The Rancher Next Door
Single mom Carly Wagner is surprised to learn she’ll have to share ownership of the home she’s inherited with her first love—and first heartbreak—Andrew Stephens. The man who fled their tiny Western town is back and standing in the way of her dreams to expand her B and B. Now a successful businessman, Andrew has eight weeks to buy Carly out. But Carly’s too stubborn to persuade—and too beautiful to ignore. When fire ravages her inn and she and her daughter move in to their shared property, Andrew’s in over his head. Time is running out and Andrew must decide: leave and chase another deal...or stay and chase Carly’s heart.
“What a difference twenty-four hours can make.”
He faced the woman who was now beside him.
“Last night at this time,” Carly explained, “I was slamming the door on you.”
“Oh, that. Well, this hasn’t been what I’d call an average day.”
“Me either. But I appreciate everything you did for us today, Andrew.”
He dared to meet her gaze. “I didn’t do much.”
“You were there for me when I needed you.” She went to him, rose up on her toes and hugged him. “Thank you.” Her words were a whisper on his ear, soft and warm. And he felt his world shift.
Then she turned for the door. “Good night.”
Stunned, he managed to eke out, “Night,” before she disappeaered into the house.
He stood there, waiting to breathe. Carly stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt...well, since they were a couple.
That was not good. Because despite today’s events, there was still the issue of his grandmother’s house. And that was a battle he intended to win.
It took Mindy Obenhaus forty years to figure out what she wanted to do when she grew up. But once God called her to write, she never looked back. She’s passionate about touching readers with biblical truths in an entertaining, and sometimes adventurous, manner. Mindy lives in Texas with her husband and kids. When she’s not writing, she enjoys cooking and spending time with her grandchildren. Find more at mindyobenhaus.com.
Books by Mindy Obenhaus
Love Inspired
Rocky Mountain Heroes
Their Ranch Reunion
The Doctor’s Family Reunion
Rescuing the Texan’s Heart
A Father’s Second Chance
Falling for the Hometown Hero
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THEIR RANCH
REUNION
Mindy Obenhaus
Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a
new thing! Now it springs up; do you not
perceive it? I am making a way in the
wilderness and streams in the wasteland.
—Isaiah 43:18–19
For Your glory, Lord.
Acknowledgments
A big thank-you to Captain Glen Vincent,
Village Fire Department, for your twenty-nine
years of service as a firefighter and for
your willingness to share your knowledge.
Thanks to Wendy Jilek at Colorado Kitchen and
Bath Design, Montrose, Colorado, for
your input on the kitchen-design process.
Much appreciation to Catrina at ServePro
of Montrose and Telluride.
And I couldn’t have done any of this without
the love and support of my incredible husband.
Thank you for being my rock.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt from A Groom for Ruby by Emma Miller
Chapter One
If she had to look at one more spreadsheet, she’d go batty.
Overdue for a break, Carly Wagner pushed away from her laptop at the oak kitchen table, poured another cup of tea and wandered into the parlor of her Victorian home. The late morning sun filtered through the windows, bathing the somewhat formal though still cozy room in warmth. Taking a sip of her Cream Earl Grey, she glimpsed the photo of her great-grandmother on the mantel and smiled. Granger House was more than just her home. The bed-and-breakfast was a way of life.
She let go a sigh. If only she didn’t have to keep taking in these bookkeeping jobs to help build up her savings. But if she hoped to send her daughter, Megan, to college one day...
She was just about to sit in the powder-blue accent chair when something outside caught her attention. Easing toward the side window, she noticed a vehicle in the driveway next door. She fingered the lace curtain aside and peered through the antique glass pane.
That truck did not belong there.
Her neighbor, Olivia Monroe, Livie to everyone who knew her, had been dead for six months. Since then, no one had set foot in that house without Carly’s knowledge. Until now.
Narrowing her gaze on the ginormous black F-350, curiosity mingled with concern. After all, Livie’s house now belonged to her. Well, maybe not completely, but Lord willing, it would, just as soon as she convinced Livie’s grandson, Andrew, to sell her his half. That is, once she finally mustered the courage to call her old high school boyfriend. Then she would finally be able to act on her dream of expanding Granger House Inn and kiss bookkeeping goodbye.
Allowing the curtain to fall back into place, she paced from the wooden floor to the large Persian rug in the center of the room and back again. What should she do? She hated to bother the police. Not that they had much to do in a quiet town like Ouray, Colorado. Then again, if it was nothing, she’d look like the nosy neighbor who worried over everything.
No, she needed to do a little investigation before calling the cops.
She headed back into the kitchen, depositing her cup on the butcher-block island before grabbing her trusty Louisville Slugger on her way out the back door. The cool air sent a shiver down her spine. At least, that’s what she told herself. Realistically, it was rather mild for the second day of March. Perhaps the sun would help rid them of what remained of their most recent snowfall.
Making herself as small as possible, she crept across the drive and around the back of Livie’s folk Victorian. Banging echoed from inside. Or was it her own heart slamming against her rib cage?
With Livie’s house key clenched in her sweaty palm, Carly drew in a bolstering breath and continued a few more feet. She soundlessly eased the metal storm door open just enough to insert her key into the lock of the old wooden door. Then, thanks to the ongoing hammering sound, she slipped inside undetected.
The seventies-era kitchen, complete with avocado-green appliances and gold countertops, looked the same as it had every other time she’d been there in recent weeks. Pathetic. She still couldn’t understand why Livie would do such a horrendous thing to thi
s charming house. Carly could hardly wait to get rid of that ugly old stuff and replace it with a look that was truer to the home’s original character.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Carly jumped, sending her renovation ideas flying out the window. At least until she took care of whoever was in the parlor.
Raising the bat, she tiptoed into the short hallway, past the closet, until she could see who was making that racket.
She peered around the corner, nearly coming unglued when she spotted the male figure crouched beside the wall on the other side of the kitchen, using a hammer and a crowbar to remove the original trim moldings.
She slammed the tip of the bat onto the worn wooden floor with a crash. “What are you doing to my house?”
The man jumped. Jerking his head in her direction, he hustled to his feet until he towered over her.
Carly gasped. What is he doing here?
Eyes wide, she simply gaped. The perpetrator wasn’t just any man. Instead, Andrew Stephens, Livie’s grandson, stood before her, looking none too pleased.
Heat started in her belly, quickly rising to her cheeks. Though it had been nearly twenty years since they’d dated and she’d seen him a few times since, her mind failed to recall that the boy she once knew so well was now a man. A very tall, muscular man with thick, dark brown hair, penetrating brown eyes and a stubble beard that gave him a slightly dangerous, albeit very appealing, look.
His surprise morphed into irritation. “Your house?”
She struggled for composure, jutting her chin in the air while trying to ignore the scent of raw masculinity. “You heard me.” Aware she wasn’t acknowledging the complete truth, her courage suddenly waned. “Well, half of it anyway.”
Andrew eyed her bat. “I’m not sure where you’re getting your information, Carly, but this house belongs to me.” Shifting his tools from one hand to the other, he moved closer. “And I have a copy of my grandmother’s will that proves it.”
Oh, so he thought he could intimidate her, did he? Not to mention call her a liar?
She laid one hand over the other atop the bat. “That’s odd. Because I received a letter from Livie’s lawyer, along with a copy of her will, and it stated that the house passes equally to both you and me.” And while her plan was to offer to buy out his half, this probably wasn’t the best time to bring that up.
He cocked his head, his expression softening a notch. “Are you okay? You haven’t hit your head or something, have you?”
She sucked in a breath, indignation twisting her gut. Wasn’t it enough that he’d broken her young heart? Now he thought she was crazy. Well, she’d show him.
Resting the bat on her shoulder, she whirled and started for the back door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right back.” She stormed out the door and marched over to her house, kicking at a dwindling pile of snow along the way. Did he really think she was going to let him plead ignorance when she had proof? That house was half hers and she refused to be bullied.
Once inside Granger House, Carly went straight to her bedroom, opened the small safe she kept tucked in the corner and pulled out the large manila envelope. Let Andrew argue with this.
Leaving her bat in her kitchen for fear she might actually be tempted to use it, she again made her way next door, irritation nipping at her heels. She would not let Andrew stand between her and her dream.
When she entered this time, he was in the kitchen, arms crossed, leaning against the peninsula that separated the eating space from the food-prep space, looking better than an ex-boyfriend should.
She removed the papers from the envelope and handed them to him. “Page three, last paragraph.”
She watched as he read, noting the lines carved deeply into his brow. So serious. Intense. And while he had never been the carefree type, it appeared the big city might have robbed him of whatever joy remained.
When he glanced her way, she quickly lowered her gaze. Just because she hadn’t seen him in forever didn’t give her the right to stare. No matter how intriguing the sight.
“I don’t get it.” He flipped back to the front page. “This will was drawn up only a year and a half ago.” He looked at her now. “The one I have is at least five years old. Meaning this—” he wiggled the papers—“supersedes that.”
Carly rested her backside against the wood veneer table, her fingers gripping the edge. “So, are you saying you didn’t receive a letter from your grandmother’s lawyer?”
He shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
This was her chance to make her move. Before she chickened out. “I’m sorry to hear that. However—” she shoved away from the table “—we can take care of this quite easily.” She lifted her chin. “I’d like to buy out your half. I’ve been looking for a way to expand my bed-and-breakfast, and this house is the perfect solution. Besides, you’re never in Ouray—”
“I love this house. Always have. You know that.”
While she knew that Andrew the boy had loved the house, she could count the times Andrew the man had set foot in Ouray since moving to Denver right after graduation. A move that was supposed to be the beginning of their future together. Instead, it had torn them apart.
Refusing to let the painful memories get the best of her, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Until today, when was the last time you were in this house?”
“After my grandmother’s funeral.”
“And the time before that?” She awaited a response.
After a long moment, he shoved the papers back at her. “This house has been in my family for four generations. And I’m not about to let that change anytime soon. Even for you.”
* * *
Andrew hadn’t been this bowled over since Crawford Construction, one of Denver’s largest commercial builders, offered to buy out his company, Pinnacle Construction. Even then, he hadn’t been totally unaware. He’d heard rumors. But this revelation about his grandmother’s house took him completely by surprise.
There was no way he was going to sell Carly half of the house that rightfully belonged to him. There had to be some mistake. He hadn’t even been notified of the change to Grandma’s will.
Watching out the kitchen window as Carly made her way back to Granger House, her blond curls bouncing with each determined step, he could think of only two explanations. His grandmother was crazy, or Carly had somehow coerced her into changing her will, giving his high school sweetheart half of the house that had been promised to him from the time he was a boy.
He continued his scrutiny, chuckling at the memory of Carly holding that baseball bat. Coming into the house, not knowing who was inside, took a lot of guts. Apparently the shy girl he’d once known no longer existed. Then again, that was a long time ago. She’d since become a wife, a mother, a widow... Not to mention one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.
Shaking off the unwanted observation, he waited for her to disappear inside her house before digging the keys out of his jeans pocket and heading out the door. He had to get to the bottom of this and fast. For months, he’d been looking forward to updating this old home to use as a rental property. Now, as he awaited the closing on his next business venture, he had eight weeks to do just that.
He climbed into his truck and fired up the diesel engine, daring a glance toward Granger House. With its sea foam green paint, intricate millwork and expansive front porch, the historic Victorian home looked much the way it would have when it was first built nearly one hundred twenty years ago. Today’s guests must feel as though they’re stepping back in time.
His gaze drifted to the swing at the far end of the porch. Back when he and Carly were dating, they spent many an evening there, holding hands, talking about their plans for the future. Plans he once thought would include her.
Bu
t that was then. This was now.
He threw the truck into gear and set off for his grandmother’s lawyer’s office, only to discover the man was out of town for the week. Frustration burrowed deeper. He didn’t know what to do. Perhaps his father would have some insight.
Andrew’s shoulders slumped. Seeing his father meant a trip to the ranch. Something he hadn’t planned to do just yet.
If he wanted answers, though, it was his only option.
He maneuvered his truck onto Main Street, past the rows of colorful historic buildings, to continue north of town, beyond the walls of red sandstone, on to the open range. A few minutes later, he passed under the arched metal sign that read Abundant Blessings Ranch. Why his parents had named the place that, he’d never understand. Their lives were far from blessed, working their fingers to the bone with little to nothing to show for it.
He’d never live like that again.
Bumping up the gravel drive, he eyed the snow-capped mountains that stretched across the far edge of the property, beyond the river where they used to fish and swim.
A couple of horses watched him from the corral as he passed the stable. Red with white trim, it was the newest building on Stephens’ land. Apparently the trail rides his father and oldest brother Noah offered during the summer months had been successful. That, in addition to the riding lessons Noah taught, had likely funded the structure.
The old barn, however, was another story. Closer to the house, the rustic wooden outbuilding had seen better days. The roof sagged, the pens on the outside were missing most of their slats and the ancient shingles were in sore need of replacing. Better yet, someone should just bulldoze the thing and start fresh.
A task he could easily take care of once they were well into spring. But he’d be back in Denver by then, the proud owner of Magnum Custom Home Builders.
He pulled alongside his father’s beat-up dually, killed the engine and stepped outside to survey the single-story ranch house.
Though the sun was warm, a chill sifted through him. He wouldn’t have believed it possible, but the place looked even worse than it had six months ago when he was here for his grandmother’s funeral. The cedar siding was the darkest he’d ever seen it. The house, along with the large wooden deck that swept across one side, could use a good power-washing. Not that Dad, Noah or his younger brother, Jude, had the time. Before the cancer took its toll, the house had always been Mama’s domain. And with five sons eager to please her, she was never at a loss for help.
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