Fortune's Little Heartbreaker. Cindy Kirk
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“No worries. I’ll stay with Mother.”
“You’re forgetting something, aren’t you?”
“Am I?”
“Mother is also allergic.” Jensen’s expression was solemn. “Remember the puppy Father brought home? She got congested and broke out in hives.”
Bugger. He’d forgotten all about that episode. He’d been older and away at boarding school, so the fact that the dog had to be returned to the breeder hadn’t affected him.
“It appears I’ll have to rent a suite at a hotel.” Oliver gave a shrug. “Is there one you’d recommend?”
Jensen gave a hoot of laughter. “You saw the extent of our business district when you stopped at the Superette.”
Was his brother teasing him? The way he used to when he was a bit of a boy? “I assumed the more populated area of the city was elsewhere.”
“Horseback Hollow isn’t a city, it’s a town. There are no hotels, motels or even any B and Bs.” Jensen’s expression sobered. “Right now there isn’t even a hotel in Vicker’s Corners. You’ll have to go all the way to Lubbock to find one.”
Oliver pressed his lips together. There was no way he’d flown across an entire ocean and half a continent to stay an hour away. Especially not with a child. The whole purpose of this trip was to spend time with family.
“There has to be a vacant house in the area,” he told his brother. “Do you have the name of a real estate broker I could contact?”
“Now?”
“Since Ollie and I don’t have accommodations for this evening, time is of the essence.”
His brother rose and went to a desk where he pulled out a thin phone book. “I suggest starting with Shep Singleton. He’s a local rancher and I believe he has an empty house on his property. I’m not sure if it would be satisfactory or what he’ll want for rent—”
“Money won’t be an issue if the house is clean and nearby.”
“It’s in a great location.” Jensen pulled his brows together as if picturing the place in his mind. “It may even have a fenced yard.”
“Do you have Mr. Singleton’s mobile number?” Oliver pulled the phone from his jacket, his fingers poised above the keypad. He wanted to inspect this home. One way or the other, he would secure appropriate lodging for him and his son, today.
Because Oliver Fortune Hayes was used to going after—and getting—what he wanted.
Shannon swore under her breath. She and Rachel had plans to see a movie in Lubbock this evening, then check out a Mexican place that had recently opened in the Depot District. Instead she’d had to call her friend and cancel.
All because her father had gotten a call from someone interested in renting the empty ranch house on the property. Apparently that someone had to see it immediately. There was no telling how long this would take. Or who the impatient person would turn out to be.
Her father only had a name...Oliver. He wasn’t certain if that was the man’s first or last name, as he’d been distracted during the call. One of his prize mares was foaling.
Shep Singleton might be focused on Sweet Betsy but Shannon was still his little girl. He ordered her to take one of the ranch hands with her for safety. It made sense, but she hated to pry them away from their duties.
The odds of Mr. Oliver being a serial killer or crazed lunatic were next to nil. Besides, she’d had self-defense training and could hold her own.
When she pulled up in front of the home and saw a dusty Mercedes, a prickle of heat traveled up her spine. Surely it couldn’t be...
Even as she hopped out of her dad’s rusty pickup with the gash in the front end, the man from the Superette stepped from the vehicle. Ooh la la, he looked just as good as he had several hours ago and ready for business in his hand-tailored navy suit.
Smiling, Shannon crossed the gravel drive and extended her hand. “You must be Mr. Oliver?”
“Oliver Fortune Hayes,” he corrected, smiling slightly. “And you’re the helpful lady from the grocer’s.”
“Shannon Singleton.” She gave his hand a decisive shake. “Shep’s daughter. My dad said you wanted to check out the house.”
“Indeed.” Those amazing blue eyes settled on her, warm and friendly. “I appreciate you showing it on such short notice.”
What was left of her irritation vanished. “Happy to do it.”
He surprised her by turning back to the car. When he opened the back door and unfastened the boy from his car seat, she realized he hadn’t come alone. Once the child’s feet were firmly planted on the ground, the toddler looked around, gave an ear-splitting shriek and barreled after the corgi that had just leaped from the vehicle.
“That’s Ollie. My son,” Oliver told her, pride in his voice.
Oliver let the boy scamper a few yards before scooping him up. Ollie giggled and squirmed but settled when Oliver said something in a low tone.
“Barnaby.”
The crisp sound of his name had the corgi turning. Oliver motioned with his hand and the dog moved to his side.
He looked, Shannon thought, like a man totally in control of the situation.
Oliver gazed speculatively at the house. “Since your father knows I’m looking for immediate occupancy, I assume the home is empty.”
Shannon smiled. “You assume correctly.”
The entire tour of the furnished home took all of five minutes. If Shannon hadn’t been looking she might have missed the slight widening of Oliver’s eyes when he first stepped inside the three-bedroom, thirteen-hundred-square-foot ranch house Shannon’s grandparents had once called home.
Once she’d finished the tour, she rocked back on her boot heels, feeling oddly breathless. “What do you think?”
“I’ll take it.” Oliver put the boy down, reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet. “Sixty days with an option. I’ll pay in advance.”
“Just like that?” Decisiveness was one thing, but he hadn’t asked a single question. “Don’t you have any questions?”
“You’ve explained everything to my satisfaction.” He kept one eye on his son, who was hopping like a frog across the living room. “The fact is, I need to secure lodging close to my family.”
As Shannon opened her mouth, she wondered if she might be stepping over some line. But surely the man had other options. From what she’d observed of the Fortunes, they were a tight-knit family. “You’re not staying with them?”
“That was the plan. But apparently Amber—my brother’s fiancée—is highly allergic to dogs. As is my mother, which I’d very inconveniently forgotten.” He gestured with his head toward the corgi, who intently watched the hopping boy. “Ollie is very attached to Barnaby.”
“He’s a cutie. The boy, I mean. The dog is cute, too.” Shannon paused to clear the babble from her throat before continuing. “Will your wife be joining you?”
For just an instant a spark of some emotion flickered in his eyes before the shutter dropped.
“Ollie’s mother and I were divorced.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “Well, Ms. Singleton?”
“Please call me Shannon.”
“Well, Shannon. Do we have a deal?” He extended his hand.
When her fingers closed over his and a hot,