by Susan Crosby
Win pulled up a chair. “I’ll be leaving a couple hours early tonight, but since I came in an hour early and worked through lunch, I figure it’s even.”
“I don’t know why you bother to tell me. You do what you want, anyway.”
“If I did what I want, I’d be changing this operation to one like the Ryder’s. Organic/humane is the way to go, Dad.”
“You know how much it costs to do that? And how long it takes? We’d have to build a closed herd. We wouldn’t make money for at least a couple of years, probably, and then only a small amount.”
Win was prepared for the argument. “About that. I had a look at the books while you were in the hospital. All these years you’ve been griping about money, and you’ve got more than you need to run this place for twenty years. What’s with that, Dad? You’ve been paying minimum wages to the hands. Hardly more’n that to me. I find that criminal. Inexcusable.”
Shep tossed his head. “That’s sound business. I’ve got money saved up for rainy days. Most people in this business can’t afford to do that. I run in the black. I’m proud of that.”
Win pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and passed it to his father. “That’s what you owe me in decent back wages. You could see fit to give bonuses to the men who’ve been here for years, too.”
Shep looked at the sheet and laughed. “In your dreams, son. You don’t like the pay, quit. You sure as hell aren’t gettin’ back wages when you go.” He leaned forward. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s goin’ on with you. You need a job or you can’t buy that useless piece of property old lady Carson owned. Maybe Jimbo Ryder will give you a job so his princess doesn’t starve, but adding you on would mean driving his profits too low, and he’d be one angry man, ’specially if you start demanding bigger wages than his sons.”
Why had he ever thought anything would be different? Win wondered. Why? Shep Morgan would die the bitter man he was. A rich, bitter man.
But he was also right about one thing. Win couldn’t quit. Without his job there could be no bank loan, therefore no lavender farm, therefore no happy wife.
He wanted a happy wife.
He passed a notebook to his father. “Here’s an overview of what it would cost to convert the ranch, and what I predict would be the profit margin when we’re done. There’s a step-by-step plan all written out.” He stood. “A little light reading while you’re resting after therapy. Provided you don’t run Ms. Upton off for good.”
Win left without saying anything else. After his father’s surgery, he’d come to realize that the ranch meant something to him, and so did his crusty father, but Win wasn’t going to bang his head against the wall forever, either. He was building a future for himself and his family. If it meant quitting the ranch as soon as the loan was approved and devoting himself to getting the lavender farm off the ground, he would do that. He could get Jenny up and running, then find something else for himself.
He was a rancher. He would stay a rancher. But Jenny came first.
* * *
Jenny kept watch as she always did during the farmers’ market for Win to arrive. He’d said he would be early because the Realtor wanted to meet up with them with a counteroffer and was coming to the market anyway.
She spotted him a few seconds later, walking that sexy cowboy stroll down the middle of Main Street, which was shut down to traffic on Monday nights.
She could watch him forever, how his narrow hips moved, how his strong, muscular thighs filled out his Wranglers, how his chest looked without his Western shirt, all broad and strong and kissable. And when he turned around—oh, my, what a sight he was, too.
“You’re drooling.”
Jenny jerked up at the sound of her sister-in-law’s voice. Annie laughed.
“I wasn’t drooling,” Jenny said.
“He is one nice specimen of maleness,” Annie said, as Win neared the booth. “Not as nice as my particular specimen, but close.”
Jenny elbowed her, thinking Win was probably close enough to hear their conversation. His grin should’ve been enough of a clue, but when he grabbed her and bent her over for a kiss, she knew for sure he’d heard, and his ego was happy about it.
“Don’t go getting all cocky now, husband,” Jenny said pertly, which made him laugh. Annie joined in.
“Where’s the baby?” Win asked Annie.
“At home with the grandparents for a couple of hours. I had cabin fever.”
From across the way Mitch waved to her, calling her over to the honey booth.
“She looks good for having given birth three weeks ago,” Jenny said.
Win nodded, then eyed her abdomen. “You’ve got a little bit of a swell now. I like it.”
“Wait until I can’t even tie my own shoelaces.”
“I’m lookin’ forward to it, you hot mama, you.”
They’d definitely found accord the past couple of weeks, and a voracious desire for each other that he’d finally stopped worrying about.
“How’d it go with your dad?” she asked after she pocketed cash for a bouquet of daisies from a steady customer.
“No surprises.”
Jenny had watched him struggle all week trying to put together a business plan for the ranch. She knew he’d been nervous about presenting it. “I’m so sorry.”
“He didn’t throw the notebook back at me, so maybe there’s hope.”
“Did Ms. Upton quit again?”
“Yep.”
“Do you think your father is sweet on her?”
He looked surprised. “I have no idea. Seems doubtful to me. And there’s no way she would return that. He’s been nothing but ornery.”
“Stranger things have happened. I wish I could drop in and see for myself.”
The Realtor, Ellen Travis, approached, carrying a folder. “Well, they didn’t budge,” she said. “Actually, three would’ve made a new offer, but three won’t budge. What do you want to do? You can come up a little and see if it flies.”
Win didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, let’s take it up some. We don’t want to lose it.”
We don’t? The stunning words jammed Jenny’s mind. “I don’t think we should go much higher.”
They wrote up another offer and signed it, but Jenny wasn’t as thrilled about it as she was the first time. She had a feeling they were going to go round and round for so long it would be too late for a crop next year.
“What’s wrong?” Win asked after Ellen left.
“Nothing.”
He just looked at her.
“I don’t like dickering,” she said. “Everyone knows that about me. I set a fair price here at the market and that’s that. I sell out every week, so apparently no one is offended by my policy. This business with the farm isn’t sitting well with me.”
“As Ellen said before—six people, six opinions. In the end, they’ll come around, Jen. I think they’ll all want to be done with it before too long. I sure would. They won’t play around forever.”
The booth suddenly became a Ryder event, with all of the siblings showing up, Adam and Brody with dates, Vaughn and Karyn, and then Haley a minute later, although without a date.
Jenny had talked to Haley on the phone when she’d returned from Kentucky, but she hadn’t seen her. Jenny had only learned that Clint’s condition was worse than Haley had anticipated, but she hadn’t said more than that. “What’s the latest?” Jenny asked Haley.
“I’ve already taken my leave because the ranch house on the property he bought didn’t have any furniture. So I’ve been decorating, plus getting specialized therapy equipment, stocking the pantry. All that stuff.”
“Are you having fun decorating?”
“Are you kidding? With someone else’s money? Heck, yeah.”
“And you thin
k you can handle being around Clint, touching him?”
“Heck, no.” Haley laughed. “But I’m thirty-two years old, Jen. It’s time I took some chances, don’t you think?”
“I do.”
“Even if I get my heart broken.”
“Even if,” Jenny said. “I could help shop, if you want. I only work in the gardens in the morning. It’s too hot in the afternoons now.”
“I’ll call you.” She waved at someone at a distance. “It’ll be fun.”
Since Jenny knew exactly how it felt to love someone who didn’t love her back, she worried for Haley. But as Jenny wouldn’t trade her situation with Win for anything, she also had hope for her sister, too.
Maybe the Ryder girls were just made that way—to love more than they were loved. Somebody had to, didn’t they? It couldn’t be fifty-fifty.
She studied Win as he stood in the group with her siblings. He held his own with them, was an equal, and she was glad of that. His father had held him back for years, but no one blamed Win for that. He’d matured into a likeable, strong man.
She was proud of him. Proud to be married to him.
The Ryder clan helped break down the booth at seven o’clock. Mitch and Annie followed them back to the farm and helped unload everything then left to pick up their sons from the doting grandparents.
Win and Jenny settled in for the evening, relaxing on the front porch for a while then getting into bed before the sun fully set. Neither of them instigated sex, neither fell asleep. She felt her husband’s restlessness and finally rolled to face him.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked.
He didn’t say anything for a few long seconds. Worry began to seep into her thoughts, then he said, “I’m thinking about my father. He’ll never change. I’m not sure I can accept that anymore.”
Jenny heard resignation in his voice. He shouldn’t have to live like that. He had enough on his plate with her, the lavender farm and the baby.
She curled closer, wrapping her arms around him. He tensed up for a moment, worrying her, then he relaxed. After a while she rolled over and spooned with him. His hand curved protectively over her belly—the reason for their marriage.
And as hard as it was to admit—the only reason.
Chapter Fifteen
Two weeks passed before the Realtor heard back from the heirs. Two weeks of Jenny poring over her paperwork, talking the business plan through again with Vaughn and generally fretting. She was almost to the end of her first trimester. The morning sickness was gone. Her energy had returned in full force.
And Win was more and more unhappy.
She didn’t know how to help him. She’d started getting up early to make him breakfast, sending him off with a smile that turned into a frown as soon as he disappeared from sight. It wasn’t what she’d come to expect from him. He’d always been so even-keeled and genial, easy to be around. He’d made her laugh, teased her into bed, was generous to her.
Now he didn’t seem to have any energy or enthusiasm, as if their roles had reversed at the trimester mark. She could only guess why, because he sure wasn’t confiding in her.
Since the beginning of their relationship years ago he’d shared his thoughts with her, probably because she was “safe,” as she’d said to him. Who would she tell? And now he’d clammed up, when she was safer than ever, as far as she was concerned. She was his wife, which implied a contract of confidentiality between them.
So why don’t you just ask him?
Because maybe I don’t want the answers.
For now Jenny let go of the worry and enjoyed the farmers’ market, as usual. It was peak season for all the growers, with produce galore. They were at seventeen booths, the most for the summer, and not only townspeople but tourists came to shop. The music this week was provided by a barbershop quartet who sang not the old traditional tunes but more current music, drawing in the younger crowd. Only six weeks were left until the end of the market season. By then Jenny would be seventeen weeks along. Her job at the farm wouldn’t end because Annie grew and sold her produce year-round. Jenny was looking forward to cooler afternoons, however.
The Realtor arrived before Win. “They’re a little closer,” Ellen said. “Are we waiting for Win?”
“No.” Jenny put out her hand for the folder. The number was closer but still above what Jenny thought it was worth. And she feared Win would say yes.
“Ellen, I need a favor from you,” Jenny said.
“What’s that?”
“I want you to take the papers and leave. I don’t want to share them with Win, not yet.”
Ellen shook her head. “I’m sorry, Jenny, but—”
“Please. He’s going to agree to this price. I know he is. I don’t want to.”
“I can’t. Not because I don’t want to, but he already knows, Jenny. I talked to him a while ago. And you’re right—he wants to accept.”
* * *
“I quit!”
Win stepped aside as Ms. Upton stormed past him. Four weeks of therapy, four weeks of her quitting. It must be some kind of record, Win decided. But Haley was right. The woman had been able to get Shep to do the work, motivating him with insults and threats most of the time, but getting the job done. They could cut back on the therapy to three days a week now, his progress had been that good. He was still reluctantly using a cane, but Win figured that would be tossed soon.
“See you tomorrow,” Win called after her.
For the first time ever, Ms. Upton turned around and smiled at him. Apparently she was enjoying the game herself. Had Jenny been right? Was his father sweet on the woman, and she on him? Win wasn’t sure that stranger things had ever happened.
He walked toward the den, grateful Rose had gone shopping. He spotted his father at the window, watching Ms. Upton drive away.
So there was something between them. Would it soften the man? If she didn’t return the feelings, would he turn into even more of an ogre?
“Dad.”
He turned slowly, keeping his balance. “What?”
Win moved forward and passed his father a folded sheet of paper—his resignation. “I’m giving you a month’s notice. We should be finished with escrow about then, and you’ll be through the worst of the season’s work.”
No emotion crossed the man’s face. He took the letter, scanned it then tossed it onto the coffee table. “Been thinking about this since our last conversation,” his father said. “If you want to buy into the ranch now and be a partner, you’ll inherit it—you and Rose—when I’m gone.”
The offer stunned Win. It was a concession of sorts, but it wasn’t enough. “No, thanks. You owe me already. Maybe if you’d trade what you’ve been underpaying me all these years...”
“I’m not changin’ the offer.”
“Then I’m not taking back my resignation. I’ll go where I’m needed. And wanted.”
“So, given the choice of this ranch with its family history or a lavender farm, you choose the farm?” his father asked.
“I choose my wife. My pregnant wife, who holds my future in her hands and her womb. Yes, I choose Jenny.” It was where he belonged. “It’s her dream. Maybe you don’t remember having dreams. I do. It’s hard when they die. I don’t want her to go through that.”
“If you go, you can’t come back.”
“No surprise there.” Win left, not looking back, figuratively or literally, careful not to slam the front door on his way out. He waited for the relief to hit him, but it didn’t, just a heavy ache in the middle of his chest. After seeing how the Ryder family lived and loved, and wanting that kind of family life for himself, he knew he had to sever all ties. Except with his sister, of course, although maybe that relationship would be hard to maintain in the end.
Win climbed into his
truck and headed for the farmers’ market and his wife. He shut down his emotions. Whatever small hope he’d had that his father would react differently fizzled and died, leaving an open wound that would need to heal from the inside out.
As he walked toward Jenny’s booth, he tried to relax, to smile, to be excited about the new counteroffer on the land, which was probably the best they were going to get.
But the look on Jenny’s face, the searching, seeking, tender look she gave him struck hard and fast. He reached the booth, told her he’d be back in a few minutes then kept walking to get his dinner. By the time he’d eaten and gone back, he’d found a sense of equilibrium again.
He pulled her into his arms for a hug, placed his hand on her abdomen for a moment then gave her a brief kiss.
She framed his face with her hands. “What’s going on?”
He stepped back. “Long day. Have you seen Ellen?”
“She was here, then she got a call and had to leave. She said she’d catch up with us tomorrow.”
“Did she show you the offer?”
Jenny nodded.
“What’d you think?” he asked.
“Still too high.”
“I don’t agree. We should accept it.”
They couldn’t continue the conversation. The event was winding down and people stopped by to pick up items Jenny had put aside for them, and then she did some trading with other sellers.
They broke down the booth and drove home in silence, as if each knew what the other was going to say. It wasn’t until they got inside the house that Jenny finally spoke. They faced each other in the kitchen.
“You had no right telling Ellen we would accept the offer, Win.”
“You would hang on forever, trying to save a few thousand dollars.”
“More than a few. We need to agree on a price not just because you think it’s right. It’s a business decision.” She stood her ground, her fists on her hips.
“It’s the best we’re going to do. We’ll sign the papers tomorrow and get on with our lives.”
“You won’t even listen,” she said, her voice shaking.