The Rancher

by Julia Justiss

  He remembered the look of disbelief she often flashed him when he told her she was attractive or complimented her on how pretty she looked.

  He knew she had no doubt about his passion for her. But a woman who’d so recently been deceived by the man she thought loved her . . . A woman who had repeatedly told him how scared she was of being hurt might well feel more than normally vulnerable.

  Obviously, he needed to be a lot more convincing.

  Luckily, he knew several of her weaknesses. And he was going to mount an assault her doubts wouldn’t be able to withstand.

  He came back from his reverie to find Natalie watching him. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Arrange some things. And then make a little trip to San Antonio.”

  “To bring her back?”

  “To bring her back.”

  “Good luck.”

  He smiled wryly. “I just might need it.”

  “I think you two would be great for each other, by the way.”

  “Thanks, Natalie. I’ll see you later.”

  Downing his espresso in one gulp, Duncan patted Natalie’s hand and then headed out the door, his confusion, anger, and distress replaced by eagerness and determination.

  Hurt, vulnerable Harrison might doubt his feelings and wonder how much he really cared about her.

  She was about to get a Texas-sized wooing guaranteed to wash away those doubts with the force of a flashflood roaring through a canyon.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Later that afternoon in San Antonio, Harrison was settling into a comfortable suite at one of the city’s newest boutique hotels. She’d called her former boss as soon as she’d arrived in the city, asking which of the agencies he’d recommended would be most likely to agree to hire her as a part-time consultant. He’d given her two names, promising to call both firms that very afternoon to introduce her and add his strong personal recommendation. Probing a bit to discover she hadn’t yet arranged accommodations for her stay in the city, he insisted she use one of the guest suites the firm maintained for their staff when they had business in San Antonio.

  Maybe he’d heard about Parker’s gambling problems and guessed she’d been left short of cash when their partnership was dissolved. Embarrassed, but grateful, she’d accepted the offer.

  So instead of sitting in a plastic chair in a discount motel, she was lounging on a plushly upholstered couch in the living room of the suite, room service having just delivered her a tray of complimentary wine and cheese.

  Sipping from the glass, she looked over dossiers about the two firms Jordan Blaine had faxed to the hotel, taking in the types of clients they served, how large the firms were, and how many partners they had, trying to strategize what sort of freelance services she could propose during her interviews that they would consider valuable enough to offer her a job.

  The buzzing of her cell phone in the silence made her jump. Nervousness sending her stomach swooping like an elevator in sudden descent, she picked up her phone to see a text from Duncan.

  Got your email. Hope your personal business doesn’t take too long. BTW, where are you staying? When paperwork’s done I could come meet you.

  Harrison read it over several times and sighed. He didn’t seem angry at her for leaving so suddenly. But the text’s bland, neutral tone didn’t give her a sense of how he was feeling about her departure—or the possible sale of the land.

  He hadn’t said anything about missing her, though, she thought, her spirits sagging as she texted him back with her location and the estimated timeline for the paperwork to be completed.

  Her spirits did revive a bit at the prospect of him coming to San Antonio to meet her. Would he come to bring her home? Or just to take ownership of what he’d always wanted?

  Stop it, she ordered herself. She’d vowed on the drive from Whiskey River that she would hold her emotions under tight control over the next few days. Concentrate on setting up the mechanics of the land sale and arranging for the supplemental employment that would keep the ranch going, whether she returned to work from there or remained in the city.

  Whether she ended up in San Antonio or Whiskey River would depend entirely on Duncan.

  She wasn’t going to make herself crazy worrying which one it would be. If, when they got together, Duncan was happy to get the land, assured her he would take good care of it, and wished her well at her job in the city, there would be time enough then to bleed and mourn.

  After all, it wasn’t as if she didn’t have a lot of practice.

  Though she didn’t think anything she’d felt in the aftermath of losing Parker or even Daddy could prepare her for the yawning gap of despair that would engulf her if she lost Duncan.

  *

  After spending the evening over a room service meal, studying the dossiers, Harrison spent the next morning meeting with a banker and the lawyer he recommended for the real estate transfer, then spent the afternoon interviewing with the first firm on her list.

  The meeting had gone well, Laiken Randall, the firm’s partner, indicating they were particularly interested in her expertise in handling small businesses accounts. Harrison had liked the partner and the potential projects she’d mentioned, and felt it might be a good arrangement for them both if the firm did in fact make her an offer.

  She returned to the hotel in the late afternoon, intending to spend the evening over another room service meal as she studied the dossier for the second accounting firm with which she had an interview the following afternoon.

  She’d checked her phone several times, but there had been no further messages from Duncan beyond a short acknowledgement that he’d gotten her text with the hotel name and timeline.

  Anxiety ate at her, and she had a hard time resisting the urge to call him just to hear the sound of his voice.

  But having no good answer to the question of “call him and say what?” she’d resisted. She knew she’d not be able to talk with him without him picking up on her anxiety and uncertainty, and she wanted to have every piece of her proposal finalized before she met him face-to-face.

  And discovered her fate.

  She’d just picked up a glass of wine from the concierge lounge and gotten back to the suite when her room phone rang. Noting it was the front desk, she answered it.

  “There’s a friend here to see you, Miss Scott,” the desk clerk said. “He’s waiting in the cocktail lounge. Shall I tell him you will come down?”

  That runaway elevator sensation in her stomach again, Harrison had to suck in a breath before she answered, “Did he give you his name?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Whoever it was, she’d have to meet him or die of curiosity. “Tell him I’ll be down in just a minute.”

  Had Duncan followed her here already? She couldn’t imagine who else it might be. Though they’d hit it off well, she doubted any of the members of the team at Laikin’s firm would call on her, and she knew Jordan Blaine was still in Dallas.

  If Duncan had followed her, knowing the paperwork wasn’t ready yet, it must mean that he missed her—and wanted her. Didn’t it?

  Trying to tamp down the hope and exhilaration and anticipation soaring through her, Harrison checked her hair and put on more lipstick, glad she’d worn the prettiest of her business suits today, a clinging knit in a soft blue she knew complimented her dark hair and eyes. Feeling a nervousness she told herself was ridiculous in a woman of her age, she took the elevator down to the main lobby and walked to the cocktail lounge, not quite able to suppress the smile of joyous anticipation that curved her lips.

  A smile that faded when she walked in and saw, rising to greet her, not Duncan—but Parker, already with a drink in hand.

  “Hi, Harrison,” he said, the uber-charming smile she knew so well on his lips as he walked over to meet her. “It’s good to see you.”

  While she stood speechless, flabbergasted by his unexpected appearance, he said, “Won’t you join me? I ordered you a glass of cabernet.”
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  Almost ready to scream with disappointment, she wanted to refuse and stalk away. After the anguish, humiliation, embarrassment, and heartache he’d caused her, she had no desire whatsoever to talk with him.

  Seeing him again, though, didn’t bring back the fiery blaze of anguish it once had. Her feelings had ended up in a wasteland, like the blackened timbers remaining after a fire. A whiff of smoke, charred ruin, and emptiness.

  When she remained silent, he said, “Please, Harrison. Just give me a few fuck—”

  Halting him with a raised hand, she said, “I won’t listen to that.”

  He shook his head. “Never did like grown-up language, did you? Okay, I’ll watch it. Won’t you give me a few minutes? Wouldn’t want that f—, um, that good wine to go to waste.”

  He held out the glass and, blowing out a frustrated breath, she took it and followed him to a table.

  “What are you doing in San Antonio?” she asked as she downed a hefty swallow.

  “I happened to be calling on Jordan Blaine yesterday when his secretary asked me to wait because he was talking with you.” Parker grimaced. “Jordan doesn’t like me very much, but he agreed to tell me you where you were. I came down from Dallas first thing this morning.”

  “What do you want, Parker?”

  “I thought I’d start with an apology.”

  Once, it might have soothed some of the raw ache and comforted her to get one. Now it meant very little.

  “Accepted. There, you can leave now.”

  He held up a placating hand. “I understand why you’d be angry with me. I wanted to let you know I’ve quit gambling and started saving some of my income. I will pay you back what I owe.”

  “That will be . . . welcome. Thank you. And I hope you are able to stay away from the tables. I tried to tell you, the house always wins.”

  “Not always.” After she gave him a look, he conceded, “Okay, most of the time.”

  “Frankly, I thought the money was gone forever. It was nice of you to let me know I’ll be getting some back—and informed me in person this time. If you hurry, you can catch a flight to Dallas and be back with Madison this evening.”

  “I’m . . . not with Madison any longer.” He sighed. “I thought she loved me. I was . . . dazzled by her, I guess. Wanted to give her everything she asked for. But it turns out that what she wanted was a rich young professional. After my losses, when I had to sell the condo and move in with her, when I couldn’t afford to take her to five-star restaurants and on fancy trips . . . Well, it wasn’t very long before she told me I needed to find another place to live.”

  He looked wounded—as much as a self-absorbed person like Parker could ever be wounded by someone else.

  “I’m sorry. I really am. It’s hard to have someone walk out on your dreams.”

  “We’d been together so long, you and I, it wasn’t until we split up that I came to realize everything you’d given me. How much you did for us. I had a heck of a time finishing up the tax accounts. I lost several clients; with me running late, they took their business elsewhere. Until I started having to do all that work myself, I hadn’t appreciated how fast and efficient you are. How much you did to keep the firm, and our life, going smoothly. I really regret spoiling what we had. I’ve missed you, Harrison. At home and at the business. I know I screwed up but . . . would you consider coming back? At least to the partnership, if not to me.”

  “Did you ever really love me?” she found herself asking. Since he was being unusually candid, maybe he’d tell her the truth about that too.

  Looking hurt, he said, “You know I did, Harrison. I just got caught up with it all with Madison. The fun, the excitement, the glamor.”

  “Everything I was not,” she said with asperity. Before he could respond, she said, “No, I’m not interested in reviving our partnership. In any form. I don’t mean to be ugly, and I truly do wish you well, but . . . there’s no going back. Not for me. Now, if there was nothing else you needed to ask me about, I need to go prepare for my next interview.”

  “You’ll get the offer. Accountants at firms all over Dallas, when they heard our partnership had dissolved, kept asking me if you’d signed on with another firm yet. Saying they’d like to interview you.”

  “That’s gratifying.”

  “So . . . you’re sure there’s no chance you’d consider getting the firm back together?”

  “None.” He probably was having a hard time, trying to do the numbers work along with the client-pleasing. But that wasn’t her problem anymore.

  With a sigh, Parker down the rest of his drink. “Well, I fucking had to try. I’m hoping to get the first repayment check to you next month.”

  “Send it to Daddy’s Whiskey River address. Goodbye, Parker.”

  “Goodbye, Harrison.”

  Turning her back on him, Harrison walked away. And felt . . . nothing. Like the skin at the site of a cut after the scab falls off, a scar remained, but the bleeding had long ago stopped and the pain faded.

  Back up in her suite, the portfolio open in front of her, Harrison found her thoughts straying to Duncan. And was struck again at how different the two men were.

  Duncan, who helped rather than hurt. Who appreciated instead of taking for granted. Who gave rather than just taking.

  As her mind ran down a litany of his virtues—kindness, compassion, strength, loyalty, dedication to his work and his land, she realized this was a man she could believe in.

  A man she could believe.

  He wouldn’t have told her he was falling for her unless he meant he was falling in love with her. She should trust what he said. Trust even more what he’d done. Which was shelter, protect, and care for her.

  What an idiot she’d been! Why should she let a casual remark uttered years ago, brought up again by a man who was doubtless intent on mischief, shake her faith in him and what they shared?

  The conviction settled, solid and final. She didn’t need any more proof. She’d complete her other interview, but as soon as the legal documents were prepared, she’d go back to Whiskey River and apologize to Duncan for doubting them. And be prepared to walk confidently down that road into the future with him, if he still wanted her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Three days later, when Harrison texted Duncan that the sale paperwork was ready, he replied immediately, saying he’d meet her the following evening at seven and telling her to wear something pretty.

  She’d been planning on driving back to Whiskey River as soon as she let him know the paperwork was done. His swift reply unsettled her once again.

  He’d still said absolutely nothing about the land—neither thanking her for selling it back, nor asking her to stop, saying it wasn’t necessary.

  Trying to keep those insidious doubts from creeping back, she decided to wait in San Antonio and let him join her there.

  When she arrived back at the hotel the following night after collecting the final paperwork, she found a huge bouquet of yellow roses in her room, the card identifying the sender as Duncan. The cheery blooms raised her spirits and strengthened her hope.

  He wouldn’t send her roses just to seal a business deal, would he? Especially not yellow ones, like those he’d given her at their picnic.

  As afternoon transitioned to evening, she tried to concentrate on the tax cases Laiken Randall had sent over to the newest contract employee of the firm of Randall & Morrison. The salary offer had been generous enough that she’d been able to send an immediate bonus check to Juan to cover any medical expenses he’d not wanted to tell her about and to add a welcome cushion to the bank account before the vet bills and employee expenses came in.

  After finding it impossible to concentrate, she gave up on the files and then dithered over which dress to wear and how to style her hair. By the time Duncan texted that he was waiting for her downstairs, she’d changed her clothes and lipstick shades three times.

  Excitement, hope, and panicky anticipation drying her mouth and sett
ing off a herd of calf-sized butterflies galloping around her stomach, Harrison grabbed her purse, a shawl against the evening chill, and took the elevator down to the lobby.

  As she walked out and saw him, she stopped short, sucking in a breath. Feeling a little light-headed, her heart pounding faster than a mustang galloping across the prairie, she walked over to meet him.

  He wore trim-cut twill slacks that showed off his steer-wrestling muscles, a starched formal western shirt with bolo tie, shiny black cowboy boots, and that dress Stetson set at an angle that shaded his eyes. As she drew nearer, the spicy scent of aftershave and virile male made her mouth water and sent her libido into overdrive.

  Dang, he looked so good. She had this wild urge to strip off her dress and get him to make love to her. Just in case disaster happened, so she’d always have the memory of belonging to him at least once.

  Which would have been a crazy-bad idea. Fortunately for her feeble willpower, they were in a public space, not up in her hotel room.

  Then he looked over, saw her approaching, and smiled. How she loved that crinkle-at-the-corner-of-his-eyes intimate smile that made her heart rate soar and left her feeling all warm and mushy inside.

  “Good evening, Cowgirl,” he said, the low, sexy timber of his voice vibrating through her as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You look gorgeous.”

  “So do you. Thank you for the roses. They’re beautiful.”

  She hoped he might repeat the phrase about love he’d given her with the first bouquet, but he just smiled. “We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”

  “Celebrating?”

  “The change in status of the ranch.”

  “Ah, yes. The ranch,” she said, feeling a bit deflated.

  “Well, let’s go celebrate.”

  “I brought the papers in my bag. Do you want to sign them now? I could take them back upstairs before we go out to dinner.”

  “No, just bring them along with you.”

  Nodding, she took the arm he offered, feeling the tingling in her fingers that always happened when she touched him.