Landon's Love (Silver Spring Series Book 2)

by Kelli Ann Morgan

  As they stepped onto the porch, an old, red pickup pulled up into the yard from the opposite direction than that from which she’d come. The passenger door opened and an older man stepped spryly out. His Stetson obscured his eyes and stubble covered his chin, but there was no mistaking that laugh.

  Holden paused at the door, holding it open with his foot, but she turned back to meet Mr. Redbourne at the bottom of the stairs, a wide smile breaking out across her face.

  “Well, if it isn’t the dynamic and enchanting Miss Olivia Blake.”

  The old man pulled her into the kind of hug her own grandfather used to give. It felt nice. She wondered how, after knowing the man for only a few short days, she’d felt such a kinship with him. He was already like family.

  “It’s good to see you, little girl,” he said as he pulled back away from her.

  Standing just over five-foot seven and with a few extra pounds she wished had never found her, she was anything but little, but somehow, here and now, next to him and his grandsons, she could pretend.

  “If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes,” Mr. Redbourne continued. “How have my boys here been treatin’ ya?”

  Olivia looked up to see Landon leaning against the post at the bottom of the stairs with his arms folded and Holden still at the top of the porch with her bags draped across his sculpted body. She smiled at the picture, then returned her focus to their grandfather.

  “The adventures have already begun. I’m afraid I managed to drive my car into a hole, but they pulled me out with nary a scratch.” A bruise maybe, but no scratches. “They have been quite the gentlemen, and I suspect that if they are anything like their grandfather, they’ll turn out to be charming and persuasive,” she told him with a slight bow of her head.

  “Adventures, huh? Well, look at that.” Mr. Redbourne glanced over at her SUV and the large newly covered hole next to it, then looked from one grandson to the other with a raised brow.

  Landon cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head.

  “Miss Blake, it has been such a pleasure to meet you.” He glanced over at his grandfather. “It seems I’ve got a pothole that needs to be filled, among my other chores, so…” he nodded and gave a short wave of his hand. “I look forward to talking to you more over dinner.”

  “That would be lovely. It’s nice to meet you too!”

  Mr. Redbourne looked back and forth between his grandsons again and then returned his gaze to her with a warm and welcoming smile. “Oh, Livvy girl, you sure do an old man’s heart good.” He wrapped his arm around her and together they climbed back up the stairs and walked past Holden and into the house.

  When Olivia stepped inside the rustic old homestead, it was as if she had been transported back in time into one of her novels. The large, spacious great room was filled with wooden furniture. An oversized stone fireplace spanned a good section of the far wall and exposed rafters substituted a more modern ceiling. The only indications they were indeed still in the twenty-first century were several well-placed electrical outlets dispersed throughout the room and a half-dozen built-in speakers she suspected went along with whatever entertainment equipment was hidden inside the over-sized cabinets above the fireplace.

  Mr. Redbourne released her and strode to the other side of the room, then spun around with his arms opened wide. “Welcome to the Blackwood Ranch,” he said with a wink.

  Olivia laughed with excitement. The Blackwoods were the fictitious family she wrote about in her books. She beamed at him. Heaven help her, but it was as if the place had breathed life into her novels. She half expected the ruggedly gorgeous Bentley Blackwood to walk through the door at any time.

  The smack of the door hitting against wood as it closed startled her and she turned to see Holden standing there, framed like a picture on a cover, the light filtering in around him. She bit her lip. It was all she could do to stop her jaw from dropping to the floor.

  Her publicist would have a heyday with him.

  Focus on the house, not the cowboy, she reminded herself. No men.

  She walked the perimeter of the room, taking in the incredible architecture and the simple, rustic décor, stopping to admire a collection of several breathtaking photographs that had magically captured the beauty of western life—the landscapes, the people, the stories. She paused when she came to a black and white photo of a young cowboy sitting on a wooden porch railing, legs up, his arm resting on one bent knee as he gazed out over the countryside at a heavily contrasted sky, his hat shadowing his face just the right amount.

  “This is you, isn’t it?” She turned to look at Holden, pointing at the picture, but didn’t wait for him to answer. “Who’s the photographer?” She asked the question to no one in particular. “His work is…is stunning.”

  “Granddad?” The front door burst open where yet another strikingly good-looking man stepped inside—a cousin or brother, Olivia was unsure. “Cal is ready to foal,” he said. “Uncle Tad thought you might want to be there.”

  “Grayson, I don’t believe you’ve had a chance to meet our guest.”

  Olivia made her way back over to where Mr. Redbourne stood.

  “Livvy, this is my grandson, Grayson. He’s the youngest of this lot. Grayson, Miss Olivia Blake.”

  Grayson tipped his hat. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Likewise.” She dipped her head.

  “Granddad?’ Grayson said again, with a tilt of his head toward the door.

  “Well, Livvy, what do you think? You think we could pass it off as the home of Theodore Blackwood?”

  “It’s even more incredible than I imagined it would be!” she said with awe. Truly, she’d expected a small farmhouse with a few chickens in the back and an open pasture full of cows. But this was something different. Something much more.

  Mr. Redbourne chuckled. “Why don’t you get settled in and I’ll have the boys show you around the place. I have a meeting this morning that I’m afraid I just can’t get out of, but I’ll be back later on and we can catch up a bit.”

  “I don’t know if I’ve told you, Mr. Redbourne, but…”

  “Now, none of this Mr. Redbourne nonsense. If we’re going to be partners, you might as well start calling me Ian. Or, Granddad if it suits you better.” He laughed. “Everybody else does,” he said with a snort, glancing over at his grandsons.

  “That’s because you are our granddad,” Holden said matter-of-factly, still standing just inside the entrance holding her things.

  “Ignore him.” Ian swatted at the air.

  “Thank you…Ian. I’m excited to discuss the details.”

  He leaned forward, kissed her cheek, and headed for the door with Grayson. “Holden, you take good care of this little gal. And, be nice!” he called back as he walked outside.

  “Follow me.” Holden disappeared through the hallway corridor, muttering something under his breath.

  Olivia picked up her feet and hustled to fall in step behind him. Just past the first door on the left, Holden turned up a smaller staircase and she followed him to the second floor, admiring the paintings that lined the walls as she went.

  When she reached the top, Holden had already vanished from the well-lit hallway. Skylights illuminated the open floor plan. One side of the hall had a few well-spaced doors and the other an open railing that looked down into the great room.

  She made her way down the hallway until she reached a room with an open door. When she peeked inside, Holden was setting her things down on the immaculately made bed.

  “There’s plenty of work to do. Meet us out in the stables in fifteen.” He strode toward her with purpose.

  Olivia held her breath.

  You’ve had good-looking friends before, Liv. What is your deal?

  He stopped just short of her and looked down, his eyes darker in this light than before.

  It took a moment before she realized that he wanted to leave the room and she blocked the exit. She darted around him and over t
o the bed, then turned back to face him.

  “Holden? What did your grandfather mean, ‘be nice?’”

  “I hope you brought something more appropriate to wear,” he said, avoiding her question. “I’d hate to see you get yourself all dirty in that fancy outfit of yours.” He raised a brow and pulled the door shut behind him as he left.

  Fancy? In what world was a maxi skirt and peasant blouse fancy? And what had gotten into him?

  The room they’d prepared for her was simple, but exquisite. The red sheer curtains and thick brown bed comforter screamed of masculinity. Olivia guessed they weren’t accustomed to having women around the place—though the lack of dust and clutter made her think that they might use a cleaning service.

  She stood next to the bed, glancing out the window into the simple countryside for a few minutes before throwing open her suitcase. It didn’t take long for her to unpack her things, but she realized that in her haste she’d neglected to bring a pair of Levi’s. The only pants she had were her black yoga pants. She was sure they would be really impressed with her ‘writer’s uniform.’

  There had to be a nice department store in Silver Falls and she made a mental note to remember to ask Holden for directions.

  “Yoga pants it is,” she said as she held them out in front of her. “They’ll go great with my cute white fringe boots.” She bit her lip and frowned. Better than the flip flops still tucked in the suitcase’s zippered pocket. It was going to be a great day. Even if she had to fake it, she’d make it a great day.

  Chapter Three

  Why did Olivia Blake have to be so attractive?

  Admittedly, Holden had expected an old, plump, make-up-less, cat lady with fake teeth and warts. At least that’s the image he’d created in his mind. But the woman who’d stepped out of that SUV this morning wasn’t anything like what he’d expected. It didn’t matter that her blond curls nicely complimented the smoky grey of her eyes, or that she had a smile that wouldn’t quit, she was still just a fiction writer—of romance no less.

  “Ugh.”

  Holden marched out to the stables where they’d agreed to meet, picking up a flat shovel. Mucking out stalls was not normally part of his job, but he figured it was one of the worst tasks at the ranch and therefore, there was no better place to start.

  Holden had planned it out perfectly and had made a list of all the things they could do to make the whole idea of having an authentic nineteenth century ranching experience less appealing—starting with confiscating all electronic devices. He doubted any city slicker could go more than an hour or two without a cell phone.

  He’d listed several of the less than desirable and menial chores that could initiate the novelist into the ranching lifestyle. Then, they could take her out to mend fences or pair cows on horseback for a few hours at a time. He doubted the woman had ever been on a horse, let alone ridden recently and he figured extensive time in the saddle would leave her aching to get back to the city.

  He hadn’t spent the last four years dedicating his life to learning everything he needed to run and innovate a successful ranch, graduating top of his class with a degree in Agriculture Science, only to let his grandfather make a mockery out of Silver Springs. Out of his inheritance.

  He loved his granddad, but there had to be a way to make him see reason. Hosting big groups of romance fans from the city on a constant basis would just be a worthless distraction from implementing the ideas and renovation plans he had for this place.

  “Olivia Blake reporting for duty, sir!”

  Holden turned around to see the beauty saluting him, her arm tucked close to her body. Her opposite arm wrapped around her. He had to hold back the chuckle that threatened as he took in her appearance. She was dressed almost completely in black. Stretchy exercise pants that hugged every curve, a short-sleeved v-neck top, and a pair of fancy white fashion boots that wouldn’t last five minutes out in the stables or anywhere else on the ranch.

  “This isn’t the military,” Holden said as he set the shovel down against one of the gates and strode over to where Olivia stood. “And you certainly don’t have to call me sir.”

  When she smiled, a little fire started in his belly. She was beautiful. And not like the women who looked like they’d missed one too many meals, but really beautiful.

  He couldn’t help the twitch playing on his lips when she sucked in a quick breath as he leaned toward her, reaching up to unhook one of his old college hoodies from the rack. He knew he shouldn’t take satisfaction from her small gesture, but it was nice to know the attraction was mutual.

  “Thank you,” she said, meeting his gaze unabashedly. She graciously took the piece of clothing from him and slipped it over her head and shoulders and down her body.

  Holden liked seeing her in his clothes. It was a good look for her.

  The plan. Stick to the plan.

  “You look like a smart man,” Olivia said with a shiver. “You must think me unprepared and silly.”

  Number one.

  “Cell phone?” he asked with his hand extended, palm out, refusing to respond to her goading comment.

  “I figured I wouldn’t need it if we were going to be mucking stalls or milking cows or whatever else it is we’ll be doing this morning, so I left it in my room. Would you like me to go get it?” She did a little half-turn, waiting for his response.

  Smart too. And not afraid of a little hard work? If this kept up, it was going to be very difficult to get rid of her. He dropped his hand to his side.

  “Are those the only shoes you brought with you?” he asked, glancing down at her feet.

  Be nice, he heard his grandfather’s voice in his head, but he so wanted to antagonize her—if only to gauge her reactions.

  “Yes,” she responded after a short pause. “I…um…I’m afraid so,” she said looking away from his gaze.

  He liked the pinkish color now staining her cheeks.

  “What?” she asked sheepishly. “You don’t think clumps of manure will look good on them?”

  She laughed weakly as she lifted a foot, staring at it as she twisted it back and forth, the smile slowly fading from her face. She pulled the sweatshirt's hood up over her head, and stared at the ground.

  Holden bit back a laugh.

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” Olivia curled her fingers into a ball and she dropped them forcibly to her sides. With a curt nod, she turned to walk away, flipping the hood back off her head. “I’ll talk to Ian and we’ll try it another time,” she said loudly as she departed, her ponytail bouncing seductively with each step. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” She waved.

  He groaned, watching her hasty retreat, stunned by what had just happened.

  Well, that was easy. Too easy.

  It was exactly what he’d wanted, or so he thought, so why did he feel like such a jerk?

  She’d only gotten a few steps away from the stables when he found himself going after her.

  “Hold on there a minute.”

  What are you doing?

  She kept walking.

  “Miss Blake,” he tried again.

  Nothing.

  He picked up his stride and caught up to her, placing a hand on her arm.

  “Olivia!”

  She stopped and turned to face him, her face flushed pink—whether from the cold or from something else, he was unsure.

  “Miss Blake.” He cleared his throat and pushed up his glasses. He was in new territory here, unsure what he was supposed to say. “You give up pretty easily. I took you for more of a fighter than that.”

  “Give up? I’m not giving up. It just isn’t like me to be unprepared and I don’t like—”

  “Not being in control?”

  She narrowed her gaze at him and he laughed. He’d guessed right.

  “It’s just that with Jason getting married this morning and an impatient editor pressuring me for my latest novel, I needed to get out of the city, so I neglected to take the necessary time
preparing for this trip. This is supposed to be fun. To be an adventure. I shouldn’t have to fight for that.”

  “Who’s Jason?”

  Her eyes widened as if regretting that she’d revealed more than she’d intended.

  “Nobody.” She shrugged. “Not anymore.”

  He nodded his understanding. Jason must be an ex. And she didn’t want to talk about it. He got that. An awkward silence passed between them for longer than was comfortable.

  “Granddad has it in his mind that you, Olivia Blake, are destined to change the future of this ranch. Personally, I hate change—unless…”

  “Unless it is your idea,” she filled in.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. Touché.

  “Well…yes, I tend to come up with a lot of good ideas and I happen to have studied innovative techniques and new machinery that will make our ranch a leader in the industry.”

  “I’m not sure what you are trying to say.”

  She was straight-forward. He liked that too.

  “Frankly, I think entertaining the idea of having retreats for a bunch of romance readers at the ranch is a waste of time.”

  She burst out into laughter. A thick, deep belly laugh. “You think because I write romance I am somehow less than you with your fancy degree,” she said with a snort of incredulity. “Tell me, Mr. Kane, have you ever actually read a romance novel?”

  He wasn’t sure how he’d expected her to react, but that was not it. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  He’d offended her. He always said the wrong things to women, no matter how hard he tried.

  “Thank you,” she said with a smile, “for making this decision so much easier for me.”

  “I just meant, we are a ranch—not a hotel, not a sideshow. A ranch.”

  Olivia turned and started to walk away again, but stopped after a few short steps and whipped back around. “I get it, you know. You have your organized little world here and the idea of embracing something creative scares you.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Then, how dare you insinuate that my readers are a waste of time. How dare you talk down to me as if I do not understand the difference between your ranch and a sideshow. I am a business woman just as much I am a writer and I have a good head on my shoulders just like you.” She took another step toward him. “I may not be an academic or a ‘prodigy’ in the ranching world, but there is value in being able to see a situation more than one way.”