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The Rancher's Rescue
Cari Lynn Webb


He isn’t home to stayUntil she changes his mind. Ethan Blackwell’s back in Falcon Creek to save his family ranch after his grandfather disappears. When Grace Gardner reveals she’s pregnant with his child, she becomes Ethan’s top priority.But can he be the man he wants to be—preserving the Blackwell legacy and making a life with Grace—in a place he never planned to settle down?







He isn’t home to stay

Until a mother-to-be changes his mind

Ethan Blackwell is back in Falcon Creek to save his family ranch after his grandfather disappears. When Grace Gardner reveals she’s pregnant with his child, she becomes Ethan’s top priority. But can he be the man he wants to be—preserving the Blackwell legacy and making a life with Grace—in a place he never planned to settle down?


CARI LYNN WEBB lives in South Carolina with her husband, daughters and assorted four-legged family members. She’s been blessed to see the power of true love in her grandparents’ seventy-year marriage and her parents’ marriage of over fifty years. She knows love isn’t always sweet and perfect—it can be challenging, complicated and risky. But she believes happily-ever-afters are worth fighting for.


Also by Cari Lynn Webb (#u3d93a91c-32c9-5ce0-803c-f0d195523a1b)

A Heartwarming Thanksgiving

Wedding of His Dreams

Make Me a Match

The Matchmaker Wore Skates

The Charm Offensive

The Doctor’s Recovery

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


The Rancher’s Rescue

Cari Lynn Webb






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07840-5

THE RANCHER’S RESCUE

© 2018 Cari Lynn Webb

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my brothers: Scott, Dave and Mark. Your teasing

honed my sense of humor and your love made me

stronger. I’m so blessed to be able to call you my

brothers and my friends. Love you!

Special thanks to Amy Vastine, Anna J. Stewart,

Carol Ross and Melinda Curtis for your friendship and

answering my endless texts and emails. And thanks to

my husband and daughters for your support and making

me laugh every day.


Contents

Cover (#u531a3cf7-3691-5187-93d9-5e060c5e8f98)

Back Cover Text (#ubb3f916d-023b-5884-9b0e-2a9afb20e6f4)

About the Author (#u8f22ab9e-768c-50c0-8e01-63a10957e54a)

Booklist (#u1118fb5c-0393-5270-9cc8-1a861b91f8cf)

Title Page (#u35b57393-30ef-5a63-9845-f4a5819504d5)

Copyright (#u8e7f3e00-df5f-529e-9139-d9542a191782)

Dedication (#u7a9849b4-69c7-5895-904e-28e1b13ad212)

CHAPTER ONE (#u09060d96-ee55-59c7-a083-5d4f3676a403)

CHAPTER TWO (#u77fbf26e-3a43-5f67-b8c2-166f6a824d85)

CHAPTER THREE (#ua47e52f0-607a-51f8-bf3c-27f66427d13a)

CHAPTER FOUR (#uad11bdaa-f47b-5daa-bb9b-ba7d00309bf0)

CHAPTER FIVE (#u41d1b66b-b4bc-5c7b-9adc-c1ad494616df)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u3d93a91c-32c9-5ce0-803c-f0d195523a1b)

ETHAN BLACKWELL WAS surrounded by critically ill checking accounts.

Of course, up until two days ago, the only terminal one he’d been working with had been his own. He’d never expected his grandfather’s finances to need resuscitation too.

He might’ve suspected Elias, or Big E as he was commonly known, to be up to one of his usual attempts at manipulation if his grandfather were still in town. But Big E and his thirty-foot motor home had departed four weeks ago, in early April, without a farewell to anyone, or a return date mentioned.

Ethan knew about departures. He had walked away to build his life, his own way, when Big E had accused Ethan of forsaking his family legacy and the land that had raised him to pursue a pretentious career in equestrian medicine. That day, Ethan had vowed to return to the Blackwell Ranch only for the reading of his grandfather’s will. Though no funeral arrangements had been made, as far as Ethan and the rest of his brothers were aware, Big E was AWOL, not deceased.

Despite Ethan’s promise to himself, he was back at the Blackwell Ranch, pacing around his grandfather’s big office and scowling at the paperwork scattered across the oak desk. It was an accounting nightmare.

Jonathon, his older brother and the only reason that Ethan had come home, strode into their grandfather’s office. Jon tossed his hat on one of the twin cigar-colored armchairs and dropped into the other. His dog, Trout, sat beside Jon’s boots and regarded Ethan as if he were the deputy assistant his brother had brought in for backup. “Please tell me I heard you wrong on the phone.”

“That depends. What did you hear?” Ethan leaned against the desk.

“I thought I heard you tell me that you planned to search Big E’s bedroom.” There was no question in Jon’s tone. His brother had better hearing than a bat. Jon’s gaze zeroed in on Ethan like a rifle scope, challenging him to change to his own mind.

Jon had developed this stare-down technique in their elementary school days, when he’d caught Ethan and his twin brother, Ben, shooting army men to the moon with bottle rockets. Jon had drilled Ethan with his relentless stare and waited. Ethan guessed he’d made the wrong choice when he’d explained that they’d already relocated once after successfully hitting the barn several times. Jon had immediately confiscated their entire supply of explosives.

“That’s exactly what I plan to do. With your help,” Ethan said. “The money’s gotta be somewhere.”

Jon’s gaze fixed on Ethan. A frown fixed on his face. Trout stopped panting as if to better emphasize his own grimace.

It wasn’t as if Ethan was asking his brother to hold the bottle rocket while he lit the fuse. Still, Ethan accepted that Jon always preferred explanations, and he picked up the worn notebook on Big E’s desk. “This is the sum total of Big E’s accounting system. So it seems likely he’d also stash hard cash between his mattresses, or in a hidden safe somewhere.”

“We need to hire ranch hands, not tear apart the house like we’re on a treasure hunt.” Jon drummed his fingers on the armrest.

“We need Big E to return, but since that’s not happening we have to find some money to pay people, including those ranch hands we need to hire.” Ethan smacked the notebook against his leg. He’d earned a doctorate in veterinary medicine, was board certified in animal sports medicine rehabilitation and passed the national veterinary exam. He was desperate to get hired in the veterinary field to pay off his own debt, not waste time rescuing the Blackwell Ranch for his heartless grandfather.

He had come home to offer Jon relief from managing both the Blackwell Ranch and his own JB Bar Ranch. His older brother had never hesitated to help him in the past and Ethan owed him that same loyalty, even if his personal finances were about to flatline.

“He has to have money.” Jon grabbed the notebook from Ethan.

The panic in Jon’s voice focused Ethan. Ethan ignored his uneasiness and decided to take things one crisis at a time. With luck, he’d have the Blackwell Ranch stabilized with new staff before the end of the week.

“That notebook reads like a grocery list of numbers.” Ethan moved toward the doorway, praying he was right about his grandfather’s stash of money. But the recent purchase receipts he’d found in the bottom desk drawer made that unease inside him feel more like claws scratching against his bones. Not to mention the slip of paper he’d spotted on which Zoe had written in bold cursive confusing lines: Pair of Llama Makers and Twin Sets of Long-Wool Providers. “A budget would be helpful, so we’d know how much is coming in and how much is going out on a regular basis.”

He’d learned as much during his undergrad when his academic advisor had urged him to take a business class as an elective. Unfortunately, the professor hadn’t lectured about the pitfalls of cosigning a car loan for a good friend who turned out to be not so good, or two-timing roommates who left without a forwarding address and skipped out on paying their share of the rent and every bill. The professor had failed to explain how a very low credit score would later deter established veterinary offices from allowing highly credentialed and skilled graduates, like himself, to buy into their practices.

That unease hooked into him like two bull elks with locked antlers. Ethan had more debt now than when he’d left years ago. He hated being like Big E. Hated more that he was proving his grandfather right. Becoming a veterinarian might’ve been the biggest mistake of his life. Jon’s muttered curse yanked Ethan back into the ranch crisis.

“I kept telling him to hire an accountant or a bookkeeper.” Jon flipped through the crinkled papers. “He told me he’d been handling money since before I was in diapers and he’d keep on handling it his way.”

“Did I mention there’s a carbon receipt book mixed in with handwritten receipts on napkins in the top drawer of his desk? And don’t get me started on the checkbook. Checks are numbered in sequential order for a reason.” At least Ethan managed to get that right in his own, albeit empty, checkbook. He looked over his shoulder at his brother. “You coming to his room or not?”

Twenty minutes later, Ethan held up Big E’s king-size mattress while Jon checked the box spring for a hidden pile of cash. His grandfather’s underwear drawer remained open and neither brother had bothered to rehang the three large framed cowboy photos they’d taken from the wall. The only holes in the plaster were from picture nails and not a safe. The door to the gun safe stood ajar, empty of both rifles and any spare cash.

“If you’ve finished practicing your B&E skills, I could use a hand with some real work.” A feminine voice mocked them from the doorway.

Ethan nodded at Katie Montgomery, the Blackwell Ranch’s right and left hands. Katie’s dad was getting up there in age and had basically left the foreman’s job to her. He suspected his grandfather wouldn’t have survived without Katie for all these years. Why did she stay when all of Big E’s grandchildren had left the ranch? How long would she stay once Ethan confirmed the accounts were empty? “As we’ve failed to find anything other than torn socks, it’s probably best you look into a new ranch to manage.”

“There’s so much work to do here I don’t have time to look outside the fences.” Katie came into the bedroom and patted Ethan’s shoulder.

“What’s it today? Broken fence on the north pasture? Blocked fuel line in the ATV? Ruptured water pipe at the guesthouse?” Jon asked, passing Katie on his way out.

“It’s the south pasture, the battery on the ATV and a leaking faucet in the bathroom attached to the ranch hands’ bunk bed room.” Katie rushed down the stairs after Jon, the thump of her boots on the stairs as firm and sure as his brother’s, leaving Ethan no choice but to follow them.

The stairs creaked loudly, or perhaps that was his own uncertainty.

Katie glanced back at him. “Plus, Butterscotch needs your attention, Ethan.”

“What was Big E thinking breeding her?” Ethan asked, entering the kitchen, where Katie already had her coffee refilled and a toasted bagel slathered with cream cheese. The new kitchen decor stopped Ethan in his tracks. It always did. Never mind the pink-feathered chandelier or bubble gum–colored paint, what he resented were the extravagant prices Zoe had paid for her superficial changes that had destroyed what used to be the heart of the house.

“I know. It’s a bit scary. But you can blame Zoe for that one too.” Katie tipped her coffee mug at Ethan. “She arranged the whole thing as a surprise for Big E. Something about bringing new life to the ranch.”

“You aren’t serious? She can’t be that...” Ethan failed to find a suitable word, probably because his mind was overwhelmed with calculating the cost of the custom-made pink-trimmed cabinets and hand-cut sparkly backsplash.

“Insensitive?” Katie finished for him.

“Don’t forget clueless about how a working ranch runs.” Jon swiped the bagel from Katie’s hand and took a large bite before she could claim it back.

Katie was five years younger than Ethan and practically one of the family.

“Butterscotch is twenty-three.” And a dependable, calm paint, Ethan thought, since the very first moment Big E had guided her off the trailer as a birthday present for Ethan’s mother. Butterscotch hadn’t spooked ever when one of Big E’s new wives had wanted to ride her, despite each spouse being less suited for ranch life than the last. The white-and-chestnut-colored mare had earned her peace, not a risky pregnancy.

“Zoe wanted her mare and Butterscotch to birth at the same time because two foals in the pasture make for better pictures.” Katie frowned at the empty cream cheese container as if searching for something to explain Zoe’s reasoning. “For the guests.”

If the older mare survived. If the foal survived. “Butterscotch needs to be under veterinary care.” Ethan stepped out of Katie’s way.

“And she’ll have it now that you’re home.” Katie toasted Ethan with her second bagel.

Ethan wasn’t home to stay though. He was as temporary on the ranch as his step-grandmothers. He was six days into the one-month visit he’d promised Jon. Surely that was long enough to straighten out the accounts, stabilize the ranch and, if Big E failed to return, sell the place. He’d pocket his share from the sale and move on with his life. “I’ll check on Butterscotch and then take a look at the faucet.” Because Jon had enough on his plate with his twin five-year-old girls and his own ranch to take care of. Never mind that Jon was also recently engaged to his former nanny, Lydia.

“First guests arrive at the end of the month. The faucet in the bunk house can wait.” Katie pulled out her phone and swiped across the screen. “We need that fence fixed before I can release the cattle into the pasture.”

“I have to be at Dr. Ross’s office for the twins’ appointments in an hour, but I can come back this afternoon and help with the fence.” Jon put his hat on and strode to the back door. Trout followed, the click of his nails on the hardwood floor in rhythm with the thump of Jon’s boots. “And I might have an extra ATV battery at my place.”

Ethan appreciated the offer. “After I check on Butterscotch, I’ll head over to Brewster Ranch Supply. The heifers need vaccines and the mares could do with supplements.”

“When you’re at Brewster’s, ask Grace if she’ll help with Big E’s books,” Jon said.

“Why would I do that?” Ethan rubbed his neck to remove the edge from his tone.

“Because you’ve been staring at the accounting stuff since you arrived.” Jon waved toward the office and the stairs. “Because we weren’t up in the bedroom looking for Christmas presents. And because we need a professional opinion on the financials.”

“Grace and her family will also have leads on possible new ranch hand hires.” Katie tossed the cream cheese container in the trash and the knife in the sink. “They always hear before I do.”

Ethan massaged his chest as if the knife had lodged there instead of clattering in the sink. Certainly, his heart hadn’t staled and stuttered at the mention of Grace Gardner. More like embarrassment kicked his pride, wedging regret between his ribs.

Grace and Ethan had spent one night together, but she had sneaked out the next morning without a goodbye. Whether too many champagne bubbles had blurred the signals and he’d misread the entire evening, or Grace’s experience had been less than remarkable. Either way, he owed Grace an overdue apology. “But she can’t be the only accountant in town,” he insisted.

“Grace is certified with a real degree and she’s quiet, so she won’t be talking all over Falcon Creek about Blackwell business.” Katie crossed her arms over her chest and studied him. “Don’t tell me you still aren’t over Sarah Ashley?”

Ethan blinked. Sarah Ashley was Grace’s older sister and Ethan’s long-ago, on-and-off-again girlfriend. The snag in his voice had nothing to do with his ex and everything to do with her younger sister. How was he supposed to apologize to Grace for crossing the friend barrier and then ask her for help as if nothing had ever happened?

“From what I’ve heard, Sarah Ashley married the man she rightly deserved.” Katie shrugged. “What? Mabel keeps me up-to-date.”

Mabel being the postmaster and beacon of all gossip in Falcon Creek.

“Well, some folks didn’t get home until all hours from that wedding reception, so things must have started off okay,” Jon said.

His brother was referring to Ethan not returning to Jon’s house until the next morning, long after Sarah Ashley’s reception. Ethan hadn’t confessed to his brother where he’d spent the night or with whom he’d spent it.

Jon punched his brother’s shoulder as he was leaving. “Talk to Grace.”

“Listen to your brother.” Katie let the back door slam shut behind her.

Ethan flattened his palms over his face and speared his fingers into his hair. He’d attended Sarah Ashley’s Valentine’s Day wedding after he’d received a series of manic texts from the bride saying she was having doubts. He’d tried to ignore her, but what if she was the one for him? When he’d arrived at the church, after another flurry of anxious texts from Sarah Ashley, Grace had blocked him from seeing the bride and told him it was past time to let Sarah Ashley go. That her sister was well and truly in love. That the match was perfect. Suddenly, Ethan had begun to think there was something perfect about Grace.

With one question, he interrupted Grace’s extensive list of reasons that Sarah Ashley and her fiancé were meant to be together: Did Sarah Ashley’s fiancé treat her well? Grace had blinked and answered: very well. And that had been enough. Ethan had sat in the back row for the ceremony. His gaze hadn’t lingered on the bride and what he’d lost, but rather, it strayed too many times to a certain maid of honor, making him wonder what he’d missed.

It was only during the reception, when the champagne corks had popped, that Ethan approached Grace. And yes, maybe Grace had given a sweet, funny toast to her sister and new husband that won over the guests. And yes, maybe Grace had looked like a goddess in her sleek formal gown. And yes, he’d danced her into a dark corner and...

The next thing he knew it was the following morning and he was on his own. He’d been trying to forget that moment ever since.

* * *

WITH HER BABY’S heartbeat echoing in her heart, a picture of her ultrasound resting in her pocket and her due date entered on her calendar, Grace Gardner drove toward her family’s store, Brewster Ranch Supply, determined to get through the workday without vomiting. She was equally determined this would be the week she called Ethan Blackwell to tell him about the baby. One phone call couldn’t be that hard, could it?

She rolled to a stop at the only light in town. It seemed the light spent more time on red than green, as if daring the locals to spot the seven differences between the downtown of today and that of a decade ago. Grace could find only one.

The morning after her night with Ethan she’d sat at this red light smiling and feeling slightly delirious.

The delirium had passed, along with the stutter in her heart, when the positive pink stripes had appeared on the pregnancy test. Somehow, she’d kept her smile in place, even though Grandma Brewster had warned her in high school that being pregnant was nothing to celebrate. But Grace wasn’t a teenager with hormones and a crush. She was an adult with an accounting degree and soon she’d have her own business. More important, she had a baby plan.

Pushing her glasses up on her nose, Grace blurted out, “Ethan, I’m your baby.” She tapped her forehead on the steering wheel and muttered, “Having your baby. Your kid. Child. Baby.” Her sigh was loud and long and she shook out her arms, lifted her chin. “Ethan, I’m having your baby so—”

A horn blared behind her. And then another. Her practice conversation concluded, Grace accelerated through the light and parked in a stall behind her family’s store. She weaved through the storage area to her makeshift office. Her father’s burst of laughter from the front had her changing directions.

Perhaps a hug from her dad would bolster her confidence to finally contact Ethan.

Grace pushed through the swinging door that connected the storage area to the store proper and gripped the nearest shelf to keep her knees from buckling. She could forget the phone call. It hadn’t been her father’s laughter calling to her after all. It’d been Ethan Blackwell’s.

A flush swept over her skin. She would’ve blamed it on morning sickness if not for the familiar blue eyes zeroing in on her over her mother’s head.

The same blue eyes that had never wavered when she’d talked about herself and her dreams that night in the hotel bar while her sister’s reception continued down the hall. The same blue eyes that had cataloged every detail about her while she’d been wrapped in his strong embrace. The same blue eyes she wished for her baby.

“Perfect timing, Gracie.” Her father smacked the counter. “Look who wandered in and asked to see you.”

Grace squeezed the shelf, the way her heart seemed to be squeezing inside her chest. Ethan might’ve asked to see her, but she wasn’t starring in one of her sister’s romantic fantasies. “Is there something you needed, Ethan?” Like my heart.

Grace chastised herself. Her heart wasn’t going to be part of any conversation with Ethan. Ever. She hadn’t earned the title of most levelheaded Gardner sister on a whim.

“Is there someplace we can talk in private?” Ethan asked.

“Take Ethan to your office.” Her mother guided Ethan around the counter to the employees-only side. “When the two of you finish, Ethan, we can talk about the feed inventory and the reorder.”

“Sarah Ashley handles the inventory now, Mom.” Grace searched the storefront for her older sister.

“Your sister had a thing,” her mother said evasively.

Sarah Ashley was just like her younger sister, Nicole Marie. The two always had a thing when work was to be done.

“I have a thing too,” Grace said. “A call that starts in fifteen minutes.”

“A call? Oh, Grace.” Her mom waved her hand toward the front door. “We deal with our customers in person like we’ve always done. Whoever needs to call you can easily come on down to the store to talk to you and then buy some impulse merchandise.” The hand wave shot toward a display of marked-down Easter chocolate.

Grace pulled out a peppermint candy from her pocket to keep her mouth from spilling secrets she wasn’t ready to share. Her caller wasn’t a Brewster customer, so there was no reason to encourage Isaac James Sr. to visit the store.

Mr. James owned IJ Farms on the way to Billings and needed tax advice. Grace intended for her advice to transition into Isaac hiring her as his new accountant. Grace crunched the candy into pieces and glanced at Ethan. “My office is over here.”

Grace dropped her purse on the small desk in her makeshift office. She shared the crammed retail space with pig feed, goat kid milk replacer and alfalfa pellets. At least, she had a door that closed and locked. Not that she’d had a reason to lock herself in yet.

But having Ethan in here with her made the already minimal breathing space shrink until Grace swore they were both holding their breath to conserve oxygen. It wasn’t long before she inhaled, deep and long, to prove to herself that she could handle the hurdles of the big wide world, including Ethan Blackwell.

Ethan shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, rocked back on his boot heels and rushed to speak. “Grace, I know I shouldn’t ask for your help, but I need it. Big E’s motor home has hit the road, the heifers are going into heat, Helen and Pete Rivers retired and the books are total chaos.”

Grace popped another peppermint in her mouth and tried to translate Ethan’s fragments. Nothing she’d heard hinted that he was there to resume where they’d left off three months prior. Not that she wanted that. She just wanted him to know about the baby.

Now was her chance. Her turn to talk. Her turn to confess.

Grandma Brewster had always told Grace that the fork in the road had to stab her to get her to move. Or, in this case, speak. She’d swear the sharp twinge in her chest felt eerily close to the jab of a fork’s tines. And she could swear she heard her late grandma Brewster’s boisterous laugh. If only she could find her voice instead of her inner mouse. “How exactly can I help you?” And how exactly do you want to learn about your child?

“I can’t figure out the ranch books.” Ethan stepped forward. “I was hoping for your expertise.”

Her expertise. Not her heart. “You want me to work on the Blackwell Ranch’s accounting.”

“We’ll pay you for your time and discretion.”

Discretion should be her middle name. No one, other than her doctor in the next town over, knew about her pregnancy. Grace took off her glasses and ran her fingers across her eyebrows.

“I can bring everything here if it’s more convenient. Or drive you up to the ranch.” Ethan moved to the edge of her desk within kissing distance. “I remember you mentioned preferring not to drive at night.”

She could touch Ethan without any real effort now. Instead, she sank her hand into the peppermint candy bowl on her desk and wondered what else he remembered from their night together. Did he remember how they shared things no one else knew? Or recall how much they’d laughed about their childhoods? Did he treasure those moments? Or was she just as foolishly sentimental as Sarah Ashley? “That’s fine.”

“Then you’ll help?” Surprise softened his voice and relief relaxed his mouth into a smile that made even the peppermint swirl churn through her insides.

Her phone chimed, alerting her of her upcoming call with Isaac and reminding her to focus.

Ethan twisted the door handle. “I’ll get out of your way and let you work.”

Grace looked at him and willed her mouth to open and the truth to come out. But it didn’t happen.

“I’ll bring the books by tomorrow morning and then we can put together a strategy to stabilize the ranch’s finances?”

Grace nodded, clinging to her plan. A baby plan. One that did not include Ethan as more than an absentee parent. And one that definitely did not involve her heart.


CHAPTER TWO (#u3d93a91c-32c9-5ce0-803c-f0d195523a1b)

ETHAN STOPPED HIS truck and stared at the white house with forest green shutters until his gaze blurred and all he saw was the land and home from his childhood. The house had so many good memories for him prior to his parents’ fatal accident. The twin rocking chairs on the wide front porch and banging screen door. The lawn scattered with sticks from his brothers’ sword fights, plastic army men and laughter.

He’d never wanted his home to change and wanted it back even more after he’d left his childhood at his parents’ gravesite.

Too many potholes since, they littered memory lane and tripping in those craters now solved nothing. That home was gone and had been for quite a while. A two-winged, thirty-bedroom log cabin, more manor estate than quaint lodge, squatted nearby, surrounded by barns and outbuildings painted red as if cheerful about the massive guesthouse intrusion.

Like it or not, the Blackwell Ranch had expanded to also become a dude ranch and there was no turning back the clock. In Ethan’s mind that left one option: sell the ranch that was no longer his home. No longer anything he wanted. What he wanted was the money from its sale to pay off his debts and buy his entry into a veterinarian clinic in Kentucky or Colorado, but definitely not in Falcon Creek.

First, he had to fix the accounts with Grace’s help.

Ethan cut the truck engine, but not his guilt. That kept running like a high-speed train making up time for a late departure.

He shouldn’t have asked for Grace’s help in the first place. He should’ve apologized.

He shouldn’t have searched for those familiar copper flecks in Grace’s green eyes when she’d removed her glasses. It was futile to try to prove the vivid memory wasn’t his imagination. Those same copper flecks had sparked under the chandelier lights on the dance floor at her sister’s reception and continued to burn through him whenever he thought of her. He should’ve never agreed to Jon’s suggestion to approach his accountant or stepped inside Brewster’s.

Ethan shouldn’t have come home.

He gripped the steering wheel, imprinting the leather into his palms. He should’ve called Grace the morning after their night together and every day after that until she’d answered. But instead he’d excused his behavior because she’d walked out on him first. How pathetic that he cared who’d left first, as if she’d dinged more than his pride. Yet Big E hadn’t raised his grandsons to be weakhearted fools.

And yet, his mother had raised him to be a gentleman, not callous and selfish. She would not be proud of him today.

That settled it. Tomorrow he’d say sorry to Grace and then find another accountant. Or straighten out the books himself.

What had Grace been thinking when she’d agreed to help him? And she had agreed. He hadn’t missed that part. He might’ve missed hearing that she was glad to see him. Or that she’d thought about their night together. Or that she’d wanted to call him. But he really hadn’t wanted to hear any of that, did he?

A fist rapped against the closed window of the truck cab. He glimpsed Katie’s frown a second before she smacked a piece of paper against the glass.

Not just any piece of paper, but a delivery notice for one rabbit and four sheep. In bold print: no returns or refunds. The words mocked him. The notice also explained the invoice for twin sets of long-wool providers he’d found in Big E’s desk. Zoe hadn’t ordered wool bales, but purchased sheep for her new petting zoo. Clearly, he needed to look through the recent purchase invoices and translate Zoe’s handwritten notes on those as well.

Before he could respond, Katie smacked a second piece of paper against the window. Thankfully, not another delivery notice. But, the title, “How to Set Up a Petting Zoo Business,” drilled a hole in his stomach. As did the phrase liability insurance required, which she’d carefully highlighted in yellow.

Big E’s checking account dipped further into the red. They were out of time. They needed professional advice and they needed it last week. There was no time to find a substitute. Help would have to come from Grace.

He climbed out of his truck, yanking the delivery notice from Katie. Curse words banged around inside his mouth like popcorn kernels chipping his teeth, but he located his inner gentleman before he spewed any into the air. “We don’t have a place for these sheep.” He needed to chase down spare cash, not sheep, across forty acres.

Katie checked her watch. “You have two hours to figure something out.”

Ethan crumpled the delivery notice in his fist and lashed out. Each word pinged like a burned popcorn kernel. “What are you doing in the next two hours?”

“Locating a battery for the ATV and making sure all the linens are clean and accounted for.” Katie shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and tipped her chin toward the stalls. “The horses still need to be ridden. Butterscotch could use another walk or even some more attention.”

The mare had been a birthday present from the family to Ethan’s mother. After his mom had passed, Ethan had become the mare’s guardian, protecting the paint from Big E’s temperamental wives. Butterscotch hadn’t judged Ethan when he’d curled up in her stall more than once to give in to his grief. But he’d left for college and abandoned Butterscotch to Zoe’s whims. The mare deserved better. Ethan wouldn’t fail her now.

He dug his boot into the dirt, grinding the last of his temper into dust. “Sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”

Katie punched him on the shoulder and grinned. “I didn’t know we had a thing.”

He laughed, but sobered quickly. “It just seems every day there’s something else. Something we aren’t aware of. Something we aren’t prepared for.”

“That’s the nature of ranch life.” She reached down and rubbed Hip behind her ears. Hippolyta was the Australian shepherd dog’s full name and she was Katie’s sidekick and one constant.

Lately, Ethan’s one constant seemed to be bankruptcy-induced worry. “No, that’s the nature of Big E’s current wife.” He frowned at the main house. Zoe’s extreme overspending had dismantled the past. The enormous guest lodge was the latest in a series of renovations to turn a working ranch into something from a movie set. There’d been nothing wrong with the Blackwell Ranch when his grandmother and parents had lived on the land. The original Blackwells had respected heritage. Bitterness replaced his frustration.

“We still have sheep arriving and nowhere to put them,” Katie said.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“And the insurance,” she prodded.

“That too.” Ethan stuffed the delivery notice into his back pocket, stuffing the pain and memories from the past away too. “Grace agreed to help us. If we can get the books straightened out, we can get people hired.”

“I hope she works fast.” Katie whistled to her dog and strode off toward the supply shed.

He did too. But not for the same reasons.

Ethan didn’t want to be around Grace for too long. What if he was tempted to have another thing with her? She was his ex-girlfriend’s little sister. There were rules about that and he’d already broken them once. That was more than enough.

He strode toward the barn. He’d walk Butterscotch and then hammer together a pen for the arriving sheep.

He needed to find a full-time job that paid, unlike the Blackwell Ranch, and was preferably in the equestrian world. If he wanted to rebuild his credit, he couldn’t default on his student loans too. He had yet to find a veterinarian that would look past his poor financial history and consider his skills. But he wasn’t deterred. He’d prove to his grandfather he could make it on his own. And if selling the Blackwell Ranch aided Ethan, all the better.

An hour later, Ethan ran water from the hose over his head. He had to cool off. Jamming his baseball cap back on his head, he went to meet the delivery truck rattling to a stop in the driveway. All too soon, Ethan understood why the truck arrived ahead of schedule.

Ethan greeted the driver and peered inside at the sheep. Behind them, he saw the Angora rabbit huddling against the back of its wire cage. The lack of wool across the rabbit’s back alarmed Ethan. There were many causes of alopecia, but until he knew the exact reason for the hair loss, he wasn’t putting the rabbit with the other petting zoo animals.

Animals had been Ethan’s companions since he’d been a toddler. He’d only required his mother’s Maine coon cat curled up next to him to fall asleep as a kid. As he grew, he’d spend hours outside, searching the creek for frogs, catching fireflies and climbing trees to peer at the baby birds in the nests. After his parents had died, his bond only deepened. Animals, he discovered, were simple to figure out: they loved without conditions. Never had hidden agendas. Only ever seemed to want his love and attention. The wounded, the scared and the rejected always tugged at those invisible heartstrings he didn’t want to admit to having. The pathetic rabbit tugged at those heartstrings now.

He sighed and signed off on the paperwork, bid the driver goodbye and frowned into the cage at the pure white rabbit. “Looks like we’re going to be sharing a cabin for a while, Coconut.”

Water bowl full, bath towels on the floor and an empty toilet paper roll stuffed with grass for Coconut’s entertainment, Ethan returned to the petting zoo. He had to add a steel gate to the pen for the sheep. With the last nail drilled into place, Ethan gripped the new part of the enclosure and tested its strength to make sure there wouldn’t be any escapees.

Katie approached, her boots kicking dirt and stones around her. “You can’t spend all your time on these animal pens. There were calves born last month that still need vaccinations and branding.”

“It’s hardly a waste since this is the new petting zoo.” Besides, he never considered protecting animals a waste of time. “We need a plumber and an electrician to finish. And last time I checked, I wasn’t certified in either.” The last time he’d tinkered with electricity had been in middle school and he’d blown more than the fuses that night. Big E had made him clean every stall three times a day all by himself for two months after that particular stunt. “The ranch is better off with me building things.”

Katie seemed hesitant. “But a petting zoo implies, well, petting. These pens are shoulder height and hardly inviting.”

“Letting guests traipse around the stalls is an unnecessary health risk.” Ethan bent over and stuck his arm through the pen posts. If only everything was as simple and effective. Besides, he questioned how much the animals wanted to be petted. His pens offered enough room for the animals to watch the ranch guests from a distance. “See, the guests can reach through the fence posts like this.”

“That’s not on Zoe’s sketch,” Katie said.

“Neither are hand-washing stations, but we need two of those with running water and soap.” Minimizing health risks to the humans and the animals was essential to ensure the ranch didn’t spread disease. “Hand sanitizer isn’t enough.”

“It’s supposed to be a petting zoo with a large pen where animals wander around and guests pet them.” Katie unlatched the gate and swung the steel door open, her gaze trained on the hinges as if she didn’t trust Ethan’s craftsmanship. “Don’t you ever remember visiting one at the fair when we were little?”

No, he didn’t recall and Big E had had no time for fairs and frivolous games. And when Ethan was old enough to go to the fair alone, he’d been more interested in touching Sarah Ashley’s silky shoulder-length curls than petting miniature donkeys in the zoo. Ethan set his hands on his hips and stared at Katie. “You’re only getting a petting zoo if it’s safe and done right.”

“I don’t know what I want anymore.” Katie threw up her hands. “But we’ve got a website that promised the Zigler party of thirty arriving at the end of this month a real petting zoo.”

Tension knotted through Ethan’s shoulders as if he were carrying all the Zigler family’s overstuffed suitcases himself. He stretched his muscles, but the reminder of the Zigler family’s arrival in three weeks only made his shoulders spasm more. “They’ll have a petting zoo. An actual one. But without the Angora rabbit.”

“I never got a delivery cancellation notice for the rabbit.” Katie let the gate shut and eyed him. “There’s a picture of that rabbit on the guest ranch’s website. Has it already arrived? Can I see it?”

“Update the website to put the rabbit on medical leave.” Ethan carried his tools toward the work shed. “No, you can’t see it.”

“The website is locked down and I haven’t found the password yet.” Katie blocked him from opening the shed door. “Why can’t I see the rabbit?”

“Website photo or not, no one is petting the rabbit.” Ethan tried to nudge Katie out of his way.

She refused to budge, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because it carries a disease that can’t be washed off with soap and water?”

“Because it’s traumatized.” Ethan stabbed the shovel into the ground and leaned against the handle. “And stressed out.” Like him.

“That’s why you won’t let me see it?” Her twitching fingers stilled against her arms.

“Not you.” Ethan pointed at her Australian shepherd sprawled in the middle of the dirt path like the main attraction of the petting zoo. “Your sidekick.”

Noticing his regard, Hip wagged her tail, stirring the dirt into mini dust clouds.

“She’s gentle with all animals.” Katie tapped her leg, calling the dog to her, and placed her hand on Hip’s neck as if she needed to protect her.

“I know that,” Ethan said. “But Coconut doesn’t.”

“You’ve already named it?” Katie gaped at him as if he’d adopted a pet without the family’s permission. “Can’t we trade it in for another one that isn’t a stress case?”

“This isn’t like a pair of faulty pliers you return to Brewster’s.” These were live animals that needed proper shelters, beds and food. Ethan would ensure their safety before he left. “Coconut will settle in with time. Her stress should be temporary.” Otherwise they’ll have enough angora wool for new sweaters for the entire Blackwell family before Christmas.

“Speaking of stress, you’ve had six calls this afternoon from pet owners in town.” Katie bent down to pet Hip as if to assure herself the dog was fine.

Ethan released the shovel and looked at Katie. “Who’s calling here?”

Katie lifted her hands and began counting on her fingers. “Mrs. Hatfield. Her twelve-year-old cat, Sparky, is so lethargic he can’t make it into the litter box. Mr. Jacobson. His one-year-old German shepherd puppy ate brownies and his granddaughter’s socks, or so he thinks. The Kramer family says their chinchilla has strange spots on its—”

Ethan held up his hand and stopped her. “I meant why are they calling here?”

“They want your help.” Katie scowled at him as if that should’ve been obvious.

“I’m not licensed in this state.” He’d been trained in domestic animals and livestock and, later, specialized in equestrian rehabilitation.

“They don’t seem to care.” Hip rolled over onto her back, not seeming to care either. Katie rubbed the dog’s stomach until Hip’s leg scratched the air and her mouth opened in a toothy smile. “They want you over Dr. Terry, who, and I’m quoting here, ‘if he worked any slower, he’d have to speed up to stop.’”

“I didn’t tell anyone I was home,” Ethan said.

“You’re kidding, right?” Katie straightened and swiped a strand of hair off her face. The disbelief in her tone was as fiery as her red locks. “You walked into Brewster’s this morning, didn’t you?”

He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping away the urge to curse. He didn’t need the reminder. His mind quickly recalled the image of Grace in her tissue box for an office, looking both sweet and tempting, capable and vulnerable. As if he could’ve opened his arms and she would’ve willingly stepped into his embrace. He scowled at that. In Grace’s embrace, he’d discovered an overwhelming inner peace. For one night, the emptiness inside him had receded.

But he understood the danger of wanting to be with Grace. Understood the threat Grace posed to his equilibrium. Becoming used to Grace’s embrace would only make him want more. Make him feel more. And feeling too much always led to heartache.

“This is the last time I’m passing along any messages for you.” Katie slapped her hand on his chest, and trapped between her palm and his shirt were several notes. “Tell your patients to call your cell phone and stop clogging up the ranch phone line. We need that line to stay open for new bookings.”

“I don’t have patients,” Ethan said.

“Looks like you do now.” Katie smiled. “Just make sure those house pets don’t interfere with the ranch. You’re here to help save Blackwell, not the town.”

As Katie turned away, Ethan scrambled to catch the scraps of paper floating to the dirt. He glanced over the notes, recognized the names, most he’d known all his life. He’d call them back because his mother had taught him manners and he’d suggest they consult with a licensed vet in the area.

But shortly after an exchange of greetings with Mrs. Hatfield, who invited him over for dinner and explained she only wanted advice from a trusted family friend, the conversation derailed. Four more calls later and four more “appeals for advice from a friend,” Ethan had dinner, lunch meet-ups and one pie date arranged, along with one early-morning coffee meeting. The good news: he’d be too busy visiting friends and neighbors, and could leave Grace alone to untangle the ranch accounts.

* * *

GRACE UNWRAPPED ANOTHER mint to quiet her stomach. Three hours past lunch and her buttered toast hadn’t settled. She left her dad sorting a shipment of cat food in the warehouse and walked to the storefront, passing her office. She wanted to sit down and prop her feet on her desk. Five minutes. Ten at the most. She needed that much after Ethan’s unexpected arrival earlier.

His confident presence had filled the space even though he’d remained near her door as if he’d been in a hurry to leave. As if he believed sleeping with her had been a mistake. Still, she’d forgotten how reliable his shoulders looked. But would Ethan be a reliable dad? Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a moment, she could find her balance. Surely, she’d be a reliable mother and that was all that mattered.

Fortunately, Trina Matthews, one of their employees, called out her name from the feed section with a question about the difference between alfalfa varieties. En route to Trina, Grace paused to assist Mrs. Timmerman with her sheet selection in housewares. Grace pulled a set of jersey sheets from a high shelf and explained she had the very same ones on her own bed. She didn’t mention it was her twin bed from high school. Leaving Mrs. Timmerman to decide between the heather-gray or navy sheet sets, Grace decided she really needed to upgrade her bed to at least a full. After all she was going to be a mom soon enough.

Finished sorting the Timothy-Alfalfa from the Orchard-Alfalfa, Grace turned toward her office, but her mother’s shout redirected her to the cash register.

Her mom handed her the handheld register scanner. “It’s acting up and Todd has a rather large order.”

Grace checked the scanner connections and handed it to her sister. “Should be fine now.”

“There are several customers waiting.” Their mother tugged the scanner from Sarah Ashley’s grip and thrust it back at Grace. “You have more practice on the register.”

Sarah Ashley wouldn’t get practice if their mother wouldn’t let her work. Grace gripped the scanner and greeted Todd Webster. “Let’s get you checked out and on your way.”

Grace was hoping for a speedy exit herself, but her mother had other ideas. “When you finish here, your dad needs you in the warehouse. The shipment for lawn and garden is arriving early and the plants need to be sorted and priced.”

“I can handle that,” Sarah Ashley offered. Her easygoing tone matched her relaxed smile, but her narrowed gaze challenged their mother to come up with a good reason to deny her.

But their mother had brought up three daughters without ever raising her voice and perfected the art of misdirection. “Grace can handle it. Did you know Ethan Blackwell was in the store this morning?”

Sarah Ashley flashed her three-carat, square-cut diamond ring at their mother. “I’m married now.”

“Married, but living with your parents,” said their father, who trundled past, looking over his glasses at them as he pushed a cart loaded with potting soil toward the garden section. “Without your husband.”

Mom set her hand on Sarah Ashley’s arm. “Your dad is frustrated. You know we’d do anything to make you happy.”

“This needs more than an antiseptic wipe and bandage.” Sarah Ashley carefully wrapped a ceramic pot in paper, bagged it and handed it to their last customer.

“If you’d talk to us, Sarah Ashley, we could help,” their mom said.

“I know.” Sarah Ashley straightened the pencils in the tin can holder until every tip faced down and then looked at them. “But this is something I have to do on my own.”

Grace wasn’t certain what her sister meant by this. She’d caught Sarah Ashley on the computer once, searching for online business classes. Every night she overheard her sister tell her husband that she wasn’t ready to come home yet.

All seemed fine, but Sarah Ashley never did anything without someone to lean on, be it their parents, her best friends or ex-boyfriends. Sarah Ashley never used to spend more than five minutes in the store on any given day until now, and now Grace was always cleaning up after her sister’s screwups.

“Just remember, you have family who are always here for you.” Their mother nodded at Grace.

Grace’s smile felt stiff and false. She tried harder, but her family didn’t ever rely on Sarah Ashley. They only ever relied on Grace and she’d never minded. Until now. She wanted to step out on her own and start her business. But how would they get along at the store without her? How could she abandon her family and then expect them to help when the baby arrived? Her baby with her sister’s ex-boyfriend. Her stomach dropped to her toes as if she’d been caught skimming from the cash register.

“Thanks, Mom.” Sarah Ashley hugged their mother. Alice Gardner was a petite, farm-raised powerhouse while Sarah Ashley was tall, her movements fluid like a dancer’s. Sarah Ashley looked like she should be twirling around a candle-lit ballroom in a waltz, not stacking bags of fertilizer. “I’m here now and happy to work.”

Their mother searched the store as if seeking an intervention from the mannequins. The resident store cat, Whiskers, meowed and rubbed on the edge of the counter. Their mother grabbed the large gray cat like he was the answer to her lifelong quest. “Your sister already inventoried the pet supplies and women’s attire. We’ll tackle the staff schedule and payroll next, after we place several reorders.”

Sarah Ashley smiled and nodded. “I can help with that.”

“Grace has always taken care of that with me.” Their mom handed Whiskers to Sarah Ashley. “Why don’t you check on your grandfather and his friends? Make sure they have enough sweet tea and water. Then you can wash off the stools on the porch.”

Sarah Ashley eyed her mother and frowned as if she’d been asked to sit at the kids’ table for Christmas dinner and sip sparkling cider. “You want me to wash the milk cans? No one ever does that, and shouldn’t Pops and his friends get their own drinks? You’re always saying that it isn’t good for them to sit all day.”

Their mother looked chagrined. “Well, uh...”

Grace was surprised their mother could suggest cleaning the milk can stools with a straight face. Sarah Ashley was right. That hadn’t ever been done since Grace started working in the store as a teenager. It was also true that their mother reminded Pops daily that she wasn’t running a restaurant. And if he or his friends wanted drinks or food, they needed to walk into the breakroom and get it like everyone else. It was their mother’s way of ensuring her father exercised his hips, having had both replaced over the last five years.

Her mother touched Sarah Ashley’s cheek. “You don’t want to do anything that might make you dizzy or light-headed. You wouldn’t want to fall again.”

Grace bit down on the inside of her cheek. Sarah Ashley had fallen off a ladder in the warehouse as a child and hit her head. Their father had then forbidden the girls to climb on the ladders or shelves after that. Sarah Ashley had claimed she’d been trying to organize some stock, got dizzy and fell. Their parents had given Sarah Ashley a reprieve from all her chores and household duties. Grace had been more than happy to step in for her injured sister. She just hadn’t expected to continue stepping in for her sister for the rest of their lives. Sarah Ashley had been hurt in the fall more than a decade earlier and hadn’t suffered any similar incident since.

“I’ll take care of it.” Sarah Ashley hugged the cat, her voice low and quiet.

Resentment laced both her sister’s tone and face. But that couldn’t be right. Sarah Ashley had never been inclined to get involved with the store. What was Sarah Ashley’s angle? After the warehouse incident, her sister had been more than willing to embrace her newly acquired princess status and she’d never relinquished it. Was her sister trying to impress Ethan? Grace doubted that, given her sister didn’t seem interested in his visit earlier.

Their dad peered around the swinging door and called for Grace. She’d never been banned from the warehouse. Not once. Nausea washed over her, slowing her steps. She’d never resented her sister’s princess status, but right now, she wanted to know how to get treated like that herself. Even if only for five minutes.

* * *

SARAH ASHLEY CUDDLED WHISKERS, his welcome purr vibrated against her neck as she whispered, “Once you settle onto the pedestal, Whiskers, it’s impossible to get off.” Sure she’d been satisfied, more than content with her favored position among family and friends. But then she’d married.

The first month of being Mrs. Alec Landry had been as ideal as she’d expected. Her husband followed that by declaring his expectations for their marriage. For her specifically. Specifically, Alec had wanted to start their family now and expected Sarah Ashley to stay home to raise their children. But Sarah Ashley’s pedestal had room enough for only one, or so she’d told Alec. She’d also added that she expected nannies and housekeepers to assist her. Alec’s laughter and accusations that she couldn’t do anything on her own still ricocheted through her.

She’d packed her bags and left their apartment to move back home all on her own that same night. But she’d been in Falcon Creek for three weeks and had yet to do anything else to prove herself.

Unlike Grace, her younger sister. Everyone trusted Grace. Never questioned Grace’s abilities. Never put Grace on a pedestal. The answer was simple: Sarah Ashley needed to get off her pedestal and soon.

She watched Grace shove another mint in her mouth as if she’d binged on garlic sausage at the Clearwater Café for breakfast and was waging war against bad breath. Sarah Ashley thought it odd that she hadn’t seen her little sister eat much more than crackers and mints in the last few weeks. Yet the caretaker role had always fit Sarah Ashley like last season’s wool sweater shrunk in the dryer, itchy and too tight. Although she’d always welcomed concern and pampering for herself, even she recognized that wouldn’t make her a good mother or a better person. Was it possible she lacked the skills to be a capable mother?

Stepping onto the wide front porch, she set Whiskers in Pops’s lap and left her own doubts on her pedestal. “Who needs a refill?”

“Hello, Sarah-Snowberry-Ashley.” Pops grinned, his usual lopsided quirk of his lips that had been there since she’d learned to climb into his lap as a toddler. He patted the milk stool beside him. “Come and sit with us for a spell.”

Sarah Ashley sat because she loved her grandfather and had been raised not to question her elders. But she was tired of sitting and looking pretty, like the field of wild snowberry flowers her grandfather had always compared her to. Yet sitting around wouldn’t prove Alec wrong.

“When’s that successful husband of yours coming to visit?” Pops asked.

“Work has him traveling,” Sarah Ashley hedged. “I’m sure he’ll stop in when he’s back in Billings for more than a day.” Or when she agreed to do more than talk to Alec on the phone. Her husband wanted his princess home. But Sarah Ashley wasn’t returning to him until she’d proven she was a queen, capable of much more than looking pretty on her throne.

To do that she needed to change how everyone viewed her. She rose and kissed Pops’s cheek. “Time for me to get back to work.”


CHAPTER THREE (#u3d93a91c-32c9-5ce0-803c-f0d195523a1b)

“GOOD MORNING, GRACE.”

Grace gaped and slowed on the porch steps of Brewster’s. The other half of her child’s DNA sat across from Pops. Ethan in his worn boots, faded flannel shirt and baseball cap smiled at her, stirring warmth through her. He returned his attention to the chessboard as if he’d been playing with her grandfather for years. As if this was their morning routine. As if he belonged here on this porch, waiting for her.

Waiting for her to confess.

Grace’s hand drifted to her stomach, her slight bump concealed beneath her jacket. Why did the truth have to be so complicated?

Still she couldn’t quite stall that swirl of warmth inside her from seeing Ethan.

She should be hot from irritation. She should be annoyed with Ethan for intruding on her usual morning routine. She always shared coffee and stories with her grandfather before the store opened. Before the other employees arrived. Before the customers took over the day.

Except this morning, they were a trio, rather than a duo. What was it with people inserting themselves where they didn’t belong? First, there was Sarah Ashley trying to step into the family business for the first time ever, and now, Ethan.

Was it so wrong that Grace wanted one thing to remain the same? To remain normal? In six months, nothing about her life would be either. But she could at least have her usual mornings with Pops, couldn’t she? Surely that wasn’t too much to ask.

“Sit down, Gracie.” Pops pointed at the empty rocking chair beside Ethan. The same one she sat in every morning while she listened to Pops reminisce about her grandmother or his childhood. “Your Ethan here, he already took care of your morning chores for you.” He eyed Ethan over the rims of his glasses and grinned. “Can’t ever get this girl to sit. But I got her good this morning, thanks to you.”

“I can make more coffee.” Ethan’s hand was on a stack of file folders. He glanced at her, and his guarded tone suggested he thought she needed several cups to tackle the Blackwell books.

“I’ve been making the effort to switch to tea.” Grace reached inside her purse for her special ginger tea. She was going to need to steep more than one bag this morning. Sitting next to Ethan was unsettling. She cleared her throat to smooth the accusation out of her voice and looked at him. “You’re up early.”

“Trying to get some errands done before Katie notices I’ve left.” Ethan placed a hand on his white knight and started to move the piece, but then paused to consider the chessboard as if everything hinged on this one particular move.

Whereas for Grace, everything hinged on her baby and keeping her stomach from objecting to the morning’s excitement. Would Ethan expect her to say checkmate when she told him about the baby? As if she’d neatly trapped him into being a dad. And what about marriage? She didn’t want Ethan to offer to marry her because she was carrying his child. But would he believe her?

“Keeping ahead of Katie Montgomery is almost as impossible as staying a step ahead of our Gracie.” Pops stuck his elbows out and leaned on his knees, as if anticipating Ethan’s move. As if Ethan proved a challenge to her grandfather. Ethan shifted his knight, taking Pops’s bishop. Pops rubbed his chin. “Sometimes you get lucky.”

Maybe Grace would get lucky and Ethan would confess he’d always wanted to be a father and couldn’t think of another person he wanted to have a child with other than Grace. The tea bag crinkled in her fist. What a ridiculous thought.

Only fools relied on luck. Or her sisters. Especially Sarah Ashley, who had proclaimed her good fortune at meeting Alec in an elevator in Billings. Had she not been running late for a job interview—Sarah Ashley had been late for her own birth by five days and hadn’t ever caught up—she’d have missed Alec’s elevator completely. Sarah Ashley believed fate wanted her to be late. Grace believed in punctuality and relying on herself to ensure her own good fortune.

Ethan picked up Pops’s bishop and used the chess piece to point down the street. “I’m just hoping the bank opens before the hedgehog arrives.”

“Hedgehog?” Grace repeated, trying to latch onto something logical. Yet there was nothing logical about a hedgehog’s arrival in Falcon Creek. Or sitting beside Ethan, while he played chess with Pops. She considered betting on luck.

“Zoe decided the ranch needed a petting zoo.” Ethan’s voice dipped low with disapproval.

Grace pretended Ethan censured her for thinking for one second she could believe in fate to right her world. “But I thought Zoe had left in the motor home with Big E.”

“She ordered the animals before they drove off.” Ethan slid back in his chair and waited for Pops to make his next move. “Animals have been arriving since last week.”

Pops grimaced. “That woman is her own walking zoo with all the fur she wears. She certainly likes to live a pampered life.”

Grace never wanted to be coddled. But she wouldn’t object to an hour of pampering.

Ethan rubbed his hand over his mouth, but laughter escaped.

Grace, trying to rock a scold into her voice for her own sake and her grandfather’s, said, “Pops, you told me never to talk unkindly about our neighbors. They might need us someday or we might need them, right?”

“Zoe Petit would be the last person I’d be looking to if I needed help opening Brewster’s front door.” Pops removed his cowboy hat and scrubbed his fingers through his silver hair, his focus remained on the chessboard as if Ethan’s move had really stumped him. “No offense, son.”

“She isn’t my grandmother. She’s wife number six.” Ethan’s voice was detached and his tone flat as if he were rattling off the phone number for the dry cleaner two towns over.

Would he be just as detached when she told him about the baby? Would his sense of responsibility force him to offer to marry her in that same flat tone?

Grace shifted to study Ethan’s profile without being too obvious. He seemed so sober. She wondered if Ethan would be like Big E, constantly searching for a better bride. Or would Ethan find one woman and stick with that one marriage like Grace’s parents and grandparents? She gripped the chair arms and shook her head. Ethan Blackwell and his marrying preferences were the least of her concerns.

“That was five wives too many.” Pops edged his knight toward the center of the board. “I bet Big E is looking for a place to hide from Zoe right this minute. He has to be worn-out from all the money she likes to spend on silly, expensive things.”

Grace admonished her grandfather, drawing out Pops’s name into a three-syllable word.

He shrugged and eyed Ethan. “A flea has more ranch in it than that woman.”

Ethan made a counterattack and earned a grunt of approval from Pops.

“Your grandmother, Dorothy Blackwell, was just like my Sandy. Thoughtful, caring and loyal.” Pops defended his king and focused on Ethan. His voice lowered, dipping into the serious as if he was about to impart the one secret to life. “Find a woman like them, son, and you keep ’em forever.”

Pops tipped his chin toward Grace, but held Ethan’s stare.

Surely her grandfather hadn’t just suggested Ethan keep Grace. Pops grew up with seven brothers. He’d never been taught the sister code, didn’t know the lesson about little sisters not dating their older sister’s ex-boyfriend. Grace jumped up. “Since I have some time before we open here, I’m going to head over to South Corner Drug & Sundries.”

“I’ll join you.” Ethan stood and stretched his arms over his head.

“That’s not necessary.” Grace reached down for her purse, but the leather strap hooked on her shoe.

“I need special supplements mixed for one of the mares.” Ethan freed her purse, but the frenzy inside Grace failed to disappear. Ethan continued, his voice calm, as if he knew Grace needed a distraction, “Zoe decided both mares should have foals at the same time. Better photo opportunities for the guests at the ranch.”

“Fleas have more sense.” Pops’s scowl was etched deep in his gruff voice.

And Grace had lost her sense too. Grace snatched her purse from Ethan, snatching her common sense back, and hurried to leave.

“Gracie, slow down and let your Ethan walk with you,” Pops called out. “Everyone’s in such a rush these days.”

Grace was in a rush all right. A rush to get away from Ethan and her grandfather’s innuendos. Why did Pops insist on referring to Ethan as her Ethan? He wasn’t hers any more than the falcons belonged to Falcon Creek.

Ethan’s long strides matched hers with ease. At least she’d escaped Pops’s speculation. Ethan would prove harder to deter. She had one confession that might send him running. The words lodged in her throat again. “Sorry about Pops.”

“There’s no need.” Ethan turned his baseball cap around and pulled the bill low on his forehead, as if he wanted to conceal his face from onlookers. As if he didn’t want to be seen with Grace.

Ethan added, “I’d spend the day on the porch with Pops if I could.”

Grace glanced at him. His voice lacked sarcasm and his expression was thoughtful. His sincerity touched her and she forgave him for not wanting to be seen with her. After all, she adored her grandfather and liked anyone who cared about Pops. “He requires a good dose of patience. Too much for most of the locals.”

Ethan held open the door to South Corner Drug and motioned Grace inside. “I’m not most people.”

She knew that all too well. He was the father of her child. Yet he hadn’t brought up their night together. Not once. Clearly, he wanted to forget that night had ever happened. There’d be no forgetting once she found her courage, but blurting out the truth inside South Corner Drug was a surefire way to spark a Falcon Creek uproar.

Grace beelined for the feminine products aisle and found her first deep breath. As she’d suspected, Ethan had headed away from her. He was shaking hands with the pharmacist, Theo Watkins.

Grace turned left at the end of the aisle and spotted the candy.

Adeline Conrad called out to her from the checkout counter. “Grace, we have your ginger pops back in stock.”

Grace smiled at her high school debate team partner and snatched the last three large bags of peppermint candy from the shelf. She wanted to have made her purchase before Ethan finished his conversation. But fate seemed to be in a nasty mood that morning and clearly had different intentions.

Ethan appeared at her side as if destiny had put him there. That same warmth she’d felt on the porch earlier spiraled through her at Ethan’s nearness. As if she welcomed his strong presence beside her. As if she counted on him being beside her. Good thing she never trusted destiny or she might believe what she felt was something other than her morning sickness making her cheeks flush and pulse race.

“The candy bowls at Brewster’s looked quite full the other day, unless I missed one.” He tapped the top bag of peppermint candy and eyed her. Laughter softened his blue gaze, pulling her in.

They both knew Ethan never missed a candy bowl. He’d had more than one sweet tooth just like her grandfather for as long as Grace could remember. She’d never understood why Sarah Ashley hadn’t simply baked cookies or bought brownies for Ethan whenever she’d needed to apologize to him. Had Ethan been her boyfriend, Grace would’ve taken up baking and shared every dessert with him.

She didn’t have time to get lost in blue eyes and charming smiles and decadent dessert recipes. “I like to be prepared.”

“For the peppermint rush.” Ethan walked beside her toward the cash register.

Adeline smiled at them like they’d won the Thursday night bingo challenge at the community center in Livingston, before she dropped four bags of ginger pops on the counter to add to Grace’s peppermint candy. Ethan reached for one of the lollipop bags. Grace reached toward the row of coconut-flavored lip balm, extending her arm in front of Ethan and knocking his hand away from the ginger candy. Grace latched onto the oval containers and tossed several lip balms on her pile.

Ethan grabbed the packages of lip balm and juggled three to Adeline’s delight. He asked, “Does the coconut lip balm enhance the peppermint flavor of the candy?”

Adeline watched the pair of them banter, her gaze jumping from one to the other, as if she were forming a response to land her the Montana State Debate title.

Grace shoved her items into a plastic bag, taking over Adeline’s job duties and tossed her cash on the empty counter.

Adeline gathered the money without taking her attention away from Grace and Ethan. “You two come back soon.”

Grace wasn’t coming back anytime soon. The speculation in Adeline’s gaze would only intensify to head-popping explosion once the town learned about Grace’s pregnancy. Internet shopping was all the rage now, anyway. It was past time she joined in.

On the sidewalk, and far enough away from Sundries employees with eavesdropping habits, Grace blurted, “Was that the account paperwork and receipts from the Blackwell Ranch in those folders?”

Ethan shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and stared down Front Street. “Big E has an old-fashioned accounting method.”

“At least he has a method.” If Grace could translate Big E’s system quickly and organize the books, she’d be done working for the Blackwells before the end of the week. That gave her three days to tell him about the baby.

“The books aren’t really portable. Only the bank statements are in the folders I left those on the table beside Pops. If you need more, and you will to solve this accounting fiasco, it’ll be best if you come up to the ranch.” Ethan kicked a stone down the sidewalk. His voice sounded gravelly, as if he wasn’t quite certain about his offer.

As if he wasn’t glad about spending more time with Grace. On his family’s land. In his family’s house. Grace switched the bag to her right hand, holding it between Ethan and herself. Surely she’d find a moment to talk to him at the Blackwell Ranch. Three days offered plenty of opportunities. Like right now. Grace opened her mouth.

But Ethan misinterpreted her silence and filled the space between them with an uncomfortable truth. “Look, we really need your help. I really need you. We have a family of thirty checking in later this month. We can’t cancel their reservation because we can’t pay back their deposit. There’s no money.”

Grace closed her mouth. She’d already assumed that much about the Blackwell Ranch, given Jon’s delay in paying their bill at Brewster’s. She’d extended the due date on the Blackwell account twice already. But she’d never seen Ethan panic, not even when one of their bulls wandered onto the highway and Ethan had to rescue him. Yet Ethan looked panicked now. Would the baby put him into full-scale anxiety mode?

He stepped in front of her. “I can come into town and pick you up when you get off work, if you prefer not to drive those roads at night.”

She would not be touched by his consideration. That looked like dread he was feeling. And any decent guy would’ve made the same offer. “I can drive myself.”

Relief rushed through his words, reaching into his full smile. “Give me your phone?”

Confused, Grace handed him her cell.

“I’m adding myself to the top of your contact list. Call me when you get on the property and I’ll come meet you.” He typed quickly and handed the phone back to her. “I’m mostly there as there’s so much to do and not enough ranch hands to help.”

He scowled, and his voice sounded irritated, like he’d swallowed a handful of prickly burs.

They’d traded secrets during their night together. One secret for another. She’d confessed she’d once had a crush on him back in high school. Ethan had told her how he’d left the Blackwell Ranch, vowing he wouldn’t ever need Big E’s support or assistance again. From the conviction in his voice then, she doubted he’d take pay from the ranch now, even if the family wasn’t facing a financial disaster.

At Brewster’s, Ethan dropped into the rocking chair across from Pops. Grace frowned at Ethan. “With so much to do, I’d think you wouldn’t have time to sit.”

“I have eighteen minutes until the bank opens.” Ethan settled into the rocker and grinned at her. “Besides, Pops and I have an important game to finish.”

“Your mother was already asking about you, Gracie. Better get inside or she’ll start hollering over that intercom. Seems Sarah Ashley got it into her head to update the inventory this morning.” Pops rubbed his hands together and adjusted his chair closer to the chess table.

Inventory? Grace reeled. It had taken her ages to create a database that was a perfect fit for Brewster’s. What had gotten into her sister?

Grace also had a conversation to rehearse.

One that was more overdue than last year’s taxes.


CHAPTER FOUR (#u3d93a91c-32c9-5ce0-803c-f0d195523a1b)

ETHAN CLOSED BUTTERSCOTCH’S stall and stretched. Between the chess game with Pops that morning and sitting by the mare for the past hour, his back had begun to protest. He’d spent longer with the pregnant horse than he’d expected, trying to coax her to eat. He should’ve been out in the south pasture, fixing the broken fence Katie discovered yesterday. The cattle had to graze there tomorrow, which meant Ethan had to fix the fence tonight.

He also had to apologize to Grace tonight. He decided to saddle up two of the horses, Faith Blue and Dewey, who were used for trail rides, and bring Grace with him. He’d mend the pasture fence and things between him and Grace at the same time.

A large black head shifted into his view. He strode over to Devil’s Thunder and stroked the feisty stallion’s neck. “Not today, Devil, I’m afraid. I need to concentrate on other things. But you and I are going out for a ride soon.”

Being out in the pasture with Grace, he wouldn’t worry about anyone walking in on their private conversation.

He smiled. His style contrasted with his grandfather’s, who was always oversharing in line at the bank or South Corner Drug & Sundries as if he’d sought the approval of the teller or cashier that day. Big E had never even lied about his schemes, just doled out the truth, no matter the reaction from whoever listened to his latest ploy.

Should they be more worried about Big E’s whereabouts?

Not even Pops had any insight to offer about Big E this morning when they’d played chess. Big E wouldn’t have left town without telling someone where he was going, and why.

Ethan supposed there was a first time for everything. Still, his grandfather hadn’t changed in over seventy-five years. Ethan doubted he’d changed in the last month. Ethan just hadn’t found the one person in town who Big E had confided in.

Ethan heard the rumble of a car coming down the road. He stepped out of the horse barn and crossed the yard toward the main house. He reached the curved driveway the same time Grace climbed out of her car. Her four-door sedan was economical and practical and suited her.

Yet there was nothing practical about his reaction to seeing Grace again. He liked that she looked relaxed and comfortable in her jeans and red flannel shirt with rolled sleeves. He liked her blond hair falling around her shoulders, instead of the confining ponytail, and her welcoming smile a little too much. And that didn’t suit him at all. Suddenly, he was impatient to get on a horse and ride, preferably without Grace.

But they needed to talk. “I have to head out to the south pasture before nightfall.”

Grace pointed at the main house. “I can get to work in Big E’s office while you do that.”

“I thought we could saddle Faith Blue and Dewey, and ride out together.” Ethan tracked the sun in the sky and calculated how much daylight remained. “We can talk on the way.”

“I’m not sure...”

“Katie doesn’t know the exact financial distress the ranch is facing and I’d like to keep it like that. I don’t want to worry her more. Between the new tractor, petting zoo arrivals and my own strained credit cards, it’s looking rather bleak. Not to mention, Big E has another bank account that none of us have authority to use.”

From the flurry of pricey renovations inside the main house, Ethan assumed Zoe had had full access to every penny. Too bad he couldn’t get refunds on the bubble-gum paint and crystal chandeliers she’d hung in every bathroom inside his childhood home. He’d probably have enough cash to run the ranch for a month.

Grace asked, “But Katie knows I’m helping with the books, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then she won’t question my being in Big E’s office.” Grace straightened the cuffs on her flannel sleeves as if she needed to put herself back together. “Besides, I’d rather not ride.”

It was easier to let her escape into the office. Easier to ride out to the south pasture alone. But then he’d spend the rest of the night questioning his own cowardice. The Blackwell men had been raised to be fearless and brave. He was already a coward for not having spoken frankly to Grace about their night together.

The solution was simple. He turned his baseball cap backward and concentrated on Grace like a starting pitcher with a no-hitter at the bottom of the ninth inning and the MVP batter at the plate. “You’ve been cooped up at a desk all day. What do you mean you don’t want to ride? You were practically born in a saddle and barely left it as a kid.”

“That was a long time ago.” Grace stubbed the toe of her boot into the gravel and avoided looking at him.

“But you still ride.” He clamped his teeth together, but too late.

Her head snapped up and her gaze centered on him. “How do you know that?”

He knew because he’d followed her posts on social media. He’d seen the picture of her at the horse show in Bozeman last month. Her wide smile couldn’t contain all her joy in that one picture, and whenever he looked at it, he smiled too. He hadn’t seen that kind of happiness in her since he’d returned home. Not that her happiness was actually due to him in any way.

He shifted his weight and shrugged. “Just guessing. You always had a passion for horses. You spent most of your weekends at shows in high school.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “You were too busy with Sarah Ashley to know where I was in high school.”

Sarah Ashley had spent her weekends with her girlfriends mostly. Ethan had definitely not been with her. When he’d needed a break from the ranch, he’d escaped to Brewster’s. Frank and Pops usually had something they needed hauling or lifting. And Grace’s mother most often had homemade cookies or a pie she’d insist he try. When Grandma Brewster had been alive, she’d fill him up on freshly squeezed lemonade.

The Gardners had always welcomed him, anytime, any day. Someone usually let slip Grace’s success at the weekend’s horse show or commented on her growing award shelf. He wondered if Grace knew how proud her parents and grandparents were of her. He wondered if she knew how lucky she’d been to have all their love for so many years. “As our high school years are firmly in the past, let’s concentrate on the now and take a ride together.”

“The sun is already setting and I’m not as familiar with the terrain out there as you are.” Grace opened her passenger car door and pulled out a jacket. “The ATV would probably be faster. We can get to work in the office sooner.”

Ethan nodded, preferring even the ATV to the house. The ATV put her right beside him. She wouldn’t have to strain to hear him, but he’d be stuck next to her. If he struggled to find the right words, he couldn’t simply gallop ahead and collect himself. Still, he loaded the ATV and motioned for Grace to climb in.

Ethan guided the ATV around several potholes and waited until the trail evened out enough to not rattle his voice. He wanted to get this apology out the first time. Now seemed as good a time as any. But “sorry” never slipped past his lips; instead, he blurted out, “Why did you just leave a note that night?”

Ethan hit a bump. But not a large enough one to knock logic back into his thoughts.

Grace’s shoulder tapped against his. “I didn’t want it to be awkward.”

But it was awkward. Perhaps more so because they hadn’t said goodbye at the time. Worse, he’d never called her afterward.

She rushed on and filled the silence before awkwardness became a third passenger. “We’re both adults. Both knew what that night was.”

He thought he knew. Now he wasn’t so sure. “What was that night?”

“You’re going to make me say it?” Grace’s voice pitched high despite the wind. “Certainly, you’ve had one-night stands before.”

Maybe he had, but his past wasn’t the topic of discussion. The only one-nighter that concerned him now was theirs. He’d doubted Grace had ever had a one-night fling. And if that was true, how could she be so cavalier about their evening together? Hadn’t it meant anything to her?

He rubbed his chest, digging his knuckles into his ribs. He should be celebrating that Grace wasn’t into messy emotions and long-term commitments. “That’s all it was to you?” he asked.

“Was it something more to you?” Her tone was cautious as if she’d hesitated to voice the thought.

He slowed the ATV near the broken fence and twisted to look at her. Her gaze locked on to his, making him want to rub his chest again. She wanted his answer. Yet there was no right answer and he’d paused too long.

Grace zipped her jacket to her chin and yanked her hood over her head. “And now, it’s awkward.”

Ethan ran his hands over his face. “Not how I wanted this conversation to go.”

“How did you want it to go?” She gripped the handrail and moved away from him.

“I wanted to apologize for not calling.”

“I never called you either.”

He touched her arm, pulling her gaze back to his. “Still, I don’t make a habit of nights like those.” Although, a quiet voice inside him whispered that Grace could become a habit. Good thing he was usually surrounded by so much noise, he could rarely hear said voice.

“That’s good to know.” Her chin dipped inside her collar. “I don’t either.”

“Okay.” Ethan relaxed into the seat. Her thinking surprised him. And perhaps rankled a bit. As he’d never been one of those overly sensitive guys, he brushed off the discomfort as stiffness from climbing the ladder too many times to test the batteries in the fire alarms of every guest room in the lodge that afternoon. “What now?”

A pair of hawks screeched, circling above them. One hawk dived into the field and returned to the sky with a long snake thrashing inside its talons. Grace slapped a hand over her mouth and tracked the hawk’s path over the ATV.

Ethan remembered their conversation at the bar when she’d shared her fear of snakes after he’d admitted elevators made him uneasy. “Don’t worry. That hawk won’t drop its dinner.”

Grace kept her gaze on the sky and spoke through her fingers. “But it might drop pieces of the snake. Its talons are sharper than my knives at home. Is that blood dripping to the ground?”

“At least the snake will be dead when it lands on us,” Ethan teased, and reached for the wire cutters inside the tool bag beside Grace’s feet. “Snake can be good eating if it’s breaded and fried.”

“You didn’t really just say that, did you?” Grace curled into her jacket.

He unlatched the safety on the wire cutters, and noticed her voice was unsteady. He paused to study her.

Her skin had paled to a strange gray color. She hadn’t sounded uncomfortable with their conversation. They’d only just released the valve on their past. He was certain there’d be more for them to discuss, but she looked uncomfortable now.

Had the snake bothered her that much? She pressed her lips together, her bottom lip disappearing from the pressure. Bringing up the snake again probably wasn’t the best approach.

He glanced at the setting sun. Dinnertime would be over before he finished his repairs, even if he was quick. Food had always been Big E’s answer to everything. Maybe it would help here. “We’ve got chicken soup at the house. I’ll make us something while you get your bearings in Big E’s office.”

“Soup would be perfect.” She shifted her boots up onto the seat and set her cheek on her knees.

“We can head back now, if you’d rather.”

“I’m fine,” she said.

Nothing about the push she gave him on the shoulder was weak or frail. Still, he hesitated to leave her.

She pushed him again and said, “Go. You’ll have one less thing to do tomorrow.”

Ethan hurried to fix the fence and loaded up the ATV. He peeked at Grace, took in her pinched lips and the circles under her eyes. He hadn’t meant to make her anxious when they’d talked about their night together, or sick, when he’d joked about them eating snake.

That he might’ve hurt her made him twitchy inside. For now, he’d table the conversation and come back to it later. Even better, he’d let her take the lead. If she wanted to dissect more about their evening together, then he’d listen and be there. Until then, he’d keep his mouth closed.

He gripped the steering wheel harder, but his first instinct was to grab her hand as if he wanted to comfort her. As if he had a right to hold her.

She’d asked if their night together had been something more than what it was. He wasn’t sure. The only thing he wanted to do was hold her hand now.

But even if he’d wanted something more with Grace, it wasn’t possible. It was impossible. He had nothing to offer but résumés, an uncertain future and an empty bank account. Grace deserved a lot more than that.

Silence rode between them on the drive back to the ranch. Less than five minutes was needed to introduce Grace to Big E’s accounting system, leaving Ethan to prepare dinner in Zoe’s extravagantly expensive pink wonderland.

Unfortunately, as a kid, he’d been more worried about shoveling food into his mouth before his brothers stole it from his plate than considering how it was made. He’d never wandered into the kitchen to help his mom. He’d only ever wandered into the kitchen to snatch a cookie or bag of chips.

After his parents had died, they all learned meals didn’t just appear on the table. Big E had assigned a night for each one of the boys to prepare dinner for the family. That was when Ethan had figured out a handful of quick recipes that required one pot and little preparation. Chicken soup remained his go-to staple.

Soup reheated and ladled into bowls, Ethan carried dinner into Big E’s office on a tray.

Grace looked up from a pile of receipts that covered every inch of Big E’s oversize oak desk. “It might be easier to eat in the kitchen.”

“In here is fine.” He ate every night in the office, in the same leather chair. This was the only room that suited him. Even his childhood bedroom, which he’d shared with Ben and had once contained a bunk bed fort and countless army men, now resembled a giant box of glitter. He’d spent his first night in the room wondering how much the floor-to-ceiling silver curtains that shimmered like waterfalls had cost. He’d moved into Cabin Six after that and hadn’t returned to his childhood room since.

He placed Grace’s soup and crackers beside her. Setting his soup on top of the receipts, he pulled the leather chair closer to the desk and sat down.

“Is there something wrong with the kitchen?” Grace asked.

Ethan crushed crackers into his soup. “It’s cold.” Too pink. Too frivolous. Too dollhouse happy.

“It’s updated and modern with every convenience sold on the market today.” Her eyebrows pulled together behind her glasses. “A chef’s dream.”

But not his mother’s dream. He couldn’t find his mother in the house anymore and that put a chill inside the walls that couldn’t be driven out with a roaring fire. He scooped up a pile of receipts from beneath his bowl and dropped them on the side table. “We can eat and work. It’ll go faster with the two of us. What are you doing anyway?”

Grace pushed up her glasses and used her spoon to stir her soup. “Putting the receipts into piles by year.”

Soup bowls scraped clean and receipts organized, Ethan eased back in the leather chair and watched Grace’s fingers fly over a circa-1970s calculator complete with a roll of white paper. The pencil in her other hand scribbled across a legal notepad. “You’re good at this.”

“I should be. It’s my profession.” Grace tapped the pencil against her temple. “Certified public accountant with a master’s degree in accounting.”

“Impressive.” Ethan steepled his hands and set them under his chin. He pictured her inside her cramped office with the equally compact metal desk. She’d seemed smaller inside that office. Now she seemed to own Big E’s desk and the entire space. He decided she belonged in an office she could command. “You should have your own business.”

“That’s in the works.” Her fingers paused on the calculator, a look of surprise in her wide eyes. “But that isn’t public knowledge. I’d appreciate you not talking about it.”

“But you’re a staple at the store,” he said. Grace had been working at Brewster’s since they’d been kids. Everyone always knew she would be there. Everyone also knew if they needed something, they only had to find Grace. Always Grace.

Grace’s entire face twisted into a grimace as if he’d called her the unwanted sweet potato hash on his plate. “I have more to offer than inventory spreadsheets and special orders.”

“I agree.” Grace was unexpected, like those over-easy eggs on his sweet potato hash.

Grace fumbled with her pencil and adjusted her glasses as if Ethan had messed with her paperwork.

Ethan let her fall back into her number crunching while he tried not to fall into the surprise of Grace Gardner. He listened to her fingers tapping on the calculator keys and the paper rolling out.

“Staring at her is not helping the ranch out.” Katie stood in the doorway and peered around a stack of folded bedsheets in her arms. “But making beds in the lodge will.”

“I don’t want to make beds.” He wanted to stay right where he was. With Grace.

Katie dumped the stack of linens on Ethan’s lap. “I didn’t want to iron and look how that turned out.”

Ethan ran his hand over the smooth top sheet. “Nice job.”

“They’ll look even better on the beds.” Katie smiled and turned to Grace. “Thanks for the help, Grace. If you need anything, I’ll be in the barn. Ethan will be in the guest lodge.”

“Looks like the team leader has spoken and I have more work to do.” Ethan stood and balanced the sheets so he wouldn’t drop them. “Grace, text me before you leave.”

Grace glanced at him, her gaze distracted, her smile distant. “Sure.”

Katie rushed around Ethan. “Let me get the back door for you.”

“Thanks,” Ethan muttered as he left the study.

“Wouldn’t want you sneaking back into the office for more one-on-one time with Grace,” Katie joked.

“We were working.”

“Grace was working.” Katie swung open the back door, but caught Ethan’s arm before he left. “I don’t know what you were doing, Eth. Pining, maybe?”

“I’ve never pined in my life.” He bumped his shoulder into hers as he stepped outside. “I was half asleep and you ruined my nap.”

“Whatever.” Katie kept pace beside him as he lengthened his stride down the back porch steps. “What’s up with you and Grace? You can tell me. I’m practically your sister.”

“Leave it alone, Katie.” Ethan turned toward the guest lodge and smiled. Hip wasn’t allowed at the lodge and he knew Katie wouldn’t tag along without her dog. “Get back to work or I’ll have to fire you for laziness.”

“You wouldn’t survive a day without me,” she countered.

“An hour.”

“What?”

He faced her and tried to look stern. “I wouldn’t survive an hour out here without you, but don’t let it go to your head.”

“It’s good to have you back, Ethan.” Katie laughed and whistled for Hip to accompany her into the barn.

One king bed and a set of twin beds later, Ethan pounded his fist into a feather pillow. He’d spent the last hour tangled up in sheets and duvets and not in the good kind of way. Who put so many buttons on duvets when a simple zipper would work just fine?

Grace and Katie arrived at the second bedroom of the Big Sky wing and burst out laughing. “We came to see what has been taking you so long,” Grace said.

“Fluffing a pillow.” Ethan smashed the pillow again with his fist.

“That’s a beating.” Grace yanked the pillow away from Ethan and patted the stuffing back into place. Her hands gentle as if she did this every day.

“What does it matter?” Ethan fell face forward across the queen bed. “This is what beds are for. There’s no pretty required.” He could think of a few other things beds were good for, like holding Grace all night.

Fortunately, Grace and Katie chose that moment to pummel his back with pillows, pummeling his wayward thoughts away, and he grunted into the mattress.

Grace put her pillow back against the headboard. “How many more rooms do you have to do?”

“Too many. Who builds a lodge with so many rooms anyway?” Ethan turned his head and grinned at Katie. “Rooms four through seven are haunted and need to be closed indefinitely.”

Katie smacked him with her pillow again. “Not happening.”

“Come on,” Grace said. “We’ll teach you how to do pretty.”

He thought Grace looked pretty with the moonlight streaming in from the window framing her from behind. “I don’t want to learn.”

“This won’t leave a scar. I promise.” She gripped his hand and pulled, trying to tug him off the bed.

Ethan rolled over, but kept his hand inside hers. “Tomorrow I’m doing all manly tasks. Nothing that requires pretty.”

“Fine with me.” Katie tossed her pillow on the bed. “Now get up, so we can get this done and finally call it a night.”

With having called time on the pillow fights, the three of them finished the other guest rooms quickly. As he said good-night to Grace at her car, he thought she looked almost exhausted. Was he asking too much of her to try to make sense of Big E’s accounts?

Ethan stretched out across the queen bed in Cabin Six after a midnight snack, and considered all the repairs that were needed in his cabin alone. The to-do list seemed to double every night. But Grace had offered a reprieve and made the evening less toilsome. Less lonely. And he’d learned to do pretty.

He’d learned more than that too. He now knew Grace’s favorite color: purple, thanks to an argument between Katie and Grace about whether the shower curtain in one of the suites was lavender or lilac.

He’d learned Grace’s favorite flower: sunflower. This came out after Katie and Grace agreed the large guest room in the Western Wing needed some decoration and that several different flowers should be painted as a border along the walls.

And her favorite time of the day: the witching hour, when magic happens. That, she’d let slip, when he’d walked her to her car. She’d pointed out a shooting star, smiled and closed her eyes as if making a wish.

Not that he intended to do anything with his new information about Grace. Or to even repeat the getting-to-know-Grace-better evening.

She worked for the Blackwells. Nothing more.

After all, he’d returned home to help his brother with the ranch, not discover if there was something more between him and Grace.


CHAPTER FIVE (#u3d93a91c-32c9-5ce0-803c-f0d195523a1b)

GRACE SWISHED WATER around her mouth and spit it out into the bathroom sink in Brewster’s warehouse. She’d avoided the newly renovated bathroom in the main store ever since her morning sickness had extended into days and evenings. Unfortunately, as her nausea didn’t seem to be lessening, her stomach seemed to be expanding every hour. Thankfully she had a jacket with her yesterday to conceal her growing tummy from Ethan. Nothing managed to conceal her nausea though.

Ten minutes into the ATV ride at the Blackwell ranch last night, she’d decided the horse might’ve been the better option. Ethan had driven the four-wheeler like he was on an off-roading race course and trying to catch the leader. Grace had spent most of the ride trying to catch her breath and calm her stomach.

She’d thought her note at the hotel had ended any discussion of their one night together like an exclamation point ended a sentence. She’d lost that battle when Ethan had teased about eating the snake.

She touched her stomach.

Of course, their discussion was far from over. Far from complete.

But she’d never dare expect more from Ethan Blackwell than one night. One memorable night. She’d always been the friend. The confidante. But not the girlfriend. She’d been “like the sister” that a guy had never had so often that her family tree should’ve fallen over by the time she’d graduated from college. There wasn’t a variation on the we-make-better-friends line that she hadn’t heard.

Once she’d moved home from college, she’d shelved relationships and dating with her statistics books. Until Ethan. She’d stepped into that hotel room with Ethan with her eyes open and her head clear. It was only ever supposed to be one night.

She touched her stomach.

Yet, Ethan had made her feel anything but plain last night when they’d been teasing each other and laughing for most of the night. She’d been anything but quiet around him ever since he’d come back to Falcon Creek. He also hadn’t scoffed at her business ideas or suggested she rethink her goals. He’d even complimented her skills.

Nothing that made her heart trip over, of course.

Her heart had stopped tripping in middle school when Trevor Dixon chose her younger sister, Nicole Marie, over Grace for the holiday dance. Her sister had tried to persuade Trevor to take Grace. But he’d moved on to Dana Brantley by lunch. And Grace had moved into Brewster’s, making herself a permanent and indispensable fixture in the store. She had her family, the store and her show horses. That had been enough.

Until recently. But now she had a baby to concentrate on. A baby to love.

Her name echoed over the store’s loudspeaker. Grace splashed her cheeks with cold water and yanked open the door, but pulled back to keep from running into her sister.

Sarah Ashley handed her several paper towels, but remained in Grace’s path, her gaze skimming over Grace’s face.

“Thanks.” Grace wiped the paper towel across her damp forehead. “Something I ate at breakfast didn’t agree with me.”

“That’s been happening frequently.” Sarah Ashley arched one perfectly groomed eyebrow.

“Maybe I need to make better breakfast choices.” Her heart definitely needed to make better choices, like not to get involved in the first place. Otherwise she’d only have herself to blame if she let Ethan break it. She was even more ill this morning than she’d thought if she was considering hearts and Ethan in the same sentence.




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