Ali Olson - The Bull Rider's Twin Trouble

“It’s fine,” Brock cut in, not wanting Carter to get in trouble for his actions. “I told him he could call me that. I think the only person who has ever called me Mr. McNeal was my fourth-grade teacher, and that lady was plumb crazy.”

Carter smiled at him. Brock couldn’t help but smile back.

Cassie also seemed pleased, though she wasn’t as obvious in her emotions as Carter was. “Well, now that that’s settled,” she said, “I was thinking we would start working in the library first, and then some of the fencing around the place, or maybe the barn. I want to get the ranch ready to hold horses.”

He nodded, trying to keep his eyes on his plate instead of on her. Hopefully she would show him where to start and leave him to it, and he could lose himself in hard work and avoid this woman who set his blood on fire.

After she dumped the dishes in the sink, though, she looked at her two boys and said, “While we’re moving things around, I’d like you to put your clothes into the drawers in your room. After that, you can work on your fort or play with your cars. Can you do that?”

So, she clearly wasn’t planning on freeing him from her presence. If he hadn’t been pleased that she was willing to get her hands dirty and help fix up the place, he would’ve been annoyed about spending even more time near her.

The boys nodded and raced into their room. Brock was impressed that such young children could follow directions, but before he could comment, Cassie smiled at him and shook her head. “They’ll probably throw everything in one drawer before getting sidetracked and playing with toys, but it’ll keep them busy for a few minutes, at least.”

Brock pictured himself doing just that as a kid and laughed. Her dry humor only made her prettier, which sobered him quickly. “So, you wanted to start in the Wilsons’ old library?” he prompted.

Cassie nodded and walked out of the kitchen, beckoning at Brock to follow her. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the well-formed bottom that swayed so enticingly before him.

Chapter Three

Cassie showed Brock into the small room off the living room that she hoped to turn into a doctor’s office. Before she could start seeing patients, however, there was a lot to do.

The room had obviously been used as a library. The empty shelves lining the wall were of dark oak, making the entire space feel shady and somber. She imagined leather chairs and dusty volumes of old books giving it an air of class, but it didn’t fit with the light, friendly tone she wanted to convey.

“Mr. Wilson was quite a reader,” Brock commented, looking around the room. “I never understood why they lived on this ranch when he would have been much happier being a professor or something. What do you want to do with it?”

“I want to take out these shelves and make it into a doctor’s office,” she started, ready to turn her dream into a reality.

“You’re a doctor?” he asked, clearly surprised.

She nodded, waiting to see how he would react. Her husband, Hank, had always been negative about her choice to continue school instead of staying home with their young children, and even though he’d been gone for over six months, she still heard his disapproving words in her ears.

Brock gave her a sideways grin that turned her insides to mush. “You’re full of surprises,” he commented, and she couldn’t stop the blush of pleasure that worked its way up to her ears. “Well, the town certainly needs a doctor. People are going to line up at your door. So I guess we should get this place ready.”

Then he turned back to the room as if nothing had changed. Cassie’s defenses lowered slightly as she accustomed herself to Brock’s presence.

“Okay, so the shelves need to go,” he said. “What do you need to make the room ready?”

With that, she was off, describing the room she had imagined. A small desk, some shelves to hold supplies, bright paint, a couple of chairs and an examination table. A happy place where she could help people.

Brock listened, nodding occasionally. When she finished, he stretched, his arms raised to the ceiling. Cassie tried not to stare at him, but it wasn’t easy. “Let’s get started, then,” he said, moving farther into the room.

Soon they were grappling with the bookcases—heavy bulky things that, thankfully, took all her attention. With some difficulty, they managed to get the three large shelving units on their sides and slide each one out the door until they were lying in a row on the living room floor.

With those out, the room seemed much larger and brighter, and Cassie’s heart lifted. She knew she could make it into everything she wanted. Then she realized there was one big problem that prevented her from doing more.

Brock seemed to sense her sudden change of mood. “You don’t have paint yet, do you?”

Cassie shook her head, trying not to feel too disappointed.

“Then we’ll need to get some. We can do that tomorrow morning, if you like. For now, on to the next thing,” Brock announced, sidling out of the room.

Cassie could tell he wasn’t going to let her sulk, and it made her smile. He was right, anyhow. There was too much to do to sit around just because she didn’t have paint.

Back in the living room, they both looked at the shelves taking up most of the floor space. “I guess we could put two of these in my room and the other in Zach and Carter’s,” she said at last.

Brock moved into place to pick up one of the units and waited for her. Cassie couldn’t believe how willing he was to haul them all over her house, without a word of protest. She silently thanked Brock’s mother for having such a helpful son.

Soon all her thoughts and energy were once again absorbed by the task of lifting the heavy pieces of furniture, which they lugged down the hall.

Maneuvering the first one into her bedroom was a bit of a challenge, but finally the shelf stood against the wall opposite her bed. If the room wasn’t large, it might have looked hefty, but Cassie felt it fit nicely. She turned to Brock to see if he was ready to move the second one, and found him standing awkwardly near the doorway.

Then she realized that they were in her bedroom and she felt a flush creep up her neck at the memory of what lay at the bottom of her box of pajamas, only a couple of feet from where she was standing.

Brock cleared his throat and looked at her, but didn’t quite meet her eyes, for which she was thankful. Now was not the time to get lost in those ocean-colored depths. “Let’s go grab the next one,” he said, leaving for the hallway.

Cassie followed, hoping the heat in her cheeks would go away before they looked at each other again.

* * *

BROCK WAS GLAD to return to the open air of the living room. Even though the master bedroom in the Wilson house was large, the presence of Cassie and her bed made him feel short of breath and a little claustrophobic.

But that wasn’t the way his thoughts should be turning, he knew.

They made quick work of the second shelf, and without pausing in Cassie’s room, for which Brock was grateful, moved onto the third. As Brock picked up his end, he could feel the strain in his back, a holdover from an old rodeo injury. If he was tired, he imagined Cassie must be exhausted. He almost set down the shelf again to propose they take a break, but before he could, Cassie had lifted her end and begun moving toward the hallway with dogged determination on her face.

Brock couldn’t help but be impressed. She didn’t shirk the work it was going to take to get this place running, that was for sure. They carried the thing into the boys’ room, where they set it up against the wall as the two boys watched from where they’d been playing on the floor. When it was in place, Cassie leaned against it to catch her breath. Brock took the chance to stretch his back.