Page 5 of Wild Rose (Blue River Springs #1)

Maybe it’s the way the sun hits her, or the way those dark silky locks frame that round face, but fuck, her eyes are striking. They’re green, like I remember, but packed with raw, magnetic intensity.

Closing her mouth with a swallow, Rose scans me. And I’m not sure if she’s deciding if she could take me in a wrestling match .?.?. or checking me out.

Something tells me that’s a package deal with Rose.

You’ll never truly know what goes on in her head.

“You say something?” Wes asks.

“Uh .?.?. was she always this .?.?. small?”

He laughs. “Yep, you just got broader since you saw her last.”

I lick my lips. “Let’s head down. Doesn’t look like she takes too well to commands.”

My buddy mutters a “thanks” and follows me down the steps.

“Rose.” I keep my tone sharp yet friendly, but don’t offer a hand. It’s hard enough keeping my expression neutral as I come within a foot of her.

Touching her right now would be as foolish as my reaction when our eyes met.

“Rose, you remember Wilder.”

She steps back, making a point of looking up at me, shielding her eyes. “I don’t remember him being a giant.”

I cock my head. “Still got your manners intact, I see.”

“Still haven’t found yours, I see.” She extends her hand, making a show of my rudeness.

“Rose,” Wes warns from behind me.

I stare back, my eyes drawn to every damn feature.

She’s fucking stunning.

And Christ, what is that smell? Like grapefruit and .?.?. coffee? Shouldn’t she smell like an airport or luggage or something that isn’t so .?.?. damn good?

“Kitchen,” I say, then twist my neck to look at my friend. “You said Jack needed you?”

Wesley jerks at my boss-like demeanor. “Right. Rose, I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll swing by later, OK? Wilder will get you settled.”

“Don’t bother, I can take care of myself.”

He sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow then; stop in the kitchen for breakfast. I tucked a map into your backpack.”

Rose doesn’t respond with anything more than a glare.

When he hesitates, I give him a reassuring nod, and he hops back in his truck, pulling away without a second glance.

I watch him make his way off my lot. The blow of his words up on the porch still hitting hard.

He was going to leave Blue River?

Losing Wes in the kitchen is one thing. But he’s been my best friend since college. I can’t imagine running this place without his support. Sure as hell not getting it from Dallas these days.

I turn back to Rose, determined to make this work—for Wes.

Now that he’s gone, the corner of her lip twitches.

She swings her backpack from around her shoulder and shoves it at my chest. “I imagine you have someone who can bring my bags to my room? After a super quick tour—if one is even necessary—I’m going to need a nap.

So I do hope they’re equipped with blackout curtains.

And then .?.?. what do you have for transportation?

Because I took a look at that map, and there’s no way I’m walking. ”

The glimmer in her eye gives away that she’s playing with me. But on the off chance she’s serious, I step closer, my imposing frame towering over her. “Let’s get one thing clear—this isn’t a vacation. You’re here to work, not sightsee.”

Her eyes widen as she scans her surroundings like I’m delusional. “What’s there to see?”

“Plenty. So try to keep up.” I check my watch and start walking. “I’ve got exactly one hour to give you that ‘super quick tour’ and I expect you to take notes. Because tomorrow, when I send you to the Cattle Quarters at six a.m. for feeding, you’ll need to know what I’m talking about.”

She bursts out a laugh, slightly breathless as she tries to keep up with me. “Six a.m.? You’re kidding, right?”

I’m surprised she’s not shocked at me giving her ranch-hand duties. But I keep walking.

“Welcome to Blue River Ranch. Our days start early. Also, I was kidding about the feeding; you’re not going anywhere near my animals.

I’ll assign you tasks daily and expect them done right the first time.

If you don’t understand something, ask questions.

No wandering about the ranch, keep your eyes alert at all times and your phone on in case I call, and I will be calling or forwarding you messages.

A lot. That clear?” I stop and pivot back to let her catch up.

But she’s closer than I anticipated and slams into my chest with an “ Oof ” from our collision, bouncing back from impact.

I catch her wrist, my voice rough as sandpaper as I pull her back. “Sorry, didn’t realize—”

“That I could keep up?” she asks, winded and blinking up at me. “I’m from New York. We don’t dawdle.”

I scowl, annoyed that this girl seems to have an answer for everything, but at the same time, still holding her wrist like I need some reassurance she’s all right.

Her voice is shaky as she tears her gaze off where we’re connected and looks up. That smooth throat of hers working as she swallows. She pulls her hand free, composing herself. “Shall I call you ‘boss’ too? Or do you prefer ‘sir’?” Her lip quirks mischievously.

I clear my throat, trying to stay composed as my mind races to whatever she’s implying.

But my body betrays me as heat rises to my skin.

“I don’t care what you call me,” I snap.

“As long as you answer when I do and you show up on time. I’ve got a ranch to run, and I’m pretty much on my own, so I need you to take this seriously and hold some level of respect. ”

She stares at me, any humor wiped from her face. “What exactly has my brother been telling you about me?”

I leave her question unanswered but note the hint of hurt in her eyes.

“I need some confirmation that I’m understood.”

She perks a brow. “Yes, sir.”

“Cute,” I mutter, before stalking toward my red truck parked near the gate of my long driveway. I don’t usually park it this far from my house but needed to unload a delivery earlier onto a tractor.

I open the passenger door and toss her backpack inside.

I feel her sprint behind me. “Whoa—we can’t just leave my stuff.” She points back to the house where the three suitcases sit on the gravel driveway. “Two of those suitcases are art supplies. They’ll get fried out here.”

That makes me pause. She brought more art supplies than clothes? I flick my gaze to her worried one. “I’ll text my brother to bring them inside.” I cock my head. “Get in.”

Her eyes narrow at my tone. “Still single, I presume?” she mutters before sliding in, giving me another whiff of that tangy scent.

I don’t bother confirming her assumption and shut the door, then quickly shoot Dallas a text to bring the suitcases inside the house and I’ll pick them up later.

Our first stop is the main office, which is nestled at the entrance to the property.

“Blue River Ranch,” Rose says as she looks up at the hand-painted wooden sign on the building. “In Blue River Springs .?.?.” She squints up at me. “How original.”

Without comment, I yank the door open and hold it for her.

Following her inside, I’m hit with the scent of burnt coffee and leather.

Rose must notice it too as she inhales softly with a frown, then scans the dark paneled walls that showcase photographs of the ranch’s history.

“Well, afternoon, Wild,” Ginger greets me. But it’s not her usual greeting. She’s looking at Rose. “This must be the new assistant.”

“Ginger, this is Rose, Wesley’s kid sister. She’s going to be helping us out this summer until we—” My office manager and I lock eyes in an unspoken exchange. “Well, until we’re adequately staffed again. Rose, this is—”

“Oh, you’re no kid .” Ginger waves me off and pushes out of her chair, coming around the reception desk. “Look at you, you’re as grown up as I am.” She takes Rose’s delicate hands into hers with a firm grip.

To my surprise, Rose beams at her.

“Can’t argue with that,” I mutter. Despite her mature age of sixty-two, Ginger is as serious as a kid in grade school.

“This is Ginger,” I continue with a sigh. “Our office manager and the glue that’s been holding this place together since my father opened it thirty years ago.”

Rose smiles. “Oh, you must be Gingerbread. Wes has told me so much about you.” Rose hugs the woman that’s been like a mother to me for decades—even when my own was still with us.

“Oh.” Ginger presses a hand against her chest. “That boy’s as sweet as those cookies he bakes me.” She grips Rose’s hands. “Now you listen, this grumpy cowboy here gives you any lip, you come talk to me.” She winks.

I roll my eyes. “You two about done?”

Rose ignores me, her eyes shimmering with gratitude. “That a promise? Because I started twenty minutes ago and I’ve already got enough to fill your afternoon.”

Ginger gasps. “Wilder Thorne. Your best friend’s little sister? Where are your manners?”

I rub the back of my neck and avoid Ginger’s eyes. “Heard her say she could take care of herself just fine. Come on, we need to make more rounds.”

“Is this where I’ll be working?” Rose almost sounds excited as she takes in the guest welcome area.

“No.” I start walking toward the back. “Let’s move.

” I stroll past a few tourists browsing a selection of ranch- branded merchandise.

Rose eyes the shelves stacked with goods like scented candles, wooden spoons, and hand-woven blankets.

It’s not quite a gift shop but fills the walls with more of that “touristy vibe” Dallas insisted we needed.

Tourists were less impressed with old family photos and vintage memorabilia.

I didn’t disagree since it’s just the kind of thing I learned in business school.

Commercializing the ranch has made it more profitable but at the same time, created busy work for us.

It’s been a joint effort over the years and business has sure been booming as a result. But it comes with a price. Bigger staff, double the vendors, upkeep of each structure. And the bane of my existence, bookkeeping.

After a quick intro to the rest of the office staff, I cock my head to the exit. “Let’s move on.”