by Jeannie Watt
Lillie Jean closed her eyes, shutting out the dizzying white swirl, in an attempt to center herself. Acknowledge the strange circumstances in which she found herself.
You are in Montana.
You own half a ranch.
She opened her eyes to stare into the white again.
Your partner’s nephew is one attractive guy and you have no idea how to handle that attraction, because it’s going against everything your very logical brain is telling you. Do not get involved with your business partner.
He’s not a real partner.
Once bitten, twice shy, remember? This is where the shy part comes in.
It was...kind of. This morning in the tractor cab, she’d been so aware of how near Gus had been that she’d focused on her breathing to keep from focusing on him. She’d been nervous and jumpy, and if the ground hadn’t tried to freeze her from the bottom up, she might have chosen to walk back to the barn rather than to ride in the tractor. Although a lot of good that would have done, considering what had happened after the tractor ride.
She’d be in that darned cab every morning they fed the cows if she lived up to her word and pulled her own weight, which only seemed fair since she was living there and was essentially a joint owner. Which meant she was going to have to get a grip. Focus on other things—things that didn’t have high cheekbones, great lips and scruff on their jawline that begged to be touched. Because she wasn’t running again. Not just yet. She’d have problems no matter where she went, so for the time being she was going to dig in and confront the challenges before her.
She turned her back to the window, faced the bland beige walls. Thought about how much she did not want a bland beige life. She wanted color and excitement. She wanted to take charge, move forward. Stop running.
Lillie Jean crossed to the kitchen and leaned her shoulder on the doorjamb as she studied the small room. It could be cute. Really cute. Those white midcentury appliances cried out to be surrounded by warm colors and a fun motif. Cherries or lemons or chickens, maybe. No. No chickens. She’d stick with flowers or fruit.
You will? As in, you’re redoing the kitchen?
Why not?
She could start taking charge of her life by working on her creativity. Yes, she was having trouble sketching clothing, but she could design a kitchen. Make curtains, towels. Surely Gavin or some town close by had a place where she could purchase supplies and maybe a kitchen revamp would spur her forward, get her creative brain bubbling again. She’d start by giving herself a more colorful environment in which to create.
Lillie Jean bent down and scooped up Henry and turned in a circle. “What do you say, bud? Shall we take advantage of this place while we’re here? Lay a foundation, then transfer it to Texas? Show Andrew and anyone else who sticks their nose into our business that we’re on the comeback trail?”
It seemed like a perfect idea and would solve the problem of Kate’s insistence upon volunteering space in her small house until Lillie Jean got a job and settled elsewhere. Plus, she’d have all the peace and quiet she needed to get her creative juices flowing again.
Henry licked her nose and Lillie Jean laughed and turned another slow circle, waltzing her dog around the room.
“You’re right. It’s an excellent idea.”
She wasn’t about to commit to a life of freezing Montana cold—and obsessing over the guy next door—but the idea of staying until she got her mojo back was solid. She’d stay until it was time to go.
Or she sold her part of the ranch.
Whichever came first.
* * *
LILLIE JEAN WAS RIGHT—it was dumb to mix business and friendship. At least in their case, because even though they weren’t yet friends, he felt a crazy attraction to the woman. It only made sense that as a friendship grew, so would the attraction, unless he found out something heinous about Lillie Jean. Or unless she was like Madison, a secret control freak who sought to manipulate everyone around her into doing her bidding. It had taken Gus a while to figure out Madison. A couple wasted months of his life. He really hoped the woman stayed in Missoula.
Gus didn’t get anything close to a manipulative vibe from Lillie Jean. She was forthright in her answers. Told him straight-out that she planned to sell the ranch. Told him that she knew he’d asked her to stay so he could keep an eye on her. Had called him out on his jerky behavior when she’d first arrived, and when he’d suggested she was there to scam Thad, she’d been openly insulted and went on the offensive instead of trying to cajole him into believing her.
He was starting to like Lillie Jean. And he liked being around Lillie Jean, but he couldn’t let that get in the way of his objective, which was getting her to work with him in regard to the ranch, so he didn’t end up with some jerk of a rich partner. Carson Craig sprang to mind. How could he not after their recent run in? Carson had bought his way into ranching and was trying to manage a huge spread without a lick of experience. According to him, his experience in business better prepared him for running a ranch than actually living on, and working, the land.
Carson Craig was a tool.
The lights were on in Sal’s house and every now and again he saw a shadow move past the kitchen window, looking almost as if it was dancing. Was Lillie Jean cooking or trying to get rid of the musty smell with the cleaning supplies he’d seen lined up on the kitchen counter earlier? What else was she going to do all alone in that house, with only her dog for company, except clean?
And here he was, thinking about her again.
Gus turned away from the window.
One thing he’d learned in life was that it was difficult to regulate emotions. You couldn’t stop them, but you could manage them—that was the lesson Thad had taught him when he’d shown up on the ranch, angry at his father for dying and leaving him alone, angry at his mother for having a new family and not wanting to reclaim him. Yes, he was angry. No, he wasn’t allowed to rail against the world and be self-destructive. He was to take his anger out in a productive way—which turned out to be bull riding—while looking to the future.
In retrospect, it seemed that Thad’s knowledge of anger management came from firsthand experience. Lessons learned, and love lost.
Sad.
But Thad’s hard lessons were the reason they were in the position they were in today and, bottom line, Gus needed to come up with a way to give Lillie Jean what she needed without losing control of the ranch.
He poured a cup of coffee and headed to his office to fire up the computer. It was slow but steady, and he sipped from the mug as he waited for the screens to load. At this rate it might take a good part of the night to research various means to his ends, but the sooner he discovered his options—other than relying on Lillie Jean to not sell out to a jerk—the better off both he and Thad would be.
CHAPTER NINE
“DO YOU GET package delivery here on the ranch?”
Lillie Jean had waited until they were on their way back from fixing a long stretch of sagging fence before asking the question.
Gus had been giving her sidelong glances all day, as if suspicious of her sudden good mood, but she hadn’t felt like sharing the reason for her uplifted spirits. It was such a simple thing, really. She was redoing the kitchen. She’d even run the idea past him in the most casual of ways—Hey, I’m thinking of making curtains for the kitchen and painting—had received a That sounds good, and considered the matter settled.
“Of course we get package delivery.” He spoke in a tone that made her feel like a clueless suburbanite. Which, essentially, she was.
“Well, you’re kind of isolated,” she pointed out.
“Not that isolated. Are you ordering something?”
“I might order fabric for the curtains.” And she was going to have Kate ship her sewing machine, but telling him about the machine might make him think she planned to stay longer
than she was going to. No sense giving him false hope about her possibly keeping the ranch. As soon as she was back on her feet emotionally and creatively, she was heading to Texas.
“There’s a quilting place in Gavin.”
Lillie Jean perked up. “Yeah?”
He smiled at her reaction, almost as if he couldn’t help himself.
“On Main Street, a block down from the Shamrock. Annie Get Your Gun.”
He gave her a look from behind the steering wheel and she instantly gestured for him to turn his attention forward. It might have been her imagination, but it looked like his cheeks went red at her less than subtle hint to watch the road. She’d gently peeled off the adhesive suture the day before and, while she was certain she’d have a faint mark above her eyebrow for the rest of her life, the cut had healed well.
“I could take you to town,” he offered.
“Or I could go by myself.” The snow had melted off the road, so there was no reason she couldn’t go alone.
“Just stay out of mud puddles.”
“Ha. Ha.”
Lillie Jean grabbed the plastic hand loop above the door as they headed to a bumpy part of the field. After two days of fencing, she was becoming an old hand at keeping her balance in the truck when it hit ruts and rough patches.
She wasn’t doing so well convincing herself that Gus wasn’t all that attractive. He was, and she had to take care around him. A couple of times she’d been studying him as he worked—in an attempt to learn proper wire-stretching or hole-digging technique, of course—and he’d casually glanced up, caught her mid-stare. Both times she’d continued looking right through him, as if daydreaming, because to suddenly drop her gaze would be too much of a tell.
Why, when she was still recovering from the emotional wounds caused by Andrew’s betrayal, was she so drawn to this man?
She told herself that part of it had to do with him being a cowboy. Who wouldn’t be fascinated by a cowboy? Despite growing up in Texas, she’d never met a real one before—only the drugstore kind. The kind who bought straw hats that were already distressed. Gus’s hat was made of wool felt and every mark and scar on it told a tale of a long day doing some kind of manual labor. He had another hat hanging in the mudroom. A pristine chocolate-brown hat. Lillie Jean figured it was his dress hat, but she never asked because she was trying hard to keep things from getting too personal.
“I guess I better ask whether I should do my laundry in town, or if I can borrow your washing machine.”
“Will you pay me back?” he asked, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he spoke.
Smart aleck.
“I’ll give you a jar of peanut butter.” Even though she told herself not to engage in repartee, she kept doing it. And she also kept feeling that warm sensation when he smiled, as he was doing now, with his gaze glued to the track in front of him.
Oh yeah. He was good looking and fun to banter with. Deadly combination for someone doing her best to stay aloof.
Gus had not asked about her plans for the ranch once over the past two days. They’d worked together on the fence, then she’d gone back to an ecstatic Henry, who thought she really needed to spend her days with him, as she had when she’d been an owner of A Thread in Time. Henry had gone to work with her and had been quite popular with the customers. She imagined Henry missed his old life, too.
“Do you need me to get anything for you while I’m in town?” she asked as Gus parked near the barn. A polite offer to her ranch mate and nothing more.
The ranch mate pulled the keys out of the ignition and half turned toward her. She already knew what her reaction would be when he shifted his attention her way. She would look into his eyes, note that they were an amazing color. Then she would let her gaze slide over his long cheeks, try not to stare at his mouth and then fix back on his eyes—which were an amazing color.
“I’m good. I’m going to town myself. Tomorrow.”
“Ah.” Lillie Jean let herself out of the truck and started toward her house.
“Lillie Jean?” She stopped and turned. “Shoot me a text when you get there. I don’t know what condition the driveway is in after the weather.”
Good looking, fun to banter with, concerned about her safety. Lillie Jean gave a mental argh before saying, “Will do.”
The drive to town was long and thankfully uneventful. Lillie Jean skirted the puddles and the big car only slipped in the mud a few times, and other than that, all was well. She drove into Gavin and stopped at one of the two lights on the main street, picked up her phone and sent the text to Gus.
Duty completed, she set the phone back on her purse as the light turned green and drove on. It wasn’t hard to find the store Gus had told her about. Annie Get Your Gun had a funky retro storefront with a lot of glitz and color. Her kind of place.
Lillie Jean was greeted by the warm smell of potpourri and the equally warm smile of the dark-haired woman standing behind the counter arranging a vase of fresh flowers.
“Welcome to Annie Get Your Gun. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“Fabric?”
“This way.” The woman came out from behind the antique counter and led the way to a side room. Lillie Jean followed, taking a quick survey of the store as she walked. Jewelry, pottery, books, handiwork. Some of the antique furniture had price tags, and the artwork hung in every available space was original and unique. On the wall above the antique cash register was a glittered and bedazzled framed poster of Annie Oakley with her rifle across her knees.
Annie Get Your Gun.
Lillie Jean smiled to herself. The contents of this store were very different from those of A Thread in Time, but the two stores had a similar vibe, making her feel instantly at home.
“We have a lot of quilting cotton, a few bolts of batiste and lawn, some rayons and jersey knits. But mostly quilting stuff because our clientele are quilters.”
“I understand.” Lillie Jean stepped inside the room and turned a slow circle. There were antique dressers with quilts draped over the mirrors and patchwork aprons and other small items spilling out of the drawers. One entire wall was filled with bolts of fabric and a second had a decent collection of sewing supplies.
“My boss makes artisan quilts,” the woman said from behind Lillie Jean. “We started this room to show off her designs, but there was a local demand for fabric and classes, so we’re doing our best to meet the fabric demand. If we can manage to rent the second floor of this building, we’ll start classes.”
“How fun.” Lillie Jean started perusing the long row of fabrics, running her hand over each piece that caught her eye. This was high-end cotton, some crisp and bright, ready to add pop to a quilt design, and some soft and silky, more suitable for apparel.
Lillie Jean pulled out a slender bolt, medium blue with lemons and tiny white dots. Perfect for a fifties inspired dress—or better yet, kitchen curtains. And once she got curtains up, maybe then she’d stop staring out the window at Gus’s house and wondering what he was doing.
One could always hope.
“Do you have any more of this?” Lillie Jean asked.
“We only have the end of that bolt, but we can special order for you. Are you local?” The woman drew out the end of the question, not wanting to look as if she was prying, but curious about Lillie Jean, an obvious stranger in town.
“I’m staying on the H/H.”
The woman’s eyes lit up. “You must be the new partner.”
“I am the new partner.” Lillie Jean wondered what else the woman knew—or thought she knew—about her. “Lillie Jean Hardaway.”
“I’m Annie Delaney. You have a great accent. Texas, right?”
“Right.”
“Are you staying in the area long?”
“My plans are open-ended. After my grandfather died, I didn’t have much keeping me in Tex
as, so I decided to travel north and see the ranch firsthand. Gus and Thad invited me to stay awhile and—” she shrugged “—here I am.”
“Here you are,” the woman agreed. “You used to work in clothing design, right?”
Well, she’d certainly been the topic of conversation—probably in Thad’s pub. “I did. I’m between enterprises now.”
“We handle consignments if you have anything you’d like to display.”
“I have nothing at the moment.” And she wasn’t certain her work would fit in this cute little store. She made Western-inspired outfits for entertainers and Austin free spirits. The store vibe was right, but there wasn’t room for a clothing section, and Lillie Jean wasn’t interested in making small things to sell. “I tend to make statement garments. Things I can’t see the locals or tourists wearing.”
Annie gave an understanding nod. “If you do make something, we’d love to see your work, just to see it, you know.”
Lillie Jean smiled. “I’ll remember that. And I won’t be a stranger, because I’m going to need fabric for future projects and I like to touch it first.”
“Don’t we all,” Annie said on a laugh. “I have catalogs with actual samples. You can touch those and order.”
“Excellent. Right now, I’d like to order this lemon fabric and I’ll buy what’s left on the bolt.”
Annie took the fabric from Lillie Jean and headed for the measuring table. “I’ll give you twenty percent off since it’s the end of the bolt.”
Ten minutes later, Lillie Jean left Annie Get Your Gun with the blue lemony fabric in a glittery bag and a smile on her face. Community was an important thing in the art world and she felt as if she’d just found her Montana people. Henry turned a little circle on the front seat when she opened the car door, then put a paw on her lap.
“Yes. All is well,” she told the little dog. Better than well. For the first time since Andrew dropped his bombshell, breaking their engagement, she felt as if she was regaining control of her life. Moving forward under her own steam rather than being chased.