She spent a good portion of the three-mile trip pretending that everything was hunky-dory, that it was okay that Josh had his arm casually slung across the back of her seat. After all, he wasn’t doing anything; it wasn’t his fault that while he was talking about how great a foreman Pete was and how much he liked the other wranglers and interacting with the ranch guests—except the ladies who came on too strong—she was holding a mental debate about whether it would be too obvious if she parked the truck close to Josh’s cabin so she wouldn’t have to deal with him asking to come inside her house. Josh was a chatterbox compared to the last man who’d ridden in her truck, she thought with a certain nostalgia for Ethan’s taciturn presence. There’d been no need to worry about deflecting a pass from him. She wondered what kind of woman would rouse Ethan’s interest. A sophisticated globe-trotter like him? A journalist? Or would he go for a temperamental artist? Maybe he was already involved with someone.
