Forgotten Hearts: Dunblair Ridge Series Book One

by Sloan Archer

  Maybe he should cool it with the physical contact until he was sure.

  Such uncertainty was frustrating to Cash. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling lost in the dark when it came to the opposite sex. Usually it was the other way around. They chased him while he got to sit back and play coy. But, with Vanessa, he felt like he was clumsily groping his way toward the light. It was unnerving, yet also wonderfully exhilarating, he realized.

  “So, what are we having?” Vanessa asked. “Whatever it is, it smells delicious.”

  “You hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “Good. We’re having rib eye steak, rosemary mashed potatoes, green beans with citrus butter, and warm peppercorn parmesan bread.”

  “Oh my . . . Yum.” She placed a hand on her hip. “Let me guess, it’s all from right here on this ranch?”

  “Yes ma’am. Well, everything but the bread. I picked that up earlier at a bakery downtown. Rommel’s? It’s kind of what they’re known for—their pepper parm bread—so I thought you might like to try it.”

  “You thought right, my friend.”

  “And I have a couple of wines for you to choose from,” he said, showing her the bottles that he’d placed on a table nearby.

  Vanessa selected cabernet, and then Cash instructed her to take a seat while he finished up in the kitchen and poured her wine. Each time he brought out a new dish, she oooh and ahhhed appropriately. Cash was satisfied with all the work he’d put in to preparing the meal—it did smell delicious. It had been a long time since he’d cooked so grandiosely for anyone, particularly a woman he was trying to woo. Years. But Vanessa was worth it. She’d also had a rough couple of months, so he was happy to make her feel pampered. She deserved nothing but the best, and he was more than prepared to give it to her.

  They made polite chitchat as they tucked in to their meal, some of it centered around the renovations. “I feel empowered by everything we’ve accomplished,” Vanessa said. “There are so many things I didn’t think I was capable of doing until I tried, like replacing the tiles in the bathroom. I know you helped me a lot of the time—”

  “Nonsense,” Cash cut in. “Don’t downgrade your achievements. You would’ve done those things with or without me.”

  “Thanks for that,” she smiled. “You know, it’s funny . . .”

  “What is?”

  She seemed hesitant to speak. Finally, she said, “Not to bring up my ex, but I find the contrast between you two funny. That’s what I was going to say.”

  “Meaning?” Cash wasn’t crazy about the idea of being compared to some cheating creep over in New York. Her ex.

  “Greg was so discouraging about a lot of things I did, and he created a lot of unnecessary stress in my life. My job was taxing enough, and his attitude toward it made me feel anxious a lot of the time. Unlike him, I didn’t come from money—and that made me stronger in a lot of ways, I think, because it made me hustle. Greg, on the other hand, had a terrible work ethic, because everything had always been handed to him. He was complacent, just coasting along at his job, so he was constantly baffled as to why I was putting in overtime. Yah, easy for him to have that attitude. If he screwed up, mommy and daddy would only need to make a few phone calls and a new job would be handed to him on a platter.”

  “I can imagine.” Cash had encountered similar folks in Baltimore, men and women who’d skipped up the journalism ranks because of their parents’ political connections. Meanwhile, there he was, slogging away on stories about potholes.

  “Some nights, I didn’t even want to come home after working late because I knew he’d have a snide comment prepared to throw out the second I walked through the door, and then we’d start arguing. He treated my ambition as some kind of personal attack. I can see this now, as plain as this steak on my plate. And that’s what angers me most of all, that I’d allowed him to convince me that I was a bad girlfriend—or just a bad person in general—for trying to better my life.” She took a bite and shrugged as she chewed. “You’re different, is all. You understand where I’m coming from.”

  “I try to.” Maybe he didn’t mind the comparison to that little twerp Greg so much after all. The guy sounded like a Grade A dirtbag. He could tell that there was more that she wanted to say. “Go on.”

  Vanessa waved a hand. “You don’t want to hear me yammer about my failed relationship over dinner. I’ve said too much as it is. That’s like Dating 101: Never bring up an ex.”

  Were they having a date? “Sure I do. As long as it’s only bad stuff about your ex,” he said with a wicked grin and she laughed. “You can tell me anything you like. I like hearing about your past, since everything that’s happened is a part of who you are now.”

  She went on. “He—Greg—was a bit of a naysayer. No, not a bit, he was a huge naysayer. Take what we’re doing now, for example. He would have laughed in my face if I told him that I wanted to renovate an old farmhouse. But you . . .”

  Cash raised his eyebrows.

  She paused, as if she were searching for the right words. “Now that I’m spending time with a real man who makes me feel good about myself—that’d be you, Cash—I can see a lot of things with perfect clarity. I never realized it before, but Greg’s attitude made me question myself a lot, my capabilities.” She sipped her wine. “But you make me feel as if I can conquer the world, Cash, and it’s a beautiful feeling.”

  “Any man who makes you feel anything less than exquisite doesn’t deserve to be in your life. Because you are, Vanessa, an exquisite woman.” Their eyes met and the air seemed to crackle around them.

  She played with her hair nervously, her cheeks coloring a little pinker. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  When the tension got too thick, Cash cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I didn’t have a chance to mention this earlier, but I’ve been hearing good things about you around town.”

  “People have been gossiping about me, hmm? Uh-oh.” She took a bite of steak, closing her eyes as she chewed. “Cash, this is phenomenal, honestly.”

  “Thanks.” He was thrilled that she was enjoying her meal, but they needed to stay on-track. There was something he wanted to suggest, and if she went for it . . . Well, Dunblair Ridge just might have itself a new permanent resident.

  She would not be distracted. “I’m not kidding. Your beef is like nothing I’ve ever had. I made one of your frozen steaks for dinner the other night and it was amazing—so amazing that I wondered if it might be a one-off. But, nope, it’s the real deal, as proven again tonight.” She pointed at her nearly-gone steak with her fork, citing her evidence.

  “I’m glad you like it. I have a couple more steaks already set aside for you to take home tonight.”

  “I’d like to decline and say that you shouldn’t spoil me so much, by my stomach would never forgive me,” she said and he chuckled. “So, thank you in advance. Do you sell your beef—like in cuts?”

  “Locally, sure.”

  “You know, in New York, a steak like this would easily go for fifty bucks—and I’m talking uncooked, from a high-end butcher shop. At a nice restaurant? Seventy-five, a hundred bucks. Easy.”

  “You think?” Cash, of course, had been to plenty of city restaurants back during his journalism days, but none that had been pricy enough to serve a hundred-dollar steak. Photojournalism, while an exciting and impressive career, had not made him anything close to wealthy. Still, he understood such places existed.

  “Absolutely.” Vanessa took another bite of her steak. “So, what did you hear?” she asked after she swallowed.

  Good, they were getting back on track. “I heard that you’ve really helped those gals you’ve been working with. A lot.”

  Vanessa’s pleasure at the news was evident. “You’ve heard that?”

  Cash nodded. “And I didn’t even hear it straight from them, but from other people around town.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like the owner at Rommel’s, for starters. When I boug
ht the bread today, he was asking about you, since he heard that we were neighbors.”

  Vanessa was flabbergasted. “How’d he know that?”

  “Small town, darling. News travels fast.” He scooped up a spoonful of mashed potatoes and ate it. “Anyway, he was saying that he heard how much you’d helped that flower shop owner—”

  “Meredith.”

  “—right, Meredith, and he was thinking that you might be able to help him, too. He says his business has blown up these last few years, and a lot of tourists have started to ask him about online orders. He’s old school, though, so he’s not tech-savvy. He’s wondering if it would be worth it to hire other employees, so that he could branch out online. Overall, though, what he needs help with the most is a generalized business plan. He’s pretty mom and pop, so he’s a little overwhelmed with all the new business.”

  Vanessa’s face had taken on a new expression, one that projected strength and proficiency. Her posture had likewise changed, with her shoulders squared back and her head held high. She was in business mode now, ready to get into the game. “Sure, that’s definitely something I could help him with.”

  And he believed her.

  He’d seen Vanessa when she was apprehensive, like when she was learning a tricky new DIY skill, as well as when she was in her normal, relaxed state. But this was a new woman he’d never seen before and . . . Lordy! It was more than clear that she was capable of handling herself, with no apologies or second-guessing. It was incredibly sexy, her confidence.

  Now here’s a woman who could rule the world, Cash thought. “Here’s the thing, Vanessa. He’s not the only one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are loads of folks around here who are just like him—business owners, as well as regular individuals, who could really use your help.”

  “Okay . . .”

  She wasn’t picking up with he was putting down. It was time to be direct. “What I’m thinking is that, if you do end up staying here, you could start your own financial planning business.”

  She looked at him as if he’d just suggested that she sell illicit drugs to school children. “Why do you think I’d end up staying here—do you think I won’t be able to find a job back in New York?”

  Cash did not like the cloudy appearance her face had taken on. It was as if his words had extinguished whatever light she’d had shining brightly inside her only moments before. He backpedaled fast. “Vanessa, I believe that you can do anything you put your mind to. I was only suggesting that, if you did happen to want to stay in Dunblair Ridge, you’d have no problem finding work.”

  She relaxed. “Oh.”

  “You’re obviously a very smart woman. I just don’t understand why someone as talented as you is so desperate to work for other people in New York, when you could so easily work for yourself here and be really successful at it.”

  “Cash . . .” she said, her voice growing soft. “My life is back in New York.”

  “Is it, though? Because it seems like you’ve got a nice little life going for yourself right here.”

  “What do I really have in Dunblair, though?”

  Me! You’ve got me! “What do you have in New York?” he countered, which she did not seem to like hearing.

  She set down her silverware and stared back at him defiantly. “You obviously have something to say, so let’s hear it.”

  He set down his silverware, too, and wiped his mouth. “Here’s my reasoning, okay? You’ve made some nice friends here, so there’s your social life sorted. Your list of clients is growing, so there’s work. You’ve put a lot of work into your house, and your efforts are really starting to show, so there’s your residence. You and I are hanging out again, so . . .”

  There went the air, crackling around them again. They sat motionless and silent, the rhythmic ticking of the clock in the far corner of the room offering the only noise. What were you going to say, that you’re her love life?

  Ridiculous, of course.

  But was it?

  They were adults now, both single and attractive. They’d been getting together regularly. Was it really so shocking that he’d developed feelings for the smart and beautiful woman living right next door to him—a woman with whom he had a shared history? That they should keep pretending that there was no attraction between them—that’s what was ridiculous!

  So, then, why didn’t he make a move?

  Because the whole thing could blow up in his face, that was why. While he had no doubt that there was something happening between them romantically, Vanessa wasn’t exactly instilling him with confidence, with her insistence on reminding him just how much she was dying to get back to New York.

  She finally broke the silence with, “I’ve been thinking about your work, too.”

  Cash forked up another bite of mashed potato. He was nearly done with his meal, so he surreptitiously checked her progress so that he could slow his eating speed to match hers if necessary. She was nearly finished as well, which told him that she’d been genuine in her compliments about dinner. “You were?”

  “I’ve been troubleshooting ways that you could make money using the assets you already have—to help pay down your father’s debt.”

  “Don’t you have enough on your plate already without having to take on my problems?” he said, though not unkindly. He didn’t like the idea of burdening her.

  “Are you kidding? With all you’ve done for me, I’m happy to help you out any way I can!”

  Cash was satisfied with her response. It didn’t feel like she was pitying him when she put it that way. “I’ve spent many a night lying in bed trying to think of a way to get the ranch out of the red, but I always come up blank. So, if you think you might have a solution, I’m all ears.”

  “Okay, but, let me ask you this, first: How much land do you have?”

  “About two-hundred acres, give or take. It’s actually closer to about two-twenty.”

  “Wow. So a lot.”

  “That’s about average for a lot of cattle ranchers,” Cash said.

  “And animals—how many do you have?”

  “What kind?”

  “Horses and cows.”

  “Fifteen horses and fifty-two cattle.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “Why do you think I’m always so tired?” Cash chuckled. “So, what’s this plan of yours?”

  “It’s just a thought—and I haven’t really ironed out the logistics—but have you ever thought about catering to tourists?”

  “Like how?”

  “You could offer them a full Montana experience. City slicker types especially. You’d have to consider insurance and permits and whatever else you’d need, but you could use your ranch as a vacation destination.”

  Cash frowned. “Hmm . . . A vacation destination.”

  “I’m not talking about building a bunch of log cabins or any other kind of drastic renovations that would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. I mean using your land as it is. You could parcel your property and use some of it as individual campgrounds during the summer season. Or, you could offer private horseback tours during the day—and the best part is that you wouldn’t even have to leave your own land, given how much of it that you have. Maybe you could even offer some kind of ‘day on the farm’ package.”

  “What would they do here, the tourists?”

  She smiled. “I’m glad you asked because I have some ideas. They could come and ride your horses for a couple hours in the morning, milk cows in the afternoon, and then gather around the campfire at night, cooking beans in cans and grilling meat—its these little touches that would make it feel really authentic. And, with your photojournalism background, you could snap photos of your guests and sell them as souvenirs. Or, you could create various package deals and have the deluxe one include photos.” Vanessa went to take a sip of her wine but her glass was empty. “The possibilities are endless.”

  “Let me get you some more wine.” While Cash wa
s up, he also cleared their plates. He rejected her offer to help, insisting that she relax. “Are you ready for dessert?”

  She patted her stomach and shook her head. “I’m pretty full. You?”

  He nodded. “I can honestly say that it’s never occurred to me to use the ranch for tourism, but you might be on to something. You’ve given me a lot to think about. I’d need to crunch some numbers and make some calls about insurance and whatnot. I’d also have to think about how much staff I’d need to take on. It would be amazing, if I could make it happen. Thank you so much for the ideas.”

  “No problem.” Vanessa shrugged. “It’s something to consider, at least.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Cash said, “It’s funny that you brought up my photography, though.”

  “Oh yah? Why is that?”

  “Before I tell you, I need to first ask you a very important question.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “Oh, it is,” Cash said, wriggling his eyebrows. “Very.”

  Vanessa rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, well then, let’s hear it.”

  “How would you feel about seeing something that I’ve never shown to anyone else in the whole wide world?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “I can’t believe you took all these,” Vanessa said as she looked around what Cash nonchalantly called his hobby room. Over two dozen photographs lined the walls, giving the space a museum-like quality. “These look like they’re straight out of National Geographic.”

  “You think?”

  “Absolutely. Were they all taken here—in Dunblair?”

  Cash nodded. “Here, as well as other parts of Montana. I started taking them after I came back here for good. I was desperate to get away from the warzone tragedies I’d been shooting for work. There is only so much death and destruction a photojournalist like myself can take before he starts to go a little . . .” He ran a hand through his hair, shook his head. “Anyway, it’s a lot more relaxing, capturing subjects that are beautiful and alive.”