Reuniting With the Rancher by Rachel Lee Read Free Book Online

door just as he came riding around the corner of the house. He wasn’t even looking in her direction, just kind of ambling along. She grabbed a jacket off the coat tree, pulled it on and stepped out.
    “What are you doing?” she asked.
    He drew rein and turned his mount in her direction. “Curing insomnia,” he said. “We shouldn’t have disturbed you.”
    “You didn’t. I was awake.”
    “Sorry I didn’t bring a horse for you.”
    Oh, that was a mistake, she thought as memory slammed her again. They’d gone riding together so many times during that summer, laughing and carefree until passion would rise again. They’d made love on a bed of pine needles, once on a flat rock in the middle of a tumbling mountain stream, another time...
    Clenching her hands, she forced memory back into its cage. “Does it help the insomnia? Riding?” It seemed like a safe question.
    “I don’t think anything’s going to help tonight,” he said bluntly.
    Even though she could barely see him, she could feel his eyes boring into her. The quiet night settled between them, disturbed only by the jingle of the horse’s bridle as it tossed its head a little.
    “Well,” he said, “we’ll just move on.”
    She knew what she should have done, but before she could act sensibly, words popped out of her mouth. “Want some coffee? I know it won’t help you sleep...”
    “It’s almost dawn. No point in sleeping now.” For a few seconds it seemed he was going to continue his ride, but then he swung down from the saddle. “Coffee would be great.”
    She turned quickly and headed back inside, partly to avoid getting too close to him, and partly to warm up. Late spring? The nights still got chilly.
    She wished she’d grabbed a robe, but the long flannel nightgown she had put on was probably almost as concealing. Which led her to another question as she made the coffee. Why had she been in such a rush to get down here when she had been certain it was Cliff riding by?
    She shook her head at her own behavior. Maybe this house just felt too empty with Martha, but it was pretty sad that she was reaching out to Cliff.
    So there she was, missing Martha even more because she ought to be here, hundreds of miles from home, troubled by a weird nightmare that had somehow combined Cliff with the attack on her when the two were totally unrelated. She wondered if she was losing it.
    Or maybe grief had just scrambled her thinking. It was certainly possible.
    She heard Cliff come through the house to the kitchen, and it seemed his steps were slow. Evidently he wasn’t really looking forward to having coffee with her. Well, why should he? But he could have just refused.
    “Have a seat,” she said. She remained where she was, staring at a coffeemaker that seemed to be taking forever and a window that stared back at her blackly, showing her more of the kitchen behind her than the world outside.
    It was a big country kitchen. Martha had once talked about the days when the family was big, when they had hired help and everyone would gather here for the main meal of the day. At home she had an efficiency, with barely enough room for a narrow stove, small sink and tiny refrigerator. If she wanted to cook, she had to do the prep on her dining table in the next tiny room.
    Still, the house was awfully big for one person, but she couldn’t sell it for ten years. She definitely needed to find a good way to put it to use.
    Wandering thoughts again, but when the coffeemaker finished, so did the wandering.
    “You still like it black?” she asked.
    “Yes. Thanks.”
    So she carried two mugs to the table, and finally had to sit facing him. No way to avoid it any longer.
    He looked tired, she thought. Well, lack of sleep would do that. But damn him, he remained every bit as sexy as he had all those years ago. Maybe even more so. That didn’t seem fair.
    “You’ve lost weight,” he remarked. “Have you been sick?”
    She shook her head. “Just busy. Sometimes