Her Stubborn Cowboy. Patricia Johns
Читать онлайн книгу.
There wasn’t a hint of humor in his expression.
She blinked. That wasn’t what she’d expected. “Fine. I’m asking.”
“The whole thing.” He crossed his arms, meeting her gaze evenly.
Mackenzie muttered an oath under her breath and closed the distance between them. Was his plan to prove to her how little she knew about managing a ranch? If it was, then she’d just have to prove him wrong—learn everything she could from this frustrating man in spite of his reticence.
“Chet Granger,” she said with a resigned sigh, “would you be so kind as to help me with the running of this place until I can figure out what to do with it?”
“What do you mean, what you’re going to do with it?” he asked.
There it was. She’d piqued his interest. Maybe her father would want to buy her out, although besides being deeply hurt that his own mother had cut him out of the will, he hadn’t shown a lot of interest in this place.
“Obviously, I can run it or sell it. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet.”
“But you want to run it?” he clarified.
She nodded. “That was the plan.”
She had a lot of regrets that needed plowing over. She wanted a fresh start, and a ranch didn’t land in a girl’s lap every day. This seemed like the kind of thing she should take advantage of. She was hoping that her father could forgive this eventually—but if she were honest with herself, the philanderer had a little karma due.
“All right.” He fixed her with a direct stare. “But I put my ranch first. I help you out after I’m done with my own land.”
“Fair enough.” She held out her hand and he took it in his strong, rough grasp.
“I’ll come by after my chores are done in the morning.” He released her fingers, tipped his hat and then bent down to ease his body between the fence rails once more. Once he was on his side of the property, he added, “And I’m not doing the work for you. I’m teaching you how to do it yourself. But I’ll help you out for a bit while you build up the stamina. It’s harder than it looks.”
“Do you really think I’m searching for a man to take care of little ole me?” she asked wryly.
“Just being clear.”
“I’m not looking to get free labor out of you, Chet,” she said. “And I’ll pay you for your time. I won’t have it any other way.”
If she’d had anyone else to ask, she would have, but Mackenzie didn’t know anyone around here but the Grangers. When Andy broke up with her, he’d told her enough to make it clear that Chet had been at the core of it. She’d always sensed that Chet had never thought she was anything more than a city slicker, and he’d never approved of her wasting Andy’s time when he should have been thinking about more serious things like animal husbandry and crops.
Andy hadn’t cared about the ranch the way Chet had, and that had always chafed between the brothers, but she’d never thought that Chet would go so far as to break them up. That was a low blow—lower than she’d thought Chet was capable of. But then, her father had proven himself even lower, so perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised.
Chet gave her a nod. “Good to see you again, Mack,” he said. “You look good.”
Then he turned toward his own property and walked across the field with that slow, rolling gait of his. She heaved a sigh. She needed to figure out how to run this ranch on her own or sell it to anyone but a Granger. And being beholden to Chet wasn’t even an option.
* * *
CHET’S SIDE KITCHEN window overlooked the field that separated his property from Mackenzie’s, and he stopped in front of the sink, casting his gaze over there in spite of himself. He pulled his eyes away and slammed a kitchen cupboard just to hear the satisfying bang.
Mackenzie Vaughn was back.
He hadn’t been sure if she would actually come and take possession of the ranch or sell it without setting foot on it again. Of course, he’d hoped for another chance to see her, but he’d never understood Mack very well. She’d been pretty and tomboyish with long blond hair and even longer legs. She hadn’t changed much in the past decade, apparently.
He’d thought the years had washed away the memory of her, especially when Chet took over the running of his family’s ranch. He’d been busy, focused on upgrading old machinery, so life had moved on...
Until he saw her again this afternoon, trying to sweet-talk a goat into cooperating, and it was as if those past ten years had just evaporated. Suddenly he was nineteen years old again, staring at the girl who made his stomach flip, knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. She had been Andy’s girlfriend, and there were lines he’d never cross. Except she wasn’t Andy’s girlfriend anymore.
The rumble of an engine came up the drive, and Chet ambled through the kitchen toward the front window. A brand-new blue pickup crunched to a stop on the gravel, and when the door opened, he blinked in surprise to see his brother. He hadn’t spoken to Andy in the year or more since their father’s death, and the sight of his younger brother made his throat tighten. After the funeral, they’d had a massive fight over the inheritance and things had been said—the kind of things that couldn’t be taken back. So what was Andy doing on his doorstep? Was this a friendly visit, or was he here to pick up where they’d left off?
Chet pulled open the front door and gave his brother a cautious nod. Andy, shorter than Chet by several inches, slammed shut the truck door. He was tall and well built—the family resemblance between the two men was unmistakable, except that Andy’s hair was auburn in a testament to their redheaded mother. He shuffled his boots in the gravel.
“Hi,” Andy said.
“What’s going on?” Chet asked. “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”
“Ida kicked me out.” Andy slapped his hat against his leg. “I was hoping I could stay here with you for a few days until I get things sorted.”
“What do you mean, kicked you out? The wedding is in two months, I thought.” In fact, Chet wasn’t even sure if he was invited. Ida had sent him the invitation, and he suspected she was trying to be diplomatic. That didn’t mean Andy wanted Chet anywhere near the event.
“We broke up.” Andy gave a weak shrug.
“What did you do?” Chet demanded.
“Can I stay here?” Andy asked, ignoring the question.
“Well, you’re here,” Chet said gruffly, which was as close to a yes as Andy was going to get. Andy grabbed a suitcase from the truck’s flatbed and Chet stepped back and let his brother through the door. “So what happened?”
“I asked if we could postpone the wedding a bit. It’s in two months, coming up so fast, and—” Andy’s face looked older now, more lined and haggard. “You were smart to stay single.”
Chet wasn’t so much smart as unlucky in love. He’d dated a few women over the years, but in a place the size of Hope, he’d known most folk all his life. A few new people moved in every few years, but most of them were older or with young families. You didn’t get a lot of available women putting up their shingles in a place like this.
Andy strolled toward the kitchen, and Chet followed. This was their family house—they’d both grown up in it—and treating it like a shared home was a hard habit to break. Chet had inherited the house, the barns and one hundred and seventy-five acres. His brother had inherited the other two hundred and twenty-five acres—mostly pasture—and their shares combined to make the Grangers’ four-hundred-acre total. Their father’s intention had been for the brothers to run the ranch together, except that Andy had never been interested.
“So it’s over, I guess,” Andy went on, opening the fridge