by Cindy Kirk
“Perhaps when he’s back, he might get a hankering for fresh eggs again. This way the coop will be ready to go. If he doesn’t, he’ll have an extra building in good repair for extra storage.”
Having chickens had been her mother’s idea. Giselle had loved the birds. One of Margot’s first memories was of her mother showing her how to fetch the eggs in the mornings. Like her mother, Margot adored the hens, gave them names and often sang to them. When her father had caught them midsong one morning, her mother had told him she’d discovered hens produced more eggs when you sang to them. He’d laughed, tugged Margot’s ponytail, given her mom a kiss and told them to carry on.
“We’ll start right after breakfast.” Brad gestured to a couple of boxes of cereal on the counter. “Help yourself.”
The fact that he was giving orders as if the place was his didn’t escape her notice. Yet he’d spoken of redoing the chicken coop so it would be ready when her father returned...so perhaps there was some hope here.
Margot dumped cereal in a bowl, poured in a good amount of milk and stood at the counter to eat while Brad remained at the table.
She’d eaten half of her Cheerios when she caught him staring. “Something on your mind, cowboy?”
Margot cursed the flirtatious edge that kept finding its way into her voice when she spoke to him.
“You’ve made it clear you want to pull your weight.” His gaze searched hers. “I just want to make sure that’s okay with the doctor.”
“Worried about me?”
“It would slow me up if I had to take time to call an ambulance and wait with you until they arrived.”
“Understood.” She put down the cereal bowl and took a long sip of coffee. “I’m cleared to do anything that doesn’t result in a blow to the head. As long as the coop doesn’t collapse on top of us, I should be fine.”
“My sister-in-law Callie works at the Rust Creek Falls Clinic. I could take you there and she could check you out—”
“Seriously, I know what I can and can’t do.”
“If you’re sure...”
“I’m positive.”
By midafternoon, Margot remembered just how much she detested cleaning the coops, especially when routine maintenance had been ignored for several years.
Both she and Brad wore gloves and masks as they shoveled the floor and emptied the roosting boxes. Then it was time for the bleach and soapy water. While Margot continued to work inside the coop, Brad caulked the cracks around the perimeter of the floor and nests.
Her head had begun to ache when he suggested they call it a day. She noticed that, in addition to caulking he’d also scraped the exterior of the building.
“Are you planning to paint it?” she asked as they walked to the house.
“It needs a good couple of coats.” He reached around her to open the door to the back porch. “Your father really let things slide around here.”
“He lost his wife.” She whirled, in full defense mode now. “He’s an old man.”
“Facts are facts.” Brad motioned her inside. “If you want first dibs on the shower, I can wait.”
Margot gave a jerky nod, her anger deflating like an untied balloon.
When her father returned home they were going to sit down and have a heart-to-heart. In the past Boyd had employed several ranch hands. Like the chickens, he’d sold off most of the cattle after her mother’s death. The hands had taken positions at other ranches.
She might not like to admit it, but Brad was right. Facts were facts.
Could it be he’d grown tired of ranching? Was that why he’d been so willing to leave? For a man who’d once loved the land so passionately, it hardly seemed possible.
The fact remained he’d need help if he wanted to continue ranching. And smaller herds. She’d insist on him hiring help, not only for ranch work but for normal maintenance around the place.
“That’ll go over like a lead balloon,” she muttered. Was there a rancher on the face of this earth who wasn’t hard-headed?
“Did you say something?” Brad asked.
She glanced down at her filthy clothes. “First dibs on the shower.”
He just smiled and when his gaze slid down to the tips of her boots and slowly made the journey back up to her face, she had the distinct feeling he was imagining her with those clothes stripped off.
Tit for tat, she thought. She’d had a few lascivious thoughts of her own earlier today when he’d been working and his shirt had stretched tight across those broad shoulders.
Fueled by warmth that had nothing to do with hard work, she scampered up the stairs to the shower.
Twenty minutes later she was in her room, dressed and blow-drying her hair when she heard the water turn off. Had he taken his change of clothes into the bathroom as she had? Or would he soon be emerging from the small steamy room with nothing but a towel around his midsection?
Stop it, she told herself. Stop it.
The irritating preoccupation with Brad Crawford only pointed out the fact that she’d gone a long time without a man in her life, or in her bed. It had obviously been too long if she was entertaining thoughts of jumping the man who was squatting on her father’s property.
Not that she would act on the impulse. Kissing a handsome cowboy was one thing. Having sex with him was quite another.
Instead of tying her hair back, Margot let the wavy strands hang loose. She pulled on a black skirt and a sweater of vibrant gold. Standing in front of the dresser mirror, she took a few seconds to add mascara and lipstick before wandering out in the hall and heading down the steps.
Vivian followed close on her heels, a silent shadow. As best Margot could calculate, the heeler was due to deliver her pups in the next few weeks. Which meant she needed to make sure Vivi didn’t overdo and that she had adequate food and water.
Earlier today she’d noticed Brad had set out fresh water for the dog. Margot thought of the people in town who gossiped so disparagingly about Brad. Did they know how thoughtful he could be? She doubted it. Brad seemed like the kind of guy who loved to make people think the worst of him.
I wonder why that is? She shoved the thought aside as of no consequence when he strolled into the kitchen.
Like her, he’d changed into fresh jeans. Instead of the worn flannel shirt he’d had on earlier, he now sported a long-sleeved button-down shirt with thin stripes. His hair still held a hint of moisture from the shower. If her nose wasn’t mistaken, he’d dabbed on a little of that spicy cologne.
She rested her back against the counter and forced a nonchalant tone. “You look nice.”
“I’d say we both look—and smell—a heckuva lot better than we did an hour ago.” He headed to the back porch and pulled a jacket from the hook.
She stared, puzzled. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Saturday night poker with friends.” He shrugged into the jacket.
“What about dinner?”
Surprise flitted across his face.
She flushed, regretting even mentioning it. Obviously the guy wasn’t hanging around expecting food since he’d already put on his coat.
“I’ll grab some wings,” he said, then paused. “You have plans for tonight?”
“Not firm ones.” Margot forced a cavalier tone. “One of my high school friends mentioned on Facebook that she’s back in Rust Creek Falls visiting family. I plan to give her a call. See if we can reconnect.”
“Sounds like a solid.” He gave her a wink. “Don’t wait up.”
“You don’t wait up either,” she called after him. But he was already out the front door.
When she heard his truck roar to life, Margot reached into her pocket for her cell phone and punched in a number, praying Leila came through.
After all, Brad shouldn’t be the only o
ne with plans for a Saturday night.
Chapter Seven
“Just as good as I remembered.” Leila Dirks exhaled a dramatic sigh even as she dipped her spoon for one more taste of the salted caramel ice cream.
The two women had taken a road trip to Kalispell for dinner. With pizza on the brain, due in large part to Brad’s comment about his dinner plans, Margot and Leila had stopped at an old haunt on Hilton Ranch Road for wood-fired pizza. They’d gone with a favorite, the “Crazy Mountain,” which included spicy sausage, pepperoni, genoa salami, black olives and jalapeños.
Splitting a small pizza should have been enough food. But when Leila suggested they satisfy their sweet tooth with a stop at an ice cream shop on Main, Margot had enthusiastically agreed.
“You’re going to have to roll me out of here,” Margot groaned.
“Wimp,” Leila shot back with a grin.
“Guilty.” Margot glanced across the table at the brunette with eyes so blue they almost looked violet, and returned the smile.
When Leila picked her up, she’d been struck by the change in her old friend. Gone was any hint of the country girl. Everything from her stylish razor-cut bob to her Jimmy Choo shoes screamed big-city girl. As a news reporter for an Atlanta television station, Leila’s lifestyle had done a one-eighty from her days growing up in Montana.
Over pizza they caught each other up on details of their lives they hadn’t chosen to share on social media. By the time they were at the ice cream parlor, they’d pretty much covered the four years since high school.
“I still can’t believe you’re living with Brad Crawford.” Leila rested her chin on her hand, returning to the topic that appeared to pique her interest the most. “The guys in that family are total hotties.”
Though she’d already clarified the point a thousand times this evening, Margot once again set her friend straight. “Under the same roof is not the same as living with.”
“It’s certainly a lot closer than I ever got to him or any of his hunky brothers.”
“I’m hoping to convince him to move out soon,” Margot confided.
“Before or after you have your way with him?” Leila raised an eyebrow and both women laughed.
“Granted, the man is attractive.” Margot then went on to explain how Brad’s shirt had tightened across his back when they’d been working on the chicken coop, bringing to mind how he’d looked when she’d first seen him with his shirt off. “He’s got some serious muscles.”
“You and I need to make a deal, honey bun. I want to hear all about Brad’s hotness—especially what he looks like with his clothes off—but,” Leila paused and swallowed, wrinkling her face as if tasting something foul, “no more talk about chicken coops or cows or manual labor.”
The request didn’t come as a surprise to Margot. So far this evening her friend hadn’t had a single good thing to say about Montana or Rust Creek Falls.
Margot stared thoughtfully at her high school buddy. “You don’t plan to ever come back.”
A look of puzzlement crossed Leila’s face. “Did you think I did?”
Margot shrugged.
“What about you?”
“When I first left, I’d have said no.” Margot took one last bite of the ice cream remaining in her dish before pushing it aside. “Now I think after I’m done with the rodeo circuit, I’ll probably settle here.”
“This part of the country is a wasteland.” Leila shot Margot a disbelieving look. “They don’t even have a Starbucks.”
“I enjoy small-town life.” On the long drive from Wyoming to Rust Creek Falls, Margot had done plenty of thinking and come to a surprising conclusion. “I like walking down the street and knowing everyone who passes by.”
Leila pointed a perfectly manicured finger in Margot’s direction. “And every single one of those people has their nose in your business.”
“That’s a definite downside,” Margot admitted. “But every last person would be there to help me if I needed anything. Besides, there’s nothing like riding across the meadows on horseback, skiing cross-country on pristine white snow and breathing in clean country air.”
“They should hire you to do a tourism ad campaign.” Leila chuckled before her expression turned serious. “I bet you don’t leave.”
“You mean once my head is healed?”
Leila nodded.
“I’m not ready to settle down yet,” Margot told her friend. “I still have goals I haven’t met.”
“Making the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas.” Leila winked, took a sip of her cola. “Three barrels. Two hearts. One dream.”
“You got it.”
Leila might not be a country girl anymore but she’d spent time in rodeo club in high school and knew the passion that gripped barrel racers.
“For now,” Margot said. “I’m going to enjoy my time back in the great outdoors.”
Even as she said the words, Margot felt guilty. How could she even think about having fun when she didn’t know what had happened to her father? Still, what was the alternative? Sit in her room and worry?
“You’re going to enjoy jumping Brad Crawford’s bones.”
“It might help pass the time.” Margot pushed back from the table and stood. “Now that we’ve totally pigged out we need to hit a hot spot and work it off. Since you’re only here for two weeks—”
“An eternity,” Leila grumbled.
“Hey, your sister’s baby only gets christened once, and how many times will your parents celebrate their thirtieth anniversary with both of their children present?”
“I suppose.”
“What I’m trying to say is it’s your choice where we spend the rest of the evening.” Margot tried to recall what she knew of Kalispell’s nightlife. “We could go to the Pub on East Center? Or check out the saloon just down the street?”
“I’ve got a better idea.” Leila’s lips lifted in a smile. “I know a place that can always be counted on to provide a good time.”
“Well, then, I’m in.” Margot felt a surge of excitement. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Though it was barely ten o’clock, Brad found himself bored by the card game. The nachos were mediocre, he’d let his beer get warm and the music from a local country band came in at a few decibels below earsplitting.
Brad had been a fan of the Ace in the Hole bar since he’d been old enough to down his first beer. But since the card game on July Fourth, the place held too many memories.
Like the odd look on Boyd’s face when he realized the pot was building and he was running out of money. The way the old man’s hands had gripped his set of cards. The tone that brooked no argument when he’d insisted they accept the deed to his ranch so he could stay in the game.
Most of all, Brad remembered the way Boyd had stared at the pot in the center of the table when he realized he’d lost the hand...and his legacy. The old man had surprised everyone when he’d shoved himself back from the table and left.
The next day, Margot’s father had been on an eastbound train to New York City, leaving Brad holding the deed to the ranch.
“In or out?” Anderson Dalton asked.
In answer, Brad tossed some chips into the pile.
“You seem distracted.” His brother Justin shot Brad a sly smile. “Are we keeping you from something more interesting? Or should I say someone more interesting?”
Brad narrowed his gaze. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.” If anything, his younger brother’s smile only widened. The innocent expression he’d pasted on his face didn’t suit him in the least.
“Ante up, Justin.” Pointing to the center of the table, Travis Dalton—Anderson’s younger brother—took a long pull from his bottle of beer.
Justin shot
him a sour look. “Can’t you see my brother and me are having a conversation?”
“If you want a tea party, find another table,” Anderson said. “We’re playing poker at this one.”
Justin tossed down his cards. “I’m out.”
The game continued but Justin appeared disinclined to let the subject drop. “Mom mentioned Margot Sullivan is back in town.”
“Does she still have those big boobs?” Travis asked.
Brad’s fingers tightened around his cards. What did Travis know about Margot’s breasts?
“Butt out, Dalton.” Justin smiled sweetly at his friend. “We didn’t invite you to our tea party.”
The other man snorted and the topic was temporarily forgotten, until a low wolf whistle split the air.
“Fresh meat,” someone at an adjacent table announced.
Brad tipped his cards down and turned in his seat. His heart slammed against his rib cage.
Margot, looking decidedly uncowgirl-like in a black skirt, heeled boots and gold sweater, glanced around the room. Her friend, a striking brunette in a red wraparound dress and boots, grabbed Margot’s arm and tugged her inside.
The two women sauntered over to the bar and took a seat at a couple of empty stools on the end.
Brad tried to place the woman Margot was with but came up blank. “Who’s the brunette?”
“Leila Dirks.” Justin slanted him a sideways gaze. “She’s hot but I prefer the redhead.”
“Leave Margot alone,” Brad warned in a tone that brooked no argument before he refocused on his cards.
Both of the Dalton brothers were skilled poker players, and Brad wasn’t about to lose this hand to his younger brother. Still, his gaze kept sliding in the direction of Margot and her friend. Out of the corner of his eye he saw various men approach, chat and then mosey on their way.
Justin pushed back his chair. “I believe I’ll go over and welcome the beautiful ladies to this fine establishment.”
Brad had no doubt Justin could score some serious points. Though Brad couldn’t understand it, most of the women in the area appeared to find his younger brother charming.