The Rancher

by Julia Justiss

  Soon engrossed in the drama of death and deception in Regency England, Harrison was absently sipping her coffee when a shadow fell across the phone screen. Startled, she looked up to discover a tall man standing over her.

  Her foolish heart had just enough time to leap before she realized the man gazing down at her wasn’t Duncan McAllister, but some other tall, handsome man. One she didn’t recognize.

  “Harrison Scott, isn’t it?” he asked, smiling at her.

  He looked well-maintained and expensive, his face and hands sporting a tan that hadn’t been acquired by working a ranch. He wore well-cut slacks and a jacket she recognized from Parker’s purchases as a major men’s luxury brand layered over a sweater she suspected must be cashmere.

  She still had no idea who he was, but after last night, his handsome face, artfully tousled blond hair and too-winning smile put her instantly on her guard. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

  His smile deepened. “Probably not. I’ve seen you and your father around town, but I don’t think we were ever officially introduced. I’m Marshall Thomason, a cousin of the Kellys. My father and I run a real estate investment firm headquartered in San Antonio, but I was born and raised here in Whiskey River. We happened to be out of town when your father’s funeral took place. I wanted to stop by and offer my condolences. He was a good man.”

  She nodded an acknowledgement. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  “Do you mind if I join you?”

  “If you like.”

  He winked. “I would.”

  As he seated himself, she wondered why such a polished and affluent-looking man, who was probably accustomed to having busty blonde beauties hang on his arm, would want to further an acquaintance with her. Until the significant phrase of his introductory speech suddenly registered.

  A real estate investment firm headquartered in San Antonio.

  Was Marshall Thomason yet another handsome man who wanted her land?

  “You’re an accountant working in Dallas, right?” Thomason asked.

  “If that’s an indirect way to ask whether I’m planning to sell Daddy’s ranch, you can drop the ‘charming stranger’ routine right now,” she said bluntly. “I was working in Dallas, but this ranch was Daddy’s dream, and right now I plan on continuing it for him.”

  He held up a placating hand. “Just asking! I hope I wouldn’t be gauche enough to contact a grieving daughter about buying out her inheritance barely a month after she’s lost her beloved father.”

  Unlike some people she could mention, Harrison thought, still angry about last night. Although she was certain that’s what Thomason was hinting at.

  “Do you know much about running a ranch? I recall hearing that your father used to work ranches in the summers when he was growing up here.”

  “I haven’t much experience, but I can learn.”

  “I’m sure you can. Your father was proud of how intelligent and successful you are. It’s just . . . ranching is a difficult business in the best of times. Hard work with an uncertain return. Not nearly as precise and predictable as accounting.”

  “Maybe I’m ready for something less precise and predictable than accounting.”

  “Maybe. But I suspect it won’t be long before some enterprising firm will try to lure you away. I know some people at Richardson, Halders, & Blaine, and they say you were one of the brightest young CPAs they’d ever hired. Said the partners were sick when you decided to leave and strike out on your own.”

  Who did he know? And if he was talking about her taking a job at another firm, did he know about the breakup of her partnership?

  If so, were the rumors about to begin?

  After she made a noncommittal murmur, he continued, “I hope you do decide to settle here. The men in Whiskey River will appreciate having such a pretty, intelligent woman in town.”

  She was hardly a stunning addition to the local female population, Harrison thought, Thomason’s comments making her feel vaguely uneasy. Once upon a time, receiving unexpected compliments from a charming, handsome man would have surprised but gratified her. Post-Parker, it just made her suspicious.

  “I’m not a rancher, but I spent plenty of time around the Kelly Ranch while I was growing up. My mother is Paloma Kelly’s first cousin. I’d be happy to lend an ear if you ever want to talk over problems about the ranch—or anything else. Over coffee, or maybe dinner? Baron’s does a great porterhouse steak.”

  Baron’s Steakhouse—the only upscale eatery in Whiskey River Parker had considered worthy of his restaurant dollar. Remembering the meals she’d shared with him there on his few visits to town made Harrison feel ill.

  Would she ever be free of the painful memories?

  “Maybe,” she said.

  “Well then, I’ll leave you to your book. Nice to have met you formally, Harrison.”

  “And you too, Mr. Thomason,” she replied—only because courtesy demanded it.

  “Marshall, please,” he said, with another of those too-perfect smiles. “We’re not very formal out here in the country. I’ll see you around.”

  It’s a free country, she almost said. “It’s a small town,” she said instead.

  With a nod, he turned and walked out.

  Harrison directed her gaze down at her phone, not wanting Thomason to look back toward the shop and see her watching him out the window, though she kept track of him out of the corner of her eye.

  He even walked with the self-confident stride of a man used to calling the shots and telling other people what to do.

  Maybe she was making progress. The naive Harrison of a few years ago would have taken Thomason at his word, never doubting his sincerity. The more worldly, wise Harrison mistrusted Thomason’s intentions even more than she did Duncan McAllister’s.

  And what was she going to do about Duncan?

  Before their bitter exchange, they’d arranged for him to come back this afternoon and help her tag her newborn calves. She’d checked on Juan before riding out to find the new arrivals this morning, hoping maybe he’d recovered enough that she’d be able to text Duncan and let him know she no longer needed his help.

  But Juan was still so obviously in pain that she didn’t even broach the possibility of having him ride out with her. Instead, she’d assured him that Duncan McAllister would continue to help out on the ranch and all he needed to concentrate on was getting better.

  It was nearing four o’clock. Despite how angry he’d been with her when he’d left last night, she had no doubt that Duncan would honor his promise and come back to help her today. Even if he didn’t want to be around her.

  She’d better get back to the ranch.

  Though what she was going to say to Duncan when he arrived, she had no idea.

  *

  As it turned out, she didn’t have to say much at all. He got to the ranch precisely on time, and after inquiring whether Juan was doing any better, to which she reluctantly had to affirm that he wasn’t, he simply nodded and began loading up the gear.

  The only other time he spoke was to ask directions to the location of the next calf. By now, they were working smoothly as a team, Duncan approaching and cajoling the mama cow while Harrison brought and handed him the necessary supplies to tag and measure the calf.

  After the baby was tagged and treated, Harrison spoke to and stroked it while Duncan put the gear back in the truck, then waited for Harrison to jump back in and enter the details in her cattle register. Once she put the book away, he asked where they needed to drive next.

  By the time they’d finished working with the eight new arrivals of the day, Harrison figured they’d each spoken more words to the cows than they had to one another.

  And she was having a hard time holding on to her suspicions about Duncan’s reasons for kissing her.

  Maybe he had been attracted to her. Despite the angry words between them, she was woefully aware that she was just as drawn to him today as she’d been before their argument. And though he’d sc
rupulously maintained a proper distance between them, her senses still buzzed with that same frisson of sexual tension.

  She wasn’t able to glean how he really felt. He’d remained perfectly polite, but distant and remote. Still insulted by having her question his motives?

  Earlier in the evening last night, she’d felt that his response to her was genuine. Granted, she was no raving beauty, but maybe she was letting the body blow Parker’s rejection had dealt her confidence in herself as a woman make her unnecessarily suspicious.

  In every other interaction they’d had, Duncan had been completely honest and above-board. Had she been right to doubt him . . . despite the instincts that insisted he truly found her attractive?

  But look where those “instincts” had gotten her with Parker.

  And so, during the course of their mostly silent transit through the pastures, she dithered between believing she was right to be cautious and feeling she’d been unfair. By the time they arrived back at the barn and he silently stowed away the gear, then confirmed in a monotone that he would see her again at four o’clock tomorrow, she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  Before he could turn away and walk to his truck, she stayed him with a touch to his sleeve.

  “Look, I’m sorry about what I said last night. You’ve been nothing but honest with me from the beginning. I guess . . . I’ve just been burned rather badly. But I shouldn’t have projected that onto you, or accused you unfairly of something that was really my fault. I’m very grateful for your help, and while we continue to work together, I’d really like us to be . . . friends.”

  For first time that day, Duncan looked her in the eye, his sober gaze searching her face. “I don’t like having my integrity questioned.”

  She smiled ruefully. “That was pretty apparent. Again, I’m sorry.”

  He sighed. “Okay, but it wasn’t really all your fault. I’ve been burned too—by a city girl. When I cooled down later, I knew you weren’t trying to be a tease.”

  Her sense of relief at clearing the air made her feel almost faint. “Then you’ll forgive me—again?”

  He smiled for the first time today, the expression lighting up his face and sending those little shivers through her again. “If you’ll forgive me—again.”

  He offered his hand. She gave him hers, and they shook firmly.

  “Friends?” she asked.

  “Friends,” he confirmed.

  The lightness that filled her chest, the sense of a great weight lifted, reinforced just how much she’d begun to count on their fledgling friendship—and how crushed she’d been when she thought she’d forfeited it for good.

  “Why don’t I return the favor tonight?” he was saying. “Isabella, my housekeeper, did her bi-weekly cleaning today, and she always cooks up a big pot of chili. It’s enough to last for days. I’d be happy to share some with you, and show you around the Triple A. You don’t need to worry—Isabella stays overnight, so I can promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman. She won’t stand for anything less, and she wields a mean frying pan.”

  “Cast iron?”

  “Of course. She makes the best corn bread in the county in it too. There will be some to go with the chili.”

  His smile was infectious, as was the idea of eating dinner in his engaging company rather than alone in her silent house.

  “You can feel safe too. Knowing your housekeeper is listening in the kitchen will ensure I don’t try to ‘entice’ you. I don’t want to be beaned with a cast iron frying pan either.”

  “Well, that relieves my anxiety.”

  His smile broadened, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and his expression looked almost as enthused as she felt.

  Was he as gratified to recapture their budding friendship as she was?

  All she knew was she was incredibly relieved to have harmony restored between them. And she was really looking forward to chili and homemade corn bread.

  “Let me get cleaned up, and I’ll drive over.”

  “No, I’ll wait for you. Better to let me drive you over and drive you back. The roads are narrow and some of the curves are sharp. I don’t want you trying to manage them after dark with a hand that’s not healed up yet.”

  She ought to protest, but her hand was still pretty sore, and the truck drove like a truck. Managing sharp curves required a firm grip on the steering wheel. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Isabella would bean me with a frying pan if I made an injured lady drive herself after dark.”

  She hadn’t realized until now how much she’d enjoyed the light banter they’d shared. Relishing it, she replied, “I’ll have to let you drive me then. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew I was responsible for setting Isabella on you with her frying pan. Give me a few minutes to wash up and change clothes.”

  “I’m happy to wait for you, Cowgirl,” he said, and followed her back to the house.

  Chapter Six

  Several hours later, Duncan lounged in his chair, watching Harrison finish the last of her chili while he sipped on his long-neck beer. He’d enjoyed driving her across some of the hills and pastures of the Triple A, the scenery bathed in the russet and pink of a spectacular Hill Country sunset.

  She was so unassuming and genuine, meeting Isabella and asking about her family in passable Spanish, complimenting the housekeeper on the spicy chili, and even gamely sipping a beer. During the course of dinner, she’d asked him countless questions about how he managed his cattle—everything from how he decided which cows to cull to how to gentle calves and wean them with less distress.

  He loved her enthusiasm and her obvious determination to learn all she could about the things he loved: raising cattle, managing pastures, maximizing resources, and being a good steward of this beautiful land.

  It shook him to remember how close they’d come last night to destroying their relationship almost before it had begun. Lulled by how much he liked her and was attracted to her, he’d been blindsided and stung to the quick by her suspicions about his intentions.

  So offended, he’d unfairly struck back. A response he wasn’t proud of. But Harrison’s sudden about-face, from eager response to rejection, called up the painful memory of Julie Ann the morning after he’d spent the night making love to her, when she casually announced she was breaking their engagement.

  He was uneasily aware that he was more relieved than he ought to be that they’d managed to avoid disaster and restore the relationship between them.

  He truly liked Harrison . . . and he was still strongly attracted to her.

  He shouldn’t have made a move so quickly last night, no matter how much she’d seemed to invite it. But the strength of the pull between them, and his certainty that the “dissolution” of her partnership also meant that her relationship with Parker was over, as well, led him to be too eager.

  Despite that—and the threat of Isabella’s frying pan—when he remembered the feel of Harrison in his arms and the sweetly eager way she’d responded to his kiss, all he wanted was to get her there again.

  This time, though, he’d take it slower.

  He was absolutely convinced that, sooner or later, she’d be in his arms again. He knew it would be good, better than good. And knowing that, he was willing to avoid rushing her, willing to wait to make another move until she felt sure about him.

  Putting down her spoon, Harrison leaned back in her chair and sighed. “That was wonderful. I thought I made a pretty mean chili, but Isabella’s is better than any I’ve ever tasted.”

  “Would you like more?”

  “I would, but I’ve got no space left to put it in.”

  “I’ll send you home with some. Much as I love it, I don’t really want to eat it every night for a week. Sometimes I think Isabella forgets my brothers don’t live at home anymore. She still makes enough chili for an army of teenage boys.”

  “Do you have an army of brothers?”

  “It often seemed like it, but it was just me, Grant, and Brice. Altho
ugh we probably ate as much as an army.”

  “I always wished I had siblings. Where are your brothers now?”

  “Grant joined the Marines right out of high school and served for eight years in Recon.”

  “Recon—wow! That’s a pretty elite unit.”

  “He’s a pretty elite guy. He’s out of the service now, living in San Antonio, working for a company that helps place veterans in jobs.”

  “And Brice?”

  “A Texas Ranger. He’s based out of Austin, so he has an apartment there, but he gets back to Whiskey River frequently.”

  “Soon enough to eat some chili?”

  Duncan laughed. “Not this week.”

  “Then I’d be happy to take some home with me.”

  “Another beer?”

  “No, I’ll just finish this one.”

  “Mind if I have another one?”

  “Last time I checked, it was your house.”

  “Why don’t you move over to the couch? Isabella will want to clear the table and get the dishes put up.”

  Nodding, she rose and walked to the family room that adjoined the dining area while Duncan walked back into the kitchen to fetch the beer.

  He was pleased she hadn’t suggested it was time to take her home yet. He was enjoying the evening in Harrison’s company even more than he had last night and was glad to prolong it for the duration of another beer.

  But when he came back to sit in the overstuffed chair beside the couch, her expression had gone serious.

  “What is it?” he asked, immediately concerned.

  She sighed. “Sorry to have hit you up about so many details of ranch work, but I wanted to get a clearer idea of what will need to be done. Over the last half hour, I’ve been trying to figure out how I’m going to handle everything. I visited Juan this morning, and I honestly can’t see how he’s going to be able to come back to work anytime soon. With all that will need to be done this spring, I’m not going to be able to do it alone.”