The Rancher's Redemption. Myra Johnson
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turned back to Erin. “So are we on for lunch?” Yikes, that sounded way too much like a date.
“Only if you’re sure.” She fingered the plastic bag.
“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have offered.” Truth be told, he wasn’t all that sure, but he wouldn’t back out now. “Let me see your post office form again so I can get the address.”
Once he’d copied the information into his phone, Erin gathered up her purchase. On her way to the door, she thanked him several times and promised to have lunch ready a few minutes after twelve.
Before he forgot, Kent made the adjustments to the sales record and chipped in the difference for the second security light. Pushover, his inner voice taunted. He’d have to make up some excuse to explain why part of the purchase was made with a check and the rest in cash.
Ambling down the plumbing aisle, he met up with Seth in front of a bathroom faucet display. “Looking to replace something?”
“Yeah, we’re continuing to update cabins.” Seth tried the handle of one of the faucets. “So who’s your pretty new customer?” he asked with a grin. “And did I actually overhear confirmed bachelor Kent Ritter making a date?”
A nervous chuckle rumbled in Kent’s throat. “It’s not like that. She’s just somebody new in town. I’m going to help her install security lights.”
“She wouldn’t be Greg O’Grady’s sister, would she? I heard he bought Diana Matthews’s house for her—well, Diana Willoughby now, since she and Tripp got married.”
“Wouldn’t know. Her name’s Erin Dearborn.”
“That sounds right. She’s had a pretty rough time. Greg’s helping her get a new start.”
Kent had heard about Greg O’Grady and the San Antonio charitable organization that hosted the camps at Seth’s guest ranch. If Erin was Greg’s sister, Kent worried a whole lot less about the risks of accepting her check.
“What kind of a rough time?” he asked.
“Bad marriage, complicated divorce—that’s all I know.” Seth examined another faucet. “Would you have three of these in stock?”
Kent found two boxes on a lower shelf, then had to run to the back for the third. Seth met him up front at the checkout and added a couple of pipe fittings and a roll of plumber’s tape to his purchase. Kent ran Seth’s credit card and bagged the items.
Seth slapped on his Stetson. “Pretty clear what I’ll be doing the rest of the day.”
Guilt niggled at Kent’s nape. If he weren’t so stubbornly single-minded, he’d be doing some fixing up of his own. “Say,” he began, “know anything about this Juniper Bluff sesquicentennial thing?”
“Yeah, they’re planning some big doings for next year. My grandparents are on the committee.”
“Is your ranch one of the historical sites?”
Chuckling, Seth shook his head. “Serenity Hills has been around awhile, but not a hundred and fifty years. Which is too bad, because being declared a historical site means a sizable discount on property taxes.” He cocked his head. “Hey, you own the old Gilliam place. Have you checked to see if it qualifies?”
“I, uh...heard it might.” Tax savings? Yep, this definitely bore looking into. “Any problems with those faucets, let me know.”
“Thanks.” Seth winked as he picked up his purchases. “Gotta get going. You have a nice lunch date with Erin.”
“It’s not a—”
Too late. Seth had already breezed out the door.
* * *
At five minutes after twelve, Kent climbed into his grimy tan pickup parked behind the store. With only two more customers after Seth left, the morning had crept by, which meant Kent had plenty of time to mull over Seth’s parting words: sizable discount on property taxes. How could he turn up his nose at anything that could help him keep the ranch going? Sesquicentennial tour? Bring it on.
On the other hand, fixing up the place wouldn’t be cheap, and then he’d have to deal with all those people traipsing through his house. Maybe not such a great trade-off after all.
Yep, he needed to think on this awhile.
And then there was Erin Dearborn, yet another disruption, albeit a pretty one, to his comfortable, quiet life. Sooner than he was prepared for, he pulled into her driveway. The garage door stood open, and a blue Camry sat inside, the trunk lid raised. As he stepped from the pickup, he glimpsed several cardboard boxes in the trunk.
The house door opened, and Erin appeared alongside the car. “Oh, you’re here already. Sorry, I was just moving in a few more of my things.”
“You say that a lot,” Kent observed, striding toward her.
She cast him a questioning frown. “What, that I’m still moving in?”
“No, that you’re sorry. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize all the time.”
“I didn’t realize I did that. I’m sor—” She stopped herself with a hand to her lips, and for a moment Kent thought she might start crying. Then a strangled chuckle burst from her throat. Blue eyes twinkling, she hiked her chin. “In that case, I’m not sorry. Not one bit.”
Kent grinned. Did she have any idea how irresistible that smile was? Except he had every intention of resisting. How many times did he have to remind himself this wasn’t a social call? He nodded toward the trunk. “All these go inside?”
“Yes, but I’ll get them later. You’re probably ready for lunch, and I’m sure you’d rather get started with those lights so you can be on your way.”
“No hurry,” Kent heard himself saying, as if a complete stranger had taken over his body. He hefted one of the boxes from the trunk, only to risk his knees buckling at the unexpected weight. “What’s in here—boulders for your rock collection?”
Erin reached out to steady the load. “Oh, sorry—I mean—”
Kent felt downright sorry to think Erin’s lousy marriage could be the reason she seemed so unsure of herself. “It’s okay. Just show me where you want this.”
With a tight nod, she spun around and held the door for him. They stepped into a brightly lit kitchen, and he followed her into the adjoining family room.
She motioned toward a half-filled bookcase. “That’s more books, so right here on the floor is fine.”
The box hit the floor with a thud. How in the world had a petite woman like Erin figured to lift a box that heavy by herself? Kent straightened to ease his back. “Why don’t you get started on lunch while I bring in the rest of those boxes?”
Before she could protest, Kent shot her a no-arguments smile and tramped back out to the garage. By the time he’d carried in the last of her packed belongings, the savory aromas of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches had him salivating. Erin directed him to the powder room so he could wash up, and when he returned to the kitchen, she’d set two places for them at a small dinette.
“Fancy,” Kent murmured as he took in the teal straw place mats, napkins folded just so and the sandwiches cut into four neat triangles surrounding each soup bowl. An intricately woven twig basket, slightly larger than the one he’d seen her making yesterday, graced the center of the table and held an assortment of fresh fruit.
Erin gripped one of the chair backs. “Did I forget anything? Would you rather have something besides water to drink?”
“Water’s fine. And it all looks great.” Amazing, in fact. Unaccustomed to dining in such style, Kent had the sudden urge to do the gentlemanly thing and get Erin’s chair for her.
She