Page 10 of The Rancher’s Bride

“Beats the hell out of me,” Damian says with a snort.

“What did they even tell you about me?”

He pauses. “You’re twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Close enough.”

“I guess.”

“You’re from Ohio.”

“Pennsylvania.”

His eyes narrow. “They said Ohio.”

“I lived there for two years. I grew up in Pennsylvania.”

He scratches his jaw. “Fine. You’re twenty-nine, grew up in Pennsylvania, and like books.”

“I also worked at an insurance company.”

“Office work.”

“Yes.”

He glances around the barn. “Yeah, I don’t know what the agency was thinking. They sent me a woman who likes offices and books to shovel shit on a ranch.”

“I didn’t come here to shovel anything. You put me to work.”

“You volunteered.”

“I’m trying to help.” I drive the fork into the bedding. “Why did you apply?”

“I told you. I needed a change.”

“That isn’t a reason to marry a stranger.”

His expression hardens, but after a moment he leans against the stall wall. “My father died six years ago. My mother moved into town. My sister’s married with two kids, and my brother works oil fields down south. That leaves me here.”

“Alone.”

“I’m not scared of being alone.”

The speed of his answer suggests otherwise.

He drags off his hat and wipes his forehead. “I was tired of the house being empty. Tired of eating over the sink every night. Everyone I know is married, divorced, or related to me. The women around here know what I’m like and have the sense to stay away.”

“That’s surprisingly self-aware.”

“Don’t sound so impressed.”

“I’m trying not to.”

He puts his hat back on. “Your turn.”

I focus on spreading clean bedding. “My parents died in a car accident when I was nineteen. I moved in with my aunt, worked, saved, and left as soon as I could.”