A Cowboy In Shepherd's Crossing. Ruth Logan Herne
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he knew what it was like to have family love.
You knew it, you mean.
He choked down a sigh. He started for the baler, wishing things were different. He wished the town’s economy hadn’t started to nose-dive two decades back when no one bothered looking. Wished he wasn’t the last Middleton in a town built by Middletons.
But he was, and there were no two ways about it. Jace was going to do the one thing he hated to do. He was going to leave Shepherd’s Crossing and all his family had built over the years. Built...and lost.
He yanked his cowboy hat onto his head and fired up the baler. He’d longed for a chance to set things right, to make a name for himself in his hometown, but that wasn’t about to happen now.
So be it.
He’d do whatever it took to help his kid sister, Justine, get the start she deserved, and to make his way in the world. Even if it meant changing up the old house. He pushed the thoughts aside as he maneuvered the big machine out of the equipment barn to gas it up.
Lizzie’s sister looked up. Not at him, but beyond him. Something marked her gaze. Something shadowed and maybe even sad as her eyes swept over the beautiful ranch with a long, slow look. A look that indicated she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She righted her features before she turned back toward Lizzie, but then she saw him looking her way.
Her gaze narrowed. Her mouth did, too. But the face she showed Lizzie two seconds later was warm and genuine.
Only it wasn’t, and right now Jace Middleton was pretty sure only he and Melonie Fitzgerald knew that.
Sparse population, drastically cold winters and a herd of horses probably waiting to trample her senseless.
What on earth was Melonie Fitzgerald doing in western Idaho, when she’d been on the verge of contracting her own home-design TV show?
She knew the answer. Her father. He was a major publishing owner/executive who’d brought down his company, his home and his three daughters when he diverted millions in cold, hard cash into overseas accounts...then followed it there.
She didn’t do ranches. She steered clear of horses for good reason. And when her long-term boyfriend realized she was not only broke, but also in a mountain of debt, he’d dumped her like a hot potato fresh out of the coals.
Yet here she was, fulfilling the terms of a bequest on her late uncle’s ranch when she should have been on camera, filming the pilot episode of Shoestring Southern Charm.
Girl, you make the best of every situation. If it gets dark, you light a candle. If it gets cold, start a fire, or warm a room with your smile. A smile goes a lot further than a frown.
Corrie’s words. Succinct and true, always dependable. She turned to ask Lizzie about their nanny/surrogate mother, but caught the cowboy’s gaze instead.
He was hot. Not big-city hot, either. Country hot, with his long-sleeved blue thermal shirt, dark blue jeans and a to-die-for real cowboy hat. The black hat showed off his bronze skin and made him look even more rugged, if such a thing was possible.
He’d duped her over the directions.
After you treated him like a back-road hick.
She winced because she’d iced him and she wasn’t usually like that. But four years of running part of the magazine’s corporate office had affected her. She faced her sister. “Where’s Corrie?”
“Up the drive visiting Rosie and the baby.”
Was Melonie supposed to have a clue what she meant? Because she didn’t.
Lizzie took her arm as the good-looking cowboy busied himself with a fairly monstrous piece of machinery. “You’ll get to know folks quick enough. There are a lot of nice people here, Mel.”
Mel locked eyes with her. “There are nice people everywhere. Doesn’t mean I intend to live there. You know me. This isn’t exactly my thing.”
“And on that note.” Heath slipped an arm around Lizzie, kissed her, then bumped his forehead to hers. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Love you.”
Lizzie gave him a smile that said more than words. “Love you, too. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, see you, Dad!” The brown-skinned little boy jumped into his father’s arms and gave Heath a big hug. “Maybe we’ll make some cookies for you. Okay?”
“Okay.” Heath shared a grin with the boy, then took off in a muscled-out pickup truck.
“They’re taking the winter lambs to market.”
Melonie scowled. “I know what that means.”
“Says the steak lover in the family.”
Melonie started to acknowledge that, but spotted Corrie coming their way. She dropped her purse and raced off to meet the woman who’d stood by the three sisters for as long as she could remember.
“Have mercy, I’ve missed you, girl!” Corrie pulled back, looked Mel over, then offered her a sweet, wide smile. “Look at you, all Louisville fancy in the heart of western Idaho.”
“Please do not tell me this is overdressed,” said Mel. She glanced at Lizzie’s blue jeans, barn boots and T-shirt and sighed. “Never mind.”
“I’ve got stuff you can use, Mel. But yeah, even casual silk has no place here. ” Lizzie exchanged a grin with Corrie. “And cotton’s a must.”
“Meaning I might as well leave my luggage in the car, right?”
Corrie laughed. “Let’s get your things inside and we’ll catch up. Did Cottonwood Productions offer you a contract? And are they willing to wait?”
“Yes and no.” Melonie pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes as she trundled a bag up the steps. “When they realized I had to be here, they quietly shredded the whole thing.”
“Oh, Mel.” Lizzie stopped on the top step. “That could have been a huge step forward for you. Wasn’t it worth foregoing Uncle Sean’s bequest to give it a shot?”
Melonie shook her head as she climbed the stairs. “Breaking into cable is high risk. Most pilots go nowhere. Only a few make it, but with nothing to live on, the choice became a no-brainer. Ezra is shopping it around, but I’ve got bills to pay.” Ezra had been a photographer for the magazine. Now he was working freelance photography and videography.
“I hear you,” said Lizzie. “Come on in, let’s get you settled. And I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m hungry. Let’s make some sandwiches and eat them on the porch with the cute kid. We can play with the puppies.”
Cute kid. Puppies. Sandwiches?
Was this her low-carb, former publishing-executive sister talking? The one whose job disappeared along with their swindling father? She reached out a hand to Lizzie’s forehead. “No fever, but possible delirium. Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”
Lizzie laughed as Zeke popped in, grabbed a cookie, then headed right back out again. “I’m a rancher, Mel. Welcome to the Pine Ridge Ranch. It is—” she slipped an arm around Melonie’s shoulders and gave her a half hug as they moved to the stairs “—real nice to have you on board. I’m hoping you’ll be surprised by the reception you get when you meet the locals. I gave all kinds of people the last two copies of your magazine and they loved them. Who knows?” She lifted the suitcase to carry it up the stairs. “You might land some jobs here.”
Melonie had gotten an eyeful of what Shepherd’s Crossing had to offer when she shot past the farm drive on her first pass through. The small town just north of Pine Ridge featured worn-out buildings, paint-peeling facades and a pervading air of desperation. Not exactly a recipe for success.
She could make a difference. She knew that instantly, but she had no stake,