Home on the Ranch--Tennessee Homecoming

by April Arrington

  “Sophia?”

  Her eyes widened at the sight of him and she chortled, her chubby arms reaching for him.

  Landon picked her up, lifting her against his chest just as Rascal scampered out and barked with excitement.

  “Uncle Landon!” Footsteps pounded up the front steps then Matthew and Emma ran onto the porch, hurled themselves against him and wrapped their arms around his thighs.

  “What in the world?” Landon stumbled back, grinning like a loon and hugging them tight with his free arm.

  Both his arms and his heart were full to overflowing, but then he noticed someone else standing at the foot of the steps, smiling up at him and making every nerve ending in his body shoot to attention.

  “Katie,” he said, voice husky.

  “Good.” She smiled. “I was hoping you’d be home.”

  Her voice sounded sweeter than he remembered.

  Katie waved a thin stack of papers in the air. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  Landon shook his head. “What’s that?”

  “Loose ends.” She climbed the steps, her long brown hair swinging over her shoulders, and her dark eyes warmed as they focused on his face. “Matthew, will you please take your sisters inside so I can talk to Landon for a minute?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Matthew helped Landon settle Sophia back in the stroller then Matthew and Emma wheeled it inside the house and shut the door.

  Landon watched Katie closely, tamping down the eager hope rising within him. “What loose ends are you talking about?”

  “The ones concerning us.” Katie stopped in front of him, her gaze roving over his frame eagerly as she leaned in slightly. As though she may have missed him as much as he’d missed her.

  He held his breath. “Why aren’t you in California?”

  “Because you’re not there.”

  He smiled, his whole body warming.

  “You see...” Katie held up the papers. “I got to reading this custody arrangement and I studied all the fine print concerning primary and secondary guardianship and noticed that there was one variable Jennifer and Frank didn’t actually spell out in the will or in Jennifer’s letter.”

  His smile faded. “What variable?”

  “The one where I fell in love with you.” She stepped closer, the shy look in her eyes giving her a vulnerable air. “The one where I missed you and couldn’t stand being apart from you. The one where I only felt at home when I was with you on this ranch. And I started thinking that if I were to ask you to marry me and you said yes, then we would be equal guardians. Equal partners, that is. But—” Her voice faltered and her chest lifted on a deep breath. “But there’s one condition. The only way this new kind of partnership will work is if you’re in love with me, too.”

  He studied her face. Noticed the slight shaking in her hands. “So if I’m not in love with you, I can’t accept your proposal?”

  “That’s the condition. This can only be about love, not logic or convenience.”

  He frowned. “You’ve been talking to my sister about me, haven’t you?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Maybe. So...do you love me?”

  Landon narrowed his eyes. “I have one question.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “What’s that?”

  “We split my bathroom—including the tub—fifty-fifty?”

  She nodded.

  Landon grinned. “I love you, Katie. Always will.”

  Excitement and happiness lit up her expression and her attention drifted toward his smile. “So that’s a yes?”

  Landon reached out and tugged her close, whispering just before he kissed her, “That’s a hell yes.”

  Katie smiled against his lips then kissed him back. Her soft sigh of pleasure and the children’s laughter from inside their home were the sweetest sounds Landon had ever heard.

  * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Home to Blue Stallion Ranch by Stella Bagwell.

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  Home to Blue Stallion Ranch

  by Stella Bagwell

  Chapter One

  Who the hell is that?

  Holt Hollister pushed back the brim of his black cowboy hat and squinted at the feminine shape framed by the open barn door. He didn’t have the time or energy to deal with a woman this morning. Especially one who was pouting because he’d forgotten to call or send flowers.

  Damn it!

  Jerking off his gloves, he jammed them into the back pocket of his jeans and strode toward the shapely figure shaded by the overhang. Behind him the loud whinny of a randy stallion drowned out the sounds of nearby voices, rattling feed buckets, the whir of fans, and the muffled music from a radio.

  As soon as the woman spotted his approach, she stepped forward and into a beam of sunlight slanting down from a skylight. The sight very nearly caused Holt to stumble. This wasn’t one of his girlfriends. This woman looked like she’d just stepped off an exotic beach and exchanged a bikini for some cowboy duds.

  Petite, with white-blond hair that hung past her shoulders, she was dressed in a white shirt and tight blue jeans stuffed into a pair of black cowboy boots inlaid with turquoise and red thunderbirds. Everything about her said she didn’t belong in his horse barn.

  Frustration eating at him, he forced himself to march onward until the distance between them narrowed down to a mere arm’s length and she was standing directly in front of him.

  “Hello,” she greeted. “Do you work here?”

  Holt might forget where he’d placed his truck keys or whether he’d eaten in the past ten hours, but he didn’t forget a woman. And he was quite certain he’d never laid eyes on this one before today. Even without a drop of makeup on her face, she was incredibly beautiful, with smooth, flawless skin, soft pink lips, and eyes that reminded him of blue velvet.

  “It’s the only place I’ve ever worked,” he answered. “Are you looking for someone in particular?”

  She flashed him a smile and at any other time or place, Holt would’ve been totally charmed. But not this morning. He’d spent a hellish night in the foaling barn and now another day had started without a chance for him to draw a good breath.

  She said, “I am. I’m here to see Mr. Hollister. I was told by one of the ranch hands that I’d find him in this barn.”

  She was looking straight at him and for a brief second Holt was thrown off-kilter by her gaze. Not only direct, it was as cool as a mountain stream.

  “Three Mr. Hollisters live on this ranch,” he said bluntly. “You have a first name?”

  “Holt. Mr. Holt Hollister.”

  He blew out a he
avy breath. He might’ve guessed this greenhorn would be looking for him. Being the manager of the horse division of Three Rivers Ranch, he was often approached by horse-crazy women, who wanted permission to walk through the barn and pet the animals, as if he kept them around for entertainment.

  “You’re talking to him.”

  Those blue, blue eyes suddenly narrowed skeptically, as though she’d already decided he was nothing more than a stable hand. And he supposed he couldn’t blame her. He’d not had time to shave this morning. Hell, he’d not even gone to bed at all last night. Added to that, the legs of his jeans were stained with afterbirth and smears of blood had dried to brown patches on his denim shirt.

  “Oh. I’m Isabelle Townsend. Nice to meet you, Mr. Holt Hollister.”

  She extended her hand out to him and Holt wiped his palm against the hip of his jean before he wrapped it around hers.

  “Is there something I can do for you, Ms. Townsend?” he asked, while wondering how such a soft little thing could have a grip like a vice.

  She eased her hand from his. “I’ve been told you have nice breeding stock for sale. I’m looking to buy.”

  If Holt hadn’t been so tired, he would’ve burst out laughing. She ought to be home painting her fingernails, or whatever it was that women like her did to amuse themselves, he thought. “Are you talking about cattle or horses? Or maybe you’re looking for goats? If you are, I know a guy who has some beauties.”

  “Horses,” she said flatly, while peering past his shoulder at the rows of stalls lining both sides of the barn. “This is a horse barn, isn’t it? Or are you in the goat business now?”

  The sarcasm in her voice was the same tone he’d used on her. And though he deserved it, her response irked him. Usually pretty women smiled at him. This one was sneering.

  “I’m in the business of horses. And at this time, Three Rivers isn’t interested in selling any. You should drive down to Phoenix and try the livestock auction. If you’re careful with your bidding, you can purchase some fairly decent animals there. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m very busy.”

  Not waiting to hear her reply, he walked off and didn’t stop until he was out the opposite end of the barn and out of Isabelle Townsend’s sight.

  * * *

  Furious and humiliated, Isabelle turned on her heel and stalked out of the barn. So much for all she’d heard about Three Rivers Ranch and its warm hospitality. Apparently, those glowing recommendations didn’t include Holt Hollister.

  Outside in the bright Arizona sunlight, she crossed a piece of hard-packed ground to where her truck was parked next to a tall Joshua tree.

  Jerking open the door, she was about to climb into the cab when a male voice called out to her.

  Wondering if Holt Hollister had decided he’d behaved like an ass and had come to apologize, she turned to see it wasn’t the arrogant horseman who’d followed her. This man was slightly taller and perhaps a bit older than Holt Hollister, but she could see a faint resemblance to the man she’d just crossed words with.

  “Hello,” he said. “I’m Blake Hollister, manager of the ranch.”

  He extended his hand in a friendly manner and Isabelle complied.

  “I’m Isabelle Townsend,” she introduced herself, then added dryly, “It’s nice meeting you. I think.”

  His brows disappeared beneath the brim of his gray hat. “I happened to see you go in the horse barn five minutes ago. If you’re looking for someone in particular, I might be able to help.”

  “I was looking for the man who manages your horse division. Instead I found a first-class jerk!” She practically blasted the words at him, then promptly hated herself for the outburst. This man couldn’t be held responsible for his relative’s boorish behavior. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to sound so cross.”

  “Isabelle Townsend,” he thoughtfully repeated, then snapped his fingers. “You must be our new neighbor who purchased the old Landry Ranch.”

  Since she’d only moved here six weeks ago, she was surprised this man had heard of her. News in a small place must travel fast, she thought.

  “That’s right. I was interested in purchasing a few horses from Three Rivers. But unfortunately, your brother or cousin or whatever he is to you isn’t interested in selling. Or showing a visitor good manners.”

  “I’m sorry about this, Ms. Townsend.”

  The ranch manager cast a rueful glance in the direction of the horse barn and Isabelle got the impression it wasn’t the first time he’d had to apologize for his brother’s behavior.

  “Frankly, Mr. Hollister, I had heard this ranch was the epitome of hospitality. But after this morning, I have my doubts about that.”

  “Trust me. It won’t happen again.” His smile was apologetic. “You caught my brother at a bad time. You see, it’s foaling season and he’s working virtually 24/7 right now. I promise if you’ll come back to the ranch tomorrow, I’ll make sure Holt is on his best behavior.”

  Isabelle didn’t give a damn about the horse manager. As far as she was concerned, the man could ride off into the sunset and never return.

  “Honestly, Mr. Hollister, I have no desire to do business with your brother. Exhaustion isn’t an excuse for bad manners.”

  “No. And I agree that Holt can be insensitive at times. But you’ll find that when it comes to horses, he’s the best.”

  He might be the best, but would dealing with the man be worth it? If it would help make her dream come true, she could surely put up with Mr. Arrogant for a few minutes, she decided.

  Shrugging, she said, “All right, Mr. Hollister. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  He helped her into the truck, then shut the truck door and stepped back. And as Isabelle drove away, she wondered why she’d agreed to meet the good-looking horseman with a tart tongue for a second time. Solely for the chance to buy a few mares? Or did she simply want the pleasure of giving him a piece of her mind?

  The answer to that was probably a toss-up, she decided.

  * * *

  “Holt? Are you in there?”

  The sound of Blake’s loud voice booming through the open doorway penetrated Holt’s sleep-addled brain. Groggily, he lifted his head just in time to see his older brother step into the messy room he called his office.

  “I’m right here. What’s the matter? Is Cocoa having trouble?” He leaned back in the desk chair and wiped a hand over his face.

  “As far as I know, nothing is wrong with Cocoa. I saw her five minutes ago. She was standing and the baby was nursing.”

  “Thank God. I had to call Chandler back to the ranch to deal with her afterbirth. I was afraid she might be having complications,” he explained, then squinted a look at Blake’s dour expression. “What’s the matter with you? You look like you’ve been eating green persimmons.”

  “That task would probably be easier than trying to fix your mess-ups,” Blake retorted.

  This wiped the cobwebs from Holt’s brain. “My mess-ups? What are you talking about?”

  Blake shoved a stack of papers to one side and eased a hip onto the corner of the desk. “Don’t feign ignorance. You know damned good and well I’m talking about Isabelle Townsend. The blonde who left the horse barn with smoke pouring out of her ears. What the hell did you say to her anyway?”

  Holt used both hands to scrub his face again. “Not much. I basically made it clear that I didn’t have time for her. Which is hardly a lie. You know that.”

  Blake blew out a heavy breath. “Yes, I know it. But in this case, you should’ve made time. Or, at the very least, been polite to the woman.”

  Holt picked up a coffee cup and peered at the cold black liquid inside. He’d poured the drink about five hours earlier, but never found a chance to drink it. Now particles of dust were floating over the surface. “What is the big deal, Blake? It was very clear to me that the woman had no legitimat
e business here on the ranch. I seriously doubt she’s ever straddled a horse in her entire life. We’ll probably never see her again.”

  “Wrong. I invited her to return tomorrow. And I made a personal promise to her that you’d be behaving like a human being instead of a jackass.”

  Holt plunked the coffee cup back to the desktop. “Oh, hell, Blake, you have no idea how I behaved with Isabelle what’s-her-name. You weren’t there.”

  “I didn’t have to be. I know how you are whenever you run out of patience. Like I said, a jackass.”

  “Okay, okay. I wasn’t nice. I’ll admit it. But I’m running on empty. And just looking at her rubbed me the wrong way.”

  Blake arched a brow at him. “Really? She was damned pretty. Since when has a pretty woman got your dander up? Unless—” His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Dear Lord, I hope you didn’t make a pass at her. Is that what really happened?”

  “No! Not even close!” Holt rose from the chair and began to move restlessly around the jumbled room.

  His mother often mentioned that he needed a nicer office, one that was fitting for a respected horse trainer, but Holt always balked at the idea. He liked the dust and the jumble. He liked having metal filing cabinets filled with papers instead of flash drives and computers with spreadsheets. If he wanted to throw a dirty saddle across the back of a chair, he did. If he wanted to toss a pile of headstalls and bridles into a corner of the room, he didn’t worry about how it looked or smelled. He was in the business of horses. Not ostentatious surroundings. Or technical gadgets.

  “Yeah, pretty women and I go hand in hand,” he went on with a dose of sarcasm. “Except I don’t like it when they pretend to be something they aren’t.”

  “I don’t get you, Holt. You don’t know Isabelle Townsend. Why you’ve made this snap decision about her, I’ll never understand. But I’m telling you, you’ve got it all wrong. She’s purchased the old Landry Ranch and has intentions of turning it into a horse farm. And from what I hear about the woman, she has enough riding trophies to fill up this room.”