Romancing the Rancher. Stacy ConnellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
sudden thought that his choice hadn’t been so much a professional one as a personal one. This land was the perfect place for him. A little rugged, a little wild...a little lonely.
A small shiver raced down Theresa’s spine even as she scolded herself for ascribing attributes to a man she didn’t even know. She was letting her imagination get away with her. She was used to dealing with men, from doctors to physical therapists to orderlies. Not to mention her three brothers. Granted, Jarrett didn’t fit into any of those molds, but that hardly mattered.
Cowboy or cardiac surgeon, Jarrett Deeks was still just a guy, she reminded herself as she followed a path that led toward the stables. An ordinary, average—
Her thoughts, her entire body, came to a stop as she caught sight of the cowboy astride a gray horse in the middle of the corral. Her heart stumbled in her chest as she watched him circle the animal one way and then the other. Horse and rider worked as one, every movement fluid, effortless...and breathtaking.
Her pulse picked up its pace as she watched, the beat echoing the thunder of the pounding hooves against the hard ground. For a split second, Theresa swore she could almost feel the warm horseflesh beneath her, the rush of speed and excitement, of the cold air making her cheeks sting and her eyes water. The connection of horse and rider...
Or was it something else she was feeling? Something more?
Theresa wasn’t sure when it happened, but she suddenly realized Jarrett knew she was watching. He did nothing to acknowledge her presence. Didn’t dip the brim of his hat, didn’t lift a gloved hand in a wave. All his concentration, his entire being, was focused on the horse. And yet there was this...awareness like an electrical current thrumming between them, drawing her closer despite the “Danger—High Voltage!” signs plastered all around.
He knew she was watching—and knew just what watching him was doing to her.
Theresa swallowed hard against a suddenly dry throat. She didn’t even remember moving—and since the accident, that was certainly saying something—but before long, her hands were braced on the cold metal railing circling the corral. Vibrations trembled along the crossbar as Jarrett galloped by, and Theresa again experienced the breathless sensation of riding alongside him.
Gradually, he slowed the pace, but the horse was still breathing heavily when he came to a stop in front of her. Beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, his cheeks were ruddy from the cold and wind, and his chest rose and fell from the exertion and exhilaration of the ride. Swinging a muscled leg over the horse’s broad back, he dropped to the ground. His stride was steady and sure, but Theresa felt her own legs go weak as he approached.
He didn’t stop until he’d braced his hands on either side of hers, and Theresa had the inane thought that a fence meant to hold half a ton of horseflesh couldn’t come close to containing a man like Jarrett Deeks.
His deep voice scraped across raw nerve endings, and she couldn’t suppress a telltale shiver as he murmured, “Change your mind about that ride?”
Jarrett didn’t know how many people he’d performed in front of during his days in the rodeo. From country fairs to packed arenas, he’d played to the crowd in the minutes leading up to the moment when he entered the chute. After that, everything disappeared. The sound of cheers, the scent of fried food from the concession stands, the burst of light from cameras flashing around him. All of it faded into nothing.
His focus narrowed to the bull he was determined to ride. Didn’t matter if a hundred thousand people filled the seats or if the stadium was empty of a single soul. Only after he hit the ground—hopefully on two feet—did he once again become aware of the screaming fans all around him.
Even then, he’d never been cognizant of a single pair of eyes watching his every move. Never felt the warmth of a look as strongly as a touch.
But damn it if that wasn’t how he’d felt with Theresa’s blue eyes on him. It was as if her gaze had wrapped around him like slender arms, and she was seated astride the horse behind him. He shrugged his shoulders as if he could throw off the sensation of her body pressed against his back, but it didn’t do any good. Not when she was standing in front of him, those eyes still focused on his.
“So...” he said, his voice sounding as gravelly as the road leading out to his place. “’Bout that ride...”
“Uh, no. Thank you.”
He swallowed a deep exhale of relief. He’d known she’d turn him down, but there was still a brief moment of— What? Hope? More like sheer insanity if he’d wanted, even for a split second, for her to say yes.
Soft pink highlighted her cheeks, either from the cold or something he’d best not contemplate, and her gaze cut away from his to Silverbelle standing calmly on the far side of the corral. He was lucky the mare had come as far as she had. If he’d tried riding her a few weeks ago and let his concentration slip as he had today, he probably would have ended up landing on his ass in the dirt. And wouldn’t that have given Theresa something to see?
“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for the other day. I was rude, and I apologize.” Her gaze came back to meet his as she spoke, and Jarrett was hit by her sense of integrity and strength. She might look like a fairy-tale heroine, but Theresa had a toughness her beauty couldn’t hide.
Of course, right in that moment, she didn’t exactly fit the princess mold. She was dressed as casually as he was in jeans and a faded-to-orange sweatshirt. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, a few strands blowing across her cheeks thanks to the morning breeze, her face free of makeup. But just like the toughness that was so much a part of her, so, too, was the beauty and grace that had nothing to do with what she wore and everything to do with who she was.
“You weren’t rude. You said what you wanted and—” he shrugged “—you’re the guest.”
“And the guest is always right?” A hint of disbelief lifted her words, but Jarrett wasn’t sure what she was questioning. His words or the very idea that he thought of her as nothing but a guest.
“Company policy,” he lied.
“Uh-huh.”
“So how’s all that peace and quiet treating you?” he asked before whistling for Silverbelle.
“I’m guessing you already know that my entire family has been out to visit me.”
“Yep.” Jarrett reached for the reins and started leading Silver toward the gate. On the other side of the fence, Theresa followed along. “So much for your alone time.”
She gave a soft laugh. “You’re pretty much the only one who paid any attention to that.”
Jarrett shot a sidelong glance at her elegant profile. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think she was complaining. He swallowed a snort of laughter. His imagination had to be working some serious overtime to even come up with such a harebrained notion.
“They mean well,” she said defensively enough to let Jarrett know she hadn’t really minded their interruptions.
He shoved aside any thought that maybe he should have stopped by unannounced, too.
Opening the gate, he led Silverbelle through. By the time he had the latch secured behind him and turned around, Theresa was standing almost eye to eye with the horse. A protest rose in his throat when she reached up, but instinct held the words back. His breath caught in his chest as he waited to see what happened. He wasn’t sure what interested him more—the horse’s response...or the woman’s.
Theresa moved slowly, her voice a low murmur as she talked to the mare. If he hadn’t seen for himself just how shy and nervous Silverbelle could still be, he would never have known it by her reaction to Theresa’s gentle greeting. The horse lowered her large head as if seeking out closer contact as Theresa stroked a hand over the horse’s