Myrna Mackenzie – Cowgirl Makes Three / Her Secret Rival: Cowgirl Makes Three / Her Secret Rival (страница 7)

The pants were a bit loose around the waist, but Ivy had suddenly felt as if they were too tight. She’d wondered if Noah would look at her and think of his Pamala.

Brody had let out a low whistle. “They look way better on you, Ivy, even though they’re a bit high on your boots. But—damn!—I’m surprised those are even still around. I would have thought Noah would have burned those things. She sure burned him. She hated Ballenger Ranch like fire hates water.”

Ever since then, Ivy had tried not to wonder about the man who’d let his wife walk while he stayed at the ranch. It wasn’t any of her business, but she was still glad she knew. It would make it easier to think of Noah not as a man but as a man she couldn’t want. Actually, it would be best not to think of him at all, but that was impossible—a truth that was driven home when she found out that the following morning she would need to ride out on a search for lost cattle. Roping would be involved. Noah would be there.

Her courage nearly failed her. She’d never been good with a rope and hadn’t had much experience with one. Her less than stellar performance might convince Noah that he’d made a mistake hiring her. So at the end of the day she took a rope and, moving as far away from the house as she could, she practiced, using a bale of hay with a stick jammed into it. Time and again, Ivy swung the rope, but without much success. Anxiety made her clumsy. She had told Noah she would be a good hand. What would he say when she couldn’t even hit her targets?

Biting her lip, she turned and stared off into the distance, hands on her hips. Frustration nearly paralyzed her, but standing there worrying wasn’t helping. “Stop being such a coward, Seacrest,” she muttered to herself. “Just keep trying.” She turned back to her task.

“You’re swinging too high to the right, and the loop you’re using is too big for you.”

Finishing her turn in a rush, Ivy stared at Noah, who was standing less than twenty feet away and moving closer.

“How—how long have you been watching me?”

“Long enough to see the problem.”

To see that she couldn’t even hit an immobile stick, much less a moving animal. “I’ll practice. I’ll be better by morning.”

He gave her a long, assessing stare and shook his head. “I’ve got a dummy steer that will work better than that stick. I’ll show you how to use it another day. Tomorrow we’ll do the run without you.”

No, no, no, ran through her mind. He would lose respect for her. So would Brody and Darrell. A hand who couldn’t carry her weight was a liability, not a help. “I’ll make the adjustments you suggested. Noah, I know this isn’t my call, but…I want to be there tomorrow. I’ll learn. I won’t be deadweight.” She had very little left in the world. She couldn’t afford to lose this job…or her pride.

But she could see that he didn’t believe her. And why should he? If he’d seen her repeatedly miss the target, he had to be thinking she’d be more of a hindrance than a help.

“I’ll keep practicing tonight until I have it,” she said. And when he didn’t answer her right away…“Please,” she managed to whisper as heat flooded her face.

Noah swore. “Why didn’t your father teach you to rope?”

“I guess…he wasn’t very good at it himself.”

Noah gave a terse nod. He turned and started walking.

“Noah?”

“Don’t move. I’ll be back,” he said.

A few minutes later he returned with a contraption that looked like a plastic steer’s head on a metal body. “All right. Let’s do it,” he said.

Something like relief and gratitude mixed with fear swooshed through Ivy. She concentrated hard as she twirled the rope, knowing her loop was too wobbly and uncertain.

Noah stepped to her side. “Like this,” he said, gently grasping her hand and guiding her arm. “Keep the loop of the rope open and bring it across your body this way as you twirl it. Nice, easy motions. Steady.” But she didn’t feel at all steady. Noah was trying to help her, but the closeness of his big hard body, the warmth of his touch as his arm came around her and crossed her body, brushing against her, made it difficult to breathe or think. She looked up at him over her shoulder and for a moment the rope stopped moving as he stared back at her, their hands joined.

“That’s the basic movement,” he said, letting her go and stepping away. “Now you try on your own.”

She twirled the rope, awkwardly at first.

“The back of your hand will almost touch your mouth as it comes around,” he said, demonstrating with his own rope. “When you release the rope here,” he said, showing her, “the momentum of your arm finishing the turn and your hand pointing this way will send the rope right over the steer’s horns.” Breaking the instructions down into simple steps, Noah finally made it make sense for Ivy as she watched him rope the dummy steer.

“Are you ready to try again?” he asked.

Ivy nodded, more determined than ever. For the first time she felt hopeful that she could master this skill. She might be awkward, but with Noah’s help, she understood the mechanics of the process. Twirling her loop, keeping it open, she paid attention to her hand and to the loop as she released it. It fell short, and she was disappointed, but it was close. Her earlier attempts hadn’t been. She sucked in her lip, her brow furrowing.

“Again,” he said.

Ivy twirled the rope again. Miss. Throw. Miss. Throw. This time it landed neatly over the horns.

“Yes!” she said, grinning at Noah. “That’s one. It was a good one, too, wasn’t it?”

He laughed. “It was a sweet little toss. A winner.”

But one toss standing on the ground wouldn’t be good enough for tomorrow’s task. “Thank you,” Ivy said. “I—you can go now. I’m just going to keep practicing until I’m consistent.”

He raised a brow. “It’s been a long day, and tomorrow will come early. You should rest. You know, there are plenty of cowboys who aren’t especially good ropers.”

And those cowboys sometimes got passed over for better ones. “I’m not going to be that kind,” Ivy said. She tossed the rope again. And again. Over and over, , until she could land it most of the time. By now Noah was leaning against the fence and watching her with a lazy-cat smile on his face.

“What?” she asked.

“Don’t your batteries ever run down?”

“Not when I need to get something done.”

“Well, you’re done now. Your arm’s going to be sore.”

“But tomorrow I’ll be on a horse. I need to try it on a horse.”

“Ivy…”

“Noah…just a few times, so that I won’t be nervous tomorrow?”

“One or both of us will fall off the horse asleep tomorrow if we don’t finish up here soon,” he muttered, but he led her to Binny, a sweet little palomino. “She’s gentle and patient.”

Which was a good thing. Roping from horseback was more complicated than being on foot. Ivy didn’t really reach proficiency, but she was beginning to be afraid that Noah was right. They both had to work tomorrow, and…he had a child waiting. The thought made Ivy feel guilty. She sighed, turning in the saddle to apologize to Noah for keeping him out so late.

“You are tired,” he said, misinterpreting her sigh. “That’s enough, Ivy.” With that, he reached up and plucked her from Binny’s back, sliding her to the ground. “Bed,” he said.

She blinked. His hands were still around her waist. He was so close. She was still tingling from the contact, and the word bed hung between them.

Noah swore, and not beneath his breath this time. He let her go. “Don’t argue with me anymore today, Ivy. Just go.” He was obviously not any happier than she was at the arc of electricity that had passed between them.

Ivy’s breathing was still erratic. “Okay,” she said in a rush. “I’m done. Don’t worry.”

But she worried for a long time before she fell asleep. If she were smart, she’d give Noah a wide berth from now on…even if she couldn’t stop thinking about how his hands had felt on her.

Apparently Noah had been thinking the same thing, because the next day he worked mostly with Darrell and assigned her to Brody. The day passed and the one after that. She and Noah spoke very little other than basic greetings. Most of her orders came through Brody.

Still, whenever she saw Noah in the distance—working, riding, lifting his daughter onto his shoulders—something about him made her stop and look.

On the third day Ivy was gathering equipment to go help Darrell repair a windmill when she saw Noah heading toward the house. The door flew open, and Lily came tumbling out, running in that frantic, wobbly way that two-year-olds run.

“Da!” she squealed, raising her arms, confident that her daddy would pick her up.

“Hey, pumpkin, how’s my girl? Did you get away from Marta?” Noah scooped up the tiny child and swung her into his arms right against his chest.

Ivy couldn’t turn away. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t stop thinking about Bo’s toddler laughter that she had never heard. And yet that wasn’t this child’s or this man’s fault.

She stared, even though the pain cut right through her, razor sharp, leaving a trail of desolation she couldn’t control. It came upon her suddenly, tracking her down, forcing her to remember that she would never, ever get to hear Bo laugh. Never.