Maybe he’d turn it into a boarding stable. He understood how to run one of those, thanks to Lindsay. She’d had the business degree and he’d had the animal science degree. On paper it had seemed like the perfect match. Luke had reported that horse-care standards at the stable had fallen quickly after Nash had left.
The drive to the Triple G, which he’d already started thinking of as his, took freaking forever. He had time to decide what color he’d paint the barn—deep red—and whether he needed shutters on the ranch house windows. Probably not. He hoped that at least one of the corrals was solid, because he desperately wanted a couple of horses. Without horses, what kind of ranch was it, anyway?
When he finally pulled into the clearing, he saw that the recliner remained in the middle of the yard like an abstract chunk of modern art. At least it didn’t smell quite so bad now. Next he noticed four colored pots—red, yellow, blue and green—lined up on the front porch. Each was filled with an array of petunias, daisies and pansies.
He’d keep those pots and refill them every spring. It was amazing how flowers in pots classed up a place. Even the weathered gray boards on the porch looked better because of those flowers, almost as if the weathering had been left that way on purpose, for artistic effect.
After parking his truck next to her rented SUV, he started toward the front porch steps. She must have heard the engine, because she opened the screen door and came out. He almost didn’t recognize her.
This morning he’d thought she might clean up pretty good and be reasonably attractive. Time to reevaluate. She’d shot way past attractive and traveled straight on to beautiful.
Her glossy cap of dark hair curled around her ears and made him want to slide his fingers into that black silk to see if it felt as good as it looked. She probably had on makeup, but she was skilled enough for it to be invisible. That left her with a wholesome and very kissable face, big gray eyes and a sweetly rounded chin that begged to be cupped in one hand while he combed through her hair with the other. He could almost taste her lips.
She’d traded in the damaged suit for a ruffled white sleeveless blouse and gray capris. She wore sandals that showed off lavender toenails. He could eat her up with a spoon. But he’d thought of a great idea while he was driving here, and he should tell her what it was...just as soon as he remembered. Seeing her looking so sexy and approachable had made him forget everything else.
“You’re right on time.” She smiled, which warmed him in a way he hadn’t been warmed in a very long while.
“I was eager to leave.” Although his brain wasn’t working very well, his gift of gab seemed functional. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about the Last Chance Youth Program. It just started, and the place is overrun with wild adolescent boys.”
She shook her head. “I hadn’t heard, but what a cool idea. You don’t like kids?”
“Sure, in small numbers. Eight of them running around the ranch is...a lot.”
“They’ll be living there?”
“Until the middle of August. The idea is to take boys from troubled situations and give them a couple months of ranch life. With luck they’ll leave with a work ethic and maybe even some self-esteem.”
“I love it. If I were staying, I’d want to see if I could help.”
Nash grimaced. “Which makes me the guy with the bad attitude who’s griping about the mayhem involved.”
“Not at all. Not everybody’s in love with kids that age. You have a right not to be.”
He thought about that. “No, I don’t. I’m at the Last Chance because the folks there believe in giving both people and animals one more shot at success. That’s what this program is about, too, and I’m going to adjust my thinking.”
Taking a deep breath, he smiled at her. He’d love to compliment her on how nice she looked, but that might not be appropriate for the hired hand. “The flower pots sure spruce up the porch.”
“Thanks!” She seemed genuinely pleased. “I thought so, too. Hungry?”
Now there was a loaded question. “Sure am. Something smells really good.” He actually meant her, because she gave off a delicate scent that reminded him of plants that flowered only in moonlight. He’d learned about those while he’d lived in California.
But she’d think he was referring to the smell of food coming from the kitchen, and that was fine. They should keep their interaction platonic, or as close to platonic as they could manage given that they were both healthy and human. Looking at her in the soft light of early evening, he was feeling very human, indeed.
“It’s chicken,” she said. “Not very exciting, I’m afraid. Come on in.”
He followed close enough that he could hold the screen door for her and breathe in her night-blooming flower scent. “I don’t cook, so anything more than peanut butter and jelly is exciting to me.” He might be wise to stop talking about what excited him, since Bethany had chicken beat by a country mile.
“Don’t look at the living room,” she said as she walked quickly through it. “I haven’t had time to do much in here.”
“I bunk with a bunch of cowhands. You can’t shock me.” But he tried to honor her request and not notice that the room was shabby and unkempt. No liquor bottles were lying around, but the faint smell of whiskey lingered. Once you spilled liquor on carpet, the stink was hard to get out. Maybe she hadn’t needed much gasoline to light that recliner on fire, after all. He understood her fierce desire to haul it out of here.
The living room was separated from the dining room by French doors, and when she opened them, he walked from a miserable space into a joyous one. “Wow. You’ve been working hard.”
“You have no idea how I loved making at least one room in this house look the way it’s supposed to.”
He surveyed the flickering candles on the table and the sideboard, the flowered centerpiece, the white linen tablecloth and what had to be her mother’s best china, silverware and stemmed glasses. A modest crystal chandelier above the table sparkled and as the sun drifted lower in the sky, its rays shone through clean windows. He’d bet she’d washed the curtains, too.
“I can tell.” He gazed at her, touched by all the effort she’d made. “I’m honored to be your guest.”
She flushed. “I did it as much for me as for you. I wouldn’t want you to think that I was trying to...to create a romantic setting for some reason.”
“No, no, I’m sure you weren’t.” Damn. He hadn’t thought of that, but it would have been kind of nice if she had.
“I mean, for all I know you have a girlfriend, and I—”
“No girlfriend, but you’re headed off to Atlanta, where you may have a boyfriend.”
“No boyfriend, but I am headed off to Atlanta.” She gestured toward the festive table. “This was just a whim, to make the house seem a little bit happy again.”
“Right. I completely get that.” No boyfriend, but she wasn’t interested in pursuing anything with him. Okay. He should be relieved, because they had no business getting involved, but from the minute she’d stepped out on that porch, he’d found himself wishing that somehow they could...what?
He’d already had this talk with himself. It went against his moral code to get cozy with the woman who was paying him to make some quick repairs so she could sell the place. And that was when he finally remembered the idea he’d had driving in here.
Once he remembered, he had trouble not blurting it out, but that wouldn’t be the best way to approach such an important discussion. He should lead up to the topic. She had wineglasses on the table. Although he was opposed to drinking on the job, maybe tonight he should make an exception, because this idea might go better if it was presented over a glass of wine.
If she accepted his offer to buy the house, would that change the dynamic between them? Then he’d be a buyer, not an employee. His moral code might all
ow him to get cozy with the seller of the property he was purchasing. After all, why not? Because she might think that was a really bad plan, that was why not.
“Nash? Are you okay?”
He blinked and wondered how long he’d been standing there staring into space as if he had buckshot for brains. “I’m fine. Sorry. Got lost in thought for a minute.”
“I noticed. You looked a bit startled, and I hope this setting didn’t trigger a bad memory.”
“It’s not that at all.”
“Are you sure? Because I can blow out the candles and we can eat out on the front porch. It takes time to get over a divorce. Sometimes a situation will blindside you with memories, good or bad.”
“You’ve been divorced?”
“No, but I talked to plenty of divorced people back when I was working full-time as a counselor. I can tell it was a painful event. So if all this reminds you of something to do with your ex, then let’s—”
“Not at all. This is great.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m glad you like it. I put out the wineglasses automatically, but we don’t have to drink wine. You may not want to, considering that you’ll be working later.”
“Let’s have a glass of wine,” Nash said. “I’m a big guy, so one glass won’t put me under the table. And we should toast getting one room looking really good.” There, he’d finally managed to get them on a safe track.
She smiled. “That would be lovely. Stay right there. I’ll be back in a flash with the wine and the food.”
“I’ll help.” He started to follow her into the kitchen.
“No.” She turned so abruptly that he bumped into her.
Although she backed away immediately, his body still felt the imprint of hers—soft, yielding, delicious. He closed his hands into fists so he wouldn’t do something really stupid and reach for her.
She’d been affected by the accidental contact, too. Her pupils widened with awareness. She might be heading off to Atlanta, but that didn’t stop her from being attracted to him. That was gratifying.
She cleared her throat. “I don’t want you to come into the kitchen. I scrubbed it down, but it still isn’t very pretty. The dining room is, and I want to maintain the illusion.”
“Having you wait on me doesn’t seem right.”
“Humor me, okay?”
He relented, partly because she looked so incredibly beautiful standing there with the light from the chandelier sparkling in her eyes. He also realized that she’d encountered mostly ugliness when she’d walked into the house earlier today. If limiting his view to this dining room helped her cope, then he’d go along.
“All right,” he said. “But I refuse to sit down like some lord of the manor. I’ll stay standing until I can help you into your chair.”
She nodded. “It’s a good compromise.” With that she turned and walked over to the pocket door leading into the kitchen. “No peeking. Enjoy the sunset.”
Because he wanted to make her happy, he walked over to the set of two double-hung windows that faced southwest and watched an orange sun slide behind a bank of clouds. From here he could see a little bit of the Grand Tetons to his right. The house wasn’t angled to capitalize on a view of the majestic range. The best spot might be at the back, and he wondered if there was a porch out there.
If not, he’d add one. Ah, listen to him, talking in his head as if she’d already agreed to sell him the Triple G. But he couldn’t think why she wouldn’t.
Then a very logical reason came to him. Obviously making this dining room pretty again had been a labor of love. The crystal chandelier told him that at one time, someone, probably her mother, had tried to bring cheer into this house.
Now Bethany was attempting to do the same thing by rescuing the house, room by room. As she gradually removed the ugliness her father had created and replaced it with beauty, she might begin to love her old family home again. In the meantime Nash would improve the look of the outbuildings so they wouldn’t be depressing anymore, either.
Sure, Atlanta was a long way from Wyoming, but her decision to sell might be a knee-jerk reaction to her father’s neglect of the place followed by his undignified death. Once the house and outbuildings looked decent, though, she might decide to keep the ranch.
He still planned to ask if she’d sell it to him, but his conscience would require him to add that she could change her mind later. That was the right thing to do. But as he contemplated how this could turn out, his cherished dream began to crumble.
4
BETHANY HAD WONDERED if she and Nash would have anything to say to each other over dinner. Just because he was built like a Greek god didn’t mean that he could carry on a conversation. Turned out he was excellent at it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much during a meal.
They sat kitty-corner from each other at the large oval table. She’d arranged the place settings that way because it had seemed friendlier, and from the easy way they’d talked to each other during the meal, anyone might think they were old friends.
They reminisced about Jackson High School and teachers they’d had. They shared a lot of the same opinions about who had been great and who should have been fired. She discovered that Nash had a degree in animal science and they had a lively debate on the differences between animal psychology and people psychology.
“If animals could talk, we could settle this once and for all,” Bethany said. She took a sip of her wine and wondered why there was still so much left in her glass.
“Thank God they can’t!” Nash leaned back in his chair and picked up his glass, which was as full as hers. His plate was empty, though. “I lost my virginity in a barn. I’m sure the stallions would have razzed me about my technique if they’d been able to comment during the event. Plus I’d snuck out there with the school superintendent’s daughter, and naturally I didn’t want that information spread around. I could have been expelled.”
Picturing Nash having sex, even virginal sex, was having a predictable effect on her. She hoped he’d attribute her flush to the wine. She glanced at the bottle and discovered that it was empty. It dawned on her that Nash must have refilled their glasses at some point and she’d been having too much fun to notice.
“I hadn’t thought of animals being tattletales,” she said. “I guess it’s a good thing they can’t talk. I lost my virginity to my then-boyfriend when his parents weren’t home, and as I remember, there was a cat lying on his desk. She probably saw the whole thing.”
“Kinky.” He grinned at her. “Are you one of those women who likes having an audience?”
“No, I most certainly do not! It was a cat, not a person. And frankly, it sort of freaked me out when I noticed her staring at us.” She took another swallow of wine and realized she was feeling extremely mellow. And all this talk of sex was turning her on. “Do you like an audience?” If he did, that would help cool her off. She wasn’t into that.
Of course, she wasn’t supposed to be feeling hot in the first place. And she’d never bothered to record her long-term goal in her day planner, either. The double whammy of wine and sexy conversation made her wonder why boinking Nash would interfere with having her own television show someday. The extremely boinkable Nash Bledsoe was looking yummier by the minute.
“I prefer privacy when I’m making love to a woman.” His voice had lowered to a sexy drawl and his blue gaze held hers. “I don’t like the idea of being interrupted.”
Oh, Lordy. She could hardly breathe from wanting him. “Me, either.”
He put down his glass and leaned toward her. “I have a confession to make.”
“Me, too.”
“Okay, you first, then.”
She took another hefty swallow of wine, for courage. “You know when I claimed that this nice dinner wasn’t supposed to be roma
ntic?”
“Yeah.”
“I lied.”
“Oh, really?” His blue eyes darkened to navy. “Care to elaborate?”
“See, you were this out-of-reach senior back in high school, and I was a nerdy freshman, so when you showed up today, I thought about flirting with you because now I actually have the confidence to do that. But then you offered to help repair the place, so I couldn’t flirt with you. But I still thought you were really hot. We shouldn’t have sex, though. At least, I didn’t think so this morning, but then I fixed up the dining room, and I admit you were on my mind while I did that. So I think secretly I wanted it to be romantic. But I—”
“Do you always talk this much after two glasses of wine?” He’d moved even closer, bare inches away.
She could smell his shaving lotion. Then she realized what that meant. He’d shaved before coming over here. That was significant. “I didn’t have two full glasses.”
“I think you did.”
She glanced at her wineglass, which was now empty. Apparently she’d been babbling and drinking at the same time. “You poured me a second glass.” When he started to respond, she stopped him. “But that’s okay, because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be admitting to you that I want you so much that I almost can’t stand it, and you wouldn’t be looking at me as if you actually might be considering the idea of...”
“Of what?” He was within kissing distance.
“This.” She grabbed his face in both hands and planted one on that smiling mouth of his. And oh, it was glorious. Nash Bledsoe had the best mouth of any man she’d ever kissed. Once she’d made the initial contact, he took over, and before she quite realized it, he’d pulled her out of her chair and was drawing her away from the table.
“Bedroom,” he murmured between kisses. “Where is it?”
She thought fast, or as fast as the wine would allow. “Follow me.” She eased out of his arms and took his hand. “And don’t look at anything.”
“You’re all that I see.”
I Cross My Heart Page 4