The Rancher's Untamed Heart (3 page)

It wasn’t like it was a promotion up to supervisor, or anything. Just another fifty cents an hour and a better parking spot.

I had to let it go.

The next day, I slept in and didn't get to the office until seven-thirty. Sarah showed up at five minutes to nine, just like always, and ducked her head into my office.

"You, me, lunch, today," she said, pointing at me sternly.

"You've got it, boss," I said. "I've got to run out to double-check page seven of this form, but I should be back by noon."

"See that you are, underling," she said. Sarah was, technically, my supervisor, after all.

I was, in fact, back by noon. Sarah immediately dragged me back out to the parking lot.

"Come on," she said. "Come on, come one. Food."

We walked to the little cafe only a block away that served cheap sandwiches and cold drinks. Sarah was anxious and bounced the whole way.

"Calm down, " I said. "You have big news?"

"Oh, God," she said. "The biggest. There has not been news as big as mine in ages."

We went through the line quickly and met at our usual table.

"A salad?" I asked. "What happened to your ham sandwich."

She looked longingly at my roast beef.

"I can't have lunch meat right now," she said, poking at the greens on her plate.

"That bites," I said.

"No, it's awesome." she said, grinning at me. "I can't have them because I'm finally knocked up."

"Are you serious?" I squealed. "That is fantastic!"

We squealed and tapped our feet and giggled when the man at the next table glared at us over his newspaper.

"When did you find out?" I asked. "How far along are you? Do you want a baby shower at work? What does Neil think?"

"So many questions! First of all, I found out last night, I've been feeling kind of crappy and so I peed on a stick. It was positive, and I freaked out and peed on two more, and they were super clear. I am really, really pregnant," she said. “I was so excited that I ran out to tell Neil and forgot my jeans were around my ankles. I fell over. It caught his attention, at least. He about fell over too when I showed him the sticks.”

"I am so happy for you," I told her. "You've been trying for, what, a year now?"

"Almost," she said. She looked so happy and relieved, I couldn't wait to hug her when we finished our lunches. "I'm probably five or six weeks along, that's it, so if you spill the beans at work I'll never tell you anything again. Neil wants to keep it private until I'm, like, six months along."

We finished our lunch going over every detail of how she was feeling, and trying to decide whether she’d rather have a boy or a girl.

“-and she’s about six weeks along,” I said, cradling my cell phone between my shoulder and my ear.

“Cool,” Justin said. “Are you going to get her a present or something?”

I laughed.

“I’ll probably arrange the baby shower at work, and I’ll definitely get her something nice. Maybe a fancy rocking chair or a gift certificate to her favorite Chinese place. They deliver, and I know she won’t want to cook for a while,” I said.

“Right,” he said. “That sounds good. Do you want Chinese?”

“When?” I asked.

“Tonight,” he said. “I can swing by and pick you up.”

“I’d love to,” I said, and he interrupted me before I could finish the sentence.

“But,” he said. “But, you’re busy? But, you don’t really want to? There’s always a ‘but,’ isn’t there?”

“No,” I said. “I’m just tired. I’d love to go out, but I’m tired. Would you like to pick some up and come eat on the couch with me, have a lazy dinner?”

The silence that came through the phone spoke volumes.

“It’s fine,” I said, quickly. “Why don’t we go out another time? Or I’ll come out if you want me to, I just need to drink some coffee.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your lazy evening.”

He laughed cheerfully, but I wasn’t entirely convinced.

“I’ll see you on Friday,” he said. “Pick you up at seven?”

I agreed, and hung up.

I headed from the bedroom to the kitchen, opening the fridge and trying to figure out what I could have for dinner.

I had a chicken breast and some broccoli, and started some pasta to boil while the meat cooked. That should give me lunch for the rest of the week, too.

As I cooked dinner, I hummed aloud and thought about the meal I’d eat with Justin on Friday night. It would probably be Chinese, since I mentioned it, but he might surprise me with something else. I never knew quite what I was getting, and I enjoyed the novelty, most nights.

I just wished sometimes to date someone who wanted to just curl up on the couch with me every once in a while and watch a movie, or read a book. Someone who wanted to spend time with me and relax, not having to go out all the time. I couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t really want to be a part of my life. He had barely seen my apartment, and I was only at his when we were sleeping - or having sex, I thought.

The sex was wonderful, and the restaurants he took me to were generally spectacular.

I didn’t really have anything to complain about.

I felt guilty at wanting more. Justin brought me flowers and remembered my birthday - with a
very
expensive necklace - and was pretty much a model boyfriend.

Friday afternoon, I had one of the worst visits to a ranch I could imagine. Not only did the owner blow me off and call me “little lady,” not only did I trip over my own feet and land in a cow pie, but I made a mistake on the paperwork that he caught.

Sarah told me repeatedly that every single person makes mistakes, and I was still good at my job. She let me off work an hour early to scrub off the cow poop and get prettied up for my date.

Even though I (mostly) believed her that everyone made mistakes, it still stung that it had to happen in front of that man.

By the time Justin picked me up outside my apartment building, though, I felt better about life. No longer smelling like manure will do that to a girl.

I had changed from my work jeans and blouse into a fun little sundress with high heels. I even blew out my hair for the first time in months, and spent extra time with my makeup. I was looking good and feeling good.

“Wow,” he said as I got into the car. “You look amazing. What did you do with your hair?”

“I just took a little extra time on it after work,” I said, off-handedly. “Sarah let me off an hour early to primp.”

“It hasn’t looked that good since we started dating,” he said. “You look completely hot. I can’t take you out to Chinese looking like that, I’ve gotta take you out somewhere more fun.”

I laughed and elbowed him gently over the gearshift.

“Flatterer,” I said.

“It’s my best thing,” he said.

We both laughed, and he drove away from my apartment building.

It didn’t take long to arrive at a little Thai restaurant, much fancier than the Chinese place I’d introduced him to.

We ate our curries off of china plates sitting on white linen tablecloths and grinned at each other in the candlelight.

“I’m so glad to take you out,” he said. He leaned forward to whisper to me. “Every man in this place wishes he was taking you out tonight.”

I giggled a little. It was flattering, but it made me a little uncomfortable when he went on like that.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’m… I’m really pleased to be out with you, of course. Always.”

He reached across the table and squeezed my hand gently.

“Good,” he said, decisively.

I was halfway through my chicken curry when I told him about the conversation I’d had with Sarah earlier in the week, the one about promotions.

“So, she said I probably wouldn’t get promoted as quickly because I’m female,” I said. “It took her eight years to get to her position and it apparently took the men that started where she did hardly five years. Can you believe it?”

He nodded and shrugged.

“Sure, I can. It’s not much different at the bank,” he said. “Women pretty much seem to stay in the bottom positions.”

“It’s ridiculous,” I said, just like I had during my conversation with Sarah. “I wish I could do something about it.”

“You don’t have any proof,” he said. “You can’t sue without proof.”

He pulled out his phone as it buzzed in his pocket, and replied to a text message without looking at me.

“I don’t want to sue anyone,” I snapped. “I just want to get the promotions I work for before I die of old age.”

He shrugged. “That sucks,” he said. “You’ve said all this before, though, you know? When that guy got a raise last month and you didn’t. Maybe you’re just not working as hard as they are.”

I gasped in outrage.

“You’ve heard me talk about how much I work since we met,” I said.

“You left work an hour early to primp for a date,” he said. “I didn’t. Maybe the men who are getting promoted ahead of you don’t, either.”

“I get to work at least two hours early every morning,” I said. “I stay an hour or two late almost every day. I haven’t taken a single sick day since I started. I got off
one hour
early, one time, because I fell in cow shit, and you say I don’t deserve a promotion as much as a man does?”

“Does that man get there three hours early?” he asked. His brown eyes were expressionless.

“I’m the first one to the office every morning,” I said. “I put in more hours than anyone else there. Everyone knows it. Everyone has commented on it.”

“Maybe you’re just not efficient enough,” he challenged. “Why do you have to spend that much time there to do your job?”

“I do my job and I do the work of another entire employee,” I ground out. “I’m efficient
and
I put in a lot of hours.

I couldn’t believe that he was doing this, talking so casually as he revealed that he didn’t have faith in my job.

“I work myself to the bone for that office and I deserve a promotion, and a raise, and I deserve it sooner than any of the men in that place!” I snapped.

He grinned at me, and I glared in confusion.

“That’s right,” he said. “That’s how you need to be when you go get your raise. March in them and tell them they’d need to hire two people to take your place, and you deserve extra money.”

“What the hell?” I asked, still upset. “Don’t do that to me!”

He held up his hands, ingratiatingly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. “You want a boyfriend, not a business coach. I shouldn’t have done that.”

I glared at him.

“Of course they’re sexist, of course it’s terrible, of course you deserve a promotion,” he said. “You care more about that job than anything else in your life. You’re amazing at it, you work incredibly hard. If you worked at the bank, I’d promote you like a shot.”

I eyed him, but I was softening.

“Promise you’ll never torment me like that again?” I asked.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he said. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Ice cream would be a good start,” I said, cracking a smile.

He signaled for the check. “Can we get this boxed up?” he asked the waiter. “We have to go buy some ice cream.”

The poor man hardly blinked, and carried the rest of our food back to the kitchen.

“Justin!” I said, laughing. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry, were you still eating? We can finish at my place,” he said, with a salacious smile. “Ice cream first, though. Very important. Have to go pick up a pint of forgiveness.”