One Last Kiss by Kat Martin

Chapter Five

Libby made it through supper preparations with only a few minor mishaps. She had warned Clara ahead of time that she had no idea how to cook anything more than frozen pizza and an occasional omelet, but she was willing to learn.

“You’ll do fine,” Clara said, patting her hand, but the woman was smart enough not to give her any difficult tasks.

Libby peeled potatoes, saving the skins to feed the chickens, then washed lettuce and sliced tomatoes for a salad. She hadn’t known dicing onions was such a miserable task until Sam walked in and saw tears rolling down her cheeks. His worried expression looked almost sympathetic.

Libby burst out laughing. “Onions,” she told him, wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

Sam smiled with relief, and a warm feeling rose in her chest. It had been years since a man’s smile had made her feel anything more than wary. She reminded herself not to let her guard down and quickly went back to work.

The meal—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy—came together smoothly, evidence of Clara’s years of experience. There were vegetables right out of the garden and homemade bread, so there were plenty of vegetarian options for Libby.

Sam introduced her to the cowhands who worked at the ranch. Starting tomorrow, while guests were in residence, the men would take their meals in the bunkhouse.

Tonight they sat grouped around the kitchen table: Julio Santiago, the ranch foreman, an older Latino man with leathery skin burnt dark from the sun; Big John Coolwater, Native American, at least six-six with long black hair in a single thick braid.

Dare Landon was in his late twenties, a good-looking guy with sandy-brown hair who seemed quiet, capable, and kept to himself. He’d been raised on a ranch in Montana, Sam said, been in the marines before he’d come to work at the ranch. Ronnie Yates was a handsome African American man who struck her as intelligent and friendly. All of them were pleasant and respectful.

Fortunately, her kitchen duties didn’t look all that daunting. Libby had worked a lot of different jobs in the city, but her boredom threshold was low and none of them had lasted very long. Sooner or later, she would find her true calling, she was sure, which definitely wasn’t cooking or modeling of any kind.

In college at Columbia, she had taken a class in astronomy merely to satisfy a requirement for graduation, then ended up dropping out of school at the end of her third year. Much to her uncle’s chagrin.

But the class had sparked an interest that remained. She thought of the hard-sided travel case up in her bedroom that held a Celestron NexStar Evolution portable telescope, one of Uncle Marty’s most precious gifts. She planned to find a place outside to set up the scope as soon as she got settled.

She made another pass around the kitchen, paused to wipe up a trace of grease on the counter that she had missed. Clara had already gone to bed, but Libby felt oddly restless.

“The kitchen looks fine.” Sam’s deep voice rumbled through her, sending little flutters into her stomach. He had left right after supper, and she hadn’t seen him since. “You’ve had a long day,” Sam said. “Why don’t you go on up to bed? You’ve got an early start in the morning.”

She flicked a glance out the window. She had never seen a night sky so clear. The stars looked as if a huge crystal ball had exploded, scattering diamonds from one horizon to the other.

Libby nodded and untied the apron around her waist. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how exhausted she really was.

She didn’t look at Sam as she crossed the room, but she could feel his eyes on her until she disappeared out the door.

Tomorrow would be her first official day. She groaned to think how many more days there would be until this nightmare was over.

* * * *

The first guests arrived just before noon, when a white four-door Subaru SUV pulled up in front of the cabins. The Dunbar family lived in Denver, a three-hour drive away. It was their second year at the ranch, which Sam considered a sign of approval for a job well done.

As a young man, Caleb Dunbar, the father, had nursed a secret yearning to rodeo. Instead, he’d married, taken an accounting job in the city, and had a couple of kids. Though the man was clearly happy and crazy about his family, being at the ranch revived a little of his long-ago dream.

Sam heard the crunch of sneakers on gravel behind him and knew Libby had joined him. The scent of orange blossoms gave her away.

“Libby, this is Caleb and Jenny Dunbar.” A lean, lanky, dark-haired man, and his wife, a petite woman with curly, light brown hair. Sam looked down at the couple’s ten-year-old son and eight-year-old daughter, miniatures of their parents. “These guys are Jordy and Suzy.”

Libby smiled. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Libby will be helping with chores while you’re here,” Sam explained. “She’ll be taking care of Cougar Cabin. If there’s anything you need, just let her know.”

Libby’s features tightened. Housekeeping definitely didn’t appeal to her.

Too bad,Sam thought. Everyone carried their weight at Bridger Ranch.

Sam gave the Dunbars their keys, and the family went to work unloading their gear. Cougar Cabin was the largest, comprised of a living room with a fireplace, a kitchen, two bedrooms, and two baths. There was a queen bed in one room and twin beds in the other.

“We’ll see you at supper,” Sam said.

Caleb gave a wave, and parents and children hurried away.

“Cute kids,” Libby said.

Sam cast her a glance. “You like kids?”

“Sure. But they’re a lot of work.”

“True enough.”

“Animals are a lot less trouble.”

Sam just smiled.

The next guests to check in were a pair of older women, both widows, Alice Weeks and Betty Spurgis. Alice was short and plump, Betty slightly taller and thin. Both had short-cropped, iron-gray hair. They were staying in Badger Cabin, a smaller accommodation. It was their first time on a guest ranch, and both were excited.

Betty glanced around. “Oh, it’s just beautiful here.”

“We think so,” Sam said, his gaze automatically going to the range of mountains surrounding the pastures, rising toward the endless blue skies.

“We’re especially looking forward to the pack trip,” Alice said, following the line of his gaze.

Betty smiled. “I haven’t been on a horse since I was a little girl.” But she was dressed in jeans and boots, ready to go anytime.

“And we get to sleep in a tent,” Alice added excitedly.

The corners of Libby’s pouty lips turned down, and Sam couldn’t stop a grin. “I guess Libby’s not as enthusiastic about the trip as you two are. Maybe she’ll change her mind once she’s up there.”

Betty’s silver eyebrows went up. “You don’t like camping?”

“I don’t really know. I’m from Manhattan.”

“We’re from Phoenix,” Alice said. “The photos on the website look wonderful. We can’t wait to visit the high country.”

“It’s beautiful up there,” Sam said. “You won’t be disappointed.” He helped the women with their luggage, then left them to settle in. Libby caught up with him as he strode toward the barn.

“You didn’t say anything about sleeping in a tent,” she muttered darkly.

“You’re here to work. Guests enjoy different activities. Their days are pretty much their own. Some like to fish; others like hiking or sightseeing. One of the add-ons we offer is a camping trip into the mountains. Guests ride in on horseback. We lead a string of pack mules in with supplies, stay two nights, then ride back out.”

“Do all the guests go on the trip?”

“Not all of them, no.”

“Then I’ll stay here and take care of those who remain behind.”

If she were anyone else, he might let her. But it wasn’t what Marty had wanted, and Marty was paying the bill. “Sorry, that’s not going to happen. I’ll need you to help with the cooking.”

“So Clara’s going on the trip?”

He almost laughed at her hopeful expression. “I do the camp cooking. You’ll just need to pitch in with the meals and help with cleanup.”

“But—”

“But what?” He cast her a glance. “You aren’t afraid of horses, are you?”

“No, but—”

“The weather plays a role. At the moment, it looks like we won’t be going till the end of next week. That’ll give you some time to get used to the idea.”

Libby grumbled something he was glad he couldn’t hear.

At least so far she’d been pleasant to the guests. Still, she wasn’t used to taking orders. He wondered how long her good humor would last.

* * * *

The afternoon passed more quickly than Libby would have guessed. Between visitor check-ins, Sam had given her a tour of the ranch, or at least a portion of the 5,100-acre property he owned.

Along with the cabins, there were two barns—one with a large tack room—an equipment shed, the bunkhouse, and a metal structure that sheltered huge rolled bales of hay stored for winter feed.

“We’re a working cattle ranch,” Sam explained. “That’s our main source of income. Having guests in the summer helps raise a little extra money, but it’s not really what we do.”

According to Sam, along with a thousand head of Black Angus cattle, there were thirty horses, the remuda, he called them. There was also a pigsty and a chicken coop.

Libby paused to watch the black-and-white speckled hens pecking in the yard around the coop.

“Oh, you raise Plymouth Rocks!” she exclaimed. “And look at that beautiful Rhode Island Red rooster.”

Sam’s head swiveled toward her in amazement. “You know chickens?”

She shrugged. “I was raised on a farm.” But most of the first twelve years of her life were buried behind the wall of grief she had built to protect herself after her parents were killed. She remembered almost none of her childhood and didn’t really want to.

When he continued to stare, she found herself telling him the truth. “I don’t remember much about my life back then. Seeing the chickens, I remembered going with my mom to collect eggs from the coop. Some days it was like an Easter egg hunt. My mom had a way of making it fun.” Libby swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. She didn’t like thinking about the past. It was just too painful.

Sam said nothing, but she thought that his features softened.

Next they went to visit the pigsty, an open-field enclosure with mounds of fresh straw, half-round metal shelters where the small group of pink-and-white pigs could get out of the sun, and a shallow pond where they could bathe and cool themselves.

“We only raise enough animals for our own use, but the visitors enjoy them,” Sam said. “We’ve also got five miniature goats. They’re a real favorite with the kids.”

Her interest sharpened. “Where are they? I’d love to see them.”

Sam pulled out his cell and checked the screen. “Unfortunately, we’re out of time. Our next guests should be arriving any minute.” He tucked the phone into the back pocket of his jeans, and Libby’s gaze lingered on his tight behind.

“Why do you get to use your cell and the rest of us don’t?” she grumbled, annoyed with herself for noticing.

“Now that we have guests, I won’t use it unless there’s an emergency. As I said, people come here to escape the digital world we live in these days.”

Sam started walking, and Libby lengthened her stride to keep up with him. “I’m surprised you have any cell service out here at all.”

“It’s spotty, that’s for sure. There’s not much once you head up in the hills, but close to the house it’s fairly reliable.”

At least she could use her phone upstairs.

She looked up to see one of the ranch vehicles, a black Ford Expedition, pulling up in front of the cabins. The next guests to arrive had flown from Los Angeles into the Eagle airport, and Big John Coolwater had gone to pick them up.

According to Sam, they were on their honeymoon.

“You must be Brad and Kim Hillman,” he said, shaking Brad’s hand as Big John unloaded their luggage from the back of the SUV. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sam Bridger, and this is Libby Hale.”

“Good to meet you,” Brad said. He was a lawyer, and he looked like one—attractive, with short, perfectly styled dark hair and blue eyes.

“Libby will be taking care of your cabin. If you need anything, just let her know.”

Brad slid an arm around his pretty blond bride. “I’ve got everything I could possibly need right here.”

Kim blushed.

“Congratulations to you both,” Sam said. “You’ll be staying in the Dove’s Nest. That’s our honeymoon cabin. I think you’ll like it.”

It turned out to be a one-bedroom with a natural rock fireplace in the living room, a king-size four-poster bed, and a kitchenette. All of the cabins, Libby discovered, were cozy and welcoming and reflected the mountain setting of the ranch.

When Big John set the couple’s bags on the pine floor at the foot of the bed, Brad leaned down and brushed a soft kiss over Kim’s lips. Warm color crept into her cheeks.

“This looks great,” Brad said, his gaze sweeping the room furnished with a pine dresser and nightstands. “The bed looks real comfortable.”

Kim’s flush deepened.

“We’ll leave you two to settle in,” Sam said. “Part of the honeymoon package is your choice of supper with us in the main house or having your dinner brought over so you can eat here. You just need to let us know ahead of time.”

Brad flicked Kim a heated glance. “We’re both pretty slammed after the flight. I think we’ll have supper here.”

It wasn’t hard to read Brad’s plans for the evening, or the anticipation in Kim’s pretty face. Libby’s glance strayed from Sam to the big four-poster bed, and a little thread of heat curled low in her belly.

Sam’s eyes met hers and seemed to turn a shade darker, but he made no comment as they left the cabin and headed back to the house.

“I don’t think we’ll be seeing much of the Hillmans,” he said. “At least not for the first few days.”

Libby glanced back over her shoulder and saw that the curtains had already been drawn. Unexpected longing welled inside her. “They really seem happy,” she said.

“They’re newlyweds and they’re in love. That’s the way it’s supposed to work.”

Libby pressed her lips together. “I suppose.”

Sam paused outside the back door. “What? You don’t believe in love? Is that the reason you don’t date?”

She tilted her head back to look up at him. “I don’t date because most men are selfish bastards. I hope Brad Hillman isn’t one of them.” With that she brushed past him, marched into the house, and closed the door.