The Truth About Plain Jane

“Stock?”

“You know. Cows, horses. The animals. And we’re expectin’ some new kittens any day.”

“Really?” she asked, her eyes wide. Ducking her head, she scuffed the toe of her shoe in the dirt.

Meg noticed the girl’s hesitation and stuck out her hand. “My name’s—” She hesitated for a moment, quickly reminding herself why she was there and who she was supposed to be. “My name’s Margaret Chastain, but you can call me Meg. What’s yours?”

“Carrie Winston,” the little girl answered.

“Do you know how to ride a horse, Carrie?” the cowboy asked.

Carrie shook her head.

“What about you, Miss Chastain?” he asked, turning his attention to her. “Do you like to ride?”

Meg looked up at him. “I—no, not very much.”

“Maybe you just need a good teacher.”

Meg’s breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t what he’d said, it was how he’d said it. There was a hint of a promise in his voice and a suggestion of something in his eyes, just before he pulled his hat down, hiding the top half of his face.

“Maybe Carrie can take riding lessons,” Meg suggested, forcing herself to breathe again. “They’re offered here, aren’t they, Mr…?”

“It’s Trey, ma’am.” He touched the lowered brim of his hat, and she could feel him studying her in the dimming light.

Carrie tugged on his shirtsleeve. “Can I? Can I take riding lessons?”

“Sure you can. I’ll let Ellie know.” Trey nudged his hat back, grinning at the child, and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Ellie’s our riding instructor. Pete, over there, is our head wrangler,” he said, nodding in the direction of two men—one of them a cowboy, true to form, the other a tall, lean man in gray slacks and a sports shirt. “Ellie must be busy with the horses. Why don’t I mosey on over there and talk to Pete about those lessons? You ready to start in the morning?”

Carrie looked up at Meg, excitement shining in her eyes. “Oh, yes! I have to tell my grandmother!”

As Carrie skipped away, Trey turned to Meg. “How about you, Miss Chastain? Are you interested in lessons?”

Meg hesitated. Ride a horse? The idea made her want to run for the rugged hills that framed the ranch, but she held steady. Riding would be expected of the guests, and she had signed up for the trail ride at the end of the week. Geraldine had insisted on it, even though this entire trip was an effort made in desperation. But Meg didn’t care. She needed this. Without it, things wouldn’t get better. And they had to.

“I’m game if Carrie is,” she finally answered.

“I’ll get you both set up, then,” he said, with another touch of his hat. He turned to leave, and Meg couldn’t stop herself from watching him.

When the cowboy had ambled across the dining area and disappeared, Meg let out her breath in a slow whoosh. As if in reply, her stomach rumbled again, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten. There were only a few empty seats left, so she hurried to the chuckwagon to fill a plate. Her late arrival had put her at a disadvantage. She had missed the small welcome party that had been advertised in the ranch’s brochure. Besides Carrie, Meg hadn’t had a chance to meet any of the other guests. She needed to make up for lost time. Later, during the campfire, she hoped to learn as much as she could about the Triple B Dude Ranch.

But as she took her seat on the bench at the long trestle table set up for the evening meal, she realized she had a direct view of the main ranch house. She could see the cowboy, who was now walking up the steps of the porch, and it was impossible to drag her gaze away. She would have to be careful around him. The way he looked at her, as if he could see beyond her disguise, it wouldn’t take long before he guessed the truth. She couldn’t risk that. With luck, she would soon be in a better position to help Aunt Dee. Once she had the means to move them to a climate where her aunt’s asthma would be better, they could both begin to relax and enjoy life. But that would happen only if she kept her mind on her reason for being here, not on a sexy ranch hand.

After making sure everything was back to normal following the disasters of the morning, Trey stepped off the porch and crossed the yard, his heart swelling with pride at the view. Situated on a rolling field that edged the rugged Banderas terrain, the main buildings glowed golden. The sun’s descent toward the horizon offered a breathtaking panorama. A man couldn’t ask for much more, except maybe to be a success.

Aromas from the best food south of the Mason-Dixon made his mouth water. Smiling and nodding at guests, he approached the chuckwagon. Satisfied that everything was now running smoothly, he grabbed a plate and filled it, then turned to search for a seat at the long trestle table. But the only spot available was on the end, and directly across from Meg Chastain.

Trey considered carrying his plate to the barn, but it would only put off the inevitable. He couldn’t entirely avoid the woman for a full week. He needed to get accustomed to her green eyes, or discover what it was about her that sent a fog through his mind—and a blaze through his body that he didn’t want to acknowledge.

She was talking to a young couple seated on her right when he placed his food on the table and swung first one leg over the bench, then the other. An older woman on his right was deep in conversation with another couple.

“Howdy,” he said to no one in particular, picking up his fork. He eyed the tender ribs on his plate, determined that the woman across from him wouldn’t get to him this time.

“Hello,” she said. “I see you decided to join us after all.”

He took a bite of a rib, dripping with barbecue sauce, and looked up—right into Meg Chastain’s emerald eyes. He was caught again, and barely noticed the older woman beside him leave the table. All he could do was concentrate on getting past the effect those eyes had on him.

Knowing that conversation was required, he quickly swallowed. “Business. I had some ranch business to take care of.”

The woman beside Meg smiled at him. “It’s just beautiful here. Ted and I are so impressed. And this food!”

The man next to her nodded. “My hat is off to whoever cooked this wonderful meal.”

Trey nearly sighed out loud with relief when Meg’s gaze moved to the couple, giving him the chance to clear his head and answer. “That would be Theresa. She’s the best.” He mentally went through the names of the guests. “Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, right?”

They smiled at each other. “Why, yes, that’s right,” Mrs. Henderson answered.

But Trey’s relief was short-lived when Meg smiled at them. The warmth of it nearly knocked him over. He recovered quickly and was ready when she turned back to him.

“How long has Theresa cooked for the ranch?” she asked.

“Always. We wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Mr. Henderson stood and helped his wife to her feet as she navigated the table and bench. “I can’t blame you for that,” he told Trey. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if someone tried to steal her away,” he added with a chuckle. “With meals like this one, I’ll need all the exercise I can get this week. Is it all right if Janet and I take a walk around the place?”

“Please do,” Trey said, standing to extend his hand. “And if you need anything, just let any of the staff know. Hope to see you both at the campfire later.”

Henderson took the hand Trey offered and shook it. “Thanks. We’ll be there.”

The couple spoke briefly to Meg, and then walked away, looking satisfied. And leaving Trey alone with the one woman he didn’t want to be left alone with. “Nice folks,” he said, filling the silence.

“Everyone I’ve met is very nice. And to echo Janet Henderson, it’s beautiful here.”

“I’d be a fool to disagree with that,” he replied with a grin.

Falling silent while they both finished their meal, Trey did his best to focus on the plate of food before him. But he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at his supper companion from time to time, trying to figure out what kind of woman she was. He divided women into two types. The first included the ones with dynamite curves, who were out for a good time. They were the women he felt most comfortable with, because the second kind was the settlin’down type. He enjoyed his freedom too much to get caught up with one of them. Not that he didn’t like them, but he had learned it always led to someone getting hurt. The first type understood him. The second type wanted to tie him down. Meg had him baffled as to where she fit. But it didn’t really matter. He didn’t have time for a woman right now. Either kind. And even if he did, he’d let his brother, Chace, be the one to enjoy married life. Trey liked his own footloose and fancy-free.

Rolling his napkin into a ball when his plate was empty, he prepared to leave, wondering what he should say to the woman across the table from him. The things he wanted to say—the things he normally said to a woman he was attracted to—were on the tip of his tongue. Lucky for him, that was pretty much still tied in a knot.

While he continued to watch her, Meg carefully placed her utensils on her plate and touched her napkin to her mouth. “When did the ranch open for business?”

He tore his gaze away from the simple movement and concentrated on her left earlobe, where he felt fairly safe. “Eight months ago, in December last year.”

“Is it cold here in the winter?”

“Pretty mild. It gets cool, but not downright cold. How about yours?” he asked, wondering where she hailed from.

“Cold,” she said with a wry smile. “Very cold.”