by Kim Redford
“I believe it.” She sighed, took a sip of wine, and snuggled a little closer.
He kissed the top of her head, inhaling a fruity fragrance. “I could get used to this.”
“To what?”
“You. Me.”
“Wine?” She finished her drink, then set the empty mug by her feet.
“Yeah. Tonight it’s just the two of us…and the world is locked away outside.”
“I like it.” She glanced up at him. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Everything I cook.”
She chuckled, then put one hand over her mouth as she yawned. “My eyes aren’t going to stay open much longer.”
“Rest them a moment.”
“May I? You won’t get bored sitting here.”
“Never.”
“Okay then…just a little while before I go to bed.” And she softly exhaled as she relaxed against him.
He tossed back the last of his wine, set the mug on the floor, then gently eased them both into a prone position and covered them with the quilt.
She grumbled a little in her sleep at being moved, but she cuddled closer before growing still again.
He gently stroked her silky hair—and willed the sun never to rise.
Chapter 12
Ivy awakened to the sound of her sister’s ringtone—Trace Adkins with the insightful lyrics, deep drawl, and beguiling guitar. She struggled out of sleep, glanced around in confusion at the semidark room softly lit by a small night-light in the kitchen. Nothing looked right. And then reality hit. She was in a cowboy cabin in Wildcat Bluff County.
And then the second reality hit. Where was Slade? She didn’t remember anything beyond going to sleep in his arms. What time was it? She struggled to a sitting position, hearing Trace continue his sensual croon to her. For that matter, where was her phone?
She felt completely disoriented as she stood up, swayed on her feet, and kicked over a glass mug. She reached down and fumbled with it before she got a good grip. That’s when she noticed the other empty mug. She clutched that one, too, as she made her way to the sink and deposited them there.
Finally the ringtone stopped, allowing Trace to slip back into a dimly lit, line-dancing honky-tonk somewhere in the Lone Star State. She’d call Fern back when she got her mind in working order again. Yesterday had been mind-blowing in so many different ways—not the least of which was her slowly succumbing to Slade Steele’s charms. At least she’d simply gone to sleep, instead of dragging him into her bed. If she’d done that, she couldn’t have blamed the wine, because she hadn’t had too much to drink unless she counted being drunk on Slade himself.
She focused on the microwave clock. Six in the morning. She’d been asleep all night. She guessed the previous day really had taken a toll if she’d been that knocked out by it. And Slade? She didn’t hear him anywhere inside the cabin, so she could only assume he’d left in the night. How much earlier, she didn’t know. Maybe he’d left for good sleep in a real bed. She felt disappointed that he hadn’t held her all through the dark hours, but he was a practical man, so he would have made a practical decision. Funny how she’d slept so well that she felt as if she’d been safely cradled in his arms throughout the night.
She needed coffee to get revved up and going, because there was so much to do she couldn’t lollygag while she got her feet under her. She fumbled in the cabinet until she had coffee makings, then she put it together with the coffee maker and sighed in relief when she heard liquid start to drip. While she waited for enough to fill a cup, she pulled a couple of cookies out of a cookie jar made in the shape of Santa’s elf wearing a bright green and cocky cap. She picked a white mug with a pretty red snowflake pattern. She was getting her day started in just the right way. Christmas was coming up fast, and she needed to get in the right, happy frame of mind to do it justice.
That’s when she noticed the bold handwriting on a yellow sticky note stuck to the table. She quickly read it. “Thanks for the night. Check in later.” And then he’d drawn a heart. She felt that simple, little drawing touch her like a burst of hearts zinging across her life. So he had stayed the night, or at least until he was up by five like most working folks in the country.
She poured a cup of coffee, located her phone in her bedroom, and settled in a chair at the dining table. She ate the cookies, downed a slug of liquid energy, and hit speed dial for her sister.
“Ivy, I was getting worried about you,” Fern said in her rich alto that always sounded as if she was about to lapse into song.
“It’s early. You woke me.”
“Hah. I’m just going to bed, so thought I’d check in.” She hesitated a moment, as if giving what she wanted to say some thought. “How do you like it in Wildcat Bluff?”
“I’ve only been here a couple of days, but so far it’s definitely the Wild West.”
Fern chuckled in her trademark husky tone. “Do you like wild, or is it just me who developed a taste for it?”
“I thought maybe you developed a taste for a cowboy named Craig Thorne.”
Fern hesitated again. “So you already met Craig?”
“Yep.”
“What do you think?”
“He’s a fine piece of male craftsmanship.”
“Craig’s a lot more than a pretty face.”
Ivy went on alert, because her sister rarely defended a guy since they came to her in a disposable variety. “Is that so?”
“He’s a fabulous guitar player. And he can sing.”
“I only know him as a cowboy firefighter.”
“He’s that, too, but how do you know?”
Ivy sighed, realizing she’d let the cat out of the bag. “I guess you ought to know there was a small fire in one of the cabins yesterday.” She didn’t mention arson so as not to worry her sister.
“Oh no!” Fern sounded horrified and heartbroken. “Is it gutted? How did it happen? Electrical wires or something?”
“No damage.”
“That’s a relief. I bet the new sprinkler system kicked into gear.”
“We’re looking into making sure it doesn’t happen again.” She didn’t want to fib to Fern, but she didn’t want to go into the details either.
“Okay. Wait…we? Did you already hook up with a cowboy?”
“Slade just stopped by to see if he could help get the Hall up and running, so he was here when we discovered the fire.”
“Do you mean Slade Steele, the gorgeous but standoffish tall drink of water?”
“Far as I can tell, he’s anything but standoffish.”
“Oh, really?” Fern sounded very interested in the situation.
“It’s nothing. I mean…well, he did spend the night.”
“That was quick.”
“I don’t mean spend-the-night-in-my-bed type of thing.”
“No?”
“He’s been kind and concerned and helpful. In case of another fire, he wanted to be on the premises. He slept on the sofa.” Ivy decided not to admit that she’d slept there, too, or she’d really stoke her sister’s interest.
“Are you sure you’re talking about Slade Steele, the cowboy firefighter who runs a ranch, cooks at the Chuckwagon, bakes award-winning pies, and makes wine from his own vineyard?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m surprised he took the time, because he hasn’t had it for all the cowgirls that constantly troll him.”
“He’s concerned about the Park.”
“Everybody in the county loves the place, so I can understand it. Is there anything else we need to do to protect our property?”
“Slade is going to install more outdoor lights today.”
“He’s taking quite an interest.” Fern hesitated, then went on. “Will you recheck all the fire prevention, too?”
“We already did it. Everyt
hing looks okay.”
“Good. And, Ivy…I don’t want to see you hurt. Slade is—”
“He’s a nice guy.”
“Yes, but he’s much more than that. He’s a smart, tough cowboy with enough irons in the fire to brand an entire herd.”
“I’m not exactly lacking in things to do either.”
“I know. Still, Slade’s a guy with a past and a guy on the move. I sincerely doubt he’s looking to transition to a little love nest.”
“Well, I’m not, either.” She knew her sister was right, but she still felt hurt that Fern didn’t think Slade could be seriously interested in her. “I’m here strictly to do your job.”
“About that. I do appreciate you stepping up to the plate.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Yeah. I really had planned to stick this one out. It’s just that…Craig was getting all serious and you know how that affects me.”
“Was he the only one getting serious?”
“Well, I admit… No, I won’t admit anything. Let’s just say I always wanted to perform on a cruise line.”
“How do you like it?”
“Captain’s pretty hot, but I just can’t seem to get interested in anything here except music.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“I guess.” Fern sighed, then hummed a few bars of a lamenting song. “It’s just not like me.”
“Why don’t you drop the gig and come home?”
“I signed a contract.”
“Break it.”
“I never break a contract. It’d be bad for my reputation.”
“I’m not sure how long I can hold this together for you. I need to get back to Houston.” She really did want Fern to take over before she lost all sense of perspective and succumbed not only to Slade’s charm, but to the county’s charm as well.
“What’s going on for you there?”
“In case you’ve forgotten, it’s my home.”
“Not now.”
“It’s temporary here.”
“Please give Wildcat Bluff County a chance. It’ll grow on you. And I think it’ll be good for you. You need a change in life.”
“You’re the one who likes change. I’m the one who likes to stay in one place.”
“I put this deal together for both of us.”
“Are you telling me that you took this new gig just so I’d have to leave Houston and move here?” Ivy suddenly felt manipulated and betrayed by the one person in her life she thought she could completely trust. “Tell me that’s not so.”
“I took this gig for a lot of reasons. Maybe that’s one of them.”
“Maybe? That there’s any possibility it could be a reason is outrageous. You know I like my life in Houston and I have every intention of going back there.”
“Give it some time. Think of life outside the box. Think of fun at the Hall. Think of hunky Slade Steele—he doesn’t have to be a forever guy but a get-me-through-the-night guy.”
“You sound like one of your country songs.” There was so much more that she wanted to say, but she didn’t go there—no way to change her sister’s mind.
“Don’t I always? And you know, it’s all getting a little old, but I’m hanging in there.”
“You might as well enjoy life on the high seas while you’ve got it. For me, I better be getting on down to the Hall.”
“Thanks. And, Ivy…you know I love you and want only the best for you, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know. I love you, too.”
“Bye for now.” And Fern was gone.
Ivy looked at her phone for a long moment, realizing that no matter Fern’s good intentions, she couldn’t let her sister run her life anymore. She needed to come up with an alternate plan. She was city, not country. Hot cowboys didn’t matter. Historic dance halls didn’t matter. Friendly folks didn’t even matter. She needed out…and she knew one way to get there.
She hit speed dial again. She had a Realtor friend who was so good he could sell ice in Alaska. And he was always on the lookout for the big deal for his big-deal clients.
“Hey, Ivy darlin’, how’s life in the petrified countryside?” Peter Simpson answered in his deep Texas drawl.
“It’s about as exciting as you can imagine.”
“Please, I don’t even want to go there. You missed opening night of the new opera season.”
“How could that possibly compare to hearing a local country band in my very own dance hall?”
“That bad, huh?”
“You know the deal here. And you know Fern.”
“Yep. I warned you not to sign on to her pipe dream, because she’s a definite rolling stone.”
“I know, but I did.”
“That said and out of the way, how may I help you?”
“Peter, the Park is really charming in a precious country way. The cowboy cabins are adorable. And Wildcat Hall is a classic old-time dance hall. Surely somebody with money would be interested in either investing or building it up as a big tourist attraction.”
“You want to sell?” He sounded shocked. “What would Fern say?”
“For now, she’s gone and I’m not sure when she’ll be back.”
“But she might change her mind and return at any moment.”
“Frankly, I don’t think she’d object to selling the whole place if we got a great price that would leave us sitting pretty. She could travel the world. I could do whatever I decided to do.”
“Sales-wise, I could always compare it to the wildly popular and lucrative Gruene Hall. There’s nothing like that honky-tonk in North Texas.”
“That’s a plus.”
“Buyers will want to see the books. Any good?”
“Profit—but limited.”
“Can you get a better bottom line by the first of the year?”
“Christmas is coming up.” She felt stronger and more in control by the moment.
“Good. Find a way to rev up the entertainment. Can you up the prices on beer, wine, and food by catering to the foodies—you know, small-batch stuff?”
“I already have that in mind. I’ve been talking with an award-winning chef in this county.”
“Perfect.” He hesitated before he sighed heavily into the phone. “Ivy, are you sure you want me to pursue this sale?”
“Yes, of course.” She felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that warred with her words, but she pushed it away.
“Remember, I’m good. If I pursue this, I’ll probably find a buyer. And a great one. This property is unique. It’s historic. It’s back-to-the-good-old-days type of thing. People like that. Developers like that. I even like it.”
“You’re giving me hope I might be back in Houston right after the New Year.”
“I wouldn’t count on me coming up with a buyer that fast, but you never know.”
“Remember, you’re good.” She glanced over at the happy-looking elf cookie jar, already feeling a little nostalgic for it. “I don’t know how long I can last living among cows and horses.”
“What about cowboys?”
“At least there’s some eye candy up here.”
“That always makes life bearable.” He hesitated again. “One thing—if anybody shows interest, we immediately contact Fern. I won’t leave her hanging in the dark, as a friend or a client.”
“Agreed. I’d do it anyway. And, Peter, you’re the best. Otherwise, I’m afraid my sister is going to leave me stuck here forever.”
“Would it be so bad? It’s pretty country. Nice folks.”
“It’s all that. But you know I’m city, not country.”
“Yeah. That’s what all the city folks say before they desert us for the wide-open spaces.”
“Not me.”
“Okay. Send me all the info you
have on the place. I’ll research more on my end.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
“Don’t expect to hear from me right away.”
“Fine. I’ll be busy here, bringing in as much business as possible.”
“Sounds like a plan.” And he clicked off.
She felt almost light-headed at how fast that went. Had she done the right thing? Had she reacted more out of resentment and fear than anything else? Had Fern finally maneuvered Ivy into taking a stand that set her on a collision course with her past actions, which always put her sister first?
She set her phone down on the table and noticed Slade’s note with the hand-drawn heart. She suddenly remembered his words that lots of folks in the county would’ve bought Wildcat Hall Park. Why hadn’t she thought of them first? Why had she thought of Peter? But she knew. Locals would go straight to Fern and things would get complicated fast. They might even guilt her into staying…particularly one heartbreaker of a cowboy. For once, she was going to do things her way.
She picked up Slade’s note, touched the heart with her fingertip, and felt a terrible sense of impending loss.
Chapter 13
Later that day, Ivy stood at the front long bar in Wildcat Hall, contemplating what to do next, but she wasn’t sure what to do first, second, or third, so it was hard to decide.
She’d already tacked red tinsel in a long line down the length of the bar. She’d hung a pretty silk wreath made of green boughs and red poinsettia on the front door. She’d set out cheerful red-and-green napkins. She wanted to hang strands of twinkling white lights in the tree limbs overhanging the beer garden, but that would require a ladder, and she doubted she was up to so much time and energy investment. Still, it was something to add onto her to-do list, so she leaned over her laptop, set up on a table near the bar, and typed “white lights” under the growing column of items for the Park.
She’d been keeping a lookout for Slade, but so far he was a no-show. She knew he had lots to do, so the Hall had to be far down on his personal to-do list, particularly when he needed to talk with his niece. But he had said in his note that he’d see her later. Much later was probably for the best, because she felt guilty about her talk with Peter and she feared it might show on her face. In any case, finding an outside buyer was probably a thousand-to-one shot, so she just needed to settle in and make the best of her situation until Fern’s contract ran out.
