Through the Mist (Gold Valley Romance Book 3)

by Liz Isaacson

  He reached for the phone and she released it to him. “Has a swimming pool and everything.” He stared at the screen, a definitive look of longing on his face. He wiped it away when he looked at her. “It’s been in their family for generations. The father died. I’m just looking right now, and the price is a bit high.”

  “The place has sentimental value,” she said.

  “To them,” he said.

  “You have two million dollars to buy a place like that?” She immediately regretted asking. Every wall and shutter Landon possessed flew into place, and his eyes disappeared under his hat’s brim again.

  “Should we get started?” he asked, which meant, yes, I have two million dollars.

  And of course he did. He’d won tons of rodeos. Had only been out of the circuit for five years.

  “If you want,” she said, a dose of poison in her tone.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you probably have a flight to book, and laundry to do, and bags to pack if you’re going out of town tomorrow.” Megan drew her shoulders back and took a deep breath for strength. She was tired of feeling weak around Landon. Sure, she liked him, but she didn’t want to forever be cowed by his presence. “And since you can’t really start today anyway, what’s the point?”

  She stared right back and him when he leveled his gaze at her. “So if you’ll excuse—”

  “I’m starving,” he blurted. “Want to go to lunch?”

  She blinked. Blink, blink, ba-blink. “It’s ten-thirty.”

  “Yeah, well, I get up at five-thirty and eat breakfast by six. Lunch comes early for me.” The way he watched her undid every nerve ending in her body.

  “Okay,” she said. “But you have to tell me something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why are you buying a horse ranch in the middle of Utah?” She stepped past him and his stormy expression. “You can tell me anytime before you drop me back here. I just need my purse.”

  And she walked away from him, something she thought she’d never do. She may have even added an extra swish to her hips, hoping he was watching. Hoping he’d still be in the parking lot when she came back out.

  6

  Megan took precious seconds to apply a fresh layer of lip gloss and make sure her curls were cooperating before clicking her way back down the hall and out of the church. She had time for a meal with Landon; she was only going to try to find an excuse to stay with him while he worked today anyway. At least until three o’clock when George Milner came by about the gardening club.

  Thankfully, and with a whoosh of relief, Megan found Landon leaning against the passenger door of his huge, gray truck. He’d moved it right up to the curb where they’d been talking, and he pushed to standing as she approached.

  “Ready?” she asked, cocking one hip and putting her hand on it.

  He raked his eyes from the top of her head to her heels and back. “I’m not entirely sure if I’m ready, but let’s go.” He stepped to open her door for her, leaving her to wonder what that meant.

  “You don’t want to go to lunch?” she asked as she squeezed past him. “You’re the one who suggested it.”

  “I want to go to lunch.” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed cotton and a couple of pieces had gotten lodged in his throat.

  She turned back to him and found herself trapped in the narrow alley between his body, the door, and the truck itself. “Then what—?”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for you.” The intensity in his words sent surprise through her, and if she were being honest, a little bit of fear too.

  Employing that brave side, drawing out that woman who walked away from Landon Edmunds, Megan said, “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” She tossed him a bright smile and climbed onto the leather seat in his truck—which for Megan, wearing a pencil skirt and heels, was quite the feat. Heat licked her cheeks as she pulled her skirt into place, hoping he hadn’t seen too much skin. A quick look in his direction revealed his smile—and a hint of redness in his face. So he’d seen. And he wasn’t entirely upset about it.

  Satisfaction sang through her as he hurried around the front of the truck and climbed in the driver’s seat.

  “Where do you wanna go?” he asked as he stuffed the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life and settled into a purr. Megan had never ridden in such a nice vehicle. Most cowboys drove semi-broken down trucks. Mister Two Million clearly had enough money to pay for cars too.

  “It’s ten-thirty,” she repeated. “I have no opinion.” She giggled and adjusted the air conditioning so it blew on her. “You choose.”

  “What do you like?”

  She exhaled as she thought. “Well, I am a sucker for a burger….”

  “A woman after my own heart.” He buckled his seat belt and flipped the truck into drive. “So, Megan. What have you been up to since high school?”

  Oh, how she wanted to tell him. Tell him everything and see if he’d still want to take her to lunch at ten-thirty every morning. At the same time, she wanted to bottle up everything that had happened over the past twelve years and keep them to herself.

  She didn’t quite trust herself to tell him the right things. She didn’t quite trust herself to even be in the truck with him. She hadn’t quite gotten over Eric, but she knew she needed to.

  “Wow, that’s a hard question,” she said with a light laugh. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out where to start, what to say, what not to say.

  Her brain landed on one thought: If you want to have a real relationship with him, tell him the truth.

  “I went to college for a while,” she said. “Didn’t graduate. Started working a lot. Time passes, and here I am.” She didn’t have to start with the biggest item to be telling the truth.

  “That’s it?”

  “My life is pretty vanilla.”

  He slid her a glance. “I don’t believe that.” He turned away before she could determine the emotion in his eyes. “I remember you being fun and popular. The real life of the party.”

  “Well, that party ended a long time ago.” Megan wasn’t upset about it. She had always been positive, upbeat, a glass-half-full type of girl. So Eric had darkened that glass a little. Didn’t mean she still didn’t see the good in people, in herself.

  But she certainly wasn’t exciting enough for a rodeo champion.

  “Ever been married?” he asked, his voice guarded.

  Megan’s stomach twisted but settled quickly. “No.”

  “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

  She twisted and stared at him. “Landon Edmunds. Do you think I’d go to lunch with you if I had a boyfriend?” She huffed and faced the front. “What kind of preacher’s daughter do you think I am?”

  His knuckles tightened on the wheel. “I sense you don’t like bein’ called the preacher’s daughter.”

  “It’s not my favorite, no.”

  “Noted,” he said, like they’d be spending a lot more time together. But a four-letter-word that started with U and ended with -tah said differently. “What else did you do?”

  She told herself that he might hate the ranch in Utah. Just because he was going to look didn’t mean he’d drop a cool two-mill on the place tomorrow. Heck, she’d done tons of looking at shoes, at furniture, at houses, without buying.

  “Watched you ride bulls for a few years.” She tossed him what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. She’d been with Eric for so long, she wasn’t even sure she remembered how to flirt.

  “Oh yeah?” He didn’t seem like it was strange she’d followed his rodeo career. At the same time, she didn’t want to be one of those women.

  She shrugged. “Yeah, you know. If I happened to be flipping through the channels.”

  Landon didn’t answer, and Megan’s nerves rioted at her to say something! But she didn’t know what. She knew what he’d done with his life, but as they approached downtown Gold Valley, she realized she knew very little about him personally.


  “What do you like?” she asked. “If I was driving and I asked you where to go, what would be your favorite?”

  “I like anything I can put between two slices of bread.”

  “Ah, a sandwich king.”

  “I just need a crown.” He tapped the brim of his cowboy hat with a chuckle.

  She found him regal enough, but she clamped her lips around the words and asked him another question.

  Lunch with Megan became Landon’s favorite event of the week. She was easy to talk to, easy to look at, easy to consider starting something with. He had a tri-tip sandwich while she stuck to her request and ordered a bacon cheeseburger—no onions.

  He liked the lilt of her voice. He liked the way she kept smoothing down her curls, like she was trying to iron them out. He liked the way her left eye crinkled more than her right when she smiled and laughed. He liked making her smile and laugh.

  They lingered over coffee, and Landon wished he didn’t need to get back to his place and book a flight, but that he could follow her back to the church, strap on his tool belt, and ask her to stay nearby as he sanded something.

  Eventually, though, he stretched and said, “Well, should we go?”

  She flipped her phone over and checked the screen. “Oh, wow, it’s almost two o’clock.”

  Landon grinned as he stood and threw some bills on the table. “We had fun, right?”

  “Landon.” She stared at the money. “That’s too much.”

  He looked at the three twenties. “It’s fine.”

  “You already paid with your card.” Her round eyes met his. “You can’t leave a sixty-dollar tip.” She whispered the last part, and Landon lifted his arm and tucked her into his side. A powerful zing shot down his spine and jolted out his boot tips.

  “Sure I can,” he said. “We sat here for almost four hours. He could’ve probably had three tables in that time.” He glanced over his shoulder as he steered her toward the exit, but he didn’t see the waiter. “Besides, I like to tip well. Someone who’s working the lunch shift in a restaurant isn’t there for fun.”

  They stepped into the heat. “Landon—”

  He dropped his arm, though he’d like to keep her close, maybe bring her closer. “Look, Megan, this isn’t going to be a thing, is it?”

  She blinked those long lashes at him, and he had a mental fantasy about them tickling his face just before he kissed her. He shook himself and reminded himself that he was annoyed at her obvious preoccupation with his money.

  So he had money. Big deal. She said she’d watched him bull ride on TV. Surely she knew he’d won. A lot.

  “Is it?” he asked again. “Because if so, maybe you should find someone else to help you with the church.”

  She shook her head. “No, of course not,” she said. “I won’t bring it up again.”

  Landon stepped toward his truck so he wouldn’t reach for her again. “Thanks.”

  “Okay.” Megan darted in front of him, causing him to pause in his stride. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just—” She glanced over her shoulder. “I just have to get used to that. My last—I mean—my ex—” She pressed her eyes closed, but curiosity burned through Landon.

  He held his questions though. He didn’t need to ask her everything on the first date. His shoulders jumped when he realized he’d just considered himself dating Megan.

  No, he told himself. You just went to lunch with an old friend.

  But the thought of another man asking her out, taking her to dinner, holding her hand, made his gut writhe in a way that spoke of jealousy. He definitely wouldn’t like that.

  “I’m going to Utah to look at a horse ranch, because I’ve been thinking about training horses for the rodeo,” he said.

  Her eyes popped open, and she searched his for more. He wasn’t sure if she found it, and she’d examined him a few times over their meal too. He didn’t necessarily dislike it, but he wondered what she was thinking, what she was looking for.

  “That’s the kind of change you need?” she asked.

  He sighed, reached for her hand, and threaded his fingers through hers. “I don’t really know. That’s the problem.” He tugged her gently toward the truck and helped her up. He didn’t mind waiting and watching her climb into his truck in that tight skirt, and he once again wondered what he was doing.

  Holding her hand? Putting his arm around her? Thinking about kissing her?

  And going to Utah.

  He dropped her off at the church with the promise that he’d call her from Utah and drove back to the ranch. He couldn’t make sense of how he felt. Couldn’t figure out what holes existed in his life and how he could fill them. Couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.

  Help me have a clear mind, he prayed as he entered his cabin and settled in front of his laptop. He really wanted to saddle up Crossfire and get out under the sky that always cleared his head.

  But first, he needed to book a flight to Utah and start a load of laundry. Then he could ride his horse and find a way through this mist in his mind.

  7

  Landon clicked his tongue and pulled on the reins to get Crossfire to enter the stream. For some reason, the horse always balked at water, despite Landon’s training. The animal shuffled sideways, and Landon said, “C’mon.”

  Finally, in Crossfire went, and water splashed onto Landon’s chaps. The leather protected him from the wetness, and he kept the reins tight as Crossfire continued through the stream to the other side.

  The ponderosa pines brought him comfort. He loved the way they stood sentinel over the savannah, how they grew straight and tall into the expansive sky above. Landon kept his focus on the ground, scanning for rattlesnakes. They loved to come out onto the dirt and sun themselves at this time of year, and the last thing he needed was Crossfire getting spooked by a snake.

  He could watch and think at the same time. He felt like the Lord had answered his prayer, because everything seemed clearer than it had before. Maybe because he wasn’t being influenced by the scent of jasmine and the beautiful smile of a kind soul.

  Landon felt more like himself in the saddle than anywhere else. He took a deep breath, expanding his lungs until he thought they’d burst. As he slowly exhaled, he decided that yes, he wanted to go to Utah. He needed to explore all the options available to him.

  At the same time, he wanted to work on the church—and see if he could have something meaningful with Megan. He didn’t need to move to Utah right away. The horse ranch was already vacant. It could sit until he was ready to move. And he might not even like it. He might hate the weather in Utah, or the homestead, or the fact that the mountains there weren’t the same. He didn’t know, and that was why he needed to go.

  Crossfire stutter-stepped, and Landon pulled him up short. “What is it, boy?” He searched for the source of the horse’s agitation but couldn’t see anything. Faintly, as though blown to him on the wind, the distinct sound of a rattle reached Landon’s ears. He swung the horse around and they retraced their steps at a much faster clip. He noticed the moment Crossfire settled down, because the horse slowed back to his lazy clop-clop, his head bobbing with each step. He entered the stream with only a slight hiccup this time, and Landon pointed him toward the upper fields he’d planted earlier this week.

  The wind brought welcome relief to the blazing sun, and with every step closer to the ranch, Crossfire moved faster. The dinner bell was ringing as Landon came within range of Horseshoe Home’s homestead. Gloria, the matron of the ranch, didn’t make supper every evening, but tonight she stood on the deck, chiming the bell for all she was worth.

  Cowboys streamed from the barns and their cabins, and the unique scent of grilled hamburgers lifted into the air and met Landon’s nose. He pulled Crossfire to a stop so he could watch the activity on the ranch.

  A sense of contentment swept over him. He’d been at Horseshoe Home for five years. He loved it here—well, maybe not in the winter. He had friends here, men he could count on.
He felt like if he left, he’d miss Montana, miss the ranch, miss the other cowboys.

  Doesn’t mean there’s not something better for you out there. He urged Crossfire back into a walk and hurried through brushing him down so he could go eat with his ranch family.

  The next day, his plane touched down in Rock Springs, Wyoming, just after noon. He rented an SUV and got on the road. He had a two-hour drive ahead of him, if he could find his way through all the small towns and forests to the right spot.

  By hour three, he wondered if he should’ve just booked a flight to Salt Lake City. He’d thought Rock Springs would be closer to Brush Creek, but as he navigated himself into Vernal, he wasn’t so sure.

  The horse ranch sat northwest from Vernal, and he’d have to make the forty-five-minute drive every time he needed groceries or gas or anything. After he’d retired from the rodeo circuit, he’d thought a thirty-minute drive from Horseshoe Home Ranch to Gold Valley was torture. And by the time he climbed from the SUV in his hotel parking lot, he wasn’t sure he could stomach such a long drive just to get to civilization.

  At the same time, being so far from everything and everyone sounded heavenly.

  By the time he showed up at Brush Creek Ranch, Utah had charmed him. It was hotter than Montana, but he loved the old town feel of Vernal, and he didn’t mind the drive up into the Uinta Mountains to the quaint town of Brush Creek.

  He’d passed a grocery store and a gas station in town, and that had soothed his worries about driving so far just to get staples.

  He got out of the SUV and looked around at the gorgeous mountains. He’d arrived before Shelly, the real estate agent he was meeting.

  The house looked like a log cabin. An upscale log cabin. The yard boasted of professional landscaping, with grass so green he wondered if the water rights had all been used on the lawn.