Yes, she thought, her spirits rising to dizzy heights. She’d tell him tomorrow.
Upon arriving in town, Harrison parked in the square and walked to the post office to pick up her held mail. After scanning through and discarding ad circulars and promotional offers from a variety of businesses that supplied goods and services to ranchers, she found an envelope with the return address of Richardson, Halders, & Blaine, the Dallas firm she’d worked for before she and Parker had ventured out on their own.
She’d received handwritten notes of condolence from each of the partners after her father’s death, a considerate gesture that had touched her. Curious why they would be contacting her now, Harrison slit open the envelope.
Inside was a typed note from Jordan Blaine, the partner with whom she’d worked most closely. After expressing his hope that being in the country was helping her deal with her grief, he continued,
After the way your partnership was dissolved, I suspected you would have no desire to work again in Dallas. Otherwise, I would have called to offer you your old job back as soon as I learned you were available. Then you lost your father, and I knew you would need time to heal.
It’s been a few months now, and I wanted you to know that when—if—you are ready to get back to work, I have several friends who are partners in accounting firms in San Antonio, firms with established client bases and excellent reputations. I would be more than happy to write you letters of recommendation to any or all of them. Just say the word.
Blaine followed up with a list of four firms, their addresses, and the name of the partner she should contact before signing off with his best wishes.
Would she be interested in going back to work in a large firm?
Her immediate flicker of interest quickly faded, replaced by a bone-deep certainty that she now belonged here in Whiskey River, continuing the ranch that was her father’s legacy.
Here—with Duncan McAllister.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to hang on to the letter. She wouldn’t be opposed to arranging some contract or consulting work, part-time on a case-by-case basis. Having another source of income would certainly ease her cash flow problems and ensure she could continue paying Juan.
Tucking the letter into her briefcase with the other papers, she walked back across the square to Riva’s Java.
Natalie greeted her with a smile and a promise to fix her favorite cappuccino, bring over a cinnamon roll, and let the owner know she’d arrived.
Settled at the window table, she let herself drift into happy daydreams about various ways she might let Duncan know she was ready to move forward with everything. After having him tease and tantalize her, she thought with an evil grin about what she might wear—or not wear—when she delivered the news.
He’d been so maddeningly calm and controlled, it might be nice to drive him to the edge of madness for a change.
Riva herself brought over Harrison’s coffee and took a seat. After thanking Harrison for meeting her, she outlined what she’d like an accountant to do for her, concluding, “There’s only a week left before tax filing date, which doesn’t give you much time. I know you’re busy with the ranch, and I’d hate to press you.”
“It won’t take me long to look over the paperwork,” Harrison replied. “Small business filing has always been something of a specialty for me. If everything is in order, you can file immediately. If I find there’s something missing that could be worked to your advantage, I can always file for an extension.”
“So, you would be able to look at them? Mel said you saved her several thousand dollars!”
“I can’t guarantee I could save you money, but there are a lot of exemptions and credits available to small businesses. I absolutely believe you should utilize every one.”
“I won’t get my hopes up but . . . wow, having a thousand or so in extra cash would be a fabulous gift. So, will you take a look?”
“Of course.”
“Great! Can I bring the papers out to the ranch tomorrow? I don’t have them at the store, they’re at home.”
“Do you live in town?”
When the owner nodded, Harrison said, “If you have some time to pick them up this afternoon, you could give them to me today. I’ll be in town for several hours. I’m meeting Mel for an early dinner at the Wheels & Barrels, so after my coffee, I’ll stick around and run some errands before I meet her at six. Text me when you’ve got the papers, and I’ll stop back and pick them up.”
“That would be fabulous! I can’t tell you how excited I am. Those tax programs are helpful, but I’m sure an expert who really knows the laws can do a whole lot better. Save me some money and, in addition to your fee, I’ll guarantee you free coffee for life!”
“Now that’s a real incentive!” Harrison said with a smile.
“Just don’t do anything illegal,” Riva said, smiling back as she stood up. “Don’t want any problems with the IRS.”
“No shortcuts or questionable deals,” Harrison assured her. “If I sign my name to it, everything is legal and above-board.”
“Thanks so much, Harrison. It will be an hour or so—I have some people I have to see. But I’ll text you once I’ve had time to run home and get the paperwork.”
“That will be fine. I intend to take my time and enjoy your fine coffee.”
“Great. I’ll see you later then.”
Nodding, Riva waved to Natalie and walked away.
*
Harrison had just about finished her coffee, and was considering stopping by the Fallen Angels lingerie shop to find something that would guarantee the disintegration of Duncan’s steely control when she suddenly sensed the presence of someone standing near her.
Looking up with a start, she saw Marshall Thomason smiling down at her.
“By the look on your face, those must have been some happy daydreams. Sorry I interrupted them.”
Feeling her face flush, Harrison said, “Not at all. Just marking time, waiting for Riva to bring me some paperwork.”
“Doing some work for her too? I hear you did a great job for Melanie Gardiner.”
Shaking her head, Harrison laughed. “Small towns. I just finished her paperwork yesterday.”
“She was pretty excited about the money you found her.” After a slight pause, he said, “Mind if I join you?”
Harrison hesitated. She would really like to refuse, except she couldn’t think of a plausible excuse to do so unless she just flat-out told him she wanted nothing to do with him. But though she distrusted his flashy good looks and over-confident charm, Whiskey River was a small town, and she didn’t want to be on bad terms with anyone.
Besides, much as it incensed her to think he might be underhanded enough to pay someone to harass her into selling the ranch, she was also curious about what he would have the brass to say to her.
“If you want to,” she said at last.
If he noticed her long pause, he didn’t remark on it, simply taking a chair and signaling Natalie to bring his coffee over.
“It’s been a good calving season, I understand.”
“Yes. No losses, and a very good-looking crop of calves.”
“Bob Hensen said he’d gotten a group together to help you out for the branding and vaccinating.”
“That’s right.”
“So I suppose you wouldn’t be interested in knowing I have several buyers who are very eager to obtain some land in this area.”
You haven’t driven me to selling yet, she wanted to retort. Instead, she said, “No, not a bit. In fact, the longer I’m in Whiskey River, the more certain I am that I’m going to stay and run the ranch permanently.”
“If you think that will make you happy.”
She nodded, adding nothing further that might prolong the conversation.
You’ve asked your question, now go, she thought impatiently. She should have known a self-absorbed man like Marshall wouldn’t apologize or even try to defend himself against what he must know Duncan would have to
ld her about him.
After taking a long sip of his coffee, he said, “I do hope ranching in Whiskey River will make you happy. So . . . awkward as it is, I wouldn’t feel right unless I at least made you aware of something.”
“Aware of something?” she repeated warily.
“As I imagine you know, the property your Daddy bought once belonged to the Triple A. That whole tract of land had been in the McAllister family since right after the Civil War, when settlers here were still fighting off Native American attacks and Mexican banditos. Since the day his stepmother was forced to sell it off when he was a kid in junior high, Duncan McAllister has vowed someday he’d buy it back. He also said there was nothing he wouldn’t do to get it.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I already knew that.”
“You probably don’t know that after his fiancée broke up with him, he said he might as well turn his efforts to charming you. That it was a lot cheaper to marry the land than to buy it back.”
That dig jabbed right to the vulnerable heart of her. True, she’d been suspicious of that at first herself, but every interaction she’d had with Duncan since had shown her he would never be so deceitful.
“That’s a pretty nasty thing to say.”
“Oh, I agree. But it wasn’t me that said it. You seem like a really nice person, Harrison. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt. Or have someone take advantage of you. Just . . . be wary, that’s all.”
While she sat, unable to think of a thing to say, he finished his coffee and stood up. “Sorry to be the bearer of such unpleasant news. But I thought you ought to be warned.”
“I’m much obliged,” she said, trying to keep the irony out of her tone.
“You’re welcome. Now, if you ever do want to sell that land—or even just a part of it, you come see me.”
I’d rather go another round with the coyotes, Harrison thought. “Goodbye, Marshall.”
“You take care, now,” he said with another of those too-charming smiles and walked out.
Harrison sat for several minutes, stewing over what Marshall had told her. He might well be lying. She wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw Daddy’s prize bull.
She knew he and Duncan disliked each other. Might he be feeding her tales to try to create trouble between them? As careful as they’d been not to be seen together, everyone knew Duncan had been working with her on the ranch. After that night at Buddy’s, there was bound to be lingering speculation about a romance between them.
Then a happier thought occurred. She knew someone who might be a much more impartial witness.
Waiting until after the barista had served all the waiting customers, she called over to the counter, “Natalie, could you talk with me a minute?”
“Sure thing, Harrison.” After wiping her hands on a towel, the older woman walked over to her table. “What would you like? Another cappuccino? More cinnamon roll?”
“No, thanks. I need to leave in a minute to run some errands, and if I eat another bite, I won’t be able to appreciate the wine and cheese Mel wants to treat me to tonight. I . . . I just wanted to ask you a question. Since you’ve known Duncan a long time.”
“Okay.”
“Did he say that he intended to marry me to get back his land?”
Natalie’s hesitation sent a spiral of dread through Harrison. “Did Marshall Thomason tell you that? You know those two have never liked each other.”
“He did. But is it true?”
Natalie blew out a sigh. “Well, yes, he did say that. But it was right after Julie Ann broke his heart. I don’t think he meant it, even then. And that was long before he really got to know you.”
Harrison felt something fragile splinter within her, causing a slicing pain that made her catch her breath.
Some of her distress must have shown on her face, for Natalie said quickly, “Don’t you put any stock in that, honey. Marshall’s just trying to stir up trouble.”
He sure was good at that, she thought. “I’m not really concerned, just curious,” Harrison tried to assure her. “Like I told you before, there’s nothing serious between us. We’re just friends.”
“Well, he can be a good one. Don’t let Marshall Thomason make you doubt that.”
The front door opened, admitting a group of customers who headed for the counter. “You better get back to work,” Harrison said with what she hoped was a cheery smile. “Don’t want your boss to think you’re slacking.”
“Okay. Take care of yourself now, honey.”
“I will. Thanks for the great coffee. I’ll see you later—I’ll be back to pick up some paperwork from Riva.”
“See you then.”
Walking out of the shop, Harrison hesitated. Her burning desire to visit Fallen Angels had just been snuffed out with the efficiency of a fire hose directed at a birthday candle.
Instead, she walked to her truck and hopped inside. She could go over to the bookstore and read until Mel closed, but she really didn’t want to talk with anyone right now.
She was certain that Duncan cared about her, but despite his fine words, did he really love her? Or was he only fond of her, fond enough to marry her for the land, knowing he could always divorce her later?
The only thing she was certain about, what she hadn’t needed Marshall Thomason’s warning to believe, was that one of the driving forces of Duncan’s life was his desire to get back all the land that had once belonged to the Triple A.
By now, she was achingly sure that she loved him.
As much as she’d once loved Parker, he’d never been the easiest person to live with. Though he was often witty and charming, he could also be quick to lash out when he was frustrated and had been bored by things she liked that didn’t interest him. Not since the earliest days of their acquaintance, when he was trying to persuade her into a relationship with him, had he been able to speak more than a sentence or two without an F-word in it.
If Duncan used profanity—and he almost certainly did, at least around his male friends—he never did with her. With her, he was always the old-school gentleman, in personality and manner so like Daddy she worried that the resemblance might be clouding her thinking.
Her father had loved her, supported her, and protected her all her life. Was she magnifying the true intensity of Duncan’s feelings by projecting too much of her father’s calm, steady love onto him?
But he’d said he was falling for her. That she made him happy, and he wanted a future with her. He’d given her no reason to doubt the sincerity of those statements. He’d certainly been offended when she’d questioned his motives for being nice to her at the beginning of their relationship.
So maybe he had said, after his breakup, that he was going to marry her to get his ranch back. But as Natalie said, that was years ago. She could ask him, of course. But even if he admitted saying it, he’d be almost certain to insist that he hadn’t really meant it.
She blew out a breath. She’d been so certain that Parker loved her. Could she trust her instincts this time?
Parker had been warm, attentive, persuasive. An enthusiastic lover, for the first few years. When had he become less attentive, less passionate? When their workload increased? Not until he’d met someone more attractive, more interested in the sort of fun he enjoyed?
She grimaced wryly. It hadn’t taken much to bring all the old insecurities roaring back to life. Which showed her just how thin was the glue holding this Humpty Dumpty back together.
What if she decided Duncan didn’t really love her and broke things off? If she stayed in Whiskey River, she was sure to run into him constantly. The thought made her chest hurt.
The only thing worse would be marrying him and then finding out he didn’t really love her. Like his father who had married his wife’s cousin, he might have only a fondness for her, his true passion only for the ranch.
Of course she made him happy because having her meant he would have it all back again. Over time, his initial fondness might tu
rn to boredom with the introvert math nerd of a wife who liked to stay home with a glass of wine rather than go out for drinks at Booze’s or kick up her heels at a honky-tonk.
His fondness fading into nothingness, like Parker’s affection had?
The idea of Duncan kissing her goodbye and going down to Buddy’s to cozy up to blonde, beautiful Julie Ann made her want to throw up.
She’d been on the verge of giving him everything. If she were wrong again, the devastation would be terrible. Should she push away all the doubts Marshall had ignited and commit to Duncan anyway?
But this was too important to guess about. Too important to dither over forever. Duncan would be insulted if she doubted him again or tried to string him along.
She needed to decide now whether to commit to him—or not. Anguished longing collided with doubt, love, fear, and misgivings.
How could she make such a dangerous choice?
The buzzing of her cell phone made her jump. She pulled it out, noting Riva’s text that she was back in the shop and ready to hand over the papers.
No time to think more about this now. She’d have to deal with it later. She texted Riva back that she’d be right in.
As she grabbed her briefcase, which had slid to the edge of the front seat, the mail she’d stuffed into it fell out. And suddenly, a possible solution occurred to her. Putting the briefcase back down, she reached over to snag the letter from her former boss and quickly read through it again.
Some of the anguished tension within her subsided. There might be a way to know for sure, before she went all-in and the outcome, good or bad, was inevitable. She’d think it through again after she met Mel for dinner.
And then decide for sure.
Chapter Sixteen
Several hours later, after thanking Mel for her treat and bidding her goodbye, Harrison drove back home. For ninety interminable minutes, she’d sipped wine and sampled cheese, trying to smile and chat and be a good guest when all she wanted was to get back to the ranch and figure out what to do next.
As she tried to collect and order her thoughts, she smiled ruefully. It was a good thing that Mel Gardiner didn’t know her very well, or she would have picked up on the agitation Harrison had been hard-pressed to mask.
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