Mia turned, hands clasped together in excitement, coffee forgotten on the counter. “Did your heart whisper? Really? For Bubba?”
Marisol shrugged, fighting the urge to smile.
“I knew it!” Mia crowed, doing a little jig back and forth across the tile that made Marisol laugh.
“That doesn’t meanhisheart is whispering,” she said, not wanting to be swept up in Mia’s excitement just yet. “After the way I ran away from him last night, he probably thinks I’m a crazy person.”
“We’re all crazy around here,” Mia said, waving a breezy hand through the air. “Keeps the place interesting.” She crossed the room, pulling Marisol into a hug that was surprisingly nice, considering they still weren’t much more than strangers.
But maybe it didn’t matter how long you’ve known someone, but how much of themselves they’ve shared with you, and how much you’ve shared in return. It had been years since Marisol had had such an honest conversation, and she hoped it would give her the strength to be honest with Robert.
She wasn’t in the perfect place to start something with a man she cared for—far from it. But maybe, if he could be patient, and she could keep one ear tuned in to the hopeful whispers inside, she could get to that place sooner rather than later.
CHAPTERNINE
Bubba was quickly rememberingwhy he had never aspired to be a rancher like the long line of Lawson men before him.
He woke Tuesday morning with every muscle in his body aching, only to get kicked in the ribs by the first calf Cole herded down the alley into the crush squeeze. Cole swore none of the calves were over five months, but the little sucker that got a hoof in Bubba was the biggest weaner he’d ever seen. He knew his mom was a big believer in late castration, to allow the male calves to pack on more weight before they were deprived of their testosterone source. But by mid-morning Bubba was wishing his brother John had the cojones to tell Laura Mae they were going to start castrating at three months, the way his brother had wanted to for years.
Three-month-old calves were smaller and more easily managed that the pre-teen monsters Bubba and Cole had been wrestling for two days. And putting off the process until the summer months the way they did every year meant every animal had to be treated with fly and worm spray before they were released into the holding pen, where they’d be kept until they had healed from the procedure. Not to mention that the bleeding was worse when the animals were older, and the pain—despite the fact that Cole had gotten up early to numb the first batch of calves with lidocaine before they got started.
The morning was painful all around, and by the time Cole headed down the hill to the house to pick up their lunch, Bubba felt like he’d been run over by a truck.
He limped to the shade of the small stand of trees near the ledge overlooking the valley and collapsed onto the hard dirt with a groan. He was filthy, sore, and so tired he had no idea how he was going to put in another four hours after lunch. He knew Cole was disappointed that he’d failed to locate the missing cattle the first time he’d ridden out, and they weren’t going to be able to finish the job in three days, but Bubba was secretly grateful for the break. If he had to get up tomorrow and do this for the third day in a row, he might not be able to pull it off.
And if he wimped out in the middle of a job, Cole would never let him hear the end of it.
Bubba had assumed long hours working as a lineman, mornings at the gym, and weekends spent rock climbing with Ugly Ross had kept him in ranch-ready shape, but he’d been wrong. He’d forgotten that ranching used an entirely different set of muscles, muscles that now ached so intensely not even the sight of Marisol pulling up on a four-wheeler could convince him to expend the energy it would take to stand up.
Instead, he waited until she’d cut the engine, and was looking around the pens before he called out. “I’m over here. Suffering in the shade.”
Marisol jumped, laughing nervously as she turned toward him. “You scared me. I thought you’d gone in for lunch.”
“Nope, Cole’s bringing lunch back here,” Bubba said, eyes tracking up and down as Marisol walked toward him.
She was wearing the same clothes as last night—battered jeans, a plain black tee shirt, and boots—with her hair pulled back in a thick ponytail and not a speck of makeup on her face. She looked like she belonged on a cattle ranch, and even prettier than she did in her fancy dresses and high heels. He wanted to tell her she’d never looked sexier than she did right now, but after the way they’d parted last night, he knew it was best to steer clear of potential triggers.
He should have known better than to let sweet talk turn to dirty talk in the first place, but after the way she’d kissed him, he’d lost control of his mouth. Something deep inside of him had insisted all the things he wanted to say were the things Marisol wanted to hear, but he’d obviously misjudged things again. It had been a mistake, one he hoped she would give him a chance to fix.
“I’m sorry,” he said, as soon as she stepped into the shade. “I shouldn’t have pushed you last night. If you’d wanted to stay, you would have stayed.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Marisol said, shifting her weight back into the heels of her boots. “I shouldn’t have run away. I just wasn’t ready to talk, and I was too scared to do anything else, so… Forgive me?”
“Nothing to forgive.” Bubba smiled, his heart lifting. He’d rarely heard Marisol speak so openly, and he couldn’t remember seeing such a vulnerable look in her eyes.
But that anxious, determined expression on her face could mean she’d come here to ask him to let her out of their contract. He would be best served by letting her finish what she’d come here to say before he got his hopes up too high.
“I like you a lot, Robert,” Marisol said, holding his gaze. “And we’re both obviously struggling to keep this a purely professional relationship.” She took a deep, bracing breath. “But before we go any further, you should know that I’m not an easy person to be involved with.”
Bubba lifted a wry brow. “You don’t say.”
The side of Marisol’s lips quirked. “I’m serious. If you think the past few days have been confusing, wait until you get a load of the rest of the baggage.”
Bubba’s grin faded. “I’m not afraid of baggage. I just wish I could have some quality time with the guy who made you so scared. I bet he’d look a lot better with a black eye and a few fewer teeth.”
Marisol shook her head, sending her ponytail swishing around her shoulders. “It’s not his fault. I mean, Shane was part of it, without a doubt, but it’s more than that. It’s my family cutting me out of their lives that’s hurt the most, and then there’s…other stuff. It’s just been a really hard couple of years.”
“You want to talk about it?” he asked, patting the sparse grass near the trunk of the tree. “I’m a good listener.”