“It’s obvious that you still have questions and concerns,” he acknowledged. “So tell me what you need to know to make this happen.”
“I need to know that the animals will benefit from this proposed partnership, and the only way to ensure that happens is for Bronco Ghost Tours to donate a percentage of the ticket sales to Happy Hearts.”
He frowned, not sure he’d heard her correctly. “You want a portion of my ticket sales?”
“Not from all your tours,” she said. “Just the groups that come to the farm.”
“You’re serious,” he realized, torn between irritation and admiration. He might have thought she was a bleeding heart animal lover, but apparently she was a savvy negotiator, too.
“You bet I’m serious,” she said. “How many guests would be in a tour group?”
“Usually twelve, though we sometimes stretch to fifteen to accommodate groups of friends or family members, but we don’t allow guests under the age of twelve, so there wouldn’t be any little kids running around in the dark.”
“And what’s the cost of a ticket?”
“It depends on the date and the tour,” he hedged. “There are also discount prices for families and groups.”
“But at least fifty bucks a ticket?”
“That’s not all profit,” he protested. “I’ve got overhead and expenses to pay.”
She nodded. “Believe me, I know about overhead and expenses. Still, I think five dollars from every ticket would be a reasonable contribution.”
“Five dollars from every ticket?” he echoed.
“I’m sure the money will make a lot more difference to the animals than it will to you,” she said. “Come on—I’ll give you a tour of the facility, so you can meet them.”
So he followed her from barn to barn, and she introduced him to various cows, horses and sheep, an ornery goat named Agatha and a rooster named Reggie. Along the way, Evan found himself impressed by not only the work Daphne did at the farm but her skills as a guide.
“If you ever want to moonlight for Bronco Ghost Tours, let me know,” he said as they left the adoption center, where numerous dogs and cats—and even a couple of lop-eared rabbits—waited for interested visitors to take them home.
“I don’t think I’d be an asset to your company,” she said, turning in response to the sound of a dog’s bark.
“Because you don’t believe there’s any truth to the rumors that the barn is haunted by the spirits of the lovers and horses?” he asked.
“I’m definitely more comfortable working with creatures living in the here and now,” she said, crouching to greet the yellow Lab that raced toward her.
Which, he noted, wasn’t actually a denial.
“You’ve seen or heard something, here on the farm,” he guessed.
“Just rumors and gossip,” she said.
He wasn’t sure he believed her, but he decided not to push her. Hopefully, if they agreed on terms to include Happy Hearts on the Yuletide Ghost Tour, he’d have plenty of time later to get answers to his questions.
“Who’s this friendly guy?” he asked when the dog moved away from Daphne—and shoved his nose into Evan’s crotch.
“Barkley,” she said sharply, admonishing the animal and answering his question at the same time. “He’s usually more shy than friendly—and obviously still learning his manners.”
Evan crouched as she’d done to interact with the dog on its level and prevent any more indignities to his manhood. “How long have you had him?”
“Seven months.”
He rubbed the soft fur beneath Barkley’s chin, and the dog panted happily. “What’s his story?” he asked, because he knew now that every animal on the farm had one.
“His mom was dropped off here only a few days before she gave birth to five puppies. We had ten times that number of adoption applications, and at eight weeks, they all went to new homes.”
“I’m sure puppies are always popular.”
She nodded. “Barkley was the very first of the litter to go home with his new family. And then, three days later, they brought him back again.”
“What happened?”
“It turned out the four-year-old son of the couple who’d adopted him was severely allergic. Barkley didn’t seem too bothered when they dropped him off, because the shelter was familiar. And he ran around excitedly, looking for his brothers and sisters. But, of course, they were all gone. When I put him into the empty enclosure, his whimpering broke my heart. I probably should have walked away, but I couldn’t leave him like that. So I took him to the house—just for one night—with the intention of reviewing the adoption applications again the next morning to find him a new family.”
“Just for one night, huh?” he asked, amused.
“That was the plan,” she said. “But one night turned into two and now, seven months later, I’m his as much as he’s mine.”
“Then I guess you both got lucky.”
“I know I did,” she agreed.
“You’ve got an eclectic assortment of animals,” he remarked now. “Do you ever turn any away?”
“Only if we don’t have the ability to house and care for them,” she said.
“Has that ever happened?”
She nodded. “We were contacted last spring about a couple of black bear cubs. We referred the caller to Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks. They have a wildlife center in Helena where they care for orphaned and abandoned cubs and then return them to the wild.”
“Even without bears, there’s a lot going on here,” he noted as they circled back to where they’d started. “How do you manage it all on your own?”
“I don’t,” she told him. “I’m lucky to have the help of regular volunteers plus high school students who work here half a day, Monday through Friday, for a co-op credit.”
“Still, you don’t hesitate to do what needs to be done—and you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty.”
“I sometimes wonder if they’ll ever be clean.”
He chuckled at that. “But truthfully, what you’ve done—and continue to do—is amazing.”
Amazing? Was that spreading it on too thick?
Perhaps he should have said admirable.
That was probably a more appropriate word, but he couldn’t backtrack now.
“I don’t know that it’s all that,” she said, “but thank you.”
“Take it from somebody who’s never attempted to care for anything more demanding than a houseplant—it’s not just impressive but awe-inspiring.”
Impressive was good, he decided. Awe-inspiring might be a little over the top.
“How did the houseplant fare?” she wondered.
He winced. “Not very well.”
Now she laughed. “I don’t have much of a green thumb, either. And while we do pots of flowers and hanging baskets for curb appeal in the summer, Elaine—one of the regular volunteers—is in charge of those.”
“So you’re not perfect,” he mused.
“Not even close.”
“Are we close to a deal?” he asked, eager to finalize the terms and conclude their business.
“Are you going to donate five dollars from every ticket sold to Happy Hearts?” she asked, obviously just as stubborn and determined as he.
“I think—”
He halted midstride, every muscle in his body going still as an unexpected chill crept up his spine.
“Do you hear that?”
Daphne stopped beside him at the exact same moment, making him suspect that she’d heard it, too.
But she looked at him curiously and asked, “Hear what?”
He started to shake his head, but then the sound came again, a little bit louder this time, and the cold spread through his veins.
“That,” he said. “It sounds like someone..
.a woman...crying.”
She tilted her head, as if listening, then shrugged. “Sometimes a coyote—or even a red fox—can sound like a woman screaming.”
But what he’d heard wasn’t screaming, it was weeping. And though the sound had already faded away, the feeling of grief lingered inside him.
“Or maybe you’ve been telling ghost stories for so long, you’re starting to believe them,” she suggested as an alternative.
“Yeah, maybe that’s it,” he agreed, unwilling to confide the truth—which was that the owner of Bronco Ghost Tours didn’t actually believe in ghosts.
Not anymore.
Maybe he’d gone through a stage during his early adolescence during which he’d thought he could sense the lingering presence of those who had supposedly departed. He’d definitely felt a chill in his bones whenever he passed the downtown library—supposedly the site of a brutal murder more than a hundred years earlier—or the historic courthouse where the library killer was hanged. But as his awareness of supposedly paranormal activity began about six months after his dad left, his mom believed that he was making up stories in a bid for attention.
Two years later, when he hadn’t outgrown what she’d hoped was only a phase, Wanda had taken him to see a child psychologist. Dr. Henson had confirmed that it wasn’t uncommon for children who’d experienced some kind of emotional trauma—such as parental separation—to search for meaning in the chaos, often seeing things that weren’t there as a way of explaining the unexpected event and feeling more in control of the situation.
Apparently Evan was seeing ghosts because it was easier for him to believe that his dad had been scared away by something that didn’t exist than accept the simple truth that Andrew Cruise had chosen to abandon his family. In any event, a few more sessions with the psychologist convinced Evan that he wasn’t sensing spirits of the departed—he was just using his imagination to help him cope with the grief of losing his dad. And eventually he stopped seeing and hearing things that weren’t there.
Until now.
Shaking off the sudden feeling of melancholy, he returned his attention to their earlier topic of conversation. Ordinarily he’d try to dicker, to whittle her five-dollar request down to half that. But right now, he just wanted to get the deal done so that he could get out of there.
“You must have inherited some of your father’s legendary negotiating skills, because you drive a hard bargain, Daphne Taylor,” he said.
An unexpected shadow darkened her expression and, when she responded, her voice had lost some of its earlier warmth. “My father didn’t teach me anything.”
Realizing that he’d touched a nerve, Evan immediately backed off. “Well, five dollars a ticket it is.”
“Really?” Now her lips curved, and he decided that the amount she’d demanded was a small price to pay for a smile that lit up her whole face. “We have a deal?”
“We have a deal,” he confirmed.
This time, she proffered her hand.
And this time, he was prepared for the frisson of awareness that skittered through his veins as his palm came into contact with hers. Maybe he was undecided as to what, if anything, he intended to do about the obvious and mutual attraction between them, but he was sincerely looking forward to their partnership.
* * *
Daphne watched as Evan Cruise’s SUV disappeared down the laneway, her emotions tangled up in a messy ball inside her. Before she could even begin to sort out her feelings, another vehicle pulled in. Recognition was immediately followed by joy—a simple and welcome emotion.
“Did I know you were going to be stopping by?” she asked, when the truck had parked beside the barn and her oldest brother slid out from behind the steering wheel.
“I didn’t know until I texted Camilla from the feed store and she suggested I pick up a bag of those pellets that Tiny Tim likes,” Jordan responded.
“I think your fiancée loves that pig as much as she loves you,” she teased.
“Maybe more,” he acknowledged, as he lifted the bag out of the back of his truck and propped it on his shoulder. “But she’s wearing my ring on her finger.”
“Well, Tiny Tim says thank you.” She brushed her lips against his cheek. “And so do I.”
“You want it up in the hayloft?” he asked, knowing that was where she stored her feed inventory.
“Yes, please.”
Daphne fell into step beside her brother and carefully closed the door behind them so that Winnie—recently returned to her pen with the other sheep—didn’t escape and come wandering in again. While Jordan climbed the ladder, she checked on the horses, making sure they had water in their buckets.
“Hey, there,” she said, surprised and pleased to see Star’s head appear above his gate. She slowly lifted a hand and gently stroked the gelding’s cheek. His ears pulled back and his eyes showed white, but he held himself still, allowing if not welcoming her touch.
“That’s a good boy,” she crooned softly, pulling an Apple Snap out of her pocket and offering it to him. He gently plucked the treat from her open palm and munched on it.
“You’ve come a long way in just a few months,” she told him. “I know it’s been slow going, but that’s okay. Neither of us is in a hurry.”
“You really need to get out and interact with people,” Jordan said, teasing.
“I interact with people,” she said. “In fact, I met someone today.”
“Visitors to the farm don’t count,” he told her.
“This one does.” She hadn’t intended to tell him—or anyone—about Evan’s visit. She wanted to savor the excitement for a while first, but the words spilled out as if of their own volition. “Because he’s not just someone, I think he might actually be the one.”
“The one what?” her brother asked cautiously.
“The one I’ve been waiting for.” And okay, maybe it sounded a little crazy when she said it aloud, but that didn’t shake the conviction in her heart.
“Did you fall down and hit your head?” Jordan sounded genuinely concerned.
Daphne huffed out a breath. “No, I did not.”
“Are you sure?” He leaned closer, as if checking her pupils. “Because you’re talking a little bit crazy,” he said, though not without affection.
“Says the man who fell head over heels the first night he met the woman who’s now his fiancée,” she pointed out. “Maybe I should have checked your pupils at the Denim and Diamonds Gala.”
“And maybe that’s the reason you want to believe your attraction to this man is something more,” he said gently. “Because in the past few months, you’ve witnessed several people around you fall in love.”
“And I was happy for all of them, so why can’t you be happy for me?”
“I just want you to be careful,” he said.
“I appreciate that you’re looking out for me,” she said, because he’d been doing so for as long as she could remember. “But I’m thirty-one years old now and capable of standing on my own two feet.”
“It’s not your feet I’m worried about. You’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know, and I don’t want it to end up dented or bruised.”
“But if I don’t follow my heart, it will never be as full of love and joy as I know it can be.”
He sighed, a wordless concession to her point. “Just don’t rush into anything.”
“It’s taken thirty-one years for me to feel this way. I hardly think I’m rushing into anything.”
“But you just met this guy,” Jordan reminded her.
She nodded, because it was true. And because she knew her head-over-heels-in-love brother would still try to convince her that love at first sight didn’t exist.
Not that she believed she was in love with Evan Cruise, but there was definitely something there. An awareness and attraction, at the very least.
And maybe more.
Daphne was sure of it.
And judging by what had happened during his visit, so was her so-called ghost, Alice Milton.
Chapter Three
Evan didn’t believe in love at first sight.
He wasn’t sure that he believed in romantic love at all.
But familial love was something different altogether, and his affection for his mother, his sister and his grandmother was real and deep. And if he was, perhaps, a little bit hyperfocused on the success of his business, it was because he needed to know that he could take care of them. To know that he had sufficient funds in reserve to ensure that they’d never again be forced out their home.
Of course, the most important women in his life would balk at that idea and insist they could take care of themselves, and Evan wouldn’t disagree. They were all smart, strong and capable, but as the man of the proverbial house—as he’d been since his father walked out when he was ten years old—they were his responsibility. And nobody—not his mother or his sister or even his grandmother—was going to convince him otherwise.
He was thinking about his family as he drove away from Happy Hearts Animal Sanctuary and toward his mother’s tidy three-bedroom bungalow. Wanda Cruise had lived in the same small house for more than twenty years now, having been forced to downsize after her husband disappeared with all of the money in their joint checking account, leaving her with a mortgage she couldn’t afford and two children who couldn’t understand why their daddy didn’t come home.
Vanessa had been a toddler when Andrew Cruise walked out on his family, and Evan knew it bothered his little sister that she had no memories of their father. Personally, he thought she was lucky not to remember anything of the first three years of her life. Because if she couldn’t remember how it felt to be part of a real family, then she wouldn’t feel a sense of loss when that family no longer existed.
She also wasn’t burdened with the memory of how much their mom had cried in the early days after the separation. At first, Evan had thought the tears were a sign that she missed her husband as much as he missed his dad. It was only later, when he overheard his mom talking to her parents, that he realized she was worried about keeping a roof over their heads and food on their table.
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