The Heart of a Stranger by Sheri Whitefeather Read Free Book Online

corner. Another debt.”
    â€œI’m sorry, Lourdes,” was all he could think to say. He could see that this farm was her heart, her soul, the core her family history.
    If she lost it, she would lose a piece of herself.
    She sighed. “I do most of the work myself. I train the foals and yearlings, tend to the mares, balance the books, keep the supplies stocked and help the ranch hand with repairs when he gets behind on his chores. But there are still other professionals involved, independent contractors I pay every month. A studman, a farrier, a vet.”
    â€œYou’re spreading yourself too thin, Lourdes.”
    â€œIt’s my farm.”
    Maybe so. But he intended to work 24/7 if necessary to help her carry the load.
    She shifted to look at him. “Do you want to see where you’ll be living?”
    â€œSure.”
    She took him to the bunkhouse, a triplex-style building with separate apartments.
    He studied the outside of the rustic dwelling. “Looks like you’ve got some extra accommodations.”
    She searched her pocket for her keys. “I used to have more barn help. Not that it matters now. The living quarters are getting rundown, too. I’ve got plumbing problems in the first two apartments.” She led him to the third. “I’ve done my best to keep this one up. It should suit your needs.”
    He agreed. The place was small but clean, with homespun furnishings that included a sofa bed and some attractively battered antiques. The tiny kitchen offered a modern stove and a full-size refrigerator. An oak table sat beside a paned window. He liked the Texas memorabilia on the walls, and the faded Indian blanket draped over a chair gave him a cozy feeling.
    â€œHector isn’t staying here,” she said. “He lives at a neighboring farm.”
    â€œHector? Is he the ranch hand who’s helping you out?”
    â€œYes. I’ll introduce you as soon as we head over to the barn. He’ll be training you. Getting you acquainted with the routine.”
    â€œI wish I could start today.” He was eager to make himself useful, to help her with every chore he could.
    â€œCáco hasn’t given you a clean bill of health yet. But she will.”
    â€œYeah. She’s starting to bend.”
    When they both fell silent, Lourdes turned to look out the window. Juan took the opportunity to study her profile. French and Ecuadorian, he thought. No wonder her features were so exotic.
    Juan hooked his thumbs in his pockets. He wore the new jeans Lourdes had purchased for him. He hadn’t opened the cologne yet. He still wasn’t sure why she’d opted to buy him a designer fragrance. A guy mending fences and shoveling manure didn’t need to wear cologne to work.
    â€œDo you wear perfume?” he asked suddenly.
    She gave him a surprised look. He supposed his question had seemed out of the blue.
    â€œYes,” she said.
    â€œEvery day?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œEven when you work?”
    She nodded, and he moved closer. Lifting her wrist, he pressed it to his nose. “I don’t smell anything.”
    â€œI wear it here.” She touched the side of her neck.
    Without thinking, he leaned in and lowered his head. Her fragrance was soft and subtle, sweet and feminine.
    Like flowers and a hint of spun sugar.
    Hunger hit his stomach. An arousal tightened his groin.
    He lifted his head. Their faces were only inches apart. Close enough to kiss.
    Juan didn’t do it. He didn’t press his mouth to hers.He stepped back, cleared his throat. “You smell pretty.”
    â€œThank you.”
    She fidgeted with her collar, and he realized she fussed with her clothes whenever she got nervous.
    He imagined toying with her blouse, tracing the delicate stitches, loosening a button.
    â€œWhy did you buy me cologne, Lourdes?”
    She lifted her shoulders in an evasive shrug, and he frowned.
    â€œI’m going to smell like