by Jill Lynn
Evan tsked. “Changing the subject. Denial is the first sign.”
“That it is,” Ryker agreed.
Finn stifled a groan since it would only fuel their amusement. “Ivy and the girls aren’t staying that long, so hopefully by the time the town figures out they’re here, they’ll already be gone.” He hadn’t even thought to be concerned about the rumor mill, but Evan was right. It would explode with new kindling. “And I appreciate you giving me something else to worry about.”
Ryker slapped him on the back. “It’ll go by quick. It’s just a month, right? And you know Charlie is desperate for the help.”
“Six weeks.” As long as nothing else changed. And yes, Finn knew. “I don’t suppose Addie has some room for Ivy and her girls at the B & B. Come to think of it, that’s a great idea. Why can’t they squat there instead of at my place?”
“I’m not in charge of reservations,” Evan responded, “but I think the B & B is out of Ivy’s price range. Which is why she and the girls ended up at your ranch.”
True. And for that reason, Finn should be fine letting her use the bunkhouse. It wasn’t of value to him in its unfinished state. If he hadn’t been so blindsided by Chrissa in North Dakota, he likely wouldn’t have thought twice about the situation with Ivy. He would have said yes in a heartbeat. But as Charlie had pointed out, that version of him had disappeared, and he wasn’t sure when the old Finn planned to return, if ever.
Thankfully, their conversation switched to catching up on other news. Evan was booking out expeditions for the summer. After he’d had a below-the-knee amputation in high school, he’d gained firsthand experience with the kind of effort it took to recover from a trauma. Now he and his partner led groups of trauma victims on Colorado expeditions as they pushed boundaries and found healing.
Ryker had found employment at Sunny Farms Horse Ranch when he’d moved to Colorado and claimed it was his dream job working with horses and teens.
And Finn, after a stint at Wilder Guest Ranch, had fallen for Westbend and worked for years on an oil rig in order to save up the money for his own spread.
He would say they’d all found their perfect careers—something he could and did give thanks for.
Usually Finn enjoyed the drive home from the early morning Bible study. The sun as it hung low, waking the world. The stretch of his land as it came into view and the way the mountains circled the ranch. The snow-capped peaks like live artwork that changed every day. But this morning, as he returned to the ranch and spotted Ivy’s Suburban parked outside the bunkhouse, his stomach soured.
Give thanks in all things.
Yeah, yeah. I’m working on it.
Knowing to do something and accomplishing it were two very different issues.
Finn managed to get away from the house and out on the ranch without running into Ivy or the girls. In the last week, calves had begun dropping. He checked on the new arrivals until around late morning, when his ranch hand was set to arrive. He’d been operating minimally since a few ranch hands had left when the Burkes sold. Cliff and Behr were both part-timers. Cliff was in high school and helped around his class schedule. Behr had worked for the Burkes but was close to retirement. He’d gone down to part-time after they’d sold, and Finn had been making do with the bare-bones staff while deciding how much help he needed.
He returned to the house to meet Cliff and instead came across Ivy moving items from her Suburban into the bunkhouse. Charlie had told him she was taking the day to get settled and would start work tomorrow.
Finn bounced his eyes elsewhere.
She’s not yours to take care of. Let her be. Let her figure things out on her own, and whatever you do, stay out of it.
Ivy yelped just as he neared the front door of the house. Finn spun to check on her. The box in her hands had dropped to the ground and split open. Contents were everywhere.
He threw a silent I-don’t-wanna hissy fit. Why couldn’t he have just gotten out of here before seeing that?
No matter how much Finn wanted to march the other direction and leave Ivy to her own devices, he could not. It wasn’t in him to turn away from someone in need, even when he was desperate to learn how to do exactly that.
When he reached Ivy, he knelt alongside her and began picking up pieces of the girls’ clothing. Spring could bring rain, snow, wind and anything in between, and the ground was a mess.
“Do you want to separate out the clean from the dirty?” What landed on top was probably still okay.
Ivy gave a frustrated exhale. “Yes. Thanks.”
She retrieved a garbage bag from the bunkhouse, and they sorted pieces, tossing the dirty into the bag and the clean onto the seat of the Suburban.
“You can use my washer and dryer for this stuff.” He’d thought about her needing his kitchen on occasion but hadn’t considered the laundry room. That necessity would probably far outweigh the other, especially with three little girls. Finn forced his tongue to function. “Anytime you need it. It’s no big deal. The laundry room is next to the main bathroom.”
The words came out, but they were clipped and short, like a child who’d decided to cut their own nails. Finn was doing his best to hide his frustration at Ivy’s presence, but at the moment, his best was pretty pathetic.
“That’s okay. I can go to the Laundromat in town.” She paused in the middle of sorting. “There has to be one in Westbend, doesn’t there?”
There was, but having her lug everything into town would be about the most unchristian thing Finn could do to the woman. Laundry for the triplets had to be a beast.
“There’s no need. I’m out of the house a lot of the time anyway, so if you’d rather not run into me, you can just pop over when I’m not there.”
“Finn, I’m not trying to avoid you.”
Right. He was the one doing that with her. Talk about giving himself away.
“Okay, then. Anytime is fine.” He tossed the last dirty item into the bag and stood. “What else is going inside?” He motioned to her Suburban.
“Nothing I can’t handle. I’ll get the rest.”
His feet stayed planted in a wide stance.
Give thanks in all things.
God, thank You that Ivy and the girls are only staying six more weeks.
An internal buzzer sounded as if shouting that his prayer had been dead wrong.
Thank You that I get to go feed cattle in a minute and get out of here?
Another buzzer.
Finn was going to have to work on his gratefulness since he was currently failing the school of First Thessalonians miserably.
“What else?” He motioned to the Suburban again. He’d come this far. He might as well finish.
“All of it.” Ivy’s whisper was a mix of concern and defiance. As if daring him to disagree with her. He didn’t plan to. He didn’t plan to talk at all.
Finn got to work. He didn’t care what was in the boxes or why she wanted them all inside.
It wasn’t his place to ask questions. Not when he was choosing not to care about the answers.
* * *
Ivy was going to go out on a limb and guess that Finn wasn’t pleased with something. And if she went even further out on that same limb, she would guess it had something to do with her and her girls staying in the bunkhouse.
If Finn was so upset about them being here, why had he agreed to Charlie’s plan in the first place?
Was his irritation because Ivy wasn’t paying rent? She couldn’t imagine that was the issue. Finn hadn’t been making money on the bunkhouse; nor would he if she wasn’t here. Not with the kitchen being unfinished. And he’d never mentioned the desire to continue the construction the Burkes had started.
Maybe he was just introverted and craved his own space. Ivy could understand that. But once she started working, it was quite possible she and Finn could go day
s without running into each other.
So what was under his collar? When he’d returned from being out on the ranch a bit ago and stomped off to his house without so much as a hello, Ivy had experienced a tinge of concern.
Then she’d dropped the box, and he’d come running—begrudgingly. If he was going to be so persnickety while helping her out, she wished he had just kept walking.
Finn entered the bunkhouse and settled one box on top of another. He studied the stack she’d begun in the open space the kitchen cabinets would have occupied, but if he harbored concerns, he didn’t voice them.
“Thank you for your help, but I can get the rest. I’m sure you have plenty to do.”
Ivy had heard rumblings that ranching season in the spring was hectic and busy. Finn certainly had more pressing matters to attend to.
“I’m good.” He exited the bunkhouse, and air leaked from her lungs. What a mess. When Finn and Charlie had decided she couldn’t or shouldn’t pay rent, Ivy had been upset. She didn’t want charity. She wanted to prove she was capable of taking care of her girls without handouts. And since money was off the table, she had to find a way to show Finn that she wasn’t freeloading. That she could be of assistance to him, too, and not just the other way around.
The girls were now playing outside, enjoying the crisp spring weather and the so-close-you-could-almost-touch-it sunshine. When a truck engine rumbled onto ranch property, Ivy checked out the window to make sure they weren’t in harm’s way.
They were off to the left, nowhere near the vehicle. Finn received something from the delivery truck, his greeting to the driver friendly and welcoming.
The man was confusing. Generous one second, irritated the next. He was tall—maybe six-two—and broad-shouldered. Whenever Ivy caught a glimpse of him, her insides gave a shimmy of attraction and recognition, as if to remind her that even though she was a mom of three three-year-olds, she was still a woman...and there was nothing wrong with her vision.
Finn had looked good the night of the cattlemen’s dinner in a simple button-down shirt and jeans. He looked good when he donned his hat and jacket and headed out on the ranch.
The man was like a Western ad and even included the serious smolder.
The good news about planning to move into her parents’ house with the girls after helping open the café was that she wouldn’t be in Westbend long enough to act on any undesirable attraction to Finn. Their short stop in Colorado wouldn’t amount to enough time to figure out who Finn was on the inside, and the outside wasn’t enough. Ivy had moved too fast with Lee, and she wouldn’t be making that mistake again. Certainly not with three little girls to raise. She had to be the example, and she couldn’t fail them like she had with their father.
Ivy moved into the bedroom and studied the dresser. Six drawers. She’d have to get creative on space. She’d also have to clean the bag full of clothes that had fallen in the mud, but they could manage for now. Especially since neither the idea of the Laundromat in town nor using Finn’s facilities brought any excitement. Thankfully, she’d packed clothes, toys and other necessities in her vehicle while sending what she’d hoped would be less important items in the portable storage container that had already arrived at her parents’ place. While they certainly didn’t have everything they’d need, they had enough to get by for six more weeks.
Ivy hadn’t included professional clothing items in the Suburban, so she’d be rotating through jeans and her best shirts plus a few sweaters for work at the café. Charlie hadn’t had any issue with that when she’d broached the subject with her.
Ivy sorted for almost twenty minutes before realizing she didn’t hear the girls’ chatter.
Panic zipped along her spine, and she rushed to the open front door. She didn’t spot them, so she stepped outside, calling their names. When no one answered her, she jogged toward the barn. The girls had an infatuation with animals of all kinds, so it was likely they’d wandered there.
Ivy stepped inside, her lungs functioning again when she spotted three blond heads bent over something. Finn was with them. Reese had copped a seat on the ground, which equaled more laundry, but they were all present and safe, so Ivy would worry about that another day.
She inched closer. They were pulling baby chicks out of a box. Finn was showing the girls how to help the chicks drink water and eat, and then they were depositing them inside a squared-off area with wooden sides. A heat lamp was clipped to one of the short walls, and a few chicks were waddling around on newspapers laid out inside.
Sage deposited one in the holding area. Before her fingers could go into her mouth, Finn reached out, lightning-fast and yet gentle, stopping the movement. “You can’t touch the chicks and then put your fingers in your mouth.” He glanced at Reese and Lola to make sure they were listening. “And don’t kiss them, either. They can make people sick. So only hold them in your hands and then don’t touch your mouth. Sage—” his voice was serious as a heart attack “—can you promise me you won’t put your fingers in your mouth? Because otherwise you can’t touch the chicks.”
Sage nodded vigorously.
“And after we teach them to eat and drink, we’re going to wash our hands really, really well. I probably should have asked your mom before I let you girls do this at all.”
Ivy’s heart hiccupped at the kindness radiating from Finn. Why did he act so snarly when all of this was hiding beneath the surface?
“Mommy would say yes,” Lola responded, full of confidence.
“She lets us do lots of stuff,” Sage added, always the first of the girls to push the boundaries on anything physical.
Reese stayed silent, letting her more outgoing sisters plead their case.
Ivy’s cheeks creased. Man, she loved them. Their tenacity. Their big hearts residing inside of their little bodies.
“Mommy would say yes.” Ivy approached them, and the girls broke out in a chorus of excitement, showing her the chicks, explaining what they were doing.
Once the hubbub ebbed, Finn’s blueberry eyes held hers, an apology written in them. “Sorry I didn’t check with you first. They came on the truck, the girls heard them chirping and the rest is history.”
“They came in the mail?”
“Yep. They’re brand-new, so the girls are helping me teach them how to eat and drink. The green stuff is high protein. It’s supposed to help them recover from being shipped.”
“I’d need something extra if I’d been shipped in a box, too.” Ivy turned a bucket over next to the girls and copped a seat. “Who do I need to meet?”
“This one is Gracie and this one is Lala and this one is Bernadine.” The girls pointed out their favorites.
“Those are really great names. And what did you name yours, Finn?”
His mouth bowed with humor and the warmth she knew existed inside of him. The warmth he kept snuffing out when he was around her.
“Fluffy.” He lifted the chick to study it. “Definitely Fluffy.”
Ivy’s lips curved when his twinkling eyes met hers.
“That’s a good name, Mista Finn,” Lola declared.
“Thank you.”
A call came from the barn entrance. “Sorry I’m late. I’m here. I’ll get the truck loaded.” The young man who’d appeared in the doorway disappeared just as quickly.
“That’s Cliff. He’s going to help me feed the cattle this afternoon.”
“Can we go, too?” Sage asked. “We want to feed the cattles.”
“Please, please,” Lola and Reese joined in.
Finn’s features softened at the girls’ request, and Ivy’s insides swirled. Maybe it was a good thing he was surly with them half the time. Because if he wasn’t, she’d be in all-caps trouble.
“You can ride with me sometime, but not today. But I am going to need you girls to check on the chicks later today if you don’t mind.” He s
hot Ivy a questioning glance, asking her permission without words.
Yes, Finn Brightwood. You’re letting us stay here for free. “Of course we’ll check on the chicks. The girls would love nothing more.” And somehow, even though you doubt me, I’m going to prove that us being here is a help and not a hindrance.
Ivy would figure out a way to earn their stay in the bunkhouse. Not because she thought everything in life had to be even steven, but because she was turning over a new leaf, and for her own mental health, she had to know that she wasn’t mooching. That this was a two-way street.
And if she could prove that not only to herself but also to Finn...that would make her victory even sweeter.
Chapter Five
The gently used, highly rated espresso machine was a huge find. Ivy clicked to buy it, entering Charlie’s credit card information on the laptop she’d stationed on the counter in the café. She couldn’t wait to tell Charlie the low price.
Apparently the restaurant selling it had closed their doors and was trying to recoup some money from their assets. Ivy definitely didn’t want Charlie’s café following in those footsteps, but she was happy to take advantage of the reduced price. She crossed the machine off her list, then emailed the information to Charlie’s accountant for bookkeeping purposes.
Shopping with someone else’s money made Ivy nervous, but she and Charlie had discussed the costs for the various supplies needed. And Ivy had found the espresso machine quite a bit under budget, which was a win. Plus, the funds she was using weren’t stolen, so Ivy wasn’t committing a crime. Her stomach churned like the Atlantic during a nor’easter. Sometimes the guilt from what Lee had done reared up like a resounding slap in the face. How had she not known what he was up to? How could she have been that blind?
