Watching Erin work was a pleasure. She had stripped off her shirt to reveal a tank top she had apparently worn underneath it, offering him a great view of her torso, which was sculpted with muscle from working out. She wasn’t pumped up like a female bodybuilder, but she was definitely strong for a woman. He knew she hadn’t developed that musculature behind the steering wheel of a county vehicle. Results like that took dedication and a lot of sweat.

An image circled through his mind of all that moist skin and sleek muscle pressed against his nude body. He shoved it from his mind. Friends. No flirting with each other. No hooking up. That was their agreement, and he wouldn’t be the one to mess it up.

Chapter Seven

It was Erin’s turn to man the posthole digger, a two-handled implement with shovel blades that worked like a pair of scissors. She opened the blades, plunged them into the earth, and closed them to pick up dirt to dump on the pile beside the new hole. It was a demanding job, but she was enjoying her afternoon with Uncle Slade. She’d traded shifts with Serena Paul today to give the other woman Sunday off to attend a family wedding, and even though Erin had a dozen other things she should be doing at home, she was glad that she’d chosen to come out to the ranch instead. She and Slade talked while they worked, and she was having a great time with him. He seemed so happy now that Vickie was back in his life, and that made her nearly as happy as he was.

“Howdy!” someone called out.

Erin glanced over her shoulder to see Wyatt walking across the pasture toward them. Embarrassed to be seen in only a skimpy tank top and jeans, she dropped the posthole digger to grab her shirt and put it on before she turned to wave at him. Except for being caught with her arms and shoulders showing, she was glad to see him. It proved that he would no longer avoid her when she came out to the ranch, and that was a good change. Even though the shirt stuck to her sweaty skin, she was relieved that she’d put it back on, because Wyatt’s laser-blue gaze traveled slowly over her body as he closed the remaining distance.

“I didn’t know this section was in need of repair,” Wyatt said as he drew to a stop. “I could have taken care of it.”

“Yeah, well, you stay pretty busy,” Slade replied. “And I need to keep my stirring spoon in the pot. Otherwise I’ll get out of shape and have a beer belly.”

Erin decided to take a breather while the men discussed other sections of fence that needed repair. Working hard with a shirt on would be unpleasant. She would wait until Wyatt left and then strip it off again. She listened with only half an ear to what each man said about the west pasture. It was more fun just to watch them talk. They stood with their booted feet braced wide apart and gestured with their hands. When she’d lived in Seattle, she couldn’t have imagined a scene like this, two cowboys wearing Stetsons, Wrangler jeans, and riding boots, cast against a spectacular backdrop of rolling green pastureland edged by dense forests with snowcapped peaks reaching toward the sky. She felt as if she’d stepped onto a film set for a western movie.