by Liz Isaacson
His pulse seemed to start with the pleadings, every beat pushing out a please-please. Help-me. Please-Lord.
Scarlett marched down the road, Hudson matching her stride for stride. “There’s a couple of trucks,” she said. “Four cars, and that’s all in the main yard. There’s tractors and stuff in the equipment shed, though Sawyer says those run okay.”
“And do they?” he asked.
“I don’t really know,” she said. “I think everything around here needs a lot of attention and a good cleaning, the vehicles included.” She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye that he wasn’t sure if it was a glare or just a glance. “I’ve only been here for two weeks, and Gramps…well, Gramps is eighty-one-years-old, and a hoarder.”
Compassion ran through Hudson. She was stepping into a situation she couldn’t control. And making the best of it. Hudson had some experience with that, and he knew what kind of grit and determined spirit a person had to possess to do it.
“There they are,” she said, going around the corner of the house and stopping.
He paused too and took in the row of vehicles in front of him. The trucks were old—older than him, and maybe as old as her grandpa. If he could get those running, they’d fetch a lot of money.
The cars seemed to be old sedans, nothing important or all that note-worthy. But if they ran, and the upholstery was in good shape, he could get a few thousand for them. People bought cars like that for their teenagers all the time.
The numbers added up in his head, and he’d take fifty percent if she’d give it to him. He said, “Those cars aren’t worth anything. The trucks, maybe. Seventy-thirty.”
“Sixty-forty.”
“For me?”
“For you.”
Hudson peered at the row of vehicles like he was really thinking about it. Several long moments passed, and then he said, “Deal.”
She turned toward him, that long dark red hair swinging in its ponytail. “Deal.” She extended her hand and he took it, ignoring the fizz of attraction now simmering in his bloodstream.
They shook hands, and she said, “I’ll get the paperwork drawn up. Do you want to see the cabin?”
An hour later, Hudson filled Hound’s bowl with fresh, cold water from the hose on the side of his new cabin. He left the dog to drink as he went up the back steps and into the cabin Scarlett had let him choose for himself.
There were thirteen almost identical cabins here at Last Chance Ranch, and he’d chosen the one in the corner of the U-shaped arrangement. It had a bigger yard for Hound, and a row of huge oak trees along the grass that would shade his place from the setting Western sun.
“Thank you,” he whispered to the empty room, the kitchen on his right, dining room on his left, and living room in front of him. The cabin was a box, with a hallway that led to a bedroom and a bathroom on the other side of the kitchen. So not somewhere he’d live and raise a family, but for him and Hound, it was perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
It had running water, which meant he could shower every day. A washing machine and dryer took up space in the bathroom, which meant he could wash his clothes whenever he wanted. There was a single couch in the living room, a table with two chairs in the dining room, and a bed, so he didn’t have to live in the back of his truck with the camper shell anymore.
His was full-size, and he could stand up almost all the way right in the doorway. If he wasn’t so tall, he’d be fine. His bed sat at the back of the truck bed, and he passed a kitchen with a microwave, sink, and two-burner stove on his left to get to the bed. He had plenty of storage for his stuff, and a bench he could sit on to put on his boots. But no toilet. The shower had a twenty-gallon tank that stayed hot when he decided to use it. He also had a built-in heater and air conditioner in the shell. Not that he needed the temperature regulators in May in California. He had used the heater a few times on rainy days in the winter, especially farther north.
He’d been eating a lot of microwaveable meals and canned foods, already prepared things like granola bars and bags of chips, and as he gazed at the full-sized stove and oven in the kitchen of this cabin, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
He could cook. He could do laundry. He could bathe. Hudson had never been happier, and he bent to retrieve his backpack so he could get out his charger, plug in his phone, and get it powered up while he showered. Then he’d call his brother Brent and tell him all about the stray dog that had provided him the opportunity to be proud of himself again.
After all, in the course of the last couple of hours, he’d gotten a job. A place to live that wasn’t on wheels. And a pretty redhead who kept popping up in his mind’s eye, despite her frosty reception of him.
He frowned into the warm spray of the shower—his best bath in months, by the way. He wasn’t looking for another girlfriend. His heart and life had been through the shredder lately, and he just needed something stable to figure out how to be the new Hudson now that he wasn’t part of a couple.
The past year had been one of great learning for him, but it was mostly how to be by himself. He wasn’t sure who he was without Jan, or how to be that person in a permanent place. It was easier to be a good person and be kind when he was just passing through.
Now, though, he’d have to figure out how to be kind and good and Christ-like when he saw the same people day after day.
Refreshed from his shower, he went out to his truck and got his welding tools together, determined to get his first job on this ranch complete. When he opened the front door, he found Scarlett coming up the steps with an older gentleman on her arm.
With her eyes down, she didn’t see him immediately, so he said, “Hey, let me help.” He moved to help her grandfather up the steps, and the old man looked up with pale blue, watery eyes.
“Gramps wanted to meet you,” Scarlett said. “He said Scooby is his favorite dog, and he’s just so grateful you found him and brought him back.” Her voice carried a measure of sarcasm and she rolled her eyes halfway when Hudson looked at her.
“Oh, it was no problem,” Hudson said, his kindest voice employed. He smiled at Scarlett and then her grandpa. “I’m just glad I found where he belonged.” He looped his hand through the old man’s arm too and steadied him as he moved up the steps.
“Gramps, this is Hudson Flannigan. He’s going to fix up all the vehicles on the ranch.” She beamed at her grandfather and then Hudson, the brightness of her smile fading a bit when their eyes locked.
But for Hudson, his whole soul lit up like a solar flare, and he had a hard time tearing his eyes from hers.
“Good, good,” her grandfather said. “That lawn mower stopped working a few weeks ago, too. Maybe he could look at that.”
“I could,” Hudson said as a feeling that he’d just signed on for a heck of a lot more than he’d thought. This ranch needed a lot of work—it was called Last Chance Ranch, after all. And Hudson definitely felt like he was on his last chance.
Chapter 3
Watching Hudson interact with Gramps was entirely unfair. He talked with him like they’d known each other for years, not just a few minutes. And they used words she didn’t understand the meaning of, like “carburetor” and “late-model Ford.”
Why couldn’t they just speak English? Why did Hudson have to be so handsome in that cowboy hat? Why did his cologne have to fire up every dormant female cell in her body?
Scarlett had argued with Gramps for fifteen minutes before giving in and driving him over to what she’d dubbed the Community. Well, Hudson was the only member so far, but Sawyer was planning to move into one of the cabins instead of commuting from nearby Pasadena. And Adele lived here now, though not over in these cabins.
She figured if she gave Gramps what he wanted in regard to meeting Hudson, next time she wanted to throw away something he claimed he needed, she could use this to get rid of it. She didn’t want to hurt her grandfather, but the pile of items they could sell was growing and growing, and they needed
the money.
Hudson served ice water and offered her and Gramps granola bars. Scarlett declined, and not just because oats and honey went straight to her hips. She didn’t want to eat in front of Hudson yet, her insecurities about her plus-sized body rearing their ugly heads.
Of course he’s not interested in you, her mind whispered to her as they made small talk. Gramps fell asleep within minutes, leaving Hudson talking to himself and Scarlett trying to figure out what emotion she’d seen in his eyes as they’d come up the steps.
“So where are you from?” he asked, lifting his water glass to his lips.
“LA,” she said. “Well, really a bit south of there. Newport Beach. My parents live there still. I worked as a marketing executive at a firm in LA for a long time before coming here.” She pressed her lips together, thinking the granola bar would’ve stopped her from spewing so much about herself in a single breath. “You?” she squeaked out, realizing she knew absolutely nothing about this man. He could be an axe murderer for all she knew, and she’d just hired him and given him a place to live.
“My shop was in Santa Monica,” he said.
“Oh, right on the coast.”
“Yes.” He seemed to be experiencing the smell and splash of the ocean as he stared at something past her. Then he shook himself and said, “It did well for a lot of years.”
“So why don’t you have it anymore?” Scarlett shot a glance at her still-snoozing grandpa. She really didn’t have time to sit on this lumpy couch and make small talk. But she couldn’t get herself to leave.
“I sold it after the divorce,” he said, taking another long drink of water.
“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She watched him, and he looked sorry too for about a second.
“Yes, well, I didn’t want to be cheated on again.” Pain definitely crossed his face this time, and Scarlett wondered how long it had been since the divorce. But she wasn’t going to ask.
“I’m divorced too,” she blurted, wishing she could suck the words back in. “It’s been going on for about three years now, and was just finalized about four months ago.” She heard the discomfort in her own voice, but she couldn’t erase it. Didn’t even know how.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It sounds like it didn’t go well.”
“We fought over our dogs,” she said. “That’s why it took so long.” She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep the perfect storm of emotions inside.
“No fighting in mine,” he said. “Jan had already moved in with her other boyfriend by the time I filed.”
Surprise filled Scarlett, and she didn’t know what to say. “Some people suck,” she said, which caused Hudson to chuckle.
“Yes,” he said, smiling. “Some people do.” He leaned forward in the chair he’d brought in from the dining room. “You’re not one of them, are you, Scarlett?”
The way he said her name made her want to do nothing but sit on this couch and talk with him. Which meant she had to get up and leave. Now.
“I try not to be,” she said, thinking of the red brick church Gramps had dragged her to the past couple of Sundays. Why couldn’t she get herself to stand up and go?
“Me too,” Hudson said. “I was going to go get started on that mailbox, but I’m pretty tired.” He hooked his thumb at Gramps. “So maybe I’ll just stay here and nap with him. Bring him back when he wakes up?”
He was offering her a way out, and part of Scarlett didn’t want to take it. Another part did, so she scooted to the edge of the couch and stood up. “That would be great. He lives in the eastern-most cabin behind the homestead.”
“Are you in the homestead?” Hudson asked, following her to the front door.
“That’s right,” she said.
“And it’s just me, you, Gramps, and Sawyer.”
“And my friend Adele,” Scarlett said. “She lives next door to Gramps. I’m going to be hiring more people. We’re doing okay with what we have, but we need help.” She looked at him, thinking maybe he knew people who needed a job.
“So five humans. Sixteen horses. A bunch of dogs. I saw goats too, and I definitely smelled pigs,” he said.
“And don’t forget the cats and the llamas,” Scarlett said. “There are over one hundred animals here at Last Chance Ranch. I’m trying to get Forever Friends to name us a rescue ranch so we can get some funding.”
Something like disbelief crossed his rugged face, which was now clean-shaven. Scarlett almost reached up and slid her fingers down his smooth skin, stopping herself at the last moment. Definitely time to go.
With the heat of the sun on her back, she stepped out of his house. “How about I get your number so I can come get Gramps?”
“Oh, I’ll just bring him back when he wakes up.” Hudson smiled like he was trying to save her the trouble. Maybe he didn’t want to give her his number. His way of saying, No thanks, but nice try.
“He won’t wake up until morning,” Scarlett said, her voice a bit harder now. “So I’ll just come down in an hour and get him.” She turned and shaded her eyes against the setting sun. “It’ll still be light then.”
Scarlett went down the steps and tossed a, “Thanks Hudson,” over her shoulder as she practically sprinted away from his house. Well, her house. The cabin on the ranch, which she now owned.
The weight of the world seemed to press into her shoulders as she walked down the road and turned to go down another one. Five cabins lined this street, with a grassy area across from them. Even if she could get enough cowboys to fill these cabins, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get caught up with the work that needed to be done here.
She banished the defeating thoughts and told herself to focus on the positive. Focus on what she could control, not what she couldn’t. Gramps took care of the dogs. Adele took care of the goats and the cats. Sawyer took care of the horses and cattle, leaving Scarlett to the llamas and pigs—which felt about right, actually.
So Hudson would focus on the vehicles, and as the summer continued day by day, bit by bit, Scarlett would get Last Chance Ranch up and running, if it was the last thing she did.
Because she needed just one more chance. Please, Lord, she prayed as she turned toward the homestead. “Everyone here just needs one last chance….”
From dogs, to llamas, to humans, this ranch provided a small piece of safety and security when they couldn’t find it anywhere else. At least Scarlett wanted it to, and she made a mental to-do list as she walked.
First up? Email Jewel Nightingale at Forever Friends again.
“I don’t know, Adele,” Scarlett said the next morning, stirring another spoonful of sugar into her coffee. In the city, she’d rarely drank the stuff, but since coming to the ranch, she found she needed more than tea to make it through the day.
But when that sun room was finished, she was definitely going to sit there and bask in the golden warmth of the day, tea cup in her hand. That day was not today, and she had eleven potbellied pigs waiting for their breakfast.
“But you emailed her again, right?” Adele sat at the bar, her own coffee cup in front of her, both hands wrapped around it like it was cold that day. Which it wasn’t. Her straight, chin-length hair wouldn’t go into a ponytail, and not for lack of trying.
“Yes.” Scarlett sighed. “I emailed her again, and I called and left a message last night. It was after five, though.” She shrugged and looked at her friend. “I hired a guy to fix the cars in the yard.”
“Great,” she said without missing a beat. “Maybe he can look at my car too. It’s making that pinging sound again.”
“What are you planning on with the goats?” Scarlett asked, and Adele opened her mouth to answer. All at once, she snapped her lips closed again.
“You almost got me.”
“I sure did.” Scarlett smiled and sipped her coffee. “And you go down to town entirely too much. What are you buying down there?”
“Groceries,” Adele said evasively.
“Groce
ries?” Scarlett didn’t take her eyes from her best friend. “Honey, I know we like to eat, but nobody eats that much.”
Adele laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear, where it would just pop back out in a few seconds. “Hey, I’ve lost twelve pounds since coming to the middle of nowhere.”
It was Scarlett’s turn to laugh, and she did, loudly and for several seconds. “Adele, this isn’t the middle of nowhere. It’s five minutes down the road to a gas station.”
“A dirt road,” Adele said. “And you look like you’ve lost some weight too.”
“Ten pounds,” Scarlett said. “I haven’t dropped a jean size though.”
“So this new guy…does he like curvy women?”
“I have no idea,” Scarlett said. “I barely got his name. He said he owned a car shop in Santa Monica, and I was like, ‘you’re hired.’ I need those cars off the lawn, and we need the money to feed the billions of animals here.”
Adele scoffed. “So you’re telling me this man isn’t good looking?”
“I don’t know,” Scarlett said again. “And besides, I’m not looking for a date.” Her memory flashed back to last night when he wouldn’t give her his phone number. When she’d gone back to get Gramps, the exchange had happened quickly as Hudson had been on the phone. His brother. Whatever. Scarlett had brothers too, thank you very much.
“Are you looking for a date?” Scarlett asked, her eyebrows going up. “Want me to introduce you?”
She watched as Adele wrestled with herself, the battle lasting only a few moments before she said, “No, of course not.”
“I mean, Hudson’s definitely better than Jackson.”
“I’m not looking for a date,” Adele said. “Period.”
“Good. Neither am I,” Scarlett said. “That’s why we came up here, isn’t it?” A sliver of doubt passed through her, and Scarlett didn’t like them. So Hudson was handsome. Devilishly handsome. With facial hair and without. With that dark cowboy hat and without. So he smelled good. Oh, so good. Didn’t mean she wanted a taste of him.