was a lie—she couldn’t possibly forget. She still woke up in the middle of the night remembering how good she’d felt in his arms.
Maybe he wanted her to forget. She was living with his grandmother, after all. He was hardly going to proposition her under those circumstances. It had taken alcohol to make him do so in the first place, she thought with a sigh.
And there she went, downplaying her own sexiness. He’d thought her sexy enough that first night. Now she was just an annoyance, and it was better that way. Her indebtedness to him and his family—both father and grandmother—felt like another anchor around her neck as she struggled to stay afloat in the pursuit of her new life.
At least they hadn’t threatened her with foreclosing on the property, she reminded herself as she went into the kitchen. She would soon be able to repay it, once the building sold.
She hoped.
The widows were all in the kitchen as if waiting for her. Mrs. Thalberg seemed dressed for another casual day on the ranch, jeans and boots this time, and her red vest perfectly matched her hair. Mrs. Palmer was as colorful as a tulip beneath her blond wig, and Emily had realized that the prints and patterns in her dresses were just like her personality, big and vibrant. Mrs. Ludlow, dressed conservatively in tailored clothing, certainly didn’t let using a walker interfere with her self-respect.
“So let’s taste those muffins you made last night,” Mrs. Thalberg said brightly. “While we eat, you can tell us how you’re feeling. Nate called to make sure you got home all right.”
The word “home” struck her with a moment of sadness until she realized Nate was part of the same sentence. She smiled through gritted teeth, hating that she inspired anyone’s concern. “He felt the need to check up on me?”
“Of course he did!” Mrs. Palmer said sternly, with a hint of her Western drawl. “You could have full-blown altitude sickness, you know. You gotta take that seriously.”
“But I’m fine, and Nate could see that.” Emily turned to Mrs. Thalberg. “You know he wouldn’t have let me go, otherwise.”
It was true. He obviously liked to take control of every situation.
“Now let’s taste those muffins,” Emily said, changing the topic.
They weren’t perfect yet, so next time she’d alter a different ingredient, sugar instead of baking powder. Mrs. Thalberg said you just kept experimenting until you got it right. But the apple tarts, now those had turned out pretty good, and Emily carefully packaged plenty to take to Monica to thank her for lunch.
At her building, Emily had already cleared the beginning of a path through the downstairs