by Liz Isaacson
He opened the door to the homestead—which wasn’t locked with double locks—and said, “Morning, Scarlett.” He ducked his head and joined her at the kitchen table.
She exhaled and looked down at the various items in front of her. She had a notebook, a checkbook, several checklists, and some old papers that looked like she’d dug them out of the backyard.
“I wanted to ask you some questions,” she said. “I’ve never run a ranch, and you have. I’d love some advice.”
“I can do my best to help,” he said.
“So I’d like to get the backing of this animal protection organization called Forever Friends,” she started, meeting his eyes. “They’re coming a week from today, and I’d like to have as many of the pieces in place to show them that Last Chance Ranch is worthy of their endorsement.”
“All right.”
“So I’m wondering how many people you think I need to hire.” She lifted her pen and held it above the notebook, obviously ready to write.
Carson blew out his breath. “Okay, so you’ve got what? Five or six areas here with animals? Horses, pigs, llamas, dogs, cattle…cats.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “I’d have a foreman over each one of those. That way, you’ve got someone to organize feeding schedules and veterinary care, who knows the animals because he or she sees them every day.”
“Go on,” Scarlett scribbled on her notepad.
“You’ve got plenty of cabins in the Community,” he said. “You could get some good people.” He gave her a few seconds to finish writing. “I’d hire an accountant, and I’d give all the farming and agriculture responsibilities to Sawyer as soon as you can. It’ll take a full-time man to oversee crops and make sure all the dietary needs of the individual animals are met.” He reached up and removed his cowboy hat to scratch the back of his head. “Maybe two men.”
“Two men.” She kept writing and then looked up at him. “Go on.”
“I think Hudson is mapping the place already,” he said. “You have so much more potential to grow the food you need. That’ll cut down on costs, but you’d need more farmhands. I’d get a vet on retainer, because you have over a hundred animals here, and some of them aren’t farm animals. There’s a big difference between a horse and a cat. So maybe two vets—one who specializes in large animal care and one who specialized in small.”
Smoke could’ve lifted from the tip of her pen she wrote so fast. “Forever Friends runs an adoption program,” she said. “Do you think we could handle that?”
“Sure,” he said. “Find the right person, and they could handle all of that.” He leaned into the table. “Look, Scarlett, you own the ranch, right?”
“Right.”
“So it’s important for you to be seen out on the ranch, working too. But you can’t have any main responsibilities.” He made wide, sweeping motions with both hands. “Your job is to make sure the ranch functions as a whole. If there’s a problem, you want to know about it, but you don’t want to fix it. You want your foreman to fix it, report to you, and tell you how it’s not going to happen again. You want to be present, but not all-powerful.”
Scarlett wrote and wrote, and then read over what she’d filled a couple of pages with. “I like the land wild.”
“Yeah, every ranch should have a free range,” he said. “But land can be wild and still be used with more potential.”
“What about chickens?”
“Chickens?” he asked.
“Well, we have everything else, and it seems like the ranch needs chickens.”
“Sure,” he said. “Put ‘em in with the pigs, and everyone’ll be happy.” They talked for a while longer, and she finally sat back, apparently exhausted.
“Thank you so much, Carson,” she said. “This has been hugely helpful.”
“Happy to do it,” he said, standing and shaking her hand. “I guess I better get over to the Goat Grounds. We only have a few more days until they have to perform with people in their arena.” He tipped his hat again, sure he was the picture of calm, cool, and collected as he left the homestead.
But inside, he was shaking. He didn’t want to face Adele in the Goat Grounds, the exact same way he hadn’t wanted to face his father and Terry after he’d sold the ranch.
The usual disappointment tasted bitter in the back of his mouth, and his strides toward the Goat Grounds were fueled with his anger. He paused when he saw Adele in the arena with all the baby goats already. She wore a glorious smile on her face, and if anything, it only made him angrier.
How in the world could she be so happy?
She reached down and patted one of the goats, saying, “We’ll have to apologize, Bubble Gum. We shouldn’t have yelled at him.”
Immediately, his heart softened.
She gave the little goat a piece of cracker and moved to the next one. Her voice was almost inaudible when she said, “Please, God, help me be nice to Carson.”
He sucked in a breath, sure she’d hear him, but she turned further, putting her back to him, and kept moving around with the goats. She’d placed the blocks out, and she pointed with two fingers to the one she wanted the animals to jump on, treating them each time they did.
Please, God….
The thought stalled in his mind. She’d had hard things happen to her too. She hadn’t told him much about her life previous to coming to Last Chance Ranch, but he’d heard some things in her voice when she’d mentioned her ex-husband. And she certainly was hiding something in that cabin.
Please, God, he thought again, trying to find a way to finish it. Please help me be nice to her too.
Pure peace hit him square in the chest, and it rendered him mute and still.
Be still, and know that I am God.
Carson held very still, trying to hang onto this feeling for just a few more moments. But Adele turned, caught sight of him, and looked like she might throw up.
He lifted one hand in a hesitant wave and got his feet moving toward the gate. “Hello,” he said, more formality between them than he ever wanted.
She dropped her chin to her chest for a moment, then stooped to run her hand along another goat’s back.
“Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I just…wanted to see you. Spend time with you.”
She lifted her gaze to his, and something crackled between them. “I’m sorry too,” she said. Nothing else. And everything seemed right back to okay between them.
“Looks like the goats have got it,” he said.
“Yeah.” She gave out another cracker. “So let’s take a break today. Have you eaten breakfast?”
He blinked at her. “I don’t eat breakfast.”
“Ever?”
“I like coffee.” He shrugged and looked down at one of the babies who’d wandered over to him.
“I’m asking you to take me to breakfast.” Adele lifted one eyebrow at him, and Carson flinched as he realized what an idiot he was.
“Are you asking me out?”
“No,” she said with a smile. “I’m asking you to take me out.” She broke the last piece of cracker she had in her hand and tossed all the crumbs into the air. “Help me get these goats back in the pasture.”
“Maybe you could try asking.”
“I—” Adele blinked, a beautiful blush seeping into her cheeks. “You’re right. Could you help me put the goats in the pasture?”
“Sure.” He clicked his tongue, and said, “Come on, guys. Time to be done.” He started for the gate that led toward the barns and the pasture where the goats’ parents were, and thankfully, almost all the babies came with him.
Once they had all the goats secured behind the right gate, he turned toward her, slowly—oh, so slowly—reached for her hand. Their fingers aligned, and it was like someone had sprinkled magic pixie dust on his skin and in his blood. Everything tingled, and Carson wanted to hold onto this moment for a lot longer.
“So, you haven’t said much about your family,” Adele said.
“
You haven’t either,” he said.
“Okay, I’ll start. I have a couple of sisters. Both younger than me. Molly is married and living back in Savannah—that’s where I’m from. Wilma’s been living in Oklahoma for a decade or so now. She’s been married and divorced, like me.”
His fingers tightened on hers, and he said, “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat, because he had a horrible feeling he was about to tell her something he hadn’t talked about with anyone. “My mom left me and my brother when I was twelve.”
His throat burned, the way it had when he’d driven away from his ranch for the last time.
“Wow,” she said. “My parents are divorced too. My mom’s still in Georgia. Daddy went back to New Jersey.”
“I don’t know where my mother went.”
“You don’t talk to her?”
“Nope.”
“And you had to sell your ranch in Montana,” she said, their hands swinging between them.
“Yes,” he said, wondering if it was too much to tell her everything before they’d even gotten in a car or sat at a table.
“I’m dying to know about that.”
“I’m sure you are,” he said, feeling a snap, crackle, and pop in his bloodstream. He drew in a big breath and then blew it out. “My dad finds his happiness at the bottom of a bottle. He has for quite a long time. So I ran the ranch for almost twenty years.”
The gravel crunched under their feet for a few steps. “Scarlett seems to think you’re a pretty amazing cowboy,” she said.
“Well, I’m not one to brag,” he said.
“So one might wonder why you had to sell the ranch you ran for almost twenty years.”
“Gambling habit,” he said, quickly adding, “Not mine. That would be my brother, Terry. He didn’t work either—unless you count counting cards during his online poker matches.” And Carson didn’t count that. That didn’t bring in hay or feed horses or immunize cattle.
Carson did all of that, as much as he could. He’d been right in telling Scarlett that she needed to hire people to oversee each operation at Last Chance Ranch. Carson wished he’d been able to afford that, and he sometimes wondered that if he’d gone into debt for payroll, he might’ve been able to keep the ranch.
How, he wasn’t sure.
It was just a path his mind took from time to time.
“He gambled away any money I managed to bring in, and when the oil was discovered, I saw my opportunity to get away from both of them.” Carson looked up into the clear blue sky. “Unfortunately, that meant I had to give up the ranch too.”
“What was it called?” she asked.
“What was what called?”
“Your ranch.”
“Oh, Cobble Creek.” He could picture the snow drifts in the winter, the broad expanse of green hay in the summer. The big red barn where he kept the tractors and supplies. The twenty-horse stable, and the cowboy cabins out on the range. Sometimes he’d ride out to one and stay for as long as he dared, always having to return to the mess in the homestead.
Once, he’d come back to find Terry had gotten married over the weekend. Married. To a woman who was now living in Carson’s house. He’d thought it would end quickly, but Maribel was still at Cobble Creek—and Carson wasn’t.
“I can hear how much you love it,” Adele said, her fingers gripping his. She reached over with her other hand and put it on his forearm.
He glanced at her to find a sweet smile on her face, one of the softest looks he’d seen. “I did love it.”
“How do you like it here?”
“I’m adjusting,” he said. “The weather is certainly better, but I didn’t mind the snow.”
“I’ve never lived anywhere with snow.”
“That feels impossible to me,” he said.
“Well, it doesn’t snow much in the South,” she said. “And then I came to California for college. Been here ever since.”
“In the city, though, right?”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “I do miss the city sometimes.”
“Well, let’s get you down to a more civilized area,” he said, increasing his pace and hoping that maybe he’d be able to find out why she kept her cabin locked so tight.
Chapter 11
Get over your phobia of rich men. Scarlett’s words drifted through her head. Over and over they echoed. Her hand felt cold without Carson’s in it, but that made no sense. It was almost July in California, and Adele didn’t normally get a chill anyway.
She fiddled with her phone while Carson got the air conditioning blowing in his fancy truck. “This is nice,” she said, reaching out to touch the dashboard in front of her.
“I bought it when I sold the ranch,” he said. “Believe me, it’s the nicest thing I’ve ever owned.”
She looked at the expansive space between them on the bench seat, wishing she’d been brave enough to slide over and sit next to him. Her heart bobbed up near the back of her throat for some reason, and she finally narrowed it down to the fact that she was thinking about kissing him.
Not today, she told herself. That would be way too fast, considering they’d had a screaming match on the back lawn of the homestead just yesterday. But the idea existed, and Adele cleared her throat and adjusted her straw hat on her head.
“Where do you want to go to eat?” he asked.
“I don’t care,” she said. She probably wouldn’t be able to put anything in her mouth anyway. First dates had always made her nervous, and this one felt particularly important. The first first date after her relationship with Hank had ended.
“I have a confession,” she said.
“I can’t wait to hear it.”
“You’re my first date since my divorce.”
“Is that what this is? A date?’
“It better be,” she said. “So get out your wallet, Mister Moneybags.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Mister Moneybags. Good one.”
“You do have a lot of money, right?”
“I have enough,” he said, his voice definitely on the hedging side.
“I read about you online,” she said, apparently another confession spilling from her lips.
He looked at her as they went past the robot that marked the entrance of Last Chance Ranch. He didn’t really need to look at the road, because there was never anyone else on it. “You did what?”
“I looked you up,” she said. “You have the cleanest jeans of any cowboy I’ve ever met.”
Carson looked out the windshield, and the weight of his blue-eyed gaze gone from her face. “I don’t even know what to say,” he said. “My jeans?”
“How many pairs do you own?” she asked.
“Of jeans?”
“Yeah.” Adele felt a flicker of flirty-ness move through her, and she seized onto it. “I mean, they are abnormally clean.”
He glanced down at his legs. “I don’t think they are.”
“How many times do you wear them before you wash them?”
“One?” he asked, and they way he made it into a question was absolutely adorable.
“And you still haven’t answered my question.”
“I think I have five or six pairs of jeans.” He cut her a look out of the corner of his eye. “Happy now?”
“No.” She unbuckled her seat belt and slid across the seat, only slightly embarrassed when her bare backs of her legs stuck to his leather seats and made a squeaking sound. She snuggled right up next to him and wrapped his hand inside both of hers.
“Now I’m happy.”
The next several days passed in a blur of sleeping, shopping, cooking, filming, video editing, and goat training. Adele went to bed exhausted and woke up in the morning slightly less tired.
She’d toyed with the idea of taking a break from TastySpot, just for a few days. Just until she knew how these goat yoga classes were going to go. But then, on Wednesday, a celebrity chef commented on one of her videos.
Best idea for leftover brisket I’ve ever see
n.
That comment stuck in her head the same way Scarlett’s words about giving Carson a chance did.
She’d responded to Joey Dawson’s comment, and they’d been having a dialog for the past few days. She felt like she’d entered the Bermuda Triangle or the Twilight Zone. After all, she was just some lowly chef wannabe on a ranch in California.
Joey Dawson owned three restaurants in New York City. New. York. City.
Adele checked her phone before she got out of bed on Saturday morning. The morning light was flat and gray, because the sun hadn’t risen yet. Joey hadn’t commented back to her last response either, and she sighed as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up.
She stretched, bending down and reaching for her toes, wondering when she’d touched them last. She arched her back and twisted sideways, working the kinks out of her muscles and joints. She’d fallen asleep last night with yoga instruction videos playing on her computer.
You’re ready for this, she thought, immediately followed with a quick prayer of Please help me control the crowd this morning. Not just control them. Inspire them. Entertain them.
She really wanted goat yoga to be a success, and not just for her. But for Scarlett too. Scarlett, who’d given her a free place to live and pretty much free reign to do whatever she wanted here as long as the cats got fed and the goat arena was in tip-top shape.
She dressed in a black pair of spandex pants, a tank top that revealed the fact that her upper arms weren’t nearly as toned as they should be, and a sturdy pair of running shoes. The teal and pink stripes on her shoes matched the blue of her tank top, and she pulled her short hair into a ponytail with a pink rubber band.
When she looked at herself in the mirror, she looked like she could conduct a yoga class. She did have a certification from her time at the spa. Of course, wall yoga was completely different than goat yoga. No straw in the spa. No droppings on the floor.
But a lot less pretentious people too. She hoped.
She pulled the ponytail out, because it looked ridiculous, and her hair was already falling out. She sighed as she pinned her hair back and put on a pink visor. Carson had said he didn’t eat breakfast, but food was Adele’s go-to for when she was anxious or upset, happy or joyous. She didn’t want to eat a ton before her class, but she did pull out one of the egg muffins she’d made a couple of weeks ago.
