The Cowboy's Perfect Match

by Cathy McDavid

  “You, by chance, need any help?” she said.

  “How good are you at running PVC?” That was next on his list when he finished digging the trench.

  “Not very.” She chuckled. “I was talking more along the lines of recommending vendors and maybe using my influence to get you a friend discount. I’ve been living in this town for more than thirty years. Ran the local inn for most of those. Oversaw the construction of the guest cabins on my ranch. I’m not without connections and construction experience.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Emily, and will likely take you up on it at some point.”

  “Who did you wind up using for the plumbing, if you don’t mind saying.”

  “Horizon Statewide. They seemed the easiest to work with, and their estimator had a few cost-saving ideas I liked.”

  “They’re a decent outfit. We used them for a big project at the inn five or six years ago. Make sure you get lien waivers from all their suppliers. If memory serves me, Horizon was a little slow cutting their checks. But the quality of their work is above standard.”

  “That’s good to know. Thanks.”

  “Don’t take this wrong.” Emily paused. “And if I offend you, I’m sorry, but have you ever considered taking on a partner for your house flipping?”

  “A partner? Like someone to share the work?”

  She shrugged. “That. Or investing money in exchange for a percentage of the profits.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to borrow money.”

  The added pressure of having a loan to repay wasn’t anything Ryan wanted or needed. He’d managed to purchase and fund all his house-flipping projects with the money he earned, either through work or when he sold at a profit.

  That was another valuable lesson his father had taught him: paying interest was like throwing money away. Despite always scrimping and saving, his parents had refused to borrow money. The only exception had been medical emergencies.

  “Not a loan in the strictest sense,” Emily clarified. “There’d be no regular payments. The money would be paid back when the property was sold. Along with a percentage of the profits.”

  No regular payments? That sounded too good to be true to Ryan. His father had words of wisdom on that subject, too.

  “I’ve always worked alone,” he said.

  “You haven’t had a major setback before.”

  He resisted. “I don’t like the idea of being indebted. It makes me feel like I’m a loser who can’t pay his own way.”

  “You should feel like a smart businessman. Successful people borrow money all the time for all kinds of reasons when the circumstances benefit them.”

  “If I were smart, I wouldn’t be in the position I am.”

  She ignored his self-deprecating remark. “Just think, with a surplus of cash, you could continue with the rest of the renovations rather than having to wait because you depleted your entire bankroll on the plumbing overhaul. And the sooner you finish, the sooner you can sell and pay back the investor.”

  “That would be great in a perfect world. In reality, things go wrong.” All he had to do was look at his current situation.

  “That’s the risk the investor takes. But if it pays off, both parties win.”

  “Who in their right mind would want to partner on a place that needs as much work as this one?”

  A twinkle lit Emily’s eyes. “You’d be surprised.”

  Ryan studied his boss, intrigued despite his better judgment. “What are you getting at?”

  She motioned toward the table and chairs. “Have a seat, and I’ll tell you.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  RYAN POURED HIMSELF and Emily glasses of cold water before joining her at the table. She thanked him and took a long swallow.

  He couldn’t help but harken back to the day he’d sat in these same chairs with Cheryl-Anne and discussed listing his house. He’d been optimistic then, convinced he would have a quick sale and see a decent return on his money. The sharp stab of regret still wounded him. Ryan wasn’t getting his hopes up again, regardless of how promising Emily’s suggestion sounded.

  “You know someone with a pile of cash lying around they have no good use for?” He took off his ball cap and hung it on the chair back, then used his fingers to comb his damp hair into a semblance of order.

  “As it happens, I do,” Emily said. “Me.”

  He barked a laugh. “Oh, I am not taking your money. Rest assured.”

  “Hear me out first.”

  “I don’t need charity.”

  Her eyebrows rose, and she seemed mildly offended. “I’m not offering any. I fully expect my investment to be repaid and then some. This is strictly a business proposition.”

  “Is it? Can you honestly say your offer has nothing to do with Bridget?”

  “I can say it, and I will. I love my granddaughter. I also know that she’s fully capable of landing a man on her own. She doesn’t need me buying one for her. And she’d be insulted you thought that of her. I’m insulted on her behalf.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply she can’t land a man. She could have any one she wants.”

  Emily nodded. “That’s more like it.”

  “But I’m sure you can see how I might jump to the conclusion you were attempting to get us back together.”

  “Possibly. If I had a vivid imagination, which I don’t.”

  Ryan remained unconvinced.

  “Think about it,” Emily said, apparently able to read his mind. “You see her every day at work. A reconciliation will either happen or it won’t. Nothing I do is going to have an impact one way or the other.” She gave an impatient huff. “You two are grown-ups. You need to work out your problems on your own.”

  “I was under the opinion we had. We agreed not to see each other.” Actually, he’d decided for them, and Bridget had gone along. Was that the same as agreeing?

  “Care to hear my opinion?” Emily asked.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  Ryan stretched his legs out in front of him. In addition to swapping his cowboy hat for a baseball cap, he’d traded his usual boots for athletic shoes more suitable for digging trenches.

  “Deep down, Bridget’s afraid to take a risk. Comes from her dad being killed in that automobile accident when she was fourteen.” Emily took another swallow of water. “That’s a lot for a teenaged girl to cope with. She’s built various shields around herself, such as pouring herself into her career and that infuriating list of hers. Much as she wants to get married and have a family, she’s still afraid.”

  “I don’t know what I can do to change that.”

  “Only solution I know of is to make her fall so deeply in love with you her desire for a life together is stronger than her fear of losing that life.”

  “I would if I could, trust me.”

  “Which brings us to your problem. You lack faith in yourself, Ryan.”

  He laughed again, this time with genuine mirth. “Me? You’ve got to be kidding. My middle name is risk-taker.”

  “When the odds are in your favor, yes. When they aren’t, the very first thing you do is turn tail and run.”

  “I’m here. I’m dealing with the plumbing problem. I’m not running.”

  “I was referring to you and Bridget.” Emily released a long breath. “Just as well, I suppose. I wouldn’t want her to wind up with a man unwilling to fight for her.”

  He grimaced. “Yikes, lady. You don’t pull any punches.”

  “Not when it comes to the people I care about.”

  “You’re not entirely wrong about me,” he admitted, manning up.

  “Oh, I think I pretty much hit the nail on the head.”

  “Guess I’m going to have to think on that, too.”

  “While you are, let’s get back to our partnership.”


  He evaluated her carefully. “You’re assuming an awful lot.”

  “Forget that I’m your boss and grandmother to the woman you’re crazy about.”

  She’d hit a second nail on the head. Ryan was crazy about Bridget.

  “I’m talking to you about a partnership only because I’m an astute business person and I think this property has a lot of potential.”

  Ryan had always thought that, too. Until he didn’t.

  “You invested all your money in Sweetheart Ranch. Bridget told me.”

  “Did she now?” Emily’s tone conveyed her amusement. “I wasn’t aware she had such intimate knowledge of my personal finances.”

  “I assumed you told her.”

  “I did no such thing. The fact is—and neither of my granddaughters are aware of this—I set aside a sizeable reserve of money before we opened last fall. I wanted to have a cushion should we fail or grow at a slower rate than hoped for. As it turns out, we’re doing well. Better than I dreamed of. I don’t need the reserve anymore.”

  “That could change. The economy is a mean, tricky beast who shows no mercy.”

  Ryan paid close attention, particularly how it related to the real-estate market and property values. He was no expert, but neither was he a novice.

  “I hope you’ll have long sold this place and repaid me before the next economic upheaval.”

  “It’s too chancy,” Ryan said. “Even if I was inclined to borrow money from my boss.”

  “Not borrowing money. Entering into a partnership. There’s a big difference.” She grabbed a piece of scrap paper from the table and a pen. “Let’s assume money isn’t an object and the plumbing overhaul is finished in a month. Is that doable?”

  “It’ll take a month, once the work’s started.”

  She scribbled down notes and numbers. “How long after that until the remaining renovations are complete? Again, assuming money isn’t an object.”

  “Minimum a year, if I hustle and all goes well. But I may not need to do the renovations. The buyer said he’d reconsider his offer to purchase if the plumbing was overhauled.”

  “Even better.” Emily’s smile grew. “Best case, you can sell the property in a month. Worst case, a year. What price do you think you can get for each different scenario?”

  Ryan told her. Emily made three columns on the paper. When she was done, she tilted it toward him.

  “This is how much I’m prepared to invest in our partnership. This is what I’d expect in return when you sell, in a month, a year and eighteen months.”

  “What if the sale takes longer?”

  “We can put a schedule in the agreement, which I’ll secure with a deed of trust. I’ll also have the attorney we use for the ranch draw up an agreement. Make everything legal.”

  Emily was clearly experienced and nobody’s fool.

  Ryan’s gut tightened at the prospect of owing a substantial sum to someone, especially his boss and Bridget’s grandmother.

  “I don’t know...”

  “It can be a good deal for both of us,” she said. “I wouldn’t risk my money at this stage in my life if I wasn’t confident of a return.”

  “I still need to think about it.”

  “Of course. Take your time. Get back to me in, say, three days?”

  Definitely nobody’s fool. She was savvy enough to put a time limit on her offer, and a short one at that.

  “Fair enough.” He stood and picked up the scrap of paper. “Can I keep this?”

  “Please do. And don’t hesitate to call me with any questions.”

  Even her farewell had a decidedly business ring to it.

  “I won’t.”

  Ryan walked her outside to her car. She chatted about the new guests arriving this afternoon and the weddings scheduled for the weekend, as if they hadn’t just been discussing a business proposition that could potentially change the course of his life.

  “Can I ask a favor?” he said before she got in her car.

  “What’s that?”

  “More of a question, I guess. Are you going to tell Bridget about our conversation?”

  “I’m not. I will tell Homer—he’s my husband. But for the time being, this will remain between us. I’d also like you to keep it that way until, and unless, I say otherwise.”

  “Not a problem.” He wasn’t ready to advertise that Emily had offered to lend him money. Invest in a partnership with him, he amended, trying the idea on for size.

  Once she’d pulled onto the road, Ryan went back inside and hunted down his cell phone. Finding it on the table, he dialed Cheryl-Anne’s number and waited for the call to go through.

  She answered promptly. “Hi, Ryan.”

  He didn’t beat around the bush and told her about Emily’s proposition. She was silent the entire time, listening.

  “What do you think?” he asked when he was done.

  “It almost sounds too good to be true.”

  “My feelings exactly.”

  “But it’s well worth considering.” A beat of silence passed. “I’d worry a bit about the personal-relationship aspect. She is your employer. If things went south,” she continued, “you might lose your job and even the property.”

  That wouldn’t happen. Ryan would go into debt first.

  “Is there a balloon payment?” Cheryl-Anne asked.

  “It wasn’t mentioned.”

  “I’d find out.” She raised a few more good points, then said, “Investment partnerships aren’t uncommon. I have a number of clients involved in them, including our buyer.”

  “Interesting.”

  Ryan still wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he hung up from the real-estate agent. But doing nothing wasn’t the answer, either.

  He placed two calls while fixing himself a quick lunch—first to an old team-roping buddy who worked as a financial advisor for a bank and next to his older brother, whose advice he trusted. Neither person answered, and Ryan left messages.

  It was a long afternoon of waiting until they got back to him, and he took to heart what they each had to say.

  * * *

  “THE SHELVES WILL work well for displaying products.” Grandma Em stood back and rubbed her chin, evaluating the library’s built-in bookcases.

  “I agree.” Bridget made a note in her tablet.

  “We can put the checkout here.” Molly drew an invisible circle to the right of the doorway. “I think we should use that antique desk in the guest bedroom upstairs.”

  “Good idea.” Grandma Em retrieved a tape measure from the small stand beside the wingback reading chair. Giving one end of the tape measure to Molly, she motioned for her to walk it to the other end of the room. “We’ll need a table and chairs for customers to sit and view catalogs and samples. I think the one we’re storing in the carriage-house loft will fit.”

  When Molly reached her designated spot, Grandma Em looked at the tape measure and called out the number of feet and inches to Bridget, who recorded them in her tablet.

  The three of them had spent the last twenty minutes inspecting the library from top to bottom and brainstorming ideas for converting it into a small wedding boutique. They weren’t ready to proceed until after the June wedding rush, which started in just three days. The ranch had a record number of ceremonies scheduled, beating out their previous record from Valentine’s Day. They had eight weddings on one Saturday alone, including a midnight ceremony taking place outside on the veranda and two sunrise ceremonies with mimosas being served at the reception.

  Grandma Em was having trouble saying no to anyone who asked. She felt that a June wedding was the dream of many brides, and she was determined to make that dream a reality if at all possible.

  The money rolling in wasn’t bad, either. Molly had reported the ranch’s second-quarter earnings to date
were far exceeding projections.

  Which made affording expansions like the wedding boutique and the additional staff necessary to operate it possible. Especially if they used as many items on hand as possible to furnish and decorate the boutique.

  A record number of weddings also meant a record number of catered receptions. Personally speaking, Bridget was grateful. Being swamped every waking moment helped her to not dwell at length on Ryan and how much she missed him.

  She supposed that sounded silly; she saw him and talked to him multiple times a day. But they both went out of their way to keep those interactions pleasant and professional. Nothing personal or intimate or that hinted at the fact they’d once contemplated a future together.

  What else did she expect? That he’d suddenly reverse his thinking? That she would? Not likely. His circumstances had yet to change and wouldn’t for a year or more.

  For weeks now, Ryan had been consumed with the property renovations. She’d heard this from Nora, not him. He’d green-lighted the plumbing overhaul and work had recently begun. Bridget assumed he’d used the bulk of his available funds to finance it. She’d seen his truck one afternoon in the bank parking lot on her way through town.

  Also according to Nora, he was continuing with the interior renovations. He’d hired Nora’s oldest grandson to help him install the ceiling beams in the living room and master bedroom.

  She wondered how they looked. Really nice, she supposed. She supposed, too, that he must be living very frugally as he’d yet to land a second job. Bridget had frequently witnessed him and Grandma Em in quiet conversation, after which she’d slip him some food. He’d always refuse but then ultimately accept the paper sack or plastic container.

  Bridget swallowed a painful lump in her throat. Missing what she and Ryan had previously shared topped a long, sad list.

  List. How she hated the word. If not for her nonnegotiable dating one, she and Ryan wouldn’t be nursing broken hearts. More than once these past few weeks she’d considered deleting the list from her tablet. She’d gone so far as to hold her finger over the delete button, only to chicken out at the last second.