Hang Tough(26)
“Seriously, sweetheart . . .” Tobin stroked the underside of her jaw with the back of his knuckles. “Thanks for talking to me. And without overstepping my bounds or jeopardizing this truce between us, you need to remind Miz G that at least part of the reason you’re here is to spend time with her. But even if she blows you off for her friends? Take a break. Get out of the house. It’d be good for you, Miss Workaholic, to get in your car and drive around aimlessly.”
“You’re right.”
“Just make sure your GPS works. City slicker like you . . .” He smirked. “I’d hate for you to get lost. I’m sure all gravel roads must look the same.”
“Thank you for the reminder.”
Tobin lowered his hand from her cheek. “My pleasure.”
“Thank you for listening. I never talk about this stuff.”
He grasped the edges of the afghan and pulled it up to cover her shoulders. Then he smiled again. “Same goes.”
This sweetness . . . threw her off. No, Tobin threw her off. He wasn’t turning out to be the kind of man she—and her dad—thought he was.
“You ready to go back in?”
She nodded.
They walked back to the house side by side, in silence. Once they were in the entryway, Tobin said, “You go on upstairs. I’ll lock up down here.”
“Thanks.”
Jade had made it halfway up the dark staircase when she heard him say, “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”
Chapter Seven
Jade didn’t see Tobin at all the next day, and GG pulled her disappearing act again.
So the following morning Jade left GG a note—in case she arrived home before Jade returned—letting her know she’d gone out. Being vague suited her purposes; she had no idea where she was going.
After reaching the main road, she turned right. The blacktop dipped low and rose up like a long black ribbon. The cool morning temps tempted her to roll down the window. She passed fields dotted with cattle. The black hides stood out among the red dirt, cream-hued rocks and gray-green sagebrush.
She hung a right at the WELCOME TO MUDDY GAP sign. Once inside the city limits—calling it a “city” was a stretch—she cruised up and down every street. Were residents peering from behind curtains, wondering why a car with NY state license plates was puttering around their neighborhood?
Main Street had more businesses than she expected. The various denominations of Christianity were represented. There was one bar. One small grocery store. One hair salon. One insurance agency. No medical facility. No school.
Back at the crossroads, she checked the clock. Now what? That detour had only killed twenty minutes. She started back the way she came, when she noticed a sign for the Split Rock Ranch and Resort.
On a whim she followed the signs until she came upon a huge rock with a split down the middle. Her GPS cut out but she could see a large angled roofline, so she had to be close.
She hung a left, bumping along a gravel road. Just when she thought she’d reached the resort, the road curved and she found herself on a steep incline with no place to whip a U-turn.
Jade’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. At the end of the road was an enormous barn. As she put her car in park to try to figure out where she was, she looked around nervously, thinking it’d be her luck if gun-toting rednecks showed up to chase her off private property.
That’s when she noticed the field across from the barn, teeming with cows going every which way. Three guys on horseback were in the fenced-in area among the chaos.
At first glance all the men looked the same, wearing light-colored long-sleeved shirts, cream-colored cowboy hats, jeans and boots. Then the guy closest to her reined his horse to the left abruptly, giving her a view of his broad back and shoulders.
She knew that was Tobin.
Holy crap, did he make a stunning visual all cowboyed up.
And that didn’t take into account how fluidly he moved. Shifting his entire body weight nearly off his horse to block a cow’s escape. Spinning back around and calling out to the guy on the other side, then dodging and weaving through the herd.
After Tobin reached the other side, he conferred with his pen partner. Their heads were up as they kept a constant visual on the animals, but their faces were shadowed beneath their hats. Tobin had one gloved hand holding the reins. His other hand rested on his thigh. So he was ready at a moment’s notice to snatch up the coiled rope hanging off the side of the saddle?
That’s what she wanted to see, Tobin tearing across the field on his horse at full speed, twirling a rope above his head, all power and grace. His back muscles straining, his legs gripping the horse’s belly, those ropy forearms flexing, his biceps rippling, his concentration absolute as he closed in on his prize.