I Cross My Heart. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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needed him to help her make the Triple G attractive to buyers. End of story.
This time he didn’t miss the turnoff to her ranch, but a day of baking in the June sun hadn’t improved the road any. It was while he slowly maneuvered around the potholes and deep ruts that inspiration struck. Once the idea came to him, he couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. The solution to her problem and his was obvious. He would buy the ranch from her.
Sure, it would take some creative financing and wipe out the savings he’d carefully accumulated so far. But there were programs for first-time buyers, something he’d researched not long ago. Lindsay’s parents had given them a house as a wedding present, and so that meant he was, in fact, a first timer.
What a brainstorm! The ranch abutted the Last Chance, so he could keep in close touch with his friends. It was small, but that made it more likely he could swing the deal. He might not even want more land than this. And the view of the Tetons was almost as spectacular as the Last Chance had.
If she went for this solution and still wanted him to do repairs, he’d consider it sweat equity instead of taking money for it. She wouldn’t be ready to turn the property over to him until she’d finished her sorting inside the house, but she could forget the hassle of listing the place and considering offers, so he’d actually save her time in the long run.
He also had a hunch she wasn’t selling the ranch for the money. Maybe selling to someone she knew, someone who loved this area and would make the ranch into a showplace, would compensate for his lack of a sizable chunk of cash. He was so eager to broach the plan that he sped up and hit a rut that nearly jolted the eyeballs out of his skull.
Forcing himself back to a crawl, he allowed himself to dream of actually owning this ranch. Because he wouldn’t have income from it right away, he’d keep his job at the Last Chance. He’d sink every penny into improvements, and eventually buy a couple of horses. And he’d get a dog.
Maybe he’d turn it into a boarding stable. He understood how to run one of those, thanks to Lindsay. She’d had the business degree and he’d had the animal science degree. On paper it had seemed like the perfect match. Luke had reported that horse-care standards at the stable had fallen quickly after Nash had left.
The drive to the Triple G, which he’d already started thinking of as his, took freaking forever. He had time to decide what color he’d paint the barn—deep red—and whether he needed shutters on the ranch house windows. Probably not. He hoped that at least one of the corrals was solid, because he desperately wanted a couple of horses. Without horses, what kind of ranch was it, anyway?
When he finally pulled into the clearing, he saw that the recliner remained in the middle of the yard like an abstract chunk of modern art. At least it didn’t smell quite so bad now. Next he noticed four colored pots—red, yellow, blue and green—lined up on the front porch. Each was filled with an array of petunias, daisies and pansies.
He’d keep those pots and refill them every spring. It was amazing how flowers in pots classed up a place. Even the weathered gray boards on the porch looked better because of those flowers, almost as if the weathering had been left that way on purpose, for artistic effect.
After parking his truck next to her rented SUV, he started toward the front porch steps. She must have heard the engine, because she opened the screen door and came out. He almost didn’t recognize her.
This morning he’d thought she might clean up pretty good and be reasonably attractive. Time to reevaluate. She’d shot way past attractive and traveled straight on to beautiful.
Her glossy cap of dark hair curled around her ears and made him want to slide his fingers into that black silk to see if it felt as good as it looked. She probably had on makeup, but she was skilled enough for it to be invisible. That left her with a wholesome and very kissable face, big gray eyes and a sweetly rounded chin that begged to be cupped in one hand while he combed through her hair with the other. He could almost taste her lips.
She’d traded in the damaged suit for a ruffled white sleeveless blouse and gray capris. She wore sandals that showed off lavender toenails. He could eat her up with a spoon. But he’d thought of a great idea while he was driving here, and he should tell her what it was…just as soon as he remembered. Seeing her looking so sexy and approachable had made him forget everything else.
“You’re right on time.” She smiled, which warmed him in a way he hadn’t been warmed in a very long while.
“I was eager to leave.” Although his brain wasn’t working very well, his gift of gab seemed functional. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about the Last Chance Youth Program. It just started, and the place is overrun with wild adolescent boys.”
She shook her head. “I hadn’t heard, but what a cool idea. You don’t like kids?”
“Sure, in small numbers. Eight of them running around the ranch is…a lot.”
“They’ll be living there?”
“Until the middle of August. The idea is to take boys from troubled situations and give them a couple months of ranch life. With luck they’ll leave with a work ethic and maybe even some self-esteem.”
“I love it. If I were staying, I’d want to see if I could help.”
Nash grimaced. “Which makes me the guy with the bad attitude who’s griping about the mayhem involved.”
“Not at all. Not everybody’s in love with kids that age. You have a right not to be.”
He thought about that. “No, I don’t. I’m at the Last Chance because the folks there believe in giving both people and animals one more shot at success. That’s what this program is about, too, and I’m going to adjust my thinking.”
Taking a deep breath, he smiled at her. He’d love to compliment her on how nice she looked, but that might not be appropriate for the hired hand. “The flower pots sure spruce up the porch.”
“Thanks!” She seemed genuinely pleased. “I thought so, too. Hungry?”
Now there was a loaded question. “Sure am. Some-thing smells really good.” He actually meant her, because she gave off a delicate scent that reminded him of plants that flowered only in moonlight. He’d learned about those while he’d lived in California.
But she’d think he was referring to the smell of food coming from the kitchen, and that was fine. They should keep their interaction platonic, or as close to platonic as they could manage given that they were both healthy and human. Looking at her in the soft light of early evening, he was feeling very human, indeed.
“It’s chicken,” she said. “Not very exciting, I’m afraid. Come on in.”
He followed close enough that he could hold the screen door for her and breathe in her night-blooming flower scent. “I don’t cook, so anything more than peanut butter and jelly is exciting to me.” He might be wise to stop talking about what excited him, since Bethany had chicken beat by a country mile.
“Don’t look at the living room,” she said as she walked quickly through it. “I haven’t had time to do much in here.”
“I bunk with a bunch of cowhands. You can’t shock me.” But he tried to honor her request and not notice that the room was shabby and unkempt. No liquor bottles were lying around, but the faint smell of whiskey lingered. Once you spilled liquor on carpet, the stink was hard to get out. Maybe she hadn’t needed much gasoline to light that recliner on fire, after all. He understood her fierce desire to haul it out of here.
The living room was separated from the dining room by French doors, and when she opened them, he walked from a miserable space into a joyous one. “Wow. You’ve been working hard.”
“You have no idea how I loved making at least one room in this house look the way it’s supposed to.”
He surveyed the flickering candles on the table and the sideboard, the flowered centerpiece, the white linen tablecloth and