by Jeannie Watt
“Agreed.”
“So what’s with you?’ he asked gruffly after attaching the plank to the supports they’d just put up.
“Me?” She shot him a look.
“You seem distracted.”
She gave a short, brittle laugh. “You come in here looking like your dog died and you’re telling me that I look distracted?”
For a minute she thought he was going to argue with her, but instead he picked up another board and went to work attaching it to the wall. Jolie decided not to mention that he was squeezing her out.
“Why all the fence building?” he asked.
“Because the ranch is in rough shape.”
“Hard times?” It wasn’t an insulting question. Most ranches went through hard times now and again.
“Lazy ex-brother-in-law.”
Dylan handed her the drill without comment and stepped back.
She put up two boards then returned the drill.
“Not bad.”
For a moment they stood side by side.
Since he hadn’t pressed matters, Jolie said, “My sister’s ex-husband was a dreamer rather than a doer. The ranch fell down around his ears while Allie was out trying to earn a living. Dani moved back home and is using it as a base for her horse training business.”
“But you’re fixing the fences.”
“She has a lot on her plate and—” she moved to pick up another board “—I like doing it. She likes training animals.”
“You’re the homebody?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. But, yes, I am. Although it’s more of being a ranch-body. I’d like to get the fields back into shape. Lease them out. Increase the cattle herd. I’ve already doubled it. All five of our cows had heifer calves. We have nothing to sell but ten head of breeding stock.”
“You’ll take a loss feeding those heifers until they’re breeding age.”
“The meadow hay looks good this year and if I can get the baler running, we’re going to mow and bale. That’ll help. Then I’ll just have to pray for a few bull calves to take the financial pressure off next year.”
She turned toward him, taking in his speculative look. “I could ask why you’re staring, but won’t.”
“Because?”
“I know the answer.”
“Which is?”
“You’re surprised that I have a plan.” She put the board in place and drilled the pilot hole.
Dylan waited until she was done to ask, “Why would that surprise me?”
“Because in your head, I fit into the slot marked ‘incompetent’?”
“I never called you incompetent.” He handed her a screw and then traded drills.
“You just treated me that way.”
“I thought we were going to bury this.”
“I guess it left a bigger mark than I thought it had. I still have a few issues I need to lay to rest.” She put more weight than was necessary behind the drill as she put in the screw.
“I always thought you were capable.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why?”
She put a hand on her hip. “I don’t know. Maybe the way you mocked me when I was trying to brainstorm ideas to improve business?”
“Feed store luau?”
“I was shooting from the hip,” she said through her teeth. “I told you I hadn’t put anything together.”
“For the record I thought you were intelligent but easily distracted. I thought that you misused your intellect.”
“Like some superhero gone wrong?”
“Exactly.”
“Huh.” She pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes, trying to read him. He seemed sincere. “So what brought your black mood on today?”
He seemed surprised at the quick change of topic. “Just...issues at home.”
“Which home? Mike’s or your other...home?”
“The other.”
Jolie shifted her weight, the drill still hanging from one hand. “I’m approaching none-of-your-business status again, aren’t I?”
“Edging in on it,” he agreed. His eyes slid down to her lips and something shifted inside her, causing warmth to start pooling low in her abdomen. Her breath caught and she had to force herself to let it out low and slow, so he wouldn’t realize the effect he was having on her.
“Sometimes it helps to talk,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the husky edge to her voice. “Believe it or not, I can keep things to myself.” The door opened, startling both of them, and Morley Ames entered.
“Do you have more of that hand cream?” he asked almost before the door had closed behind him.
“I do,” Jolie said, moving toward him, escaping.
“The wife loves it.”
“And it looks like your hands are in better shape, too.”
“A little. But I let her use most of the samples.”
“How many tubes?” Jolie asked with a smile as she walked around the counter where she kept her private stash.
“Better make it four.”
Jolie blinked at Dylan then grabbed four containers of hand cream out of the box on the lower shelf. “Anything else?”
“Nope. I’ll be back for my regular feed order next week.”
“By that time we should have the gift store up and running,” Jolie said as she rang up the cream and put it in a bag.
“Gift store?” Morley asked, sounding a touch shocked. “Here?”
“Western gifts and home items, made by local artisans. High-quality unique items.” She picked up one of the brochures she’d made and popped it into the bag. “Mother’s Day is coming up. And you have a grandson graduating soon, don’t you?”
“I’ll tell Lillian.”
“I’d appreciate it. Bring her in. I also have some samples for other items from the hand cream line.”
Morley cleared his throat. “Maybe I could take them now.”
“You bet.” Jolie reached into the box and pulled out a few samples of gentle dish soap, laundry soap and face cream. “See you next week.”
Jolie waited until the door closed behind Morley before saying, “The store owes me eighteen dollars.”
The phone in Dylan’s pocket rang before he could answer. He pulled it out and glanced at the number, his mouth tightening. “I need to take this.”
“Sure,” Jolie said. The stormy look was back on his face and she hoped whatever it was didn’t tip Dylan over the edge.
* * *
DYLAN DIDN’T SAY much after returning from the office. Jolie had put up the remaining boards and was standing back, debating how many more she needed and how best to use the dusty window space, when he crossed the room to join her. She didn’t as much as look at him, sensing he needed his privacy. His expression was grim, but not that much grimmer than he had when he’d walked into the store that morning.
“I’ll find a couple more usable boards,” he said, heading for the door without waiting for her to agree.
While he was out there, they had an unusual rush of customers. Apparently the break in the rain had brought out the shoppers. By the time they’d taken care of the last one, it was time to close up shop.
Dylan disappeared into the warehouse while she gathered her purse and locked the main building and she found herself hoping that whatever was eating at him would soon be resolved.
Dani was working a horse in the round pen when Jolie got home. Since she didn’t feel much like talking, anyway, Jolie put on her work clothes and headed out to cut the weeds that had shot up after the rains and threatened to short out the electric fence. She came in late, after dusk, and Dani opened the front door just as she started up the walk.
“I thought I was going to have to send out a s
earch party,” she said, pulling her sweatshirt around her more tightly.
Despite her good intentions, Jolie’s gaze dropped to her sister’s midsection then slid away before it became obvious that she was speculating. “The weeds are shoulder high in some places.”
“I can put in an hour or so tomorrow.”
“Yeah? When?”
Dani’s schedule was booked solid and if she was pregnant, Jolie was fairly certain that exhaustion wasn’t helping matters. This was the first time that she could remember when she and Dani hadn’t been totally open with one another, but that was the way life went. Things changed and you rolled with them.
“I can come early.”
“No. I actually like being the one in control of weed maintenance,” Jolie said. “As the youngest, I rarely experienced that thrill.”
Dani smiled a little. “Suit yourself. Two jobs and ranch maintenance. That should keep you out of trouble.”
“Nothing,” Jolie said with a half smile, “has ever done that.” It seemed that if she didn’t run into trouble, she made her own—and she had a feeling she was inching toward trouble with Dylan Culver, but not in the usual way.
Dani pushed a hand through her hair. “Sorry for all the emotion lately.”
“It happens.”
“Not to me.”
Jolie pushed her jaw sideways. “I beg to differ.”
“I’m pregnant.” The words came out in a rush. “I didn’t know until yesterday.”
“I guessed. You didn’t drink your wine that night we had the toast.”
“I wasn’t feeling well. I—” she gave a small shrug “—had no idea. We’re careful. We had a plan. This—” She stopped abruptly and pulled in a breath that made her shoulders rise a good inch. Then she shook her head.
“How’s Gabe doing with this information?” Jolie asked gently.
Dani’s gaze flashed up to hers. “I haven’t told him because I want him to decide on this job—”
“What? Without all the facts?”
Her sister’s face went a little pale. “No. He made a huge sacrifice for me. Us, really.”
“It was all you,” Jolie corrected. “If Allie and I had lived on this ranch and he’d never met you, trust me, there’d be a resort and water park next door.”
“All right. He did it for me. I want him to take this job. He wants it.”
“Then tell him you’ll go with him. And then go. You could have done the long-distance thing if you hadn’t been pregnant, but since you are—go.”
“I don’t want him to think I’m going just because I’m pregnant.”
“You are.”
“Exactly! And he won’t want that and then...”
“So it’s not perfect. Stop overthinking. Go tell Gabe he’s going to be a father.”
Dani pulled the sweatshirt around her again. “We had this plan...”
“I’m sure.” Gabe was a rampant planner, the result of a chaotic childhood.
“Children happen in four years.”
“Guess again.”
“Yeah.” Dani dug her hands into her pockets. “I just hate screwing up the plan.”
“I think that took both of you.” And Jolie couldn’t believe she was valiantly pushing her sister out the door when she really didn’t want to run the ranch alone. But, as she’d said, things changed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DYLAN WAS MANNING the counter when Marti Kendall came in with a stack of artwork wrapped in brown paper late Friday afternoon. Jolie had been waiting for said artwork for days and he was glad it was finally here.
“Hey,” she said with a wide smile. “It’s been a while.”
She spoke as if they’d been old friends, but as near as Dylan could remember they’d been passing acquaintances. Whatever. She was an attractive woman, petite with long brown hair and wide hazel eyes. From what he’d heard she was a very talented horse trainer and there was a bit of professional rivalry between her and Jolie’s sister, Dani.
“Is Jolie here?”
“At the bank. She’ll be back shortly.”
He’d been enjoying a brief respite. Jolie had been eyeing him thoughtfully for the past several days and even though she hadn’t said anything, it was coming. Despite his Herculean attempt not to let that shit going on with Lindsey and his ex-partner affect his mood, he knew he wasn’t fully succeeding and she was keying in on it.
“I’m on kind of a tight schedule,” Marti said with a smile. “Maybe you could help me hang these?”
“You could leave them for Jolie.”
Marti shook her head as if that wasn’t even close to an option. “I’d rather hang them myself. Make certain it’s done right.”
“Okay.” Dylan came out from the behind the counter, remembering now why he and Marti had never been more than acquaintances. “I’ll get the ladder.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you.”
Dylan brushed the ladder off before hauling it into the store. By the time he got there, Marti had her paintings unwrapped and set out on the counter. “Those are nice.”
They were actually beyond “nice.” He didn’t know much about art, but the swirling colors that flowed out of the manes and tails of running horses were masterfully done. “You have a distinctive style.”
Marti beamed as she held up the first painting. “Thank you. If I didn’t train horses for a living, I do think I could have a career in art.” She gave him a winsome look. “I don’t have time to do both well at the moment, so I paint when I have some downtime in the winter.”
She held a painting out at arm’s length, raising and lowering it a few inches as she regarded the wall behind it. “This one first. I think the nail needs to go just about where that tiny crack is.”
Dylan didn’t ask which crack since there were several in the old building, which had been settling for the better part of a century. There were freshly painted cracks, however. Jolie had belatedly decided to paint the wall behind the cedar, and had managed to do so without removing the boards.
“Perfect,” Marti said as he drove the nail and then took the painting from her and carefully settled it in place. That was when he got a good look at the price sticker and decided he’d be really surprised if any of Marti’s artwork went out the door if they were all similarly priced. He moved the ladder and Marti handed him another painting after he’d driven in the nail.
When he’d hung the last work, he lowered the ladder to lay on its edge along the aisle and they stood back to admire. Yeah. The art definitely added a touch of class to the place.
Dylan settled his hands on his hips. “Looks good,” he said.
Marti smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
She glanced around the store but they both turned toward the door when it swung open and Jolie strolled in. She stopped abruptly when she caught sight of the paintings.
“Those are fantastic, Marti.”
“Thank you. I have them all marked with prices. I assume you’ll let me know if something sells? I don’t have to check in or wait until the contract is over?”
“Of course,” Jolie said, sounding surprised that Marti would even ask such a question. She headed for the counter and Dylan was about to follow when Marti circled around him, essentially blocking his path.
“I was iffy about this idea,” she said, “but I really think you’ve done a great job here.”
“It was mostly Jolie.”
“Great job, Jolie,” Marti called brightly. She glanced down at her watch, a silver-and-rhinestone concoction that perfectly suited her. “I’ve got to run. New client consultation.” She smiled up at Dylan. “I might have to start buying more of my feed here.” Then, with another smile and a pat on his upper arm, she sauntered past him to the door. She stopped before she ope
ned it. “Maybe we could discuss sometime?”
He raised a hand. “Sure. Sounds great.”
* * *
MARTI KENDALL WAS a piece of work. Jolie could handle her being beautiful and talented and an excellent horse trainer. What drove her crazy was Marti’s assumption that everyone was in awe of her. That and her occasional lapse into mean-spiritedness when she felt as if she wasn’t being properly admired.
Jolie came out from behind the counter to take a look at the art. She’d love to own a piece, if she could separate the painting from the creator in her head, but she didn’t know that she could do that. And it was amusing how shifty Dylan appeared, as if he expected her to make fun of him for being the object of Marti’s flirtation.
Jolie saw no reason to let him down. “We should put your picture up next to the Culver Ranch and Feed sign on the side of the building.”
He gave her a perplexed look.
“‘I might start buying all my feed here,’” she said, doing a pretty good imitation of Marti’s throaty drawl. His mouth tightened and Jolie continued. “Maybe we could jump-start sales that way.” She bit her lip as she ran an appraising gaze over him. “Maybe you could wear a Speedo.”
“We wouldn’t know if new customers are coming in because of my picture or your gift shop. That would affect our analysis of who wins the bet.”
She felt her mouth drift into a smile. “Maybe we should put your picture up and forego the bet.”
“Is that fear talking?”
“Never.”
“Then...”
“Just giving you an out.”
He leaned on the counter, bringing his face closer to hers, so close she could see the flecks of navy in his blue eyes. So close that his scent filled her nostrils, making her hormones stand up and take notice. “Why would I need an out?”
“You’re going to lose. Look at that awesome display.”
“Doesn’t do you much good if it doesn’t get people in to see it. I don’t think this is a case of build it and they’ll come.”
“That’s why I’m having the raffle.”
He straightened but left his palms on the counter. He had nice hands. Strong and callused...
“And what, pray tell, are we raffling off?”
