April Arrington - A Home With The Rancher

Those warm flutters returned to her belly. She glanced across the field. Mac stood still, eyes fixed firmly on her and Jaxon, as his daughters chased each other by his side.

“You need gloves, you know?” Jaxon added. “And glasses. At least, that’s what my dad says. He doesn’t let me practice without ’em. Says it’s better to be safe than sorry. You could ask him.” Jaxon’s voice hardened. “But he’s probably too busy to get ’em for you.”

Mac lifted a hand to his forehead and squinted against the sun, his scrutiny more intense.

Cheeks heating, Dani tore her gaze away. “I’ll be careful.” She adjusted her grip on the ax and tipped her chin toward the fence. “Jaxon, could you please watch from over there? I’d feel better if you were out of the danger zone.”

He nodded, darted off then ducked between the fence rungs.

She eyed the thick log standing on the wide stump, steadied her stance and swung. The blade stabbed into the surface of the wood and stuck, the impact reverberating down her arms.

“Take it out and hit it again.” Jaxon climbed on to the fence.

Dani smiled, pried the ax from the log then struck it harder. The blade landed perfectly, a heavy thud echoing across the valley, but the log didn’t split.

Her back and shoulders were another matter. Every muscle in her upper body stretched with strain, screaming that she’d pay for this later.

Jaxon smacked the fence rung with his palms. “You got perfect aim. Better than Mr. Cal.”

Dani laughed, the excitement on his face easing the painful throb in her arms. “Really? You’re not just trying to make me feel better, are you?”

“Heck no. You’re a better shot than him any day.” He grinned and bounced on the fence rung. “Flip it over and do it again.”

She did. Two more swift strokes of the ax and a satisfying crack rang out as the wood split, toppling off the stump and onto the ground in even halves.

Dani tipped her head back, heaved out a satisfied breath and closed her eyes. The sun’s heat seeped into her skin, her muscles tightening deliciously and a sweet satisfaction vibrating within her.

Take that, suits. She laughed. This was something those stuffy executives could never experience behind an office desk or in a corporate boardroom.

“You’re good.” Jaxon hopped off the fence, scooped up his baseball glove and tugged it on. “Better than good.” He crossed to her side, pounding a fist in the mitt. “You play baseball? ’Cuz I bet you’d be killer at bat.”

“Yeah. I like baseball.” She bent, grabbed another log and balanced it on the stump. “I watch the Mets on TV quite a bit but it’s been years since I’ve played.”

“The Mets?” His brow furrowed. “You from New York?”

Dani froze, the log’s bark rough against her palm. She glanced up and the innocent curiosity on the boy’s face intensified the churn in her stomach. “Yes.”

He mulled this over for a moment then asked, “How’d you end up here?”

She swallowed the thick lump in her throat. “It’s complicated.” And shameful. Which made her a straight-up awful person. She ducked her head and resumed her chopping stance. “I should get back to work. And you should probably check in with your dad. Thanks for the help.”

Jaxon kicked the ground and spun away. “Whatever.”

The hurt note in his tone sent a fresh wave of guilt through her. “Hey.” She waited until he stopped, back planted to her. “There’s no way I could’ve done this without your help. And I really do enjoy your company. I just need to finish this, okay?”

He looked over his shoulder, voice hesitant. “So can I stay and watch? I promise I won’t get in the way.”

What was it Mac had said? Just don’t mind them and go about your business as usual.

Dani’s eyes returned to Mac. He’d rejoined the group of guests and carried on a conversation with one of them, his daughters at his side, but he kept shooting looks at her.

She faced Jaxon and studied the hopeful light in his expression. It was so familiar. That vulnerable look of wanting to be given admittance. Wanting to belong and not be brushed aside. It was a feeling she knew all too well.

“Of course,” she said. “I’d like that.”

Smiling, he hustled to the fence and climbed up again, settling on the top rung.

Dani faced the log, tightened her grip on the ax handle then swung. An hour passed with rhythmic thuds of the ax. Sharp cracks of wood and Jaxon’s baseball pounding into his glove reverberated across the grounds. Sweat streamed down her face and back, her soaked shirt clinging to her skin with each swing.

She struck the wood harder and tried not to think about Jaxon, his sisters or their handsome dad. Instead, she paused between each stroke of the ax and took mental notes of the ranch’s layout.

Three paddocks with worn fences were stationed near a large stable. The stable looked sound and efficient but the outside walls were weathered and unattractive.

A fat drop of sweat stung her eye and she flinched, blinking it away to view the structure more clearly. Hmm. Some red paint, a bit of white trim and several strategically placed azaleas and it’d be much more appealing to the eye. It would also induce that good old-fashioned nostalgic feel a lot of people sought when choosing a place to stay in the Smokies.

Body aching, she paused, grabbed the split halves of wood then stacked them in a slowly growing pile. The grounds were in much the same state as the secluded cabin where she’d stowed her bag. So much potential but too much neglect.

“Want me to take over for a while?”

Dani dragged the back of her hand across her sweat-slickened forehead then smiled at Jaxon. “No, thanks.”

“But you look tired.” He frowned, peering over her shoulder. “And they’re laughing at you.”

She glanced around. The group of guests had left for their hike with Tim, and the girls were no longer in the field playing. But Cal and several other hands stood by the fence of a neighboring paddock, sipping from water bottles and grinning as they leered in her direction.

“It’s okay.” Dani hefted the ax into her hands, renewed her grip and smiled. “Let them laugh. I’m used to it.”

Jaxon smiled back but whispered, “You’re all red, though. And you really do look tired.”

“He has a point.”

Big palms settled on the wood handle between her smaller ones and Mac, solemn-faced, stared down at her.

“The stalls need mucking,” Mac said, eyeing her and tugging on the ax. “You can do that instead.”

She tugged back. “But I’m getting it done and there’s a lot more to split.”

“Yeah, and at the rate you’re going, it’ll take you a week to finish.” His expression softened. “You’re getting it done. Just not fast enough.” He pulled the ax from her grip. “I’ve got time to finish this stack now and I’ll do the second one in the morning.”

“But—”

“The shovel and wheelbarrow are in the stable store room. Remove the waste, add clean shavings then dump the load out back.” He grabbed a log and steadied it on the stump. “When you finish, see Cal and he’ll tell you what to do next.”

He positioned his muscular bulk in front of the stump, his hard jean-clad hip brushing against her soft middle.

Her heart tripped in her chest and she stepped back, thighs trembling from her earlier exertions. Gritting her teeth, she forced out, “I can finish this.”

“I’m sure you can,” Mac said, lifting the ax. “But I’d prefer it if you’d clean the stalls.”

A fresh round of male laughter cracked the silence of the fields.

“Break’s over,” Mac shouted. He stepped in front of her and faced the hands. “Get back to work.”