by Pam Crooks
She bent and pulled the lever located at the base of the driver’s seat. The trunk popped open.
Beau hefted her suitcases, one in each hand. She grabbed her new leather tote bag, her one and only splurge for the trip out here, and slammed the trunk shut. She followed him to the door, which he opened easily, as if he weren’t already carrying packed-to-the-max luggage.
“I happen to like quiet,” she said.
“You say that now.” He went inside.
“Are you trying to scare me?”
“Just telling you how it is, Ava.”
He set the luggage down. Exasperated, she tucked her hair behind her ear and vowed to prove him wrong any chance she got.
She dropped her tote bag and purse next to her suitcases and swept a curious glance around her. A double bed and dresser, a small couch, table and two chairs. Stove and refrigerator. The tiniest of bathrooms.
That was it, but something in her heart squeezed. The simplicity of the one-room house spoke to her, if not for its charm then for its utter lack of pretentiousness, and wasn’t that a nice change of pace from the steel and concrete and high-rise apartments she was accustomed to seeing in New York City?
“I love it,” she breathed.
A mason jar on the dining table held a bouquet of wildflowers. Her mind riffled through the research she’d done on native flora in Texas and identified the variety as Indian blanket. She touched the vibrant red petals, edged in yellow, to see if they were real. They were. “So pretty.”
“My mother gets all the credit. She cleaned the cabin up, decorated it.” He strode to the refrigerator, pulled out two beers. “She wanted Erin—and now you—to be happy here.”
Ava warmed. “I like your mother.”
He twisted the cap off one of the bottles and handed it to her. “She’s a good person. As good as they get.”
“At least we agree on something.” She tilted the bottle back and drank, relishing the cold brew sliding down her throat.
Uncapping his own bottle, he leaned back against the counter, pulled off his sunglasses, and laid them next to the kitchen sink. “We don’t agree on you being here, Ava.”
Slowly, she lowered the bottle. “Excuse me?”
“My father, my brothers, and me. We’re against this whole ghost town project. Have been from the beginning.”
“Oh?”
“The Blackstone is no place for a tourist attraction. It’ll just be a damned circus out here.”
“Seems to me that’s a discussion you need to have with your mother.”
“Believe me, I have.” His jaw cocked. “The ghost town is sitting on three hundred acres. Bet no one told you those acres are supposed to be mine, did they? The land was promised to me before I enlisted in the military. By the time I came home, my mother had her own ideas about what to do with those acres.”
Her brow arched. “What would you do with a ghost town?”
“Sell it. I have interest from a couple of buyers. Immediate cash is better than the uncertainty of cash coming in for the long term. No one knows if a resort with a ghost town theme will even succeed. If I sell, we can grow the Paxton herd into the size it once was, modernize technology, and pull our operation out of the Dark Ages. I’ll make the Blackstone Ranch the dynasty it has always been meant to be. And that’s just for starters.”
“But your mother doesn’t agree.”
“Not even remotely. She’s always been one to coil her own rope.” Only then did he lift his bottle to drink; above the rolled bandanna, the tanned column of his throat moved with each swallow.
Ava glanced away. Wasn’t fair a man drinking a beer should be that sexy, especially one who resented her so much.
He lowered the half-empty bottle, pursed his lips into a frown. “I’m not giving up,” he said. “There’s still time to sell. You being here won’t change that.”
Enthusiasm for this little house, Erin’s ghost town project, Texas, evaporated like a collapsed balloon, taking the wind right out of Ava’s lungs.
She stood very still. The promise she made to her friend circled in her head like water in a drain. She couldn’t let this project fail. If Beau succeeded in selling, Erin’s dream would fall apart. All the months of her hard work, planning, and dedication to achieve Ginny Paxton’s dream would be for nothing.
Ava never expected resistance from this cowboy whose family stood to benefit from the venture for years to come. The potential for success was evident. The novelty of a western-themed vacation spot would make the perfect getaway for city dwellers. But Beau didn’t agree, and he made sure she knew it. He left her scrambling for the calm she needed to think, to fight back.
“So, if you disagree with your mother’s plans, Beau Paxton, what’s your next plan of attack?” she asked coolly.
The line of his jaw turned hard, his gray eyes darkening like flint. “To send you packing back to New York.”
Chapter Three
Her swift intake of breath warned Beau of the resistance he’d be up against.
“I’ve no intention of going anywhere anytime soon,” she said, her head lifting, like a filly fighting the bit. “I take my obligation here quite seriously.”
He guessed her age was mid- to upper-twenties. She wore her short, blond hair parted on the side and tucked behind one ear; a pink T-shirt outlined small breasts and a narrow waist. She was all legs under her khaki shorts, the skin pale but muscles toned. Might be she was a runner to have legs smooth and toned like that. Curved just right. Flip-flops rode on her feet, and the tips of her toes were painted a dark pink.
Four years in Special Forces taught him to commit details to memory after a single glance, and when it came to Ava Howell, he intended to remember every one.
She warmed his blood.
Considering her situation here at the Blackstone, one he intended to end, that wasn’t good.
He took his time answering, filling in the moments with a couple more swigs of beer.
“You leave a job behind to come here?” he asked. “Or is my mother’s project it?”
The slight flaring of her nostrils indicated he’d hit a sore spot.
“Of course I have a job,” she said. “It came with my degree in construction management. A very good job, I might add.”
His brow arched. “I’m impressed.”
“Well, you should be,” she retorted. “It took years of hard work interning in a very male-dominated industry to learn what I know. And it didn’t come from sitting behind a desk.”
He nodded. Slowly. So she was a go-getter. Not afraid to buck the norm. Smart, too. Beau had worked construction on and off the ranch, both while growing up and during his time in the military. Most crews didn’t welcome a woman among them or have much respect for one, either. At least, not at first. They’d think of her as a lightweight, unskilled, or uninformed to the intricacies of building.
Ava, evidently, had convinced them otherwise. She’d proven herself. No small feat, and he had to hand it to her.
“Now that you’ve convinced me you’re good at what you do, you’ve also convinced me your boss wouldn’t let you just up and leave for what—oh, three months or so? During the summer, no less. The construction industry’s busiest time of year.”
She glared at him.
Bingo. “Which means you either gave up that very good job of yours to come out here to fill in for Erin, or you’re not sure your job will still be there when you go back.” Now that he’d zeroed in for the kill, he took some grim satisfaction in the slight paling in her cheeks. “Tell me I’m right.”
“If you think I’m going to give you more ammunition to pressure me into going home, you’re wrong, Beau. You’re dead wrong.” Several long strides took her to the door; she clasped the knob, then apparently thought better of turning it. She spun toward him. “When was the last time you saw Erin anyway?”
He had to think fast to deflect her new line of attack. “Not sure.”
“She told me it’d been y
ears.”
“Long way from New York to Texas,” he said, unapologetic.
“Then you wouldn’t know how much doing this ghost town project for her aunt meant to her.”
He shrugged. “Nope. Besides a paycheck, I reckon.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.” She huffed, her dander up good. “And maybe you’re too damned stubborn to know how much it means to your own mother.”
“I know exactly how much it means to her,” he grated.
“Then you’re being entirely selfish and stubborn to fight her on it.”
“Drop it, Ava.” He’d underestimated the fight in her, this city girl who was showing every sign of turning his plans upside down and inside out. “None of your business.”
“None of my—how can you say that?” Her jaw dropped. “I’m here! Which makes it every bit of my business. Have you ever made a promise to someone?”
He refused to rise to her bait. Clenched his teeth instead.
“Well, I have. To your cousin, Erin, in fact. Who made a promise to your mother, and I fully intend to honor my promise to Erin until my job here is done.”
Her chest heaved from the outburst.
A highly noble one at that, one he might have applauded if he weren’t on the wrong side of the argument.
Beau knew when he was licked.
Best to cut his losses now, before she skewered him to a stake, set him on fire, and left him to burn.
He finished off the beer in one terse gulp and tossed the bottle into a new white trash can, tucked alongside the refrigerator. He snatched his sunglasses off the counter.
“I think we’ve locked horns enough for one day, Ava. You need anything? Because if you don’t, I’m heading out.”
She yanked open the door. “I don’t need anything from you.”
“Fine.”
He stepped onto the porch, which wasn’t much more than a postage-stamp-sized wooden landing, until a sudden thought stopped him. He ran his fingers over his hip pocket, finding it, not unexpectedly, empty.
“I forgot your key,” he said.
She glanced down at the shiny new doorknob.
“I’ll run up to the Big House and get it,” he added.
“Don’t bother. I can get it tomorrow. From Ginny.”
It took some effort to let her jibe roll off him. That she intended to avoid him stung more than he cared to admit.
“Just figured you’d want to lock up tonight,” he drawled low. “Since you didn’t lock your car this afternoon.”
She angled her face away with a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “That was pretty stupid of me, wasn’t it?” She peered up at him, her mouth a pucker. “I’m from New York. I should’ve known better. My mind was on other things, I guess.”
“No one in Paxton Springs locks up, either,” he said, gentler. “Difference was, today you got caught. Lousy timing that kid showed up when he did.”
“Wasn’t it?” She blew out a breath. “I never thanked you for getting my money back. You saved me. You have no idea.”
“Glad I was there.”
“Me, too.”
Her hushed admission moved something in his chest. Made him want her to need him again, just so he could take away all the bad in her world and turn them right.
Her hero.
But her needing him was not a good idea, considering he didn’t want her here in the first place. He couldn’t forget that. Ava Howell didn’t belong on the Blackstone Ranch. Her big-city skills didn’t fit in with his plans.
Not even close.
Beau took a step toward his pickup. “My mother figured you’d want security when you’re away from the cabin, so she had the new lock put in. You’ll be fine for the night until you get the key from her.”
“I’m sure I will.”
She hesitated, as if she were about to say something but thought better of it. In the end, she pushed the door closed, leaving him standing here, staring at it, with nothing else to do but head back to the Big House with his dog beside him and his thoughts in a jumble.
*
“He hates me, Luce.”
Holding her cell phone to her ear, Ava lay sprawled barefoot on the bed, one knee drawn up, and the other leg crossed over, foot swinging.
“What? Who hates you?” Lucienne sounded properly shocked, the way one’s best friend did when one needed some serious girl-friendly commiseration.
“Beau Paxton.”
“How can he hate you when he went through all the trouble to chase down that kid and get your purse back?”
“That was before he knew I was working for his mother.”
“Hmm. So what does he have against the ghost town project?”
“He wants to sell the land instead.”
“Well, he’ll just have to get over it. It’s not his name on the contract.”
“I have a feeling he’ll be a formidable enemy.”
“Enemy?” Lucienne laughed. “That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it? Unless there’s something else about him you haven’t mentioned.”
His image leapt into Ava’s mind—square-jaw, gray eyes, hair a little too long on his collar. Just tall enough that she had to tilt her head back to see him. Shoulders broad and muscles hard and a voice that could reach through her and make her toes curl…
“Only that he’s the sexiest cowboy I’ve ever seen,” Ava muttered.
“How many sexy cowboys have you seen in your lifetime?” Lucienne sounded amused.
“I’m telling you, Luce. He holds the corner on the market.”
She purred in appreciation. “And he has a twin, right?”
“Brock. Older brother named Jace. Neither of whom I’ve met, but I can only assume…”
Lucienne purred again, this time like an aroused tigress, and Ava burst out laughing.
Lucienne always made her feel better.
Ava recrossed her legs. “If nothing else, his mother is a doll. She fixed up this adorable cottage for me.” Ava gazed around the room in continued appreciation, lingering on the window valances, each appliqued with a Texas star. “They call them cabins out here.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
Ava sighed. “How much longer before you can get here?”
“I don’t know. My contract with the clinic goes for another couple of months, and my replacement hasn’t given me her decision yet. But she will soon, or I’ll camp out in her office until she does.”
Lucienne had earned her degree as a nurse practitioner and worked in a thriving medical office in New York City, but it was her minor in interior design that Erin depended on for the ghost town project.
Like Ava, it wouldn’t be easy for Lucienne to step aside from her job and put her hard-won career on hold, but she was determined to find a way.
That’s what girlfriends did for one another.
“You won’t be ready for me to start on the decorating for a while yet, anyway. I’ll get there as soon as I can, but until I do, you’ll be so busy building, you won’t have time to think of me,” Lucienne said quietly.
“Ha.”
“Just think of that sexy cowboy instead.”
“He needs to realize I’m working for his mother, and she’s not selling,” she said firmly.
“Good luck, Ava.”
They disconnected, and Ava stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
Where Beau Paxton was concerned, she would need all the luck she could get.
*
Beau drove up to the Quonset hut, the big metal building used as the ranch’s machine shop, and parked next to Brock’s white pickup. As usual, the overhead door was up, revealing workbenches heaped with a couple of generations’ worth of tools and power equipment. The shop was the busiest and most well-equipped part of their spread. Something always needed fixing.
Brock walked out, holding a can of lubricant and a screwdriver. He dropped the tailgate to his pickup, a Ford F-150 just like Beau’s, and bent over the latch.
“What’s
up, Bro’?” Beau asked, making sure Gunner was out before he shut the truck’s door. The Lab trotted toward a bucket of water sitting in the shade.
“Latch not working right. Takes a hard slam to get the gate to close.”
Beau added his inspection to the problem. “Lubing it good should do it.”
“I’ll be pissed if I have to order a part. Truck’s still new.” Brock set to work removing a large plate.
“I’m heading over to the Big House.” Beau gestured toward their parents’ home a short walk from the shop. “Expecting a phone call.”
“Wouldn’t be from Nash, would it?”
Beau’s interest sharpened. “Did he call?”
“Yeah. I was there when it came in.”
Nash Connor, Paxton Springs’ deputy, always used the landline when he needed to get ahold of a Paxton. He claimed that way was more dependable than cell phones. Considering coverage was spotty on the ranch, everyone else did the same.
Brock straightened. “He told me about the kid who took that lady’s purse.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “Dad said she was a real looker.”
Beau scowled and ignored a sudden spike of heat through his blood. “She’s taking over for Erin.”
“So I heard.” His twin sobered. “Now that she’s here, things are going to start happening out there at the ghost town. You know that, right? We don’t have a buyer yet.”
“Don’t remind me. I’m working on it.” Time was spinning away from him, for sure. “What did Nash say?”
Brock shrugged. “Wants to talk to you directly. Said he has some info on the kid’s family.”
Beau admitted to some mild curiosity but not much else. As far as he was concerned, since Ava had her purse and money back, the attempted theft was old news. “The kid didn’t have ID with him but said he was from the northern part of the county. Parents divorced. Nash did a check with the NCIC. Nothing showed up.” If there was past history of criminal activity on the kid or if he’d been reported as a runaway, it’d be in the National Crime Information Center database. “Nash gave him a warning, and the kid called his brother for a ride home. The brother showed up, and they took off. Nothing else Nash could do. Ava didn’t want to press charges.”