Forever Dreams

by Leeanna Morgan

  He stood in silence while she took stock of her surroundings.

  "I take back any misgivings I might have had about coming here." A little catch caught the tail end of Gracie's voice. "This is the most incredible place I've ever seen."

  "Don't talk too soon." Trent crossed his arms and scowled at the land. "Some folks get mighty sick of looking at the same view. Being isolated on a ranch in the thick of winter can drive people crazy. It's not an easy life if you're not used to it."

  How anyone could get tired of looking at such amazing scenery was beyond Gracie. As she turned from the window, a huge yawn locked her jaw in place.

  "You're tired. Why don't I leave you to get settled? When you're ready, you can meet me in the kitchen for dinner."

  The thought of a quick shower and clean clothes made her smile. "You've got a deal. Which way do I go to get to the kitchen?"

  "Follow your nose down the stairs and turn left. Mrs. Davies put chicken casserole and dumplings in the oven earlier. You won't want to miss it for anything."

  ***

  Trent took a quick look in the oven, then turned toward his office. He figured he'd have a good hour to check his messages and get some work done before Gracie made an appearance.

  Half an hour and six messages later, she stood in the doorway, scanning his office with a grin that put his blood pressure on full alert.

  "I should have known you'd be a tidy freak." Gracie laughed. "Not one file's out of place."

  Sitting back in his chair, Trent surveyed the little redheaded minx that changed appearances like a chameleon. She'd left her hair hanging loose and fluffy around her shoulders. The overhead lights picked up copper streaks, glowing like a soft red halo around her face. Any resemblance to angelic perfection stopped the moment his gaze skittered down her body.

  Gracie had opted for a bright red T-shirt that proclaimed her Montana born and bred, and tight black leggings that did a lot for his appreciation of the female anatomy. Thick, baggy green socks completed an outfit made for comfort rather than style. He could get used to Gracie's brand of comfort real quick.

  "I've got something for you." Pulling a bag out from behind her back she passed it to him.

  "When did you buy this?" He squeezed the Walmart bag carefully.

  "It won't bite."

  He raised an eyebrow.

  "Just open it." She laughed. "It's something that'll come in handy on the ranch."

  Peeling the tape from the top of the bag, he pulled out a black T-shirt.

  "Read the front." She grinned from ear to ear.

  His eyes narrowed as he read the large white lettering. I'm not bossy. I just know what you should do. He looked at Gracie. "Are you trying to tell me something, short-stuff?"

  "Trent McKenzie, I do believe I see a faint blush on those cheeks of yours." Leaning forward, she patted his shoulder. "It's okay. Your secret's safe with me. I doubt anyone else on this ranch has noticed your natural assertive streak. Besides, it was either this T-shirt or one that said, Save a horse. Ride a cowboy."

  Gracie shot across the room, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. He wasn't going to ignore the dare shining as bright as a full moon in her direct gaze.

  Very slowly he began to unbutton his denim shirt.

  Her eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

  A slow grin spread across his face. "I thought I'd try on the T-shirt you bought me." Button two slid undone.

  Color flooded Gracie's face. Licking her bottom lip, her gaze locked on button number three. "Goodness. I think I'll just go and check...the chicken." Backing out the door, she nearly collided with the kitchen wall. "It sure smells good."

  He heard what sounded like a chair hitting the floor, followed by a very unladylike curse rocketing around the room. "You okay out there?"

  "Fine. Just peachy."

  Trent stripped out of his shirt and hauled the new T-shirt over his head. With a smile on his face, he walked into the kitchen.

  "Well? What do you think?" Gracie nearly lost the chicken casserole over the counter. Heat scorched her face, and he felt a rush of satisfaction as she took an overly long time admiring her purchase.

  Dropping the casserole on top of the counter, she wrung the pot mitt between her hands. "You look...I mean...the T-shirt fits you."

  He figured it was time to let her off the hook. Besides, there was only so much teasing he could take before his body started messing with his brain. The sparks shooting between them were nothing more than harmless flirtation. "I'll get the plates and wine."

  Gracie cleared her throat and dished up Mrs. Davies prize winning chicken recipe. "What time do you wake up in the morning?"

  Trent grinned at his blushing guest. "I'm usually up by five-thirty and on the ranch as soon as I've had breakfast."

  Gracie frowned.

  "It's okay," he said. "You don't need to be ready that early. I'll come back to the house around ten o'clock tomorrow and take you on a tour of the ranch. We'll sort out a schedule so you can join us each morning to help with a few of the chores."

  Her frown turned into a scowl. "I came here to learn about ranch life, not sit on my laurels watching the grass grow."

  "Don't get all huffy. We can always use another pair of hands around here, but tomorrow morning you can help Mrs. Davies." Man, the woman was as prickly as a porcupine when she thought she'd been given preferential treatment.

  Little did she know that working with Mrs. Davies was like drawing the short straw of chores around the ranch. Between a never-ending stream of work needing to be done, and more than one hungry belly to feed, Mrs. Davies kept herself as busy as a hornet in spring. She also happened to be a shrewd judge of character and could sort the doers from the talkers quicker than anyone else he knew. From what he'd seen so far, the two women should get on just fine.

  Prodding a chicken leg with her fork, Gracie gazed over at him. "Does Mrs. Davies work here full-time?"

  "Almost. She works from six in the morning until one in the afternoon, Monday to Thursday. If we've got something major happening, she pitches in to help. We're left to our own devices for the rest of the time." A fork of mashed potatoes and gravy paused midway to his mouth. "Chicken not to your liking?"

  "The chicken's great."

  She poked at the greens on her plate. Nothing much seemed to be going into her mouth.

  "You might as well spit out whatever's skimming around that head of yours. Mrs. Davies chicken casserole is too good to let it get cold."

  "Well," she cleared her throat. A faint blush colored her cheeks. "I thought it might pay for us to get something clear." She looked him straight in the eye. Within two seconds, her gaze skittered away, landing on a painting hanging on the wall behind him. "I want you to know that I didn't come here for anything other than learning about ranch life. I'm not, you know?" On a rush of air that left her breathless, she said, "after anything else."

  Trent was glad he'd swallowed his last piece of chicken otherwise he'd have choked to death. For safe measure, he took a big gulp of wine. At least his mom hadn't been waving her broken wand in his direction again. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not after anything else either."

  Her shoulders sagged in relief, then she frowned, staring at him like he had a nut loose in his brain. "I can't work you out, Trent McKenzie. How come a man of your age hasn't got a wife or at least a girlfriend living out here with you?"

  "Give me a break. I'm not much older than you are." Gracie didn't look convinced. "I'm thirty-nine. Not quite dinosaur material yet. And anyway, I was married once."

  That got her attention. "And?"

  "It didn't work out."

  Gracie stared at him with her eyes wide open, waiting for the next installment of his not so successful love life. "Are all kiwi girls this nosy or are you unique?"

  "I'm curious. So?"

  He sat back in his chair.

  "Come on, Trent. I promise not to tell anyone."

  A serio
us case of heartburn built deep in his chest. "Her name was Susan. We got married when I was twenty-five. She was a city girl and didn't like country life. Montana turned out to be too quiet, too cold. Too much of everything she didn't want, I guess."

  "How long were you married?"

  "Nearly two years." He wasn't going to tell her that they were some of the worst times of his life. At first, Susan enjoyed life on the Triple L. But after a few months of being left alone during the day while he worked on the ranch, the novelty started wearing off. Real fast. She got itchy feet and wanted the bright lights and packed city streets of New York more than she wanted him. She'd left halfway through her second winter and he'd never wanted or needed another woman in his life. Until now. "So what's your excuse?"

  The look Gracie shot him would have pinned him to the ground if he hadn't been born the stubborn mule he was.

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "How old are you, Gracie? Thirty-one? Thirty-two? If you were my girlfriend I wouldn't let you out of my sight for eight weeks, let alone traipsing halfway around the world, staying with complete strangers. So, no boyfriend, no husband, no children?"

  Gracie squirmed in her seat as clear gray eyes clashed with blue. "It's just as well I'm not your girlfriend, isn't it?"

  He stared straight at her.

  "Okay, I'll tell you. And for the record, I'm thirty-one." Crossing her arms, she glared across the table at him. "I've got plenty of friends who are males, but no one serious. Never been married and no children."

  "It sounds like I'm not the only one with relationship issues."

  "I've got standards."

  "Haven't we all," Trent muttered. Gracie gave him a superior stare. "Are you going to tell me why you're in Montana or is this interrogation a one-way street?"

  "I've already told you why I'm here."

  He swallowed a fork of mashed potatoes and gravy, figuring it had to be healthier than laughing at the stubborn look on her face. "Yeah, you did."

  Gracie pushed her dinner plate away. "I'm still working some things out."

  "Maybe two heads can work them out quicker." She didn't look convinced.

  "If I tell you, you have to swear not to say anything to anyone else."

  "I'll do my best."

  The frown on Gracie's face left him in no doubt that she didn't think much of his 'best'. "Okay. I won't say anything."

  She rearranged her knife and fork. "I'm looking for someone."

  She didn't seem too happy about whoever it was she'd lost. "Do they know you're here?"

  "No." She shrugged. "I don't even think he knows I exist."

  Trent wondered what he'd done to deserve babysitting a woman on the lookout for a man. Only he hadn't done a damn thing-his mom had. "What's his name?"

  The hurt in Gracie's eyes pulled at something he'd buried deep inside himself. He didn't know what was going on in her life, but from the look of it, she had way too much of everything she didn't need.

  "His last name's not McKenzie, so you're safe for now."

  Safe was about the last thing he felt around the pint-sized redhead. If a man wasn't careful, he'd end up pulled into the center of her troubles quicker than he could blink. "You're not going to tell me who you're looking for, are you?"

  "No." She took a deep breath. "Not yet anyway."

  "So how does this man fit into those high relationship standards you've been telling me about?"

  Gracie looked more than slightly uncomfortable at his question. "Either you're a pretty fast learner or you're just as bad as me at poking into other people's business. My life's not that interesting."

  "I guess that depends on who's doing the listening. Come on, honey. I've got all night."

  Gracie yawned, only it didn't look too genuine to him. His lips twitched as he watched her stretch. "Nope. Not going to work."

  She yanked her hands back to the table. "Fine. I'm looking for my father."

  "It can't be that difficult to find him. Have you tried the phone book?"

  Gracie sighed. "If it was that simple I wouldn't have jumped on a plane and come here."

  It didn't seem difficult to Trent. People didn't disappear off the planet unless they didn't want to be found. "He didn't come here to escape the law did he?"

  Gracie kept her gaze locked on the table. Red curls almost camouflaged the heat turning her skin a pale shade of pink. "No. Something worse."

  He couldn't think of anything worse than prison, except maybe a deranged ex-wife. "What did he run from?"

  "Me."

  If Trent hadn't been paying close attention he might have missed the softly spoken word.

  "He left before I was born. The thought of fatherhood must have been too much for him to handle."

  Trent couldn't imagine anyone using a baby as an excuse to walk away from a relationship. Or leaving a child to carry the guilt for what went wrong. "It's his loss, Gracie."

  "Maybe." She stood up and reached for her plate and glass. "Do you want a cup of coffee?"

  "If it comes with more information about your father, I'll make the coffee."

  "Looks like it's my turn, then."

  The impish smile on Gracie's face made him realize how long it had been since he'd had a conversation with a woman who wasn't related to him or someone else's wife. He really needed to get out more. "So what does your mom think about you coming to Montana?"

  Her wine glass wobbled on her plate. "Are all McKenzie men like this?"

  "Like what?"

  "Bossy and single-minded."

  "Only the best one." He smiled at Gracie's incredulous expression. "From the sound of all the banging on the porch, you're about to meet the other McKenzie brother soon. You can make your own mind up and tell me if I'm right."

  ***

  Jordan McKenzie walked into the kitchen holding a bunch of wildflowers and a look in his eye that told Gracie he liked what he saw. "Evening, ma'am. I heard Trent had a fancy woman living up at the house. I thought I'd better come and see for myself if town gossip was right."

  The polite greeting that had been gathering in Gracie's head sank like a lead weight.

  Trent swore under his breath.

  Looking quite pleased with himself, Jordan said, "These are for you. Welcome to the Triple L." Thrusting the flowers at her, he sniffed the air appreciatively. "Is that Mrs. Davies chicken casserole I can smell?"

  "There's no food until you apologize for your smart mouth," Trent growled. "Gracie's come out here on a working vacation."

  Jordan looked at her with a suitably contrite expression on his face. "Sorry about my manners. I know why you're here. I thought I'd annoy my brother with the gossip that's going around town. Just go and see Mrs. Davies if Trent gets too pigheaded. She knows how to sort him out faster than most women I've met."

  Gracie didn't know whether to laugh or cry. If half the town thought she was a woman in love, then lord help her when the other half made up their mind.

  Looking between Trent and Jordan she thought she might at least get a sympathy vote from the women of Bozeman. Spending time around the two McKenzie brothers would drive any single woman to distraction. Apart from long legs, wide shoulders and a mile-wide streak of mischief, they were as different from each other as two brothers could get.

  Jordan's nut brown hair fell over his blue eyes, brushing the edge of his T-shirt in a bad boy look that failed miserably as soon as he smiled. The dimple in his right cheek and the laughter in his eyes were more than enough reason to leave a girl spinning in circles.

  Trent reminded her of a wolf. He had a lean body built for speed, and gray eyes that seemed to take in far more than he told anyone. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, laughing at her as she compared their physical attributes.

  "Gracie Donnelly, meet Jordan McKenzie. Hot shot cowboy, pain in the ass brother, and show-off extraordinaire."

  Jordan gave his brother a teasing look. "Aw shucks. I didn't know you cared."
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  Gracie put her dishes on the table and reached out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Jordan. I hope Trent hasn't been painted too red by the population of Bozeman?"

  "Nice accent, ma'am." Jordan grinned and shook her hand. "And don't you worry about his reputation. He hasn't had one for so long, that most people can't remember a time when he wasn't a heartbreaker."

  Trent choked on his wine. "Keep that up, and you'll be eating with the rest of the cowboys for the next month."

  "Talking about food?" Jordan walked into the kitchen, filling a plate to brimming with hot chicken casserole.

  Trent looked across at her. "There's one thing you'll learn really fast about my brother. If there's food in the house, he'll sniff it out quicker than a hound dog."

  "I'm wounded," Jordan moaned, wandering back to the table. "I come here three nights a week for Mrs. Davies home cooked food." Jordan looked across at her and winked. "And occasional leftovers. The only thing you need to worry about are all the lovesick cowboys from around these parts. They'll be making their way over to the homestead to meet the cute pixie that's taken up residence with my brother."

  "Pixie? I'm five-foot-one." Gracie looked at Trent for moral support. No luck there. He was trying to stop from laughing so hard that he almost had tears in his eyes. Jordan didn't look much better.

  She looked at Trent and groaned. "I can't believe my luck. Two of you in one family."

  CHAPTER THREE

  The next morning, Gracie's alarm clock rattled her out of a deep sleep. Crawling out of bed she headed for the bathroom. Whoever said traveling around the world was an adventure had forgotten about jet lag. Her mind might be ready for action, but her body felt like metal plates had been strapped to her feet.

  After a quick shower, she threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. With her last shoelace pulled tight, she headed across to her carry-on and slid a piece of paper out from between two paperbacks. Written in black ink were ten names. Three men listed as James Green and seven J. Greens. Some of the names had addresses scribbled beside them, others had birth dates. All were strangers. One could be her father.

  Smoothing out the edges, she studied the names for a few minutes before leaving the list on her bedside table. She'd felt like a modern day Sherlock Holmes tracking down clues about a man she'd never met.