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The Rancher's Mistletoe Bride
Jill Kemerer


Coming Home for ChristmasWedding planner Lexi Harrington needs a manager for her inherited Wyoming ranch. Clint Romine is the perfect man for the job, but the ruggedly handsome cowboy soon presents a new dilemma—distraction. Lexi can’t fall for a small-town rancher when she’s planning to return to her big-city career after the holidays. Home has always been elusive for former foster kid Clint. Working alongside Lexi at Rock Step Ranch feels too cozy—and too risky. Opening up to her means revealing a secret about his past that could jeopardize everything he holds dear. This Christmas, can Clint learn to trust Lexi with the truth…and with his heart?Wyoming Cowboys: Following their hearts home







Coming Home for Christmas

Wedding planner Lexi Harrington needs a manager for her inherited Wyoming ranch. Clint Romine is the perfect man for the job, but the ruggedly handsome cowboy soon presents a new dilemma—distraction. Lexi can’t fall for a small-town rancher when she’s planning to return to her big-city career after the holidays. Home has always been elusive for former foster kid Clint. Working alongside Lexi at Rock Step Ranch feels too cozy—and too risky. Opening up to her means revealing a secret about his past that could jeopardize everything he holds dear. This Christmas, can Clint learn to trust Lexi with the truth...and with his heart?


“I saved the best for last.” Lexi held out a straw cowboy hat. “It’s the tree topper.”

Clint laughed. “I might not know much about decorating, but isn’t it supposed to be a star?”

“Not on a cowboy Christmas tree. The hat is the finishing touch.”

Clint smiled and sidled up next to her, gently taking the ornament from her hand and placing it at the top of the tree.

They stepped back to survey their work. With the colored lights, cowboy ornaments and red bandanas tied here and there, it represented him and all he stood for. Something shifted inside him. Softened his heart.

It was his first Christmas tree, and it suited him perfectly. And it was all because of Lexi.

She turned to him, holding up her hand. “Nice work.”

He high-fived her, wanting to express how much this day meant to him, but not knowing how.

“Come on. Pumpkin pie is waiting for us.”

Pumpkin pie, Christmas decorating, laughter and music? He’d better not get used to this; it would be gone all too soon.


Dear Reader (#u7b19ba79-5920-5df5-8621-c7a919679b73),

I hope you enjoyed the first book in the Wyoming Cowboys series. I had so much fun researching ranches and Wyoming that I wish I could visit the fictional town of Sweet Dreams. Clint and Lexi are dear to me. Clint had been neglected and abused throughout his life, and it was no wonder he held himself to impossible standards. Raised in a home rich in love, Lexi found herself vulnerable and questioning her future at the prospect of being all alone in life. I loved watching these two bring out the best in each other even as they fought their insecurities and learned to trust God with their future.

Clint’s best friends and foster brothers, Nash, Marshall and Wade, will be thrust on their own romantic journeys in the rest of the series. But love and trust doesn’t come easily for any of them. This Christmas, I pray that your past hurts are healed and that you spend time capturing the glorious reason for the season. You can be certain you have a Father who loves you, a Savior who lived, died and rose for you, and a Spirit who guides you. This love can’t be earned. It’s freely given. To you. To me. Merry Christmas!

Blessings to you,

Jill Kemerer


JILL KEMERER writes novels with love, humor and faith. Besides spoiling her mini dachshund and keeping up with her busy kids, Jill reads stacks of books, lives for her morning coffee and gushes over fluffy animals. She resides in Ohio with her husband and two children. Jill loves connecting with readers, so please visit her website, jillkemerer.com (http://www.jillkemerer.com), or contact her at PO Box 2802, Whitehouse, OH 43571.


The Rancher’s Mistletoe Bride

Jill Kemerer






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


Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

—Philippians 2:3–4


For Rachel Kent. This book wouldn’t be here without you. I’m thankful for you every day.

For Pen to Paper, the first writing group I ever joined. Jan and Patricia, your gentleness and knowledge were instrumental to my growth. Thank you.


Contents

Cover (#u2a54078e-2972-5c82-8c5c-6581936adabc)

Back Cover Text (#u9ef8189a-fb89-5de3-9040-18d9dd3d18d4)

Introduction (#uee4b9051-784a-511b-9144-b8abe4609172)

Dear Reader (#u0cc339b8-4c9c-5a4e-b6fb-91e85cdf4c5e)

About the Author (#u7c398246-721e-5e6b-a02b-13f4b1be442c)

Title Page (#u93357b05-b4e0-5b14-a753-0aa1550fd7a2)

Bible Verse (#u85caa154-31d9-5ec5-90ab-097734548bf1)

Dedication (#u4c6d5eae-a413-5f90-8f09-acd4ef07faa6)

Chapter One (#ud7d8734f-f22f-5ef4-979c-f4a026a40c2c)

Chapter Two (#ub0f56262-ecda-559a-8918-094c66908abd)

Chapter Three (#uab8d6a63-0b46-5e79-97a0-dcbf2a6f4315)

Chapter Four (#ue142c563-5ef2-5c8f-9314-c811395bb734)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u7b19ba79-5920-5df5-8621-c7a919679b73)

He hadn’t ranched in four years, but the tug of cowboy life always beckoned.

Clint Romine slowed his truck to study the magnificent property splayed before him. Well-maintained fences lined the perimeter and divided areas for rotating stock. Acres of grazing land, fields for hay production, barns, cabins, outbuildings, paddocks—all appeared neat and orderly and only a ten-minute drive from Sweet Dreams, Wyoming. Rock Step Ranch was everything a cattle ranch should be. And more. If Clint’s interview went well, he’d be in charge of this entire outfit.

Unease slithered down his neck. Was he fit to manage it?

His mistake haunted him. A slip in his judgment. The death of a dream. But owning a ranch wasn’t the same as being hired to manage one. Four years ago, he’d had everything to lose. And now? There was nothing left for him to lose. He’d already lost it all.

Clint drove into a gravel lot near the barn and paddocks, cut the engine, and stepped out. Mountains stood proudly in the distance, and the wind held the bite of early November. Cowboys shouted from the cutting pen. Looked like they were weaning calves. He longed to slap on his chaps and join them.

After watching for a few minutes, he checked the time and forced himself to stride toward the main house. A two-story log home with a covered porch, a pair of rocking chairs and a faded mat greeted him. Before he knocked, he paused to pray.

Lord, I’ve made mistakes. I don’t deserve my own land. But if You’ll give me the opportunity to manage this operation, I’ll try not to let You or the ranch down.

Clint stretched himself to his full height and rapped twice on the door. It opened almost immediately, and he stared into light brown eyes the color of the pronghorns he often saw bounding across the land.

Alexandra Harrington had grown into a beautiful woman.

He wasn’t in her league—had never been in her league. When he’d found out she was the one hiring, he’d been concerned about working for his former classmate. Attraction complicated the employer/employee relationship. When he’d worked on LFR Ranch, a cowboy had been fired for flirting with the owner’s daughter. But now that he’d seen Alexandra, his fears disappeared. A smart, successful, stunning woman like her was out of reach for a working guy like him. Not that he needed to worry about it. Rumor had it you had to spend time with a woman, get to know her, to have a shot at dating her. He had no intention of spending time with her, let alone dating her.

“Thanks for coming, Clint.” She ushered him inside, and once he’d taken off his outerwear, he followed her down a hallway to a large living room with views of the river. The hardwood floors were in bad shape. Scratched. Faded. Three rocks were missing from the stone fireplace climbing the wall to the ceiling. From somewhere nearby, the drip, drip of a faucet fought to override the sound of a ripped screen flapping against a window. Even the air had the stale tang of neglect.

Strange that the outbuildings, fences and property were in top-notch order, but this house had been allowed to fall apart.

He turned his attention to the woman he recognized from high school. Still slim in dark jeans and an oversize white sweater. Long, dark brown waves spilled over her shoulders. Her pale face held high cheekbones, full eyebrows and thin pink lips. But Alexandra wore sad the way he wore regret—it permeated her, surrounded her—and he had the strongest urge to take it from her. Which was a laugh, since he had no idea how. He’d never been around many women and probably never would be.

He did know what it was like to suddenly have no family, though. Her father had died three weeks ago. She had every right to be sad.

She took a seat on an old tan couch, motioning for him to sit opposite her, and he obliged, his cowboy hat in his hands.

“Dottie Lavert mentioned you might be interested in managing the ranch for me.” Her words were quiet but firm. “As you know, Daddy died unexpectedly, and I need someone here sooner rather than later.”

He nodded, not knowing what to think of the way she was fingering the bottom edge of her sweater. Was she nervous? No. This was Alexandra Harrington. Vice president of their senior class, organizer of proms and dances and who knew what else.

“I remember you from high school,” she said. “You worked on a ranch then, too, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” He was surprised she remembered him at all. His one goal in high school had been to be as invisible as possible. As a teen, he’d poured all his energy into keeping his spot at Yearling Group Home for teen boys. The Laverts had been hired to run the group foster home. Back then, Big Bob Lavert kept the boys in line while his wife, Dottie, cooked their meals, made sure they did their homework and accompanied them to church. Too bad Yearling had shut down several years ago. It had helped a lot of kids like him who had nowhere else to go.

“From your résumé, I see you’ve been working for the oil company.” She smiled, her expression open, expectant. “And before that you worked on LFR Ranch.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Call me Lexi.”

Lexi? He couldn’t call her Lexi. Couldn’t even think of her as Lexi. Too familiar, too accessible. Alexandra had the right amount of remoteness for his liking.

“I learned about calving, grazing, hay production, keeping the books and maintaining the property from my years at LFR.” He paused, unsure how much more to tell her. If he confessed how he’d left LFR and then been duped out of his own tiny piece of Wyoming, she’d boot him right out the door. And if he admitted he’d spent four years avoiding working on a ranch because it had hurt too much to be surrounded by what he’d lost, she’d think he was crazy. “I’ve been working for the oil company for four years now.”

She picked up the top paper from a stack on the end table next to her. “Yes, I see you were promoted three times in as many years. Impressive.”

Impressive? Him? If she only knew... He hoped she didn’t ask about the six months between LFR Ranch and the oil company. If asked outright, he wouldn’t lie to her. And he didn’t want to return to his mind-numbing job.

“I need someone I can depend on to do all the things my father did. I own a wedding planning company in Denver. I’ve already told my employees I’ll be living in Wyoming at least until Christmas. To put it simply, my business takes all of my time. If running my company from here proves too difficult, I’ll have to move back to Colorado. In that case, I’d come to the ranch once a month or so. I need someone here who is self-motivated. Someone who can delegate work to the ranch hands. Someone I can trust.”

Could she trust him? Did he trust himself?

She continued. “The next question might seem forward, but I have to know. Do you drink?”

“No.”

She narrowed her eyes, her lips pursing, clearly unconvinced.

“I’ve seen what it does to people and have no desire to try it.” He held her gaze. “I like to be in complete control of my faculties. At all times. I’ll take a drug test if you’d like.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She massaged the back of her neck. She looked tired. More than tired. Exhausted. “You’re not the first person to be considered for this position. I hired a man last week who had a problem with the hard stuff. What a disaster he turned out to be. Daddy’s right-hand man, Jerry Cornell—you’ll meet him in a little while—found him at noon on Saturday still lit out of his mind, sitting in the river in his drawers when he should have been working. When I called him into the office, he had the nerve to tell me not to worry my ‘purdy’ little head about it. Needless to say, I had to let him go.” She got to her feet and started pacing. “He’s fortunate he didn’t get hypothermia.”

Clint strangled the hat between his hands. He’d worked with plenty of cowboys who drank too much. The fact one of them would disrespect her made him want to rope the jerk up.

She spun to face him, chin high. “This is my home. The only thing left of my childhood and my parents. I have ranch hands and their families depending on me for their income. If keeping this operation profitable and in tip-top shape isn’t your number-one priority, you will not work here. It’s that simple. And, in case I didn’t make it clear, I have the final say in all ranch decisions.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He could keep a ranch in tip-top shape. But profitable? He’d made a bad financial choice years ago. What if he made one again?

She sighed then, her body sagging as if someone had let the air out of her. “I’ll take you out to meet Jerry. He’ll show you around and feed you lunch. When you’re done, come back up here and we’ll talk.”

Good. She was a take-charge woman unafraid to be his boss. The firmer the line between employee and employer, the better. As long as he made wise decisions concerning the cattle, he could spend his days doing what he loved best—living the cowboy life.

Working for the prettiest girl he’d ever laid eyes on.

Living the single cowboy life.

Pretty or not, no woman would want a man who’d been stupid enough to get swindled out of the one thing he’d ever wanted—a ranch of his own.

* * *

“Well, Jerry, what do you think?” Lexi sat on a stool in the ranch manager’s office adjoining the stables. The room smelled of dirt, large animals and burned coffee. Everywhere she looked, she found clutter of the male kind. Ropes, broken bridles, spray cans full of who knew what, stained papers and tools. Her office in Denver was painted the pale pink of a rose petal and smelled of magnolias. She missed it.

Which brought her back to the three-week-old question...why was she still here? After the funeral, she’d packed her suitcase with every intention of driving back to her life in Denver. She hadn’t made it off the property before turning around, filled with the sensation she was deserting the place, the same way she’d deserted her father to focus on expanding her company.

Where did she belong? Here with her memories or back in the city with Weddings by Alexandra?

“Clint’s a good ’un, Miss Lexi.” The wire-thin man scratched his chin and scanned Clint’s résumé. “His former bosses paint him as a fine man.”

She thought as much, too, but it was reassuring to hear it from Jerry. She tapped a pen against her chin. “Any reason you can think of why I shouldn’t hire him?”

“Nope.” He rolled the paper and smacked it on the plywood counter.

Taking it from Jerry, she uncurled it. Perused it once more. “What about the gap between jobs? It was four years ago, but...”

Jerry shook his head. “A lot of cowboys have periods they can’t account for.”

“Really? Why?”

“Ah...well...these are lonely parts up here in this blessed country. You know those wild horses that run wild through the north property now and again?”

“Yes.”

“Some cowboys are like those horses. They don’t like to be fenced in. Something snaps, and they leave. Could be due to a lady. Could be a sense they need to move on.”

Clint was the wild horse in this scenario, but he seemed quiet, steady. She bit her tongue. She’d been listening to Jerry’s parables her entire life, and they tended to meander.

“Now some of the boys take their savings and go off and live awhile. Figure things out. Get close to the land and their maker...”

It made sense. Everyone needed time to figure life out now and then. Wasn’t that what she herself was doing?

“...but the restlessness clears up, and they settle down right fine.”

She hopped off the stool. “Okay, Jerry, I’ll take your word for it. Send him up to the house when Logan brings him back.”

“Will do.” He gave her a nod. “Oh, and Miss Lexi?”

“Yes?”

“The Florida fella called again. Wants to know if he can count on us for hay next winter.”

Lexi tucked her hair behind her ear. One of her father’s pet projects had been to start growing high-quality hay to sell to horse farms and other large-animal breeders across the nation. He’d built the new storage barn in the spring and begun negotiations with various buyers. But the drought conditions coupled with low calf prices last year prevented him from purchasing the necessary equipment to produce the square bales. Putting up high-quality hay had been postponed until next summer.

“I don’t know the answer. It will depend on the price we get for this year’s calves.”

“I’ll call him and tell him we’ll know more in a few months.”

“Thanks, Jerry.” She left the office, savoring the fresh air as she headed back to her house. Between the ranch and her business, there seemed to be an endless list of problems. For weeks, Lexi’s assistant, Jolene Day, had been texting her every three minutes with an urgent crisis. Two clients had called earlier with major changes to their weddings, and the invitations Lexi had ordered two months ago were still on back order.

And then there was the ranch. Daddy had been the spine of this operation, and without him? If she didn’t find a take-charge manager, she would have to sell Rock Step Ranch. She couldn’t manage both, and she’d rather have someone else own it than let Daddy’s legacy fade to ruins.

Just thinking about selling made her nauseous. This was her home. Her memories.

As she reached the path leading to her house, a gust of wind blew her scarf across her face, and she swept it back. Clint seemed to be the perfect candidate for manager, but if she were brutally honest with herself, he presented a new dilemma. One he couldn’t help.

He was gorgeous.

And tall. Solid muscle. Quiet.

The gorgeous part was the problem.

She’d never expected to be attracted to him. She barely remembered him from high school. In fact, she couldn’t recall having a single conversation with him back then. How had she overlooked him? He had thick, dark hair begging to be touched, and his midnight blue eyes seemed to notice everything. He was as fine a physical specimen as she’d ever seen.

A rugged, handsome cowboy.

Thankfully, he was all wrong for her. The strong, silent types were perfect for managing a ranch, but as far as dating? Not likely to sweep her off her feet any time soon.

She opened the front door and took off her coat and boots before heading to the living room and sitting on the couch. Her cell phone showed missed calls and texts, but she only checked the one from Jerry. Clint was on his way.

Even if she hadn’t been overwhelmed trying to make double the business decisions as usual, she couldn’t imagine dating anyone at this time and certainly not Clint. She wanted romance with a capital R, and after Doug, she’d decided under no circumstances was she settling for ho-hum. She wanted breathless kisses. Heart-pounding anticipation. A man who loved her enough to make a grand gesture or two. Someone who valued marriage and wanted kids.

She wanted more than any guy had offered her so far, and Clint, for all his curling eyelashes and silky, touchable hair, seemed too reserved to be that guy.

Besides, she had to hire him. She was out of options. She’d interviewed five men for the job, hired one, fired one. With the drought and extra expenses from the new barn, the ranch needed someone with experience who understood how to manage its resources wisely. And after losing Daddy, she couldn’t bear to lose her home, too.

A knock on the door startled her. She opened it, once more struck by Clint’s blue eyes. She waved for him to follow her into the living room.

“Well, what did you think?”

He perched on the edge of the chair, hat in hand. “It’s a fine operation. Jerry’s done a good job running it since...well...” His eyebrows drew together, and he cleared his throat.

“Yes.” She clasped her hands tightly. Thinking about Daddy being gone formed an instant lump in her throat, one she’d gotten adept at ignoring. Somehow she needed to find a way to get over the pain of losing him that had taken up permanent residence in her heart. “Jerry’s been a blessing. For many years.”

“Why don’t you have him manage it?” The question was simple, open, pure curiosity.

“He doesn’t want to. His wife’s been asking him to slow down. He’s getting older. Said I needed a long-term solution. And Logan isn’t interested, either. He’s the most experienced full-time ranch hand, but he only plans on staying here a year or two more. He and his wife want to move back to Casper after they save enough money to buy a house.”

Clint nodded, a lock of hair dipping across his forehead. She forced her attention to her raggedy fingernails. Flipping through the papers she’d left on the end table earlier, she found the list she’d typed.

“Jerry and I discussed it, and we think you’re right for the position.” After naming his salary and benefits, she went over his duties and wrapped it up with living arrangements. “We have a few empty cabins, a two-bedroom guest house and a three-bedroom manager’s house. Logan lives in the manager’s house with his wife, Sarah, and their children. She’s the ranch cook. If you’d like, I’ll ask them to move, but...”

“No.” He shook his head. “One of the cabins will be fine.”

“Does this mean you’ll take the job?”

“I’ll take it.” His eyes glinted, reminding her of a wild storm on the prairie, all lightning flashes and black clouds rolling in the distance. Spectacular. Exciting.

Maybe Jerry was onto something with the whole wild horse analogy. And maybe Clint wasn’t as reserved as she’d originally thought.

“When can you start?” she asked.

“When do you need me?”

“Yesterday.” She sighed, waving her hand. “Sorry, it’s just been hard on the crew. They’ve all had to step up and take on way too much responsibility here for weeks now. I know you need to give your employer notice and—”

“I’ll move in this weekend and start Monday.”

Just like that? She wanted to raise her fist and yell, “Yippee!” but she said a silent prayer of thanks instead. “Perfect. As for the living arrangements, I appreciate you allowing Logan and Sarah to stay in the larger house, but I insist you take the two-bedroom guest cabin. You’re in a position of authority here, and your lodging should reflect it.”

He nodded.

“Do you have any questions?” she asked. “Any concerns?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Clint, we graduated high school together. Ma’am makes me feel like I’m a hundred and fifty years old. Call me Lexi.”

“I don’t know if I feel right doing that.”

“Why not?”

“Well, if you’re going to be my boss, I think it should be more formal.”

“I will be your boss, but we’re going to have to be comfortable enough with each other that you can come to me with any problems. We’ll be meeting weekly on Thursday mornings to discuss the ranch. I might not be involved in the daily operations, but I am very invested in its future.”

“I’m glad to hear that. This is your ranch. You should be invested.”

“Exactly. Jerry has paperwork for you to fill out. I’ll meet you down there in half an hour to show you to your new home.” She held out her hand. “Thanks, Clint, for coming today. Welcome aboard.”

The warm strength in his callused hand assured her she’d chosen wisely. He dipped his head and left. As soon as the front door clicked shut, she went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Her hand trembled as she filled the cup. She kept forgetting to eat. Maybe a piece of toast to go with the tea...

How had her life changed so drastically? One minute she was on top of the world, succeeding at her dream job. The next, plunged into the abyss of her father’s death.

Six months. That’s how long it had been since she’d visited Daddy. He’d appeared to be in fine health in May. They’d ridden on horseback around the ranch the way they always did. She’d had no idea he had cancer.

Had he known?

Of course not.

If he had known, he would have told her. She would have come back, gone to the doctor with him, made sure he got chemotherapy and radiation and anything that would have saved him. But they hadn’t known. And now it was too late.

Why didn’t I make more of an effort to come home this summer? He must have been sick. Must have had some symptoms. And I wasn’t here to notice.

Her throat tightened the way it had repeatedly since she’d gotten the call from Jerry saying her father had died.

When she’d told Clint this ranch was the only thing left of her parents and her childhood, she’d meant it. And she wasn’t about to lose it, too.

* * *

As Lexi gave him the tour of the two-bedroom log cabin, Clint mentally tallied a to-do list. It was dusty, but the open area with the kitchen, dining and living room was larger than his current apartment’s, and the master bedroom had a nice view of the mountains. He planned to take his coffee first thing each day on the covered porch. Frankly, it was the nicest place he’d lived in and, even unfurnished, it felt like home.

Home. A sense of foreboding killed his good mood. Had he ever belonged anywhere? If he started identifying this place as home, he’d lose it, the way he’d been torn from every other place where he’d felt comfortable.

He needed to remain detached.

At least the main house was up the lane far enough for him to maintain a necessary distance from his boss. Other than weekly meetings, he saw no reason why they would need to see each other.

“The river’s great for fishing, and feel free to use the ATVs anytime. If you need help moving in, just holler. I’m sure one of the ranch hands would be happy to lend a hand.”

“Yes, ma’a—” He caught himself. “Thank you, Miss Lexi.”

She leaned against the kitchen counter and glared. “Clint, Jerry, who is seventy-five years old, calls me Miss Lexi. It’s Lexi. Just Lexi.”

He itched to smile, but she looked paler, more tired than she had earlier. He studied her more closely.

Thin. Too thin. Dark smudges under her eyes. Cheekbones jutting out. Her clothes hung on her. Was she eating enough? Or at all?

She had the look of someone who’d had to be strong for too long. It reminded him of moving into his first foster home after his grandfather died when Clint was six. Even though Grandpa had been mean as a rattler, when the man passed, Clint knew deep inside he was all alone in the world and his life would never be the same. Did Lexi feel alone, too? He wanted to tuck her under a blanket on the couch. Protect her.

He shook his head. Him protecting her? What a laugh. She didn’t need someone like him.

She stepped forward and wobbled.

“Have you eaten lately?” He moved closer, ready to catch her if she fainted.

“What?” She blinked, shaking her head, and swayed. He reached for her, steadied her.

“Come on, I’ll take you back. You need some food.”

“I’m fine.” Her protest sounded weak. “I had some toast a little bit ago.”

“It’s five thirty. You need a meal.” He kept a loose hold on her arm and led her to the door. The wind had picked up, and the temperature had dropped. “Zip up. You don’t want to catch cold.”

To his relief, she didn’t argue. She zipped her coat and fell in beside him. When they reached the house, he followed her inside. A napkin with a half-eaten piece of toast lay on the end table. Probably the only food she’d eaten today.

“Sit on the couch, and I’ll make you something to eat.”

“I couldn’t ask you—”

“I’m not driving back to Cheyenne on an empty stomach. I’ll make some supper and get out of here.”

She sat on the couch, looking lost. “Okay.”

He opened her fridge and pantry. Chicken broth, noodles, frozen carrots. “Are you saving the chicken in the freezer for anything?”

“There’s chicken in the freezer?”

He chuckled under his breath. “I’m using it.”

After opening cupboards and drawers, he had a good idea of where everything was stored. He chopped an onion, defrosted and diced the chicken, and heated oil in a frying pan. He filled a large pot with the chicken stock and set it on the stove to boil.

Lexi crept up and sat on one of the bar stools opposite him. “What are you making?”

“Chicken noodle soup.”

“Really, you can cook?”

He nodded, suddenly uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be here, in her house, going through her kitchen. It was too intimate.

She wiped her fingers across her forehead. “I never really learned.” Her cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” She hurried to stand by the patio door as she answered the phone.

After stirring the chicken frying in the pan, he tracked her moves. Voice bright and confident, hand reaching for the pen and paper on the coffee table. Phone tucked between her ear and shoulder as she scribbled something. When the call ended, she seemed to deflate, and he quickly turned away.

“I forgot to mention I’ll be out of town next Thursday through Sunday. It’s the final wedding I’m in charge of for the year. My other planners are organizing the rest.”

“Okay.” He slid the cooked chicken into the boiling pot along with the noodles, onions and carrots. A pinch of salt and pepper, and he dialed the burner down to simmer for a while. “If you don’t cook, what do you do for meals?”

“Well, in Denver, I order a lot of takeout. I’m usually working late, anyhow.”

“But you’re here. And there’s no takeout.”

“I manage.”

Not very well, from the looks of it. He doubted she’d eaten more than a bowl of cereal all week. “Why don’t you eat with the rest of the crew?”

She grimaced, shaking her head vehemently. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable, and neither would they.”

She had a point there. “You mentioned a cook—Sarah, right? She would probably fix you a plate.”

Lexi shrugged, a wistful expression in her eyes. “I’m sure you’re right.”

He could tell she had no intention of asking Sarah for a meal. He’d stop over at the manager’s house soon and have a quick chat with Logan and his wife. One of the hands could pick up a meal from them to drop off at the main house each night. Whether Lexi ate it or not wasn’t his concern.

Her phone rang again. She smiled an apology and answered it, walking away. He couldn’t imagine a job with constant phone calls. He stirred the soup, decided it was ready, and ladled out a bowl for her. She was sitting in a chair, saying something about bouquets and cost overages. He’d done his duty. Made her food. She wouldn’t even notice if he left without eating. Sharing a meal with her seemed a little too cozy at this point.

But as he sneaked out to his truck, his mind kept returning to her and the bowl of soup he’d left. He didn’t want her fainting. Didn’t like that her clothes were hanging from her.

She’s not my problem.

He’d been hired to manage the ranch, not the ranch owner. Sure, she was alone and grieving and not taking proper care of herself, but fixing it wasn’t within his realm.

As he drove past the paddocks, he barely noticed the property that had so mesmerized him earlier. He’d better get his focus back on the cattle and the land where it belonged. He’d finally gotten the nerve to try working on a ranch again. He couldn’t make another mistake and ruin this, too.


Chapter Two (#u7b19ba79-5920-5df5-8621-c7a919679b73)

Visions of weddings and twinkle lights and Clint filled Lexi’s head. Well, not all three together. She sprayed glass cleaner on the new desk she’d installed in the front den. Clint was only on her mind because he was on his way over for their first official ranch meeting. She hoped it wouldn’t be awkward. The weddings and twinkle lights were remnants from the weekend, when she’d organized her final wedding of the year.

Two weeks had passed since she’d hired Clint, and she hadn’t seen him much, except in passing. They’d nod and exchange pleasantries before going their separate ways. Strictly business.

Strictly business was good. She could pour her energy into weddings, where it belonged. Except she kept thinking back to the night she’d hired him. He’d cooked her soup. Soup! And it had been the best chicken noodle soup she’d ever tasted. She’d indulged in two bowls that night. She’d slept well, too, which was saying something, considering her sleep had been spotty and elusive for a long time.

After wiping the desk clean, she straightened the shelves and displayed the latest bridal magazines she’d brought back with her from Denver. She moved the floor lamp to the corner and studied it before picking it up once more.

“Can I help you with that?” Clint stood in the doorway. He wore a plaid navy-and-white Western shirt with jeans and boots, and a file was tucked under his arm.

“No, just finishing up.” She plastered on her brightest smile. “Come in. Sit down. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks.”

“Well, have a seat.” She sat in the swivel chair behind the desk and fired up her laptop. “How is your house? Are you settling in okay?”

“It’s fine.”

Didn’t exactly answer her question, but she wasn’t surprised. Something told her their weekly meetings weren’t going to be as conversational as the ones she led in Denver. She was used to chatting about the latest trends in weddings in her chic conference room with her team of creative professionals. Talking about the ranch with Clint would most likely be brief and to the point.

Clint was currently eyeing her new office. She almost laughed at the frightened look on his face when his gaze landed on her vision board. Swatches of silks, photos of various flowers and motivational quotes in gold calligraphy adorned it.

She took pity on him and clicked through to the checklist she’d created. “Before we get started, I think you should know I’ve never been involved in ranch operations. Growing up, I helped Daddy move cattle, of course, but...well, you know more about this than I do.” She scanned the notes she’d typed after asking Jerry what to expect on the ranch each month. “Let’s see... I’m assuming the calves have all been weaned?”

“Yes, they were actually weaned by the time I moved in. We’re keeping a close eye on them. Getting ready to sell. I looked over your winter feed program. We’ll continue your father’s plan this year.”

“As opposed to what plan?” She enjoyed watching him as he talked. Cattle seemed to loosen his tongue; animation lit his face.

“The calf sale date is on the books for the second week in December.” He brought his hand to the back of his neck. “But prices will rise after the new year, and if we spent the money to feed the calves longer, they’d weigh more, and we’d get a bigger return on investment.”

The words bigger return on investment were precisely what she loved to hear. “Do you have numbers?”

He opened his folder and handed her a sheet of paper. A spreadsheet held the number of cattle, the amount of feed needed through the winter and the estimated calf sale price for every month until March.

“But what about the drought? Will we have enough hay stored to feed them along with the rest of the cattle?”

“We would have to supplement with outside feed.” He sounded gruff.

“Which, I’m assuming, would be expensive.” She wasn’t sure how to read him, so she studied the spreadsheet more carefully. “What you’re suggesting—do you think it would be smarter to wait a few months to sell the calves?”

He didn’t make eye contact. “I think you should do what’s best for the ranch.”

“Which is?”

“There are pros and cons to both.”

Lexi tapped the desktop with her fingernails. He didn’t seem the wishy-washy type, so why was he dithering? Maybe he’d taken her declaration about having the final say in all decisions personally.

Or maybe he wasn’t the take-charge guy she needed for the ranch after all.

Jerry had assured her they had enough hay stored to feed the cattle this winter. But feeding additional calves? Not likely.

“We’ll stay on Daddy’s plan this year.” Tipping her chin up, she asked, “What else do I need to know?”

He shifted his jaw before filling her in on the state of the fences, the repairs he and the hands were working on, and other winter preparations.

“Are you having any trouble with the employees?” She folded her hands and leaned forward across the desk.

“I’m keeping an eye on Jake.”

“Jake?” She twisted her lips, trying to remember a Jake.

“The kid you recently hired. He’s part-time.”

“Has he done something?”

Clint shrugged. “A gut instinct. I have a zero-tolerance policy for breaking the rules.”

“No three strikes you’re out?” she teased.

“No.” He didn’t crack a smile.

Hmm... Hard to tell if he had a sense of humor hiding under all his toughness. She tried to picture a kid named Jake again. She made a point to interact with all the employees of Weddings by Alexandra, and she didn’t even know all the people working on her land. It was time to change that.

“Where will you be this afternoon?”

“South pasture. Riding the fence line.”

“I’ll join you. It’s been a while since I’ve ridden the property. You can introduce me to the crew when we saddle up.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, then nodded. “Meet me at the stables after dinner.”

She’d lived in Denver long enough to think of the midday meal as lunch, but around here, she’d better get used to thinking of it as dinner again. She rose to see him out. On his way past the living room, Clint stopped and looked around. The muscle in his cheek flickered.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” Then he tipped his hat to her and left.

What was the tension in him all about?

Was he mad she’d decided to stick with her father’s plan?

Her phone showed six missed calls and eight texts. She didn’t have time to worry about his feelings. Back in her office, she opened her email account to twenty-six fresh messages. Looking over her schedule, she exhaled in relief. The video conference call wasn’t until tomorrow. She’d squish everything in to take an hour or two off this afternoon. She hadn’t ridden Nugget, her favorite horse, since May.

A vision of her and Daddy riding together filled her mind, and she willed away the knot in her throat. Had he been thinner the last time she saw him? Shouldn’t there have been warning signs cancer was killing his body?

How many times had she thought she should call and check up on him? But she’d put it off. Too busy replying to texts and placing orders and calling clients.

And now it was too late.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Lord, I don’t know how to get through this. Every time I think of Daddy, I can’t breathe.

She curled her fingers into her palms. Her father hadn’t raised a coward. He’d always told her two things: “Keep your word good” and “Don’t forget to close the gate.”

She had a feeling she’d offended Clint earlier, and she couldn’t afford to lose him, not when he’d taken the weight of worrying about the ranch off her back. She hoped riding the land where she’d spent so many hours with her father wouldn’t be too difficult and the tears she’d suppressed for weeks stayed down under, where they belonged.

* * *

Clint ignored the harsh wind on his face and admired Nugget, the fifteen-hand palomino Lexi rode. A beauty of a horse. And the woman riding it? Could have been born in the saddle.

Lexi was intriguing. Sophisticated, yet completely at ease with all the ranch employees she’d shaken hands with before they’d ridden out. A shrewd businesswoman, yet utterly feminine. Sitting in her office earlier had felt like sitting in the center of a wedding bouquet. He’d never felt so out of place in his life. He preferred his ranch office with tools, rope, rags and the smells of earth and cattle.

Once again, the state of her house picked at his conscience. He’d noticed it all again when he’d left their meeting. The dripping faucet. The torn screen. The worn, neglected air of the place. The missing stones from the fireplace.

The fireplace flue probably hadn’t been cleaned out in years. What if she wanted to build a fire? It could be dangerous.

Not my problem. I’m her employee. And my place on this ranch will be secure as long as I keep my mouth shut and the operation running smoothly.

The longer he worked on the ranch, the more impressed he became. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. But as remarkable as the ranch was, its income and expenses were precarious this year.

Jerry had told him all about RJ Harrington’s plans to produce and store hay to sell throughout the country, but Clint didn’t see how they could afford to buy the farm equipment this winter.

The prices of cattle lately were low. Too low.

Should he have urged her to wait to sell the calves? When Lexi had asked his opinion earlier, he’d blanked. The decision had felt as important as pressing the button to launch a nuclear bomb. He’d mentally gone back to the day when he’d lost his land, the day he’d stopped trusting himself. And instead of telling her what he really thought, he’d backed down.

Lexi deserved better than that.

He glanced at her again. She didn’t trust him. He was used to it. As far as he could remember, no one had ever trusted him until they’d gotten to know him, and most never did. His grandfather had called him a worthless brat on a daily basis. Foster parents watched him with the eyes of a red-tailed hawk. Teachers referred to him as that Romine kid. Employers gave him the lowliest jobs before giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Trust had to be earned.

And Lexi was right not to trust him. He hadn’t told her about losing his land. But if he had, would she have hired him? Doubtful. And anyhow, he was doing everything in his power to manage Rock Step Ranch wisely.

They approached the fence line.

“I haven’t been to this pasture in a few years.” Her voice was muffled, and he strained to hear her. She faced him then, her light brown eyes wide and watery. Was the wind ripping the moisture from them, or was she about to cry?

He stilled. This was his boss, and he didn’t have much experience around tears.

She turned Nugget to the east. Ridges and gullies of windblown grass and sage surrounded them.

“Daddy and I used to ride out to check fences before I got so caught up in high school activities. I must have been eleven or twelve when we came out here on a day like this. Cold. But it hadn’t snowed yet. I’d missed a sleepover party at my friend’s house, so I was sulking. But coming out here with Daddy made my troubles disappear.”

Clint hung on every word. He almost wanted to raise his hand, to tell her to stop, to not say anything more, because sharing memories, no matter how small, would bind them. Even if he didn’t reply, he’d get more invested in Lexi as a person than he already was.

And he needed her to be Lexi, the nice lady he worked for, not Lexi, the woman he could care about.

She swept her arm across the land. “He noticed everything. An elk off in the distance, the remains of a snake near the fence where a hawk had made its meal. I remember thinking there was nothing better in the world than being out here with him. Daddy was smarter and kinder than anyone I knew. And we could just be quiet, be ourselves. You know what I mean?”

Clint did. It was how he felt about his best friends, three other foster kids from his days at Yearling Group Home. When he got together with Marshall, Wade and Nash, he didn’t have to force a conversation. He could just be himself.

She lifted her face to the sky. “Every time we’d end a ride, I’d give him the biggest hug and say, ‘I love you, Daddy.’ And he would always tug on my braid or ponytail and reply, ‘You, too, kiddo.’”

Clint’s heart was doing funny things. He’d never experienced what she described, but it moved him just the same.

“I would do about anything to be able to give him another hug and say those words again,” she said softly.

Clint moved his horse closer to her and reached over to take her hand. Her suede gloves didn’t dull the connection, and she stared at him, a tear dropping from her eye. Without thinking, he swung off his horse and held his hands out to help her down. When she’d dismounted, he drew her close, sliding a clean handkerchief out of his pocket to give her. Her slender frame shook with tears, but she didn’t wind her arms around him. She simply let him pat her back and murmur comfort.

How long they stood like that, Clint had no idea—could have been a minute or an hour—but at some point, Lexi wiped her eyes free of tears and blew her nose into the handkerchief.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I have to get back.” She set her foot in the stirrup and swung her leg over the saddle. “I won’t keep you. You stay and check the fence.”

He watched her urge Nugget into motion. Off to spend the rest of the day answering calls and doing whatever wedding planners did. And from what he could tell, she’d been doing it nonstop since she’d hired him. Which left no time for grieving...

It hit him then. No wonder she was as thin as a piece of licorice. She hadn’t grieved her father’s death.

There was no one here to look after her. No clients to meet with. No friends to force her to eat lunch. No father to ensure she lived in a safe, well-maintained house.

Nobody but him.

He slapped his thigh and mounted his horse. Miles of checking fence wouldn’t be enough to pretend something hadn’t shifted inside where Lexi Harrington was concerned, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

* * *

Lexi pulled her favorite velvety blanket up to her chin and pressed the mute button on the remote. Ever since leaving Clint in the pasture earlier, she’d been unable to work. Tears kept erupting.

Because everything here, in this house and on the ranch, reminded her of her father.

Things she hadn’t noticed for weeks—his favorite coffee mug, the faded hand towel with an embroidered cowboy boot she’d bought him for his birthday—unleashed her memories. Two hours ago she’d walked past the master bedroom’s closed door, the one she hadn’t opened since finding out he’d died, and her feet had backtracked until she stood face-to-face with the pine door. Without thought, she’d fallen to her knees, sobbing in front of it.

It was at that point she’d given up on getting anything done. She’d changed into sweatpants, brewed a pot of tea and flipped through the channels until she found one playing original romantic Christmas movies. They always made her feel better.

Not today, though.

Thanksgiving was a week away. She would be celebrating the holidays alone. Oh, she could drive to Denver, join friends with their families, but she wouldn’t. Her heart couldn’t take being surrounded by happy people, people who would want to cheer her up. She was in no state to fake pleasantries while choking on tears as she ate their turkey dinner.

And she couldn’t believe she’d broken down in front of Clint. The man probably thought she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had lost her mind. What had possessed her to start telling him those personal things?

Unacceptable on her part. She wasn’t paying Clint to be her therapist. The poor guy. Probably worried she was having a nervous breakdown. She’d apologize. Assure him it wouldn’t happen again.

Her phone rang.

Clint.

Her palms grew moist. Oh, why had she dissolved into a weepy mess in front of him?

“Hi.” His deep voice calmed her nerves. “One of the herding dogs is missing. Banjo, the older one. I didn’t want to bother you, but I’m concerned and... Have you seen him?”

Banjo, Daddy’s favorite border collie? “No, I haven’t. Have you tried the barns?”

“Yeah, I’ll keep looking.” He sounded like he was going to hang up.

“Wait!” She threw off the blanket, tired of being alone. “I’ll come with you.”

“It’s not necessary. I know you’re busy—”

“I’m coming.”

“Lexi,” he said in his low, soothing tone. It was the first time she’d heard him use her name, and it did something funny to her pulse. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“Look, I know I was overly emotional earlier, but that’s not me. I don’t cry all the time.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” He sighed. “Dogs hide when they’re sick or when it’s their time.”

His words hit her in the gut. It was true. Dogs were social animals, but when it was their time, they slunk away to die by themselves.

Not Banjo. Not on top of everything else.

“I can handle it, Clint.” She couldn’t handle it, but being the boss meant dealing with tough situations.

Three minutes later, she wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck and shivered as Clint handed her a flashlight. Dusk had fallen, and shadows lurked.

“I’ve checked the stables, the barns, all the obvious places.” Clint strode tall and confident toward the cabins. He had the air of a man in command, and right now, she needed someone else to be in charge. “Unless you can think of someplace the dog would have gone... I figure he might have followed one of the cowboys home.”

“It’s worth a shot.” She kept pace with him. “When did you last see him?”

“He trailed in behind Logan and Mike when they returned from checking calves, but he didn’t come in with the other dogs at feeding time.”

Nothing but the sound of the wind and their feet against the hard dirt met her ears. The fact Banjo hadn’t eaten was a bad sign. Where would the dog go if not with the other dogs in the barn? Coyotes were common in these parts. He couldn’t have been attacked, could he? Banjo knew better than to tangle with one of them.

They rounded the bend where windows in three of the cabins glowed.

“Why don’t you ask Logan and Sarah if they’ve seen him while I ask the other guys?”

She nodded. After knocking on the door, she rubbed her hands together. Felt like snow was on its way.

“Lexi, what a nice surprise!” Sarah, a pretty blonde in her late twenties, beckoned her to enter, but Lexi stayed on the porch.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but Banjo’s missing. Have you seen him around tonight?”

The smile slid off Sarah’s face. “No, I haven’t, and I’ve always been fond of that dog. Did you check all the barns? He might be trying to stay warm.”

“Clint checked already, but we’ll try again.” Lexi turned to leave. “Oh, and thanks for supper every night, Sarah. You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, we’re all sorry about RJ’s passing. He was a good man. Treated us like family. Anything you need, just ask.”

“Thank you.” Lexi’s throat tightened as she turned away. Not again. What was it with today? If she cried one more time, so help her...

Clint loped up. “Did they see him?”

Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head, willing the emotions to pass. Clint rubbed his chin. He seemed nervous, upset.

“Are you okay?” She placed her hand on his arm. The muscles bunched, but she didn’t pull away.

“Yeah.” The sky grew darker. “I guess I’ll check the barns again.”

“Let’s look behind the cabins. Maybe he wandered back there.”

The glance he flashed her said it was a fool’s errand, but she didn’t care. They trained their flashlights behind the row of cabins. No sign of the dog. Clint’s house stood at the end of the drive. The dark windows gave it a sad air, like it was waiting for him to come home.

“Clint, what’s that on your front porch?”

He twisted to see and took off toward his house. She ran to catch up with him.

Banjo! Clint knelt next to the dog, massaging his ears. Banjo’s tail thumped on the wood, and his tongue hung out. The dog was clearly thrilled to see Clint.

“I thought we’d lost you, old boy,” he said.

“I guess he missed you.” She leaned her shoulder against the rail, never imagining Clint could look this happy.

He continued lavishing Banjo with affection. “Probably looking for a treat or something.”

“He can stay here with you, you know.”

“It wouldn’t be right.” He rose.

“Why not? I can tell you like dogs.”

“I’ve never owned one.”

The man whose face lit up like the carnival rides at the rodeo when he saw Banjo had never owned a dog? Impossible.

“He’s getting old,” Lexi said. “If you don’t want him here, that’s fine, but if you like him, well...maybe he needs some TLC after long days with the cattle.”

“He is getting old.” Clint straightened, thinking about it. “I’ve been meaning to mention the ranch should add a few more dogs. I’ve trained cattle herders. It takes time for them to learn the ropes. If something happens to Banjo...”

“I’ll check into it.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something, then he shook his head. “I’ll walk you home.”

“It’s not far.” She waved the flashlight in the direction of her house. “The boogeyman won’t get me.”

“I’m walking you home.” And there was serious Clint again. Only Banjo seemed to lighten him up. “I know you can take care of yourself. But I’d feel better if...”

Such a small thing, him caring about her safety, but it made her feel warm and toasty. And for the first time in hours, she didn’t feel like crying in the slightest.

She’d been right to hire Clint. Nothing escaped his notice on the ranch, not even a sweet old dog.

Careful, Lexi. Start to romanticize him, and you’ll end up like last time. In a dull relationship without the things you really want. The ring. The emotional connection. The once-in-a-lifetime love.

Whether she liked it or not, she was the boss, and she’d better not forget it.


Chapter Three (#u7b19ba79-5920-5df5-8621-c7a919679b73)

“Storm’s coming tonight. I’m heading into town.” Clint shifted from one cowboy boot to the other Monday afternoon. “Do you need any supplies?”

“I’ll come with you.” The words were out of Lexi’s mouth before she’d thought them through. She stood in the open doorway as a gust of wind swooshed inside.

She hadn’t left the house in three days, and she was losing her mind. Natalie Allen, her vice president and top wedding planner, had taken more responsibilities off Lexi’s shoulders, but details continued to slip through the cracks. Lexi was still reeling from the nasty phone call she’d received this morning from a very unhappy client. She couldn’t help thinking if she’d been there, the situation could have been prevented.

In his Carhartt jacket, jeans and cowboy hat, Clint looked ready to bolt. “If you give me a list—”

“I want to tag along.” She was already pulling on her faux fur–lined boots.

“I have errands to run first.”

“Even better.” She shrugged into her coat. “Just drop me off downtown and text me when you’re ready to go to the store.”

His expression darkened, but he nodded. “I’ll be in the truck.”

He didn’t have time to walk away, because she’d grabbed her purse and followed him outside. With Clint managing the ranch, maybe it was time for her to return to Denver. For good.

She bit the corner of her bottom lip, less than thrilled at the thought.

He opened the passenger door of his black truck for her, and she buckled herself in, thankful the cab was warm.

“So...what’s on your agenda?” She watched him adjust the mirrors then back the truck up.

“Dottie will be mad if I don’t stop in and say howdy, so I’m headed to her diner first. Then I’m meeting Art McFall about his hay supply. I have to stop in at the bank, and I’m due for a trim.”

“Dottie. Hay. Bank. Barber. Got it. How long do you think it will take?”

“Two hours.”

Two whole hours.

She watched the bare countryside pass by. It was part of her, the same way selecting complementary colors for a bouquet was part of her. After living in the city for years, she’d never thought she’d miss the raw emptiness of the land, but she did. Was that why the thought of returning to Denver wasn’t lighting up her insides?

“I’ve looked over the ranch’s books some more,” Clint said. “We’ll be selling the calves soon, even though the prices are low.”

“Okay.” She faced him, remembering the twinge of doubt she’d had at their meeting last week.

“The new barn is empty, and it cost a lot to build.”

“I know.”

“To fill the barn with square bales next summer, you need farm equipment.”

She knew where he was going with this. Equipment cost money.

He concentrated on the road ahead. “If you want the equipment, you need to get a high price for your calves.”

A dull ache formed behind her eyes. “You think we should wait a few months to sell, don’t you?”

“Not if we can’t feed them.”

“Can we feed them?” She watched him carefully, trying to read his reaction.

“I think we can.”

She weighed her options. If they couldn’t feed the cattle, they’d lose even more money than if they sold them soon at a low price.

“Let me think about it more.” She waited for him to argue, but his only reaction was a curt nod. Was he mad she hadn’t instantly agreed with him?

Maybe these unresolved ranch issues were the reason she wasn’t speeding back to her real life. It wouldn’t be fair to Clint if she deserted him now. She’d told him she planned to stay until Christmas.

“I can’t take chances with the ranch,” she said. “Every decision I make is important.”

“I understand.”

He remained silent as the miles passed. She wished she could tell him to go ahead and do whatever he wanted with the calves, but she had to think about the big picture. Logan and Sarah and their little ones depended on her. As did the other ranch hands. Not to mention the cattle—she wouldn’t risk harming them. Preserving the ranch itself loomed heaviest. Would Daddy have approved of Clint’s plan?

The lingering silence set her on edge.

“Has Banjo been okay?” she asked.

“He’s fine.”

Not exactly forthcoming with information, that Clint Romine. What was a safe topic for small talk?

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” she asked. “Hard to believe it’s only a few days away.”

His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I’ll feed the cattle in the morning and later ride out to check on them.”

“What about your family?”

“I don’t have one.”

“What do you mean?” It hadn’t occurred to her he’d be spending his Thanksgiving alone, too.

He glanced her way and shrugged. “Dad died in a blizzard back when I was four. Multicar pileup. He drove trucks for a living. Never knew my mom. My grandfather took care of me until I turned six, then he died. I lived in foster homes from then on.”

The full impact of his words didn’t hit her for a few seconds. When it did, she didn’t know what to say. Was he completely alone in life? “Who do you usually spend Thanksgiving with? And Christmas?”

“Thanksgiving isn’t a big deal to me. Dottie always invites me to her place, but it’s a little too crowded for my liking. As for Christmas, my best friends and I usually get together when we can, but we’re all bachelors, all live a cowboy life to some degree...”

“So you spend the holidays alone.”

“Yes.”

She tapped her legs. He didn’t sound bothered at the thought of being alone for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Unlike her.

“Here we are.” Clint stopped in a parking spot in front of Dottie’s Diner. “I’ll text you when I’m done.”

“Tell Dottie hello from me.” She climbed out of the truck, shoved her hands in her coat pockets and headed toward the jewelry store. Clint’s childhood must have been pretty bad for him to spend holidays alone. She’d been blessed to always have Daddy to come home to. Who knew how she’d spend the holidays from now on?

Sweet Dreams was all decked out for Christmas. Rows of buildings—some brick, some with awnings—lined both sides of Main Street, and all were trimmed in green-and-red decorations. White lights wrapped around light posts and store windows. Evergreen boughs and red ribbons abounded. Very Victorian Western. She imagined women in long dresses and bonnets singing carols back in the day. Throw in a cowboy or two, and the picture would be complete.

Lexi ducked into Sweet Dreams Jewelers and instantly felt at home. There was something about jewelry, soft lighting and gleaming glass displays that soothed her. She zoomed to the diamonds showcased on blue velvet. Lingering over the engagement rings, she sighed in delight. The one in the top right corner caught her eye. She’d pick it as her ideal ring. Oh, how she loved weddings.

The recent Anderson nuptials had been particularly moving. The bride and groom had stared into each other’s eyes so deeply as they said their vows that Lexi had shed a few honest tears at their devotion. Those moments made her job worth the petty calls, ornery brides, making payroll and endless meetings. Yes, the I dos made it all worth it.

After browsing the store, she made her way to Amy’s Quilt Shop. Lexi herself had never quilted, but the fabrics might give her ideas for any rustic weddings coming up. The bell clanged above her, and she stopped to take it all in. The aroma of spiced cider and the sounds of soft contemporary Christian Christmas music filled the room, pretty rag rugs in navy blues and brick reds covered the wood floors, and the displays—magnificent! She plunged forward, marveling at the combination of fabrics. The quilts hanging from the walls were works of art.

“Can I help you?”

Lexi turned and squealed. “Amy Deerson? You’re Amy’s Quilt Shop?”

“Lexi!” Amy embraced her, and they couldn’t stop grinning at each other. “I can’t believe it. I haven’t seen you in years. I’m so sorry about your dad, and I feel terrible I missed the funeral. Stomach flu. If I’d known you were still in town, I would have come over.”

“Thank you, Amy. That means a lot to me.” Lexi couldn’t get over how beautiful Amy had become. Luxurious dark hair tumbled down her back. Full red lips, a fit but curvy figure, and her smile, so inviting and kind. The way she’d always been. Amy had been a good friend during high school, but after Lexi left for college, they’d fallen out of touch.

“Are you busy right now?” Amy asked.

“No, why?”

“Let’s catch up over a cup of coffee.”

“Can you do that?”

“I sure can. It’s my store.” Amy laughed. “Give me a minute and we can go to The Beanery.”

A short walk later, they sat across from each other at a café table in the adorable coffee shop. Exposed brick walls contrasted with distressed plank floors. The way the door opened every few minutes told Lexi it was a popular place indeed. And the smell was pure coffee, pure bliss.

“Fill me in on everything.” Amy sipped her pumpkin spice latte and leaned forward.

Lexi obliged. She told her about earning her degree in public relations and getting her first gig as a wedding planner. She’d quickly made a name for herself, quit her job and started planning weddings full-time. Then a swanky Denver magazine featured her in their wedding issue, and the business exploded. “Your turn.”

“There’s not much to tell. I opened shop six years ago. Let’s just say I was on the verge of getting engaged twice and both times got jilted. I’m finally coming to terms with the fact I might never marry or have children. I’ve been spending time working on my relationship with the Lord.”

Lexi’s heart twisted at Amy’s tale. Her vibrant friend had always been nurturing. If anyone should be married with kids, Amy should. “I need to do some of that myself.”

“Which part?” Amy teased.

“The last part. Losing Daddy...it’s been hard.” She sipped her coffee.

“I can’t imagine,” Amy said. “How long did you know about the cancer?”

“I didn’t. None of us did.” She blotted a napkin over the drop she’d spilled. Something about the question bothered her. Had anyone else known?

Had Daddy known?

No. If he’d known, he would have told her. He’d been as in the dark as everyone else.

“Maybe that’s a blessing. He didn’t suffer.”

Lexi didn’t see how it was a blessing, but she wouldn’t argue. If they’d had more time, they could have fought it.

Amy smiled warmly. “Looks like you’re making big changes in your life. I’ll pray for you.”

“I need all the prayers I can get. I think God’s mad at me.” She half laughed.

Amy covered her hand and squeezed. “He’s not mad at you, Lexi. You can go to Him with anything, big or small.”

“Thanks, Amy,” she whispered. Her phone dinged. Clint. “Well, it’s been wonderful to catch up with you, but my ride is almost here. Let’s get together soon.”

“Here’s my number. Let me know if you need anything.”

They hugged, and Lexi left, wrapping her coat tightly around her waist against the cold air. Amy’s words about going to God with anything filled her thoughts.

In the past, she’d trusted God with her plans. But she’d gotten busy with her company, and after her father died...

Was she being punished? She’d put her business first and lost him a month after planning her most prestigious wedding. She’d been named homecoming queen two weeks before her mother died. Whenever something wonderful happened to her, she paid a price too heavy to bear.

Could she take anything to God in prayer?

Lord, I want to believe You listen to my prayers. Am I foolish to stay here until Christmas? Should I go back to Denver? And what should we do about the calves?

She shook her head. Why would God care if she stayed or left or sold the calves now or later?

Do You really care? About things big and small?

Clint’s truck drove into the spot directly in front of her. That man did everything he said he would do. He was reliable. A hard worker. And in her heart she knew he was right about them needing a higher price for the calves. Owning a business meant taking calculated risks.

She buckled into the passenger seat. “I think we should try it your way and wait to sell the calves.”

He blinked. Then he nodded, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Okay.”

One decision out of the way. Her business would not collapse if she stayed here until Christmas. One more month. Then she’d figure out the rest.

* * *

Clint hauled plastic bags full of groceries into Lexi’s kitchen later that afternoon. Walking into this house was like getting a hearty slap to the face each and every time he came in. The dripping of the faucet pounded into his temples. The wind had picked up, flapping the broken screen. And how had he not noticed the bulb missing in the can light above him?

Here he was living in the lap of luxury in his cozy home down the lane, and Lexi was stuck in this run-down tomb of a house.

The minute he’d moved into his cabin, he’d scrubbed it and checked the windows, furnace and plumbing. He’d tightened the place up good for winter, and every room sparkled like sunlight off the river.

If anyone but Lexi lived here, he probably would assume they’d fix it up themselves, but this was a woman who had lost both parents, held a demanding job and didn’t have a boyfriend or husband to rely on.

Which left him responsible.

Repairs would put him in Lexi’s direct vicinity far longer than he could handle. Even if he could admit—at least to himself—he didn’t mind making chitchat with her. It wasn’t conducive to keeping their relationship professional, though. And now that she’d actually trusted his decision about the calves, his palms wouldn’t stop sweating.

What if he was wrong? What if they ran out of feed and had to sell them for a loss?

He closed his eyes and shook away the doubts. It was too late for regrets now. He’d show Lexi her faith in him wasn’t misplaced. And he’d start today.

“Lexi?”

“Hmm?” She pushed a jar to the side and shoved a box of cereal onto the shelf.

“I’ve noticed there are some items around here that need fixing. I’m busy tonight—have to check the generators and equipment before the snow comes in—but tomorrow night, I’ll come by and get a few of the more pressing problems repaired.”

Lexi wiped her palms down her jeans. “What problems?”

Was she joking?

From the expression on her face, he’d say she wasn’t. “I hear a faucet dripping somewhere. It might be an easy fix, or it might need a new gasket or have to be replaced altogether. The screen in the window—” he pointed to the living room “—is ripped and banging around in the wind. Your fireplace needs to be inspected.” He turned in a slow circle, seeing cobwebs, a loose cabinet knob, an electrical outlet missing its cover.

With her hands on her hips, she scrunched her nose and studied the rooms. “It’s needed a cleaning for a long time. I didn’t realize there were so many other issues, though.”

Understandable with her father dying and her business keeping her so busy.

“After my mother died when I was seventeen, I think Daddy gave up on the house. He lived here, but he poured all his time and energy into the ranch itself. Maybe he was afraid of moving on, or he could have thought changing the house would make him forget her.” She bowed her head. “I haven’t been blind to it being so dirty. I just haven’t had the energy... You must think I’m a slob.”

“No, I figured you’ve been busy.”

She smiled up at him, and he held his breath. She had a knight-in-shining-armor glint in her eyes. “I would appreciate it very much if you’d stop by tomorrow night. I’ll do my best to help.”

He was no knight.

“I can manage fine.”

She tilted her head, still smiling. “I know you can. But it’s my house. And I’d feel like the worst sort of person if I let you do it all without lifting a finger.”

An image of Lexi holding a wrench and him accidentally touching her hand made him squirm. She was too pretty to be near for long periods.

“I said I can manage.”

“And I said I’ll help.”

He clamped his mouth shut. He couldn’t argue with her without sounding like a grizzly bear. He hoped the faucet was an easy fix. The screen and fireplace, too. Because if she started helping, she’d start talking, and when she talked, he had a hard time remembering why he needed to keep his distance.

And he needed to keep his distance. For both their sakes.

* * *

Lexi paused in front of the master bedroom door the next evening. She’d made too big of a deal out of Daddy’s room. She knew what she’d find—the double bed with a faded blue-and-yellow quilt, dusty dressers with her father’s personal items on a tray. Why had she been avoiding it for so long?

Slowly, she opened the door. His presence hit her, the faintest smell of cologne lingering. The bed, the quilt, the dusty dresser were the same. She crept to the tray with her dad’s belongings and gingerly picked up his watch. It had been a gift to him from her mother. He’d worn it every day Lexi could remember. It looked so out of place and lonely sitting here instead of wrapped around his wrist. Tears filled her eyes, and she gripped it tightly to her chest.

This was why she hadn’t gone in. It reminded her too much of him.

Swallowing her emotions, she clutched the watch in one hand and trailed her finger over the rest of the surfaces, stopping at the framed picture of her parents on their honeymoon. Daddy’s arm was slung over Mama’s shoulders, and they looked so happy and young. How I wish you were still here.

She’d loved both of them so much. It didn’t seem possible they were gone. Slowly, she turned, taking in the room, trying to hold on to the memory of his smile, the sound of his laugh, the feel of his arms pulling her into a hug. Oh, Daddy, I miss you.

The top drawer of her mother’s dresser was slightly ajar. She pulled it open. A file had been placed on top of old scarves. She lifted it out, but a knocking sound from the front door made her jump. Quickly, she wiped her eyes, and with the file in hand, she hurried back to the living room and let Clint inside. Snowflakes flurried around him. He tapped his hat on his leg before entering.

“You look cold.” Her spirits lifted now that he’d arrived. “And, wait, are you smiling?”

His teeth flashed in a grin as he set his tool belt on the floor to take off his coat and boots. “I love this weather. It’s not blowing too hard, and the cows are munching away as the snow piles up on them. I hope you don’t mind, I dallied a few minutes to take some pictures.”

“You? Dallied?” She padded down the hall with him at her heels. “I’m shocked. And here I pegged you as all business all the time.”

She stopped to face him, and he bumped into her. His hands shot to her biceps, his touch warming her down to the tips of her icicle toes.

“I pegged you as the same.” His dark blue eyes flashed with intensity.

She felt aware of him in a way she hadn’t previously. She wanted to lean into his muscular frame, let him take away the sorrow of losing her father. Instead, she stepped back, forcing a laugh. “You pegged me right, then. Let’s see those photos.”

His face blanked. “You want to see my pictures?”

“Well, yeah.” She shook her head. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Color flooded his cheeks, but he swiped his phone and held it out. Two cows stared at her, both munching on hay, an inch of snow on their backs. The sky was white behind them.

“This picture is really good, Clint.” She pulled the phone closer to get a better look. “They seem content.”

“That’s what I thought.” The moment stretched, and he cleared his throat. “Where is the bathroom? I suspect the dripping is coming from that sink.”

She showed him to the room, and she stood in the doorway as he turned on the faucet and opened the cabinet to check the pipes. “What can I do?”

“Nothing.”

“Clint...”

He glanced up at her. “Well, you can show me where the water main is.”

“Oh, that might be a problem. I don’t know where it is.”

“I’ll find it.” His eyes danced with amusement.

He was easy to be with. Not much of a talker, but she liked him just the same. Her thoughts bounced to two days from now, Thanksgiving, and how they were both alone with nowhere to go.

Didn’t it made sense to ask him to join her? Yes, it was taking a risk. Spending time together meant further developing a friendship. If something happened to end the friendship, he might quit. She had to keep the ranch’s welfare number one in her priorities. But the loneliness of this upcoming holiday enveloped her.

They were both adults. Surely they could have a meal with each other without their working relationship blowing up.

Clint straightened and moved toward the door.

“Wait, I have a question for you.” She touched his arm, all firm muscle, then snatched her hand back. “Why don’t you have Thanksgiving dinner with me?”

“I have plans.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You told me you were feeding the cattle.”

“Yes. Those are my plans.”

“You can’t feed cattle all day.”

He didn’t look at her.

“Come on.” She sighed. “Neither of us has family, and I don’t want to go to a well-meaning friend’s house, if you know what I mean.”

He met her eyes, understanding connecting them before he moved past her into the hall. “I thought you don’t cook.”

“I don’t. I can buy a premade dinner from the supermarket.”

“Where’s the utility room?”

She tried not to let her disappointment show as she gestured for him to follow her past the living room and kitchen to the door next to the garage. Clint gravitated toward the pipes against the wall. His lack of interest in her offer was apparent. And that was fine. She’d been thinking of him as a friend when she should be thinking of him as the ranch manager.

She’d spend Thanksgiving alone. Maybe she’d drive somewhere, eat Chinese food or something. She didn’t have to spend it here.

“If I eat Thanksgiving dinner with you,” he said over his shoulder, “we’re not having supermarket food. We’re going to cook it. I’ll show you the basics.”

“Really?” Had the sun suddenly appeared? Were rainbows arching over the house? “Thank you! But cooking isn’t my strong suit. The basics might be beyond me.”

He cranked a lever on a copper pipe. “Something tells me you’ll pick it up quickly. Now, stay in here while I turn on the faucet. If I yell to turn it off, pull this lever up, okay?”

She nodded, admiring his broad back as he left the room. Only then did she realize she was still holding the file she’d found in her mother’s drawer. Absentmindedly, she opened it, scanning the sheet.

Her mouth dropped open. Heart stopped beating. Vision blurred.

Clint ran back into the utility room, yanking the lever up. “Didn’t you hear me calling?”

She lifted her face, the file and its contents dropping to the floor, each sheet gliding in a different direction.

“He lied to me, Clint. He lied. He knew.” Everything she’d thought to be true since the funeral suddenly came into question. And the betrayal almost buckled her knees.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and peered into her eyes. “Who? What are you talking about?”

“Daddy knew he had cancer, and he didn’t tell me.”


Chapter Four (#u7b19ba79-5920-5df5-8621-c7a919679b73)

Clint had no idea what to do, so he bent and picked up the papers that had scattered across the floor. He scanned the top sheet. Pathology report. Dated October 1 of this year. A handwritten note about getting a second opinion was scrawled in the margin.

“He must not have known for long. A month, tops.” Clint handed her the papers, but she kept her arms by her sides, her hands balled into fists.

“He kept this from me.” Her words were tight, cold, hard. “He robbed me of helping him.”

“I’m sorry—”

“The faucet will have to wait. I need to be alone.”

Clint nodded, set the documents on a shelf and left. His thoughts were jumbled as he strode under the dark sky back to his cabin. Lexi had so many dimensions. He’d seen her exhausted, mourning, professional, playful and now this. Whatever this was. Upset didn’t quite explain it.

Betrayed, most likely. It was the lying part she’d focused on.

And the lying part was something he knew a little too well.

A pit formed in his stomach. He’d been keeping something from her, too. But what could he do about it now? She was already reeling from her father’s death. Finding out RJ had known about the cancer had put her over the edge. If Clint came clean and told her about how he lost his property, it would add to her burdens. She’d fire him and be left without a manager. She’d work night and day to save this ranch as well as her company, and she’d be as hollowed out as she’d been when she hired him.

It wouldn’t be right to add to her problems to selfishly clear his conscience.

He ducked his chin against the snow pellets. Why was she so upset about her dad not telling her, anyhow? A month seemed pretty quick to go from diagnosis to death. Maybe RJ had planned on filling her in at Thanksgiving. Or maybe he thought he was invincible. From all accounts, he sounded like the kind of guy Clint had been surrounded by his entire adult life—a tough Wyoming rancher who never admitted defeat, not even to cancer.

Regardless, Clint and Lexi weren’t close. They’d only known each other a short time. Not telling her about his past wasn’t a betrayal. He was doing what she’d hired him to do—managing the ranch.

Speaking of which... He hadn’t secured additional feed for the winter. If he didn’t find any in the next week or so, they would have to sell the calves at the scheduled date or risk losing valuable cattle in the frigid months ahead.

Was he making the best decisions for the ranch? Maybe he’d been lying to himself and his past was affecting his work performance.

His porch light glowed, and he muttered under his breath at the sight of Banjo curled up on the welcome mat the same way he’d been every night since Clint had found him there last Thursday. Each night he’d tried to take the dog back to the barn, but Banjo wouldn’t budge from the porch.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Clint bent to stroke Banjo’s black-and-white fur, and the dog got to his feet, wagging his tail and adoring Clint with his big brown eyes. “This isn’t your home. You can’t stay here.”

Banjo cocked his head.

“Fine. I can’t have you freezing. You can sleep on the floor. Just this once.” He unlocked the door. He’d said those same words every night, and just this once had turned into Banjo, you own me. “Okay, I’ll admit I’m a pushover. But you are sleeping on the floor.”

The idea of Banjo sleeping on the end of his bed appealed to him, but he couldn’t allow it. He didn’t want the dog living with him. Banjo was old, arthritic, and Clint doubted he would make it through the next year. Growing attached to the dog would not be smart. He’d lose him, too.




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