Feels Like Home. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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tiny voice in the back of his head murmured because I don’t want to make a fool of myself. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge that voice to himself, let alone to the maid of honor. “Because riding and roping and mucking out stalls, or anything that’s involved with ranching, doesn’t interest me.”
“Then what will you do all day?”
“I have my iPad and my iPhone. When Wyatt doesn’t need me for wedding stuff, I’ll work remote.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “He said you’re involved in the financial world somehow.”
Trust Wyatt to be vague on that point. His twin had never quite grasped what Rafe did for a living. “I’m a financial advisor.”
“And I’m sure you’re good at it, too.”
“I hope so. I have clients who depend on me being good at it.” He even managed some investments for Wyatt, who gave him carte blanche to do whatever he thought was right.
Her green gaze became serious. “Please take this next comment in the spirit of friendly advice.”
“Okay.”
“The Last Chance is an amazing place. In the few days I’ve been here, I’ve heard stories of lives being changed by contact with this ranch and the people on it. I’d hate for anyone to waste that privilege.”
“Meaning me.”
“Yes.”
He thought her earnest advice was sweet, even if it was misguided. “The thing is, I don’t want my life to change.”
“Well, then.” She gave him a look filled with pity. “I guess it’s a good thing you brought your iPad and iPhone.” She mounted up. For a moment she hesitated, clearly still thinking about his response and whether to say anything more. Then her expression closed down. “See you at dinner.”
“Sure. Nice meeting you.”
“Same here.” With a wave, she turned Spilled Milk around and urged the horse toward a large, hip-roofed barn about two hundred yards to the right of the house.
Rafe didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that Meg was disappointed in his attitude. But damn it, he hadn’t come here to attend cowboy school. Or to change his life.
Most guys would give their eyeteeth to live the way he did. He made decent money, rented an apartment with a view of the bay and dated sexy women. He was only twenty-nine, and although his twin had decided to tie the knot, he felt no similar urge.
After watching his parents’ marriage dissolve and the messy financial entanglements of that dissolution, he’d vowed to be very sure before he made a commitment. If he should find the perfect woman in the far distant future, he’d want her to be a successful businesswoman in her own right, someone who was as happy with a San Francisco lifestyle as he was. And there would definitely be a prenup.
In any case, he was in no hurry to get to that stage. He liked his present status just fine, and if Miss Meg Seymour wanted to dive into ranch activities and see about changing her life, she was welcome to it. But she could leave him out of that program, thank you very much.
2
MEG FROWNED AT HER REFLECTION in the mirror. She’d tried on every pair of earrings she’d brought to Wyoming, plus the long and dramatic ones in turquoise and silver that she’d bought during a shopping trip in Jackson with Olivia. She’d also changed clothes three times.
This was not like her, and she was angry with herself because she knew the cause of it all. She wanted to look stunning for Rafe Locke when she came down to dinner. What a ridiculous goal that was.
One glance had told her that he dated skinny women in designer dresses and up-to-the-minute hairstyles who had exotic jobs in the art district. That was so not her.
She’d never been skinny or willing to shell out for designer clothes or an expensive salon cut. She was a brainy engineer who worked for the City of Pittsburgh designing traffic-control systems in areas of urban growth. She had her hair cut at the same Pittsburgh salon where her BFF Olivia had worked until a year ago, when she’d moved to Wyoming.
But Rafe had snagged her attention. He claimed not to be interested in ranch life, but she sensed he was more wary than uninterested and possibly afraid of looking foolish doing something he wasn’t good at. His apparent reluctance to step out of his comfort zone posed an irresistible challenge to her.
She knew from personal experience that breaking through self-imposed boundaries created a life full of excitement. Rafe’s attitude implied that the Last Chance would be a blip on his ultrasophisticated radar, a place to tolerate until he could satisfy his duties as best man and return to the rarified, and possibly stifling, air of his San Francisco existence. Shaking him out of that self-satisfied rut would be good for him and tons of fun for her.
His well-toned body tempted her, too. Those broad shoulders and narrow hips would look great in cowboy gear. She could picture his dark eyes shadowed by a tilted Stetson. Oh, yeah.
At least once during their meeting this afternoon she’d caught a flash of interest in his expression. Building on his initial interest might be a way to lure him into tasting cowboy life. He really did look like a younger version of Jack Chance, and almost every woman in Shoshone agreed that Jack was sexier than hell. He was also taken.
Rafe was not, and he had the makings of a hero. After all, he was Wyatt’s twin and Jack’s half brother, so a cowboy’s soul could be hiding under that urban exterior and just waiting to be turned loose. Meg figured she had first crack at him, at least for the week of the wedding. Wasn’t that the prerogative of the maid of honor when the best man was single? If it wasn’t in the wedding party rules, it should be.
This dithering had made her late, though. She’d heard Olivia and Wyatt arrive at least twenty minutes ago and the sound of laughter and the clink of glasses from downstairs told her that drinks were being served in the living room. In late August the weather was nippy enough for a fire in the evenings and she could smell cedar smoke. All the Chance family would gather tonight because welcoming Wyatt’s twin, who was also Jack’s half brother, was a big deal.
Rafe would be down there trying to keep everyone in the family straight in his mind. Meg felt a little sorry for him having to deal with it after a day of traveling. And he didn’t fit into this ranch crowd at all, which wouldn’t help.
Meg felt totally comfortable here and had a good memory for names and faces. Even so, she always mentally reviewed the players before jumping into a large gathering. Jack, the oldest Chance son, was married to Josie, who owned the local tavern Spirits and Spurs. Their baby son was named Archie after his great-grandfather.
Next oldest was Nick, a large-animal vet who’d married Dominique, a talented photographer. They were plowing through the paperwork to adopt Lester, a thirteen-year-old boy in foster care who’d been part of a work program for disadvantaged youth held at the ranch for the first time this summer. Nick and Dominique, along with everyone at the ranch, had fallen in love with Lester and had decided they’d be more than happy to start their family with him.
The youngest son, Gabe, was married to Morgan, a redhead. Meg and Morgan had bonded over the joys and problems of having red hair. Morgan and Gabe’s little toddler, Sarah Bianca, had inherited the red hair, so Meg felt right at home with those two.
The sixtysomething ranch foreman, Emmett Sterling, would probably be at the gathering because he’d worked at the ranch for years and was considered part of the family. He actually might become part of the family if he and Pam Mulholland, who ran a nearby bed-and-breakfast, ever got married. Pam was Nick Chance’s aunt, and she’d be there, too.
Sarah Chance, the matriarch of the group, had finally found a new love after the untimely death of her husband several years ago. Peter Beckett, her fiancé, would be in attendance. A philanthropist, he’d funded the ranch’s summer program for young teens.