Landon's Love (Silver Spring Series Book 2)

by Kelli Ann Morgan

  She had a point.

  He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to offend you, ma’am.”

  “Sure you did. You said it yourself. You have plans for this place and me being here threatens those plans. But tell me, if you wanted me to be gone so badly, why didn’t you just let me leave?”

  He didn’t have an answer that made any sense. Their eyes locked—invisible fire shooting between them.

  She broke away.

  “Look, I’m a little out of sorts today,” she said after a few moments of quiet. “Normally, I play quite well with others. I thought it would be a great idea to have a place where I could connect with my fans and I thought it would be good exposure for the ranch too. Obviously, I was wrong. I certainly don’t want to be somewhere I’m not wanted.” She folded her lips together and turned around again, heading for the house.

  Holden dropped his shoulders in defeat. He hadn’t even made it to number two on his list. “You don’t want to break an old man’s heart now, do you?” he called after her.

  She stopped, one foot on the bottom step leading up to the house.

  He joined her at the bottom of the stairs, reaching out a hand to touch her—but he stopped before it connected and tucked it into his pocket instead.

  Silence passed between them, but as she started up the next step, he swallowed his pride.

  “Stay.”

  She tilted her head, but did not respond.

  What are you saying? The logical part of his brain—the only part he generally recognized—sent warning signals up like flares.

  If she stayed, everything could change and he didn’t know if he was ready for that.

  “Are you saying you want me to stay?” she asked, turning around and leaning against the base railing.

  He smiled—a genuine, intrigued smile.

  “Granddad would have my hide if I didn’t do everything in my power to talk you into it.”

  She smiled back, then pulled at the front of his old hoodie. “I didn’t bring a single appropriate thing to wear. Just look at me.” One of her bouncy curls had come loose from her ponytail.

  “I am.” Before he could think better of it, he uncharacteristically reached up, brushed the curl away from her eyes, and tucked it behind her ear. He’d never been particularly good with the ladies—not like his brothers—but he couldn’t stop himself from staring at her. He liked the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips.

  The color in her face deepened a shade. He liked it.

  She bit her lip, meeting his stare head-on.

  It may have been his undoing.

  “Why don’t we go on back up to the house and we can make a list of everything you want to do here. Now, and later. Then, I’ll drive you into town and we can get you some work clothes and better boots.”

  “A list?” She was teasing him and he knew it. “I’d like that. Thank you!”

  Chapter Four

  Jeans and a flannel shirt. Olivia guessed it was the closest uniform for outdoor work she would get to the comfort of her own writer’s attire—black comfy pants, a black t-shirt, and fuzzy socks of most any color. She glanced at the full-length mirror in the dressing room and evaluated her appearance from the front, then twisted around to judge what she could see of the back.

  She certainly wasn’t going to win any beauty contests, but the clothes were comfortable enough and, she hoped, warm. She took a deep breath before stepping out of the small room to where Holden sat patiently on a small white section of the couch that had been separated from the rest.

  When he looked up at her, he stood, setting down the magazine he’d been holding. He missed the table completely as he didn’t take his eyes off of her. Heat immediately rushed into her cheeks at his silent appraisal. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her like that.

  She and Jason had dated for nearly four years and she couldn’t ever remember him making her feel the way Holden Kane was making her feel at this very moment with nothing more than a simple glance.

  “What?” she asked when he didn’t say anything. She tugged lightly at the shirt where it was tucked into the low-riding waistband of the jeans. “Is it too cliché?”

  “Cliché is not the word I would use.” His voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat, shaking his head as if changing the direction of his thoughts. “You ready? We should probably be getting back.”

  Holden had traipsed with her through three clothing stores and the Bucket of Boots shop. Part of her felt guilty that she had taken him away from his work on the ranch, but another part—a bigger part—was grateful for his company and knowledge of work-appropriate western wear.

  “I just need to make a quick stop before we go,” Holden told her as they crossed the street toward the truck. “You can wait here,” he said after placing her bags in the backseat. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  She glanced across the boardwalk to the display behind the glass window and walked toward it to get a better look. A particularly interesting collection of wire-wrapped jewelry caught her attention. She’d dabbled for a short time in the art, but it had been a long while and she admired the time and effort put into the intricate designs by the artist.

  “Excuse me, ma’am…”

  Olivia turned to see a tall, handsome man with white hair dressed in jeans, a white denim button-down shirt, and a bolo tie. He looked oddly familiar.

  “…but aren’t you Miss Olivia Blake, the writer?”

  “Guilty,” she said with a smile. “I’m afraid you’ve got me at a disadvantage.”

  “Why, I’m Thaddeus C. Redbourne. But most folks just call me Tad.”

  “Redbourne? I thought you looked familiar. You had a horse foal this morning.” She extended her hand to his, which he immediately enclosed in his grasp.

  “That’s right. I can see now why Dad had to leave our meeting so quickly this morning. And why it was so hard to get him to come back—even when one of his favorite horses was in labor. You are one of the pertiest things I’ve seen in a long time. Isn’t she, son?” He pivoted slightly, letting go of her hand, and tapped the man behind him on the back.

  Olivia hadn’t even seen the stranger behind Mr. Redbourne unloading a cart stacked with boxes, but when he stood to his full height, he was hard to miss with his old, loose-fitting navy t-shirt and dark hair with eyes to match.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you…son?”

  He laughed loudly.

  “The pleasure, ma’am, is all mine.” The younger of the two men stepped forward and tipped his hat. “Wesley Redbourne, ma’am.”

  “Wesley.”

  “So, you’re the one Grayson’s been going on about all day. I can see why.”

  Were all of the Redbourne men so bold? And so handsome? Even the older men, were oozing sex appeal.

  “Wes. Uncle Tad.”

  Olivia nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Holden’s low, booming voice behind her.

  When had he returned?

  “I see you’ve both met our guest for the week at Silver Springs,” he said as he threw a large brown shopping bag into the backseat of the truck.

  “Grayson filled us in on everything.” Wesley smiled at Holden in an oddly conspiratorial way as he loaded his box into the back of his own truck.

  “Holden, do you have any idea who you’ve got here?” Tad asked his nephew, grabbing him by the shoulder and gesturing towards her. “Have you ever heard of Jack Irons, David Kellory, or Timothy Brandish?” he asked excitedly, naming off three of the most popular western writers ever. “She’s right up there with them, I’m telling you…”

  Olivia thought she might die. She loved to hear from her fans, sure, but this was verging on surreal. A real live cowboy was comparing her work to some of the greats. No pressure.

  “This one knows how to weave a tale that’ll get your heart pumping,” he continued. “Adventure, mystery, and romance, of course,” he added with a wink in her direction.

  Heat flooded her
cheeks and she didn’t dare look up at Holden.

  “Why, one night not too long ago, I didn’t get to sleep until the wee hours of the morning. Wouldn’t have been so bad, had the rooster waited a few more hours to tell me it was time for my chores.”

  “I remember that day. You fell asleep with your arms resting on the top of a shovel.” Wesley laughed. He turned to her. “Sounds like you’re quite talented, Miss Blake.”

  “You flatter me, Mr. Redbourne,” she told Holden’s uncle.

  “Nah, just saying it how it is. If I remember correctly, she also has a degree in business from Stanford and a masters in psychology, was it, from the University of Colorado.”

  “Is that so?” Holden asked.

  “It’s so.”

  Olivia nodded. He must have read the last bio that her publicist had put out on the website.

  “Smart, talented, beautiful—you’re one special gal, Miss Blake.”

  “Well, I’m glad you enjoy my books, Mr. Redbourne.” She needed to change the subject. “Do you all live around here?” she asked, suddenly wondering the odds of running into more of the Redbourne family.

  Wesley finished loading the last of his boxes and stepped over next to Holden, slinging his arm around her host’s shoulder.

  “There are eleven of us. Seven of us still live at SilverHawk—in our own homesteads, of course. Hasn’t my cousin here filled you in on how it all works?” He patted Holden’s chest.

  Eleven? If they all looked as good as these two, her retreats would sell out in minutes. Not that they’d been a part of the package. She looked at Holden, who adjusted the side of his glasses.

  “She’ll learn soon enough.” He stepped away from Wesley, slipping out from beneath his arm, walked the few steps back to his truck, and opened the passenger side door. “Granddad will be expecting us.”

  Where had the time gone? Olivia looked at her watch. Five o’clock. It had been too long since she’d eaten supper any earlier than seven or even eight. And usually, that consisted of something she could either throw in the oven or the crockpot without a lot of preparation, or take out from Mr. Chu’s.

  “Yeah, we have to get going too. Come on, Dad,” Wesley said, leaving the side door open as he ran around to the driver’s seat. “Be safe on your way home, Holden,” he said with a laugh and a wave.

  Before Olivia joined Holden, she took Tad by the hand and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “It’s been such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Redbourne,” she whispered with a smile and a light squeeze.

  “We’ll talk again soon,” he called after her. “Rest assured.”

  She slipped into Holden’s truck and he shut the door behind her.

  The ranch was only a few miles away from town and Olivia had a lot of questions. One thing was for certain, this trip was going to be a lot more interesting than she’d originally expected.

  Chapter Five

  Holden wanted to strangle Wes, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and twisted backward.

  “Exactly how big is SilverHawk?”

  The sound of Olivia’s voice penetrated his ponderings and he glanced over at the woman who, in one day, had made him question his plans and what it was he wanted from the ranch. From his life. He didn’t normally make decisions on a whim. He didn’t question tradition—a person didn’t throw away the hard work of others, he built on it and found ways to innovate better methods of doing things.

  “Wesley said you all have your own homesteads. I’m guessing Silver Springs is yours, but what did he mean about ‘how it all works?’”

  Her question was simple enough, but not easy to answer. He thought for a few moments on how he could respond most effectively. And it hit him.

  “SilverHawk is like one of your series’ of books. It represents the series title, but each individual book, or ranch in this case, has a separate title.” He dared a glance over at her.

  She looked forward, out the windshield, nodding her head.

  “Landon, Grayson, and I run Silver Springs and we work mostly with beef cattle. Uncle Tad, Wes, and his brother Micah run Silver Canyon. They breed horses. Then, the rest of our cousins are split between Silver Oak and Silver Creek. They focus on the dairy and farming aspects of ranch life respectively.”

  “That finally makes sense.” Her head bobbed up and down. “I didn’t understand on the way up here why all of the ranches had ‘silver’ in the title, but you’re all family.”

  “That’s right. We—”

  Thump. Thump. Thump. The low methodical sound was unmistakable.

  “I think your tire is flat,” Olivia told him as she strained against the window.

  Of course it is.

  Holden doubted it was a coincidence that they’d run into Wes in town and now they had a flat. Grayson must have filled their cousin in on the plan and he’d been more than happy to comply.

  Number five on the list—get stranded.

  He pulled the truck to a stop on the side of the road and hopped out to see the damage. It was flat all right. After a brief inspection, Holden determined that the valve cap had been tampered with and the air had been slowly leaking from the tire for what could have been hours. At least it didn’t look like there was any permanent damage to either of the tires.

  If he’d wanted to strangle Wes before, now the urge was ten-fold. The sun had dipped below the mountain and though there was still plenty of light, it was fading fast. He walked around to the side of the truck to the spare, but, to his chagrin, the spare had also been deflated.

  With a silent plea for patience, he reached into his pocket for his cell, but it wasn’t there. He’d left it sitting on the charger on the kitchen cabinet at home. He hung his head, wary of telling the city-slicker they’d have to walk the rest of the way.

  “Looks like we’re walking then,” Olivia said from behind him.

  He whipped around, surprised to see her standing there also examining the tires.

  “At least it’s a beautiful night,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “Besides, if we were in the nineteenth century, we wouldn’t have had a vehicle to ride in anyway. Right?” She sounded almost cheery. That surprised him.

  “Yeah, but horses didn’t generally get a flat either.”

  She looked up at him. “They…could…throw a shoe.”

  They both laughed. He liked that she could find something positive in the situation.

  “Come on,” he said. “It’ll be faster through here.” He pointed to the pasture on their left. “I’ll come back for the bags after supper.”

  He locked the doors, then grabbed her hand as they ran across the street. He liked the feel of her hand in his, so he didn’t let go until they reached the border of the Redbourne property-line. Holden watched as Olivia climbed up and over the fence without hesitation.

  He followed.

  “You’ve done this before,” he said with a hint of admiration.

  “I didn’t always live in the city. I grew up in a small town with plenty of fences to climb. It wasn’t on a ranch or anything, but our neighbors had horses. And a cow. They even let me milk her once.”

  “So, you’ve milked a cow too. Aren’t you just full of surprises?”

  She giggled.

  “Have you always wanted to be a rancher?”

  He’d asked himself that same question many times throughout the years.

  “Truth is, I’ve tried other things. I worked for a large architecture firm while I was going to school. I experimented in an engineering lab. I even taught a few adjunct classes at the local university, but each time my heart led me back to the ranch. I love it here.”

  “I can see why,” she said. “It’s so peaceful, and I don’t think you could paint a sunset more breathtaking than that.” She pointed to the western sky.

  “Of course, not, but I’d bet Landon could come close. He’s the artist in the family. Many of his photos have been displayed in magazines and gall
eries across the country.”

  “Landon is a photographer?”

  “Yes. You’ve seen some of his work displayed at the house.”

  “The photo of you looking out on the countryside.”

  “Yes. He calls that picture, ‘Contemplation.’”

  “He’s very talented. Of course, it helps to have a good subject,” she said, her smile reaching her lovely grey eyes.

  Holden stopped for a moment and just watched as Olivia continued to look at everything with child-like awe. He’d opened up to her and that was not something he did easily. What was it about her that made him want to impress her? To trust her? To—

  “Oh, fiddlesticks,” she blurted as she froze in her tracks and looked down.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as he caught up to her, laughing. No one used the word ‘fiddlesticks’ anymore, but it seemed fitting for an author of historical fiction.

  “I think I just stepped in…in cow poo.” She raised her hands up into the air and dropped them again. “It smells awful,” her nose scrunched, “and it’s all over my brand new boots.”

  Holden laughed again. “Well, I guess that’s one way to break them in. At least we got them waterproofed first.”

  “True.” Olivia resigned a laugh too. “But, can I just say, ewwww?”

  “Wipe them off in the grass. They’ll be fine.”

  “Easy for you to say, you’re not covered in Eau-de-Pew!” She bent down to remove the boot and he took a step forward to help steady her.

  Squish.

  “Ack.” Holden shook his head as his foot slid across another pile of dung. This was not his first rodeo. How had he missed that? Oh, yeah, he hadn’t. The last thing he needed to do was slip and fall on his backside in front of the lady.

  “HA!” Olivia burst out into laughter. “Don’t worry,” she said with a giggle lacing her voice, “just wipe them off in the grass. They’ll be fine.”