Free The Rancher Next Door by Betsy St. Amant

mend.
    Caley’s angry, hurt expression flashed in his mind, and he sighed. Make that three.
    Max braced his forearms on Nugget’s low stall door next to Brady. “Well, the tack is rubbed down, boss.” He paused and studied Brady. “You might want to go clean that gash on your head next.”
    “It’s not that bad. Nugget just happened to dump me on a rock.” Brady reached up to touch the tender flesh, a knot forming beneath the wound and sending a headache pulsing through his temples and down his neck. It did need some soap and water, but heading inside to clean it now seemed like defeat. Like admitting Caley was right.
    Like the way it hurt to take a deep breath meant she really had saved his life.
    “Jokes aside, I’m glad it worked out okay. I had no idea Nugget was so skittish with Spitfire. Could have been really bad.” Max lifted his hand from the stall wall and winced. “Splinter.”
    “I didn’t know, either. Wish I could have found out a little easier.” He reached up to pat Nugget’s cheek. “Speaking of splinters, we need to get Caley’s fence fixed ASAP, since Spitfire mauled it. Don’t want her landlord having a heart attack if he comes by to check on the property.” He rubbed grit from his eyes and wished he could just go inside and take a few pain pills and a nap. But the work at the ranch wouldn’t do itself. “You know how particular Tommy is.”
    “Doesn’t the entire town.” Max picked at his callused palm. “Man, I hate splinters.”
    So did Brady. Hated the kind that nestled unwillingly under his skin, the kind that poked and prodded tender areas best left ignored. The kind with blond hair and too much ambition for their own good.
    The kind he was going to have to apologize to.

Chapter Seven
    T hree days. Caley had only worked as Ava’s nanny for three days, and already she’d intermittently wanted to strangle and—if she was painfully honest—kiss the girl’s father.
    Neither was the smartest of options.
    Across the dining room table, Ava hunched over her homework, mumbling definitions under her breath and occasionally scrawling something in a notebook. Caley folded another bath towel and added it to the growing stack, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the sight of Brady through the kitchen window, strolling in and out of the barn. She had no clue how one girl and one man could go through so much laundry, but somehow she’d folded two loads of towels alone in the three days she’d been there.
    Too bad she couldn’t roll one up and smack Brady with it.
    He had yet to speak to her since the incident with Spitfire yesterday, staying out past dinnertime to repair the fence, and then passing through the house with his head down and offering only curt sentences to Ava before heading for the shower. She’d arrived at the house just in time for Ava to ride the bus home from school that afternoon, and had yet to see him up close. Either he was majorly busy undoing Spitfire’s damage, or he was avoiding her.
    And if it was the latter, it was only because he knew she’d been right, and he couldn’t admit it.
    “What’s the definition for the word aplomb? ” Ava scratched her head with her pencil, messing up her ponytail. “I’ve got to match them up and I don’t have a clue.”
    “Let me think. English was never my best subject. I was more of a math girl growing up.” Caley slipped behind Ava’s chair and took out the hair band, smoothing the top of her hair flat before resecuring it. “ Aplomb. I think it means bravery.”
    Ava read the choices on her sheet, then pointed to one in the far column. “This is it, then. Self-confidence or assurance?”
    “Bingo.” Caley slapped her a high five and then returned to the towels, this time sitting down and curling her bare feet up under her. “Good job.”
    “Too bad I don’t have to use it in a sentence.” Ava lowered her voice as if reading a headline. “Young girl’s nanny shows major aplomb when rounding up a wild