Abby Gaines - Cowgirl Makes Three / Her Secret Rival - Cowgirl Makes Three / Her Secret Rival

“Forget it, Brody. I’m not hiring Ivy so that you’ll have something prettier to look at than cows or the other hands. She’s not coming back.”

And Noah continued to think that right up until the moment he walked into his barn the next morning and found Ivy pitching hay into one of the horse stalls.

“Good morning, Noah,” she said.

Ivy’s hair was a color that defied description. Strands of honey were mixed with palest tan and pure blond, making a man want to look closer and let the strands slip between his fingertips. Her eyes were eager, her smile bright. Noah felt as if he’d been punched in the chest, so aware of the woman was he. He wasn’t even going to allow himself to let his gaze drop to the way her pale blue shirt and denim jeans fit her curves. The fact that he was noticing any of this at all was bad news.

“Good morning, Ivy,” he said. “Now, if I could just have my pitchfork back, I’ll point you toward the door. I meant what I said yesterday.”

Her smile froze. Her shoulders slumped just a trace before she caught herself.

“It was worth a try,” she said. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

Too late, he thought. She was already bothering him. He was already thinking about her and worrying about her. It was a sickness, this fear that he would make another misstep with a woman.

Which didn’t change a darned thing. “Not a problem,” he said. “I admire your tenacity. I wish you luck.”

She handed him the pitchfork, and even through the rough gloves she wore he was aware of her slender hands, those long fingers.

“You could have let her try,” Brody said, coming up behind him once Ivy had gone.

With a swift turn of his body, Noah faced Brody. “I did that once. I let Pamala try to play at being a rancher’s wife. And where is she now? She’s in California, playing at her new role of wannabe actress. She didn’t even care enough about Lily to say goodbye. What am I going to tell my child when she wants to know why her mother never comes to see her? You think I want to expose her to more of that when Ivy is cut from the same cloth as Pamala was?”

Brody’s face paled, but he didn’t drop his gaze.

“You can’t live your life letting your mistake with Pamala color everything you do.”

Of course, Pamala had not been his first or only mistake with a woman, but that was none of Brody’s business.

“Watch me,” Noah said. “Ivy’s not working here. I’ll get the women in town to put some basic supplies together so that she’s fed and clothed. But I am not giving her a job. And that’s final.”

No matter what she did or said, she was never going to be a part of Ballenger Ranch.

SHE HAD TOLD NOAH that she wouldn’t bother him anymore, so why was she out here repairing a section of fence?

Ivy wrestled with her conscience. She acknowledged that simply trying to stay out of the man’s way while still attempting to impress him with her ability to do the job was pushing the limits. But what could she do? She needed money to survive. If she could earn enough money to pay the taxes, she could sell the ranch. Then she could hide for a long time. No facing reporters wanting to ask her how losing Bo and Alden and her famous face had changed her life. It had been two years, but just as soon as she thought everyone had forgotten about her, some new model would shoot to the forefront and the reporters would seek her out again for a “whatever happened to” segment, and she just couldn’t do that.

She’d enjoyed modeling and her looks had brought her honest work, but how she felt about the loss of those looks was…complicated. Her scars were a reminder of a life she had loved and lost, but even more than that, they were a reminder of her failure to save her baby, and she never hid them with makeup. She had lived while Bo died. She couldn’t forgive herself for that, but she wouldn’t discuss it, either. No. She needed anonymity and enough money to allow her to disappear.

So, yes, she felt guilty about her impulsive comment to Noah, but she couldn’t give up. Taking her pliers in her gloved hand, she snipped the wire and pounded the staple home, snugging up the wire.

“Nice job, but it won’t work, Ivy. Most of my fences are in good repair.”

She whirled, and there he was. “How did you sneak up on me like that?”

“Applesauce knows how to be quiet.” He patted the big black gelding.

“Applesauce? He looks more like a Thunder or Killer.”

Noah almost smiled. “My daughter named him.”

Daughter. Child. He had one. Hers was gone. The familiar arrow of pain bit deep, but she was ready. She’d heard that he had a child, so she was able to keep from crumbling. This time.

“She’s a little young to be naming horses, isn’t she?”

“Lily’s almost three, but she loves horses and she also loves—”

“Applesauce,” they said at the same time.

Ivy let that sink in. A man who would risk being ribbed by other men for riding a horse with a silly name in order to make a child happy seemed more human than she wanted to acknowledge.

“The horse is irrelevant, though,” he said. “I’m not hiring you, Ivy. You’re wasting your time and mine.”

Okay, no matter that she was touched by his regard for his daughter, Noah was never going to be on her list of favorite men. If she had such a list, that is.

“You haven’t even given me a chance.”

“I don’t have to. I own the ranch and I call the shots.”

Desperation began to crawl through her bloodstream as she felt her last chance slipping away. “So you’ll hire a man with inferior skills just so you won’t have to hire a woman.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“The fact that you won’t even test my skills implies as much.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to hire an insubordinate employee.”

“I wouldn’t be insubordinate.”

He chuckled. “Ivy, you’re arguing with me. Isn’t that the definition of being insubordinate?”

She frowned. “I know how to follow directions and be submissive.” Unfortunately she knew that all too well. And the word submissive… maybe that hadn’t been the best choice. He was looking at her as if she’d said something sexual. Then he swore.

“I’m sorry. You obviously have your reasons for pursuing this, but I have my reasons for saying no. It’s not happening, Ivy.”

She opened her mouth.

He groaned. “Give up, Ivy.”

Something inside her cried out at the injustice, but she knew when she was beaten. She’d traveled this “no way to win” path before. In this very town. On the ranch she’d grown up on.

Pocketing her pliers, she turned to walk away.

“You don’t have to walk. I’ll arrange for you to ride.”

She stopped, tipped her head back as she pivoted and stared up at him. “No. You have only one thing I want and that’s all I’ll accept from you.” A ride was a pity gesture. She had what it took to do this job, even if Noah couldn’t see it. Walking home was nothing. Deciding where she went with her life from here? That was the difficult part.

Still, she wouldn’t let him see her fear. A frightened woman wouldn’t change his mind. Ivy squared her shoulders and marched away. She and Noah were done, unless…

Stop it, she told herself. There won’t be any unless. He’s made that clear.

But then, she’d always had a stubborn, rebellious streak. Sometimes a good dose of stubborn was all a person had to see them through the day.

“What’s that you’re eating, pumpkin?” Noah asked his daughter.

Lily held out one chubby little hand, in which she clutched a mangled piece of toast with jam. She looked up at him with her huge blue eyes and smiled. “Cook-ie,” she said with a little laugh.