“I don’t want to be the reason you leave Montana,” Taylor told him. “Or upset your family.”
He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. “I want to do this.” He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Do you not want me to move here?”
“It’s all so sudden….”
He released her. “What are you saying?”
“Just that you’re talking about upending your life for me, someone you’ve only known a brief time. I don’t want you to regret this if things don’t work out down the road.”
“I won’t,” he said. “I know what I’m doing. You and me, we’ll take this one day at a time, deal?”
“Deal.” She hugged him tight.
His smile returned. “Want to go look at some ranches?”
“I’m ready.” She grabbed her brown leather bomber jacket off a chair and slipped on her sunglasses. At his stare, she glanced at her outfit. “Is something wrong?”
“No. I’m just thinking how hot you look.”
Similar comments had only irritated her in the past, but his words turned her stomach into mush. “I try.”
“You don’t have to try,” he said. “It just is.”
She twined her fingers in his. “You’re not too bad yourself, cowboy.”
“We better go now, or we’re not getting out of here anytime soon.” His low voice sent a quiver to her stomach.
She took off her sunglasses and set them on the counter, then kicked off her boots. When she reached for the hem of her T-shirt, he helped her lift it over her head.
~*~
Two hours later, Waylon turned under a big log arch. The name above the fixture read The Archer Ranch, est. 1860.
He glanced at Taylor out of the corner of his eye. “I like it already.”
“You haven’t even seen it,” she teased.
“No, but if the place has been in the family for generations, it speaks to their strength and tenacity,” he said. “Like my own family. Wonder why it’s for sale?”
“What did the realtor say?”
He shrugged. “Not much. When I described what I wanted this was the first place she mentioned. She’s meeting us at the house.”
He looked around as they drove along a winding dirt road. Both sides had split-log fences and acres upon acres of green-going-yellow fields. He could imagine the fields filled with cattle, or horses. They crossed a wooden bridge over sparkling river he bet was filled with trout.
The road made a final twist before opening to an A-frame log house, enormous barn and corrals. Several other buildings sat nearby, all painted red with white trim.
“Wow,” Taylor breathed. “I had no idea this was here.”
“I like what I see so far,” Waylon said. “Let’s take a closer look.” He killed the engine, stepped out and walked around to open her door. Holding hands, they walked toward the house.
A middle-aged woman wearing jeans, boots and a wide smile met them at the front door. “Hi, I’m Miller Jones.”
“Miller.” Waylon shook her hand. “Waylon Wainwright.” He nodded at Taylor. “And Taylor Griffin.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Miller said. “You mentioned on the phone you’re looking to buy a working ranch. This one has been in one family for generations. There are twenty-thousand acres with water rights and access to BLM land for summer grazing.”
“I like what I’ve seen so far,” Waylon said. “And the price is in my range.”
Miller’s smile could have outshone the sun. “Let me show you around. As you can see, this is the house. It has brand new appliances, a working fireplace….”
He tuned her out as they stepped inside and she rattled off the dimensions. The hardwood floors, bay windows facing the Rockies and marble countertops were all nice. He could see himself living here. Could Taylor? “How many bedrooms?”
“Four. Two and a half baths.” Miller looked between them. “Do you have children?”
“Not yet,” he said.
“No.” Taylor flashed him a smile that had him thinking of all the little cowpokes they could make together.
“Well, you could have guests,” Miller suggested. “Or an office for each of you.”
“I have five brothers,” Waylon said. “Having guests isn’t a problem.”
“Oh, my.” Miller placed a hand over her heart. “I’d say not.”
Taylor wandered toward the front of the house and opened the glass doors that led to a redwood deck. She stepped outside and was aiming her camera at the view when Waylon joined her. He took in the river close enough to throw in a line, the pastures and aspen-covered mountains.
“What do you think? Do you like it?”
She faced him. “Love it.”
“Me, too. I want to see the land and check on a few things, but I don’t think I need to look any further. I believe this is my new place.” He could see himself here, Taylor at his side. The idea thrilled him.
Taylor faced him. “You don’t mess around when you make up your mind, do you?”
“When I see something I want I go after it,” he said with meaning in his voice. If they were alone, he would show her. Again.
Miller cleared her throat. “Would you like to see the outbuildings?”
“I would,” Waylon said.
They walked through a barn big enough to house a herd of cattle, which Miller told them had once been a dairy, a bunkhouse, tool and tack sheds. All were immaculate. Waylon could see himself in each of them. He glanced at Taylor and she seemed to be deep in thought, far away.
Why?
Was he scaring her with his plans? Yes, he’d moved at the speed of a light, but he’d told her the truth—when he made up his mind, he jumped. Life was too short to waste waiting around. It was a big mistake he’d made with Logan and it wasn’t one he intended to repeat.
He wrapped his hand around hers. “What do you think?”
“I’ll take a million photos of you here, if you’ll let me.” Her smile blinded him. She lifted her camera and snapped a couple shots.
Tearing his gaze from hers, he turned to Miller. “Are there any horses here? I’d like to take a closer look at the rest of the place.”
“No. When Mr. Archer died the livestock was sold,” she said. “But I can arrange for some to be delivered in the morning, if that works for you.”
“Let me make a call first.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket. “Wade? You and Marin want to ride with Taylor and me in the morning to check out this place? Okay, good. I’ll call you with the details later.” He hung and faced the realtor. “We’ll need four horses. Two of them extra gentle, please.”
She looked a little dazed, but held up her phone. “I’m on it.”
Waylon grinned at Taylor. “You want to bring that camera of yours to take some pictures to show the folks?”
“Sure.”
They wandered around, and the more he looked, Waylon knew this place was where he wanted to settle and raise a family. Thanks to his folks’ savvy financial planning, he and his brothers each had a hefty trust fund. It would clear out most of it to buy this place, but he knew he wanted to do it. With careful management, he could leave his own kids something, too.
Will had never wanted to touch his money, preferring to make his way on his own, but his savings were there for him anytime he chose to dip into them. Maybe he’d want to run some horses, or a few cows of his own, alongside Waylon’s stock. There was a lot to think about.
After finalizing plans with Miller to meet back in the morning, Waylon and Taylor headed for her house. She was silent, seemingly lost in thought. He glanced her direction. Her expression was unreadable. “What’s wrong?”
“You didn’t tell me you were a millionaire.” She sounded accusing.
He thought about it for a minute. “You know how you don’t like folks liking you for your looks?” She nodded. “Well, I don’t like people liking me for what’s in my wallet.”
She stared at him for a long mo
ment. “I have a substantial purse of my own. I don’t need yours.”
“Good to know,” he said mildly.
~*~
Taylor watched the mountains and river fly by as Waylon drove back toward Lonesome Valley. Her mind was on Waylon’s ex-girlfriend. Had she hung on to him, hoping for marriage, because he had a fat wallet? And then finally gave up when a proposal never came? She waited a moment before sharing her thoughts. “Does your ex know you have a trust fund?”
“Logan?” he shook his head. “I doubt it. Why?”
“Because you said if you two married, merging your lands would benefit you both,” she said. “It sounds to me that it would profit her more than you.”
“What’s your point?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Money makes people do a lot of things they might not otherwise.”
“Just so you know, your theory about Logan doesn’t add up. She left me, not the other way around. If she wanted my money she surely would’ve stuck by me.” He sounded harsh. She’d insulted him. “Do you like me more now that you know I can afford a few perks in life?”
“No,” she said. “But I don’t need your cash, either.”
“What’re you driving at, Taylor? That a woman I loved half my life may have only wanted me for my money?” His profile reminded her of the Rocky Mountains—stony and hard.
“Not at all. I was actually thinking rich men like arm candy. Are you one of them?” It was her turn to be cold. “Because I’m not for sale.”
He pulled to a wide spot on the shoulder of the road and turned off the truck. “What’s this about, Taylor? I like you, the woman. Not Taylor the model. Remember, I met you as a wedding photographer. I had no idea who or what you were before.”
She struggled to find the words to tell him how demeaning she’d found modeling to be. That her bikini and lingerie pictures in magazines and strutting on runways had made her feel cheap. Because she modeled, men often expected she could be had at the flash of a big diamond, or a large amount of money.
She’d made her own assumptions, that Waylon was like Will, somewhat strapped for cash. The younger man had come to Lonesome Valley after a stint in the Army and had gone to work for Lily in her custom farming business. No one would have ever guess him to be a multi-millionaire.
Did it matter? You loved who you loved, rich or poor.
“I just don’t want you to like me because of my face or figure,” she finally managed. “Just like you wouldn’t want me to think I’m into you because you’re loaded.”
“You’re a beautiful woman,” he said. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like that about you. But there’s a lot more to you than skin deep. You’re talented, smart, funny. And you’re amazing in bed. I feel great when I’m with you, and not because of the way other men turn to look when you walk by.”
No one had ever said those things to her before. Her heart softened. Maybe he was different than every other man she’d known.
“If it makes you feel better,” he continued, “you can buy me dinner. Somewhere nice, where they sell steaks. No makeup allowed, though. You can’t comb your hair. And you can wear what you have on. Or, torn jeans. Or your paint clothes—”
“Finnegan’s?” She named the fanciest place in town. “I’ll dress up, but only because I want to. Not so you can show me off.”
“That’ll do.” He restarted the engine, but before he pulled back onto the highway, he spoke. “We good?”
“We’re good,” she said.
He looked at his side mirror, then pulled onto the road.
Taylor kept shooting little glances Waylon’s direction as she went over what he’d said to her. It was true he hadn’t known she was famous when they met, and although he definitely liked her body, he also seemed to care what she thought. He’d even asked her if she liked the property he was considering.
Why?
It wasn’t like she’d be living there.
Still, he was a refreshing change from the men in her past who’d only cared about how many magazines she’d been in, or that she’d once been an angel for a lingerie company. He’d even asked her opinion of the land he was looking to buy. No one had ever done that before.
If he kept this up, she’d fall in love with him.
She was halfway there already.
A one-night-stand was turning into something she’d never imagined. Was it possible to turn sex into something meaningful? She’d never believed it so, but the fact stared her straight in the face. Not only was it possible, it was happening to her. And she dared hope, to Waylon, too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Taylor had packed extra SD cards for her camera—she always did—and it was a good thing. By the time they’d ridden for an hour she’d shot a million pictures of Waylon. Wade and Marin weren’t too shabby either, and she took bunches of them, too. But, it was Waylon her eye, and camera, kept going back to.
Mounted on a dark grey gelding, he was as striking in his element as she’d imagined him to be. A true cowboy with the hat, jean jacket and boots. He looked like he’d been born to ride that horse. Maybe he had.
Along with detailed maps, Miller had set them up with nice horses. Although no expert, Taylor had been riding often enough to know the gelding chosen for her was a good one. Dark red, he had a face and white legs. He reminded her of the horse John Wayne had ridden in True Grit.
She patted his warm neck. “You’re a good boy.”
“You look awesome on him,” Waylon commented.
“I love him.” She kept her gaze averted to keep him from seeing the longing in her eyes for something she couldn’t have. Not the horse, although he was nice, but the man. He’d spoken no words of commitment.
“What do you think of the property so far?” Wade’s voice broke into Taylor’s thoughts.
“I like it,” Waylon said. “Taylor?”
Her head snapped up. Why was he asking her? “It’s great. Who wouldn’t love it?”
“I agree.” Waylon glanced to his left, and her gaze followed his. They sat on a cedar-covered bluff overlooking the ranch below. It sat like an emerald shaped gem with a crystal-blue vein, the river, running through it. The hillsides were covered with gray-green sagebrush, golden aspens higher.
Low, gray clouds covered the sky and a cool breeze reminded Taylor fall was fading, winter trailing it. She shivered.
Waylon noticed. “You cold?”
“A little,” she admitted.
He dismounted, and before she could react, lifted her off the sorrel. He held her close for a moment before releasing her. “I’ll build a fire.”
He already had.
She’d warmed up instantly in his embrace.
He handed her the reins of both horses. “Hold them while I get some wood.”
She felt he already had some, just not the kind he meant. Taking a tight grip on the leather, she nodded. “Okay.”
Wade helped Marin off her dark brown gelding, and as she vanished into the forest to talk to Mother Nature, he took the horses to some nearby trees and tied them. After he opened his saddlebags and dug through them, Wade carried a few chunks of a log he’d found and tossed them on the ground near the fire ring Taylor had made.
He knelt, picked up one of the pieces and began shaving slices from it. After he made a small pyramid and lit it with a match, he looked up. “Because I care a lot about my brothers’ welfare, I sometimes speak out of turn. We all agree I can be an ass sometimes.”
“Anyone can when we’re protecting someone we love,” she said.
“Logan’s family,” he said, ignoring that. “And I’m not going to change my mind on her status with us. But, Waylon says she’s moved on. And he has, too. If you make him happy, then I’m all for you joining our family.”
“I don’t want any of you to stop loving someone you’ve known all your life,” Taylor said. “But just know I never set out to steal him from Logan, or hurt her.” She drew a line in the dirt with the toe of her boot. “Besides, thi
s is casual. We’re just dating.”
“I don’t think my brother’s moving lock, stock and barrel to Colorado for a quickie,” he said. “Anyway, I apologize for my comment the other night. I was out of line.”
“You’re forgiven.” Taylor’s heart pounded. Could he be right? Was Waylon planning something permanent between them? If so, why hadn’t he said so?
Wade held out a hand. “Friends?”
She took it. “Friends.”
Marin and Waylon appeared at the same time, and he dropped a few chunks of wood near the pile his brother had started. “Got a blaze going, huh?”
“Yup.” Wade placed an arm around Marin’s waist and pulled her close. He winked at her. “Sure do. Didn’t need a fire either. My lady is enough to heat me up.”
She blushed in her disarming way. “Wade.”
To keep from saying something inappropriate in a similar vein, Taylor said, “I’m sorry to hold everyone up.”
“No need to apologize,” Waylon told her. “It feels good to stretch our legs. Wish we’d thought to bring hotdogs.” He untangled his fingers from hers. “That reminds me. I’ll be right back.” He walked toward the horses, returning in a moment, holding a bottle. He held it up. “Blackberry brandy.”
“Yum.” Taylor could taste the liquor already.
Waylon unscrewed the cap and handed it to her. She took a swig, swallowed and instant warmth hit her belly. She handed the bottle to Marin. “It’s good.”
Marin drank, gave it to Wade, who tasted and nodded his approval.
Waylon was the last to get the brandy. “Awe, that’s tasty.”
They passed around the bottle again, emptying it.
A flash of the last time she and Waylon had drank alcohol filled Taylor’s mind and she blinked away the erotic images. She didn’t need booze as an excuse to jump on him now.
A snowflake hit her nose and she looked up in amazement. The clouds had lowered, darkened. Now they were spitting little white flakes. “Look. It’s snowing.”
They all observed the flakes coming faster now.
“We better ride,” Wade said. “We don’t want our ladies to freeze.”
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