Ramona consoled him for the loss of the money he'd paid on an insurance policy he'd never be able to cash? She didn't feel anger anymore, just a foggy sense of detachment.
She had a lot of decisions to make in the next three weeks. Perhaps fate had sent her to Ringgold, Texas to show her what was important and what would make her happy. She'd gone to college with the understanding she needed a degree in business to aid her in running the oil company when her time came to take over but looking back, she'd done it out of necessity, not because she loved the job.
Ranger women did what they had to do and she needed to run an oil company. Her father had inherited a ranch from his father and her mother had loved it. She had managed to run it and the oil company. Maybe Jane could do that, but she decided in that moment that she didn't want to do both. She wanted out of the oil busi ness, and she wanted to devote more time to ranching. So should she hire a competent, trustworthy CEO to run Ranger Oil, or should she sell it outright?
"Not to Paul. He's not getting his hands on one single penny of what is mine," she whispered.
"Who's not getting what?" Slade asked from the doorway. He wore a pair of knit pajama bottoms with John Deere tractors printed on them and no shirt or shoes.
"Just thinking out loud," she said. "Having trouble sleeping?"
"A little. You'd think as much as we danced we'd be asleep like kids after a long day of running and playing," he said.
"Adrenaline settles down faster in little kids," she said. "No wonder Nellie and Ellen have trouble getting to sleep after a big night. Theirs must take forever to level out at their age."
"Shhh. If they hear you even thinking they are getting old, they'll string you up from the nearest oak tree with a worn-out rope," he teased.
"That should make you happy. At least I'd be gone," she taunted.
He ignored the barb. "You see that tall blonde I was dancing with this evening? I'm thinking about asking her out to dinner next week. What's your opinion?"
She almost choked. Surely she'd heard wrong. Maybe he wasn't even standing in the doorway and she was dreaming. She slapped her leg. "Ouch," she said.
"Mosquito?" He moved to another chaise lounge and stretched out.
"Big one."
"Well?"
"I saw her and my opinion doesn't mean jack shit. You don't even like me, much less respect my opinion on any given matter."
"We danced good together, didn't we?" he said, changing the subject.
"Yes, but two trained monkeys could two-step together."
"Think we might be friends?"
"Are you drunk?"
"Sober as a judge."
"Whatever changed your mind about me?"
He couldn't tell her that the minute he'd touched her hand, all kinds of indecent thoughts sped through his mind like a class five tornado on its way to tear up a row of tar paper shanties. That his mouth went dry and his palms began to sweat. He couldn't tell her that holding her in his arms during the dances felt so right. After the way he'd acted ever since she'd arrived on the ranch, she'd think he was certifiably goofy.
He wasn't sure he wasn't ready for the boys in the white jackets to come and take him away. After thinking about it since they'd gotten home, he'd come to the conclusion that she could be his friend and give him girl-type advice about his other women. That should erase any crazy notions of physical attraction right out of his mind.
"You hunting for an answer, or didn't you hear me?" she asked.
"Truce. Let's bury the hatchet and at least be civil for the next few weeks. After that, you'll leave and never even look back or remember us. So are you going to answer me? What do you think of me asking her out?"
"Did you ask Kristy? She's already marked you as her territory. You don't belong to me. I didn't hike my leg on your boots."
He chuckled. "I think
She had a lot of decisions to make in the next three weeks. Perhaps fate had sent her to Ringgold, Texas to show her what was important and what would make her happy. She'd gone to college with the understanding she needed a degree in business to aid her in running the oil company when her time came to take over but looking back, she'd done it out of necessity, not because she loved the job.
Ranger women did what they had to do and she needed to run an oil company. Her father had inherited a ranch from his father and her mother had loved it. She had managed to run it and the oil company. Maybe Jane could do that, but she decided in that moment that she didn't want to do both. She wanted out of the oil busi ness, and she wanted to devote more time to ranching. So should she hire a competent, trustworthy CEO to run Ranger Oil, or should she sell it outright?
"Not to Paul. He's not getting his hands on one single penny of what is mine," she whispered.
"Who's not getting what?" Slade asked from the doorway. He wore a pair of knit pajama bottoms with John Deere tractors printed on them and no shirt or shoes.
"Just thinking out loud," she said. "Having trouble sleeping?"
"A little. You'd think as much as we danced we'd be asleep like kids after a long day of running and playing," he said.
"Adrenaline settles down faster in little kids," she said. "No wonder Nellie and Ellen have trouble getting to sleep after a big night. Theirs must take forever to level out at their age."
"Shhh. If they hear you even thinking they are getting old, they'll string you up from the nearest oak tree with a worn-out rope," he teased.
"That should make you happy. At least I'd be gone," she taunted.
He ignored the barb. "You see that tall blonde I was dancing with this evening? I'm thinking about asking her out to dinner next week. What's your opinion?"
She almost choked. Surely she'd heard wrong. Maybe he wasn't even standing in the doorway and she was dreaming. She slapped her leg. "Ouch," she said.
"Mosquito?" He moved to another chaise lounge and stretched out.
"Big one."
"Well?"
"I saw her and my opinion doesn't mean jack shit. You don't even like me, much less respect my opinion on any given matter."
"We danced good together, didn't we?" he said, changing the subject.
"Yes, but two trained monkeys could two-step together."
"Think we might be friends?"
"Are you drunk?"
"Sober as a judge."
"Whatever changed your mind about me?"
He couldn't tell her that the minute he'd touched her hand, all kinds of indecent thoughts sped through his mind like a class five tornado on its way to tear up a row of tar paper shanties. That his mouth went dry and his palms began to sweat. He couldn't tell her that holding her in his arms during the dances felt so right. After the way he'd acted ever since she'd arrived on the ranch, she'd think he was certifiably goofy.
He wasn't sure he wasn't ready for the boys in the white jackets to come and take him away. After thinking about it since they'd gotten home, he'd come to the conclusion that she could be his friend and give him girl-type advice about his other women. That should erase any crazy notions of physical attraction right out of his mind.
"You hunting for an answer, or didn't you hear me?" she asked.
"Truce. Let's bury the hatchet and at least be civil for the next few weeks. After that, you'll leave and never even look back or remember us. So are you going to answer me? What do you think of me asking her out?"
"Did you ask Kristy? She's already marked you as her territory. You don't belong to me. I didn't hike my leg on your boots."
He chuckled. "I think
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