The Rancher's Surprise Baby. Trish Milburn
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someone he knew casually. Or maybe it was seeing his older brother, Neil, having a hard time keeping his hands off Arden, his fiancée, that had him thinking it’d been a while since he’d gone out on a date. But wrecking a woman’s car seemed like a bad precursor to asking her out to dinner.
Asking Mandy out? That was it, he was going home and sticking his head in his mom’s freezer, maybe pressing a bag of green peas against his aching temple.
“So, where to?” he asked, focusing on the road in front of him.
“Actually, out toward your place. The former Webster ranch.”
He looked over at her. “You bought the Cedar Creek? Maybe I need to start working in a yarn shop.”
“Yes, I’m sure you know loads about yarn and knitting needles.” She shook her head. “I only bought a couple of acres on the creek. They subdivided so they could sell off the land quicker.”
“Huh. I’m surprised one of those bigwigs looking to invest in large tracts for hobby ranches didn’t snap it up. We had one sniffing around ours until my soon-to-be sister-in-law sent him packing with the threat of some not-so-nice press coverage.”
“Well, I heard that was a secondary reason for subdividing. The Websters wanted their place to go to people who could afford a more reasonable price tag and appreciate it more. Got the feeling they didn’t like rich ‘bigwigs’ too much.”
He laughed at that. “I always did like the Websters. Hated they had to sell, but they had a rough time this past year.”
Ranching was always a touch-and-go way to make a living. That was why he and his brothers and sisters did their best to keep expenses low and to bring in other income to make sure the Rocking Heart stayed afloat for their parents—and for future generations of Hartleys. Of course, he wasn’t going to be providing any of those munchkins—even though his family didn’t know that. Luckily, his sister Angel already had a daughter, and he’d bet Neil and Arden popped out a few rug rats before long.
“Do you need to stop anywhere before we leave town?” he asked Mandy. “Grab some dinner?”
“Nah. I might just pour a glass of wine and sit in the creek.”
“Make it a beer and that doesn’t sound half-bad.”
“You’re welcome to the creek, but I don’t have any beer.”
“I better stay away from the creek. The way my day’s going, I’d probably fall and drown in an inch of water.”
“I’d save you. I might have to leave you there if you’re unconscious, but I’d at least roll you faceup.”
He laughed. “How very kind of you. Have to say you’re being pretty nice to the guy who crashed into your car.”
She shrugged. “Being mad wouldn’t make it any less crunched. Plus, at least I didn’t get whacked in the head by a bird.”
Her smile transformed her face from merely pretty to stunning. Why had he never noticed how gorgeous she was before? Perspiration made damp wisps of her hair curl around the edges of her face, and he thought maybe there was a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He experienced the oddest urge to lean closer to find out. Of course that was a bad idea on a lot of levels, not the least of which was he’d probably end up driving his truck into some other stationary object. Or she’d whack him on the other side of his head.
He jerked his attention back to the road. That damned pigeon had obviously knocked his brain loose, causing it to bounce around inside his skull.
Mandy leaned her head over on her forearm where it rested along the open window, letting the wind whip the loose strands of her hair. She closed her eyes in a way that made him realize how tired she must be after a day of work then standing out in the heat while they dealt with first Deputy Conner Murphy, who’d also had a not-well-hidden chuckle at the bird attack story, then Greg. For a moment, he thought maybe she’d fallen asleep. But then she opened her eyes and pointed ahead.
“Turn at the next road on the left.”
He turned onto a smaller county road and then into a new gravel drive flanked by lines of cedar trees. Through them he spotted the trickle of the creek, one that ran wider, deeper and faster during spring rains like the creek on his family’s ranch. Up ahead, a little wooden shed sat with a miniature front porch pointed toward the creek. When he noticed that the gravel drive ended next to it, he glanced over at Mandy in confusion.
“Where’s your house?”
She pointed toward the shed. “That’s it.”
“Ha-ha, very funny. The pigeon didn’t hit me that hard.”
“No, seriously, that’s it.”
“You live in a shed?”
She turned partially toward him. “It’s not a shed. It’s a tiny house.”
It was tiny, all right. How did she fit anything in there? He didn’t think it was any bigger than his bedroom.
“Come on, I’ll give you the ten-cent tour,” she said as he stopped in a wider gravel area that appeared to be where she normally parked and turned her car around.
“More like the ten-second tour,” he said as he put the truck in Park and cut the engine.
Mandy smiled. “That, too.”
His boots made a crunching sound on the gravel when he stepped out of the truck. The low slant of the sun made her little spot on the creek look appealing, even if she did live in a house that would probably give him claustrophobia despite the fact he’d never suffered from it before. He noticed the little porch held a bright blue metal chair, a pot of purple and white flowers and a small metal wind chime. Next to the front step sat one of those concrete yard ornaments, this one a green frog wearing a crown.
He pointed at the frog. “Do I even want to ask?”
“I kiss him every day in case he’s a prince in disguise.”
He looked over at her. “Are you sure you aren’t the one who got a bird to the noggin?”
“I’m not a believer in taking life too seriously,” she said.
Obviously. But he had to admit there was something really appealing about her attitude.
As she headed toward the front of the little house and he got a good look at her bare legs, he thought they were pretty darn appealing, too. Whether or not she really did kiss that stupid frog every day, she did now, then stood back and watched it as if it might really turn into a prince. If it did, he was changing his mind and driving himself straight to the emergency room.
“Darn, still no luck.” She smiled at Ben and practically skipped up the step to the porch.
“You ain’t right, Mandy Richardson.”
“I take that as a compliment.”
If she only knew a couple of the other compliments that had popped into his mind, she might hit the other side of his head with a frying pan.
By the time she unlocked the front door, he’d stepped up onto the porch behind her. When she opened the door, a blast of cold air hit him. She stepped inside and took the three steps necessary to bring her to the small AC unit in one of the windows. She bent and kissed the thing.
“You go around kissing inanimate objects often?”
She glanced at him. “Only when they produce cold air or might turn into a prince.”
He shook his head. “Not right at all.”
When she laughed, it seemed as if it was as much at herself as his words.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked as she moved toward a small fridge. “I’m afraid your choices are wine, water or cranberry juice.”
“I’ll