Roping His Heart (Destined For Love: Mansions)

by Jaclyn Hardy

  She nodded toward the kitchen. “There’s one more in there. Careful. The handles can get pretty hot.”

  Rachel set hers down on the serving table and shook out her arms. She served dinner every night, but it didn’t matter. Those pots were still heavy. Voices called to each other outside. “Sounds like they’re coming in.”

  “Papa will be down in a minute. He came in early because of the rain.” Mama put a ladle in each of the stews.

  Patrick brought in the last one and set it down. “This smells amazing.”

  “Mama’s stew has won awards.” Rachel grinned and ducked as Mama swatted at her. “What? It’s the truth.”

  “I’m sure it’s delicious.” He leaned against the table. “So, do these ranch hands have families?”

  Rachel nodded. “Most live around town. We have a bunkhouse for those who are single. They’re usually just here for the summer.”

  “That’s awesome. Not something I’d ever think of doing, but then, I grew up in the city.”

  Typical. Rachel huffed. “Several of these guys are city people who come here to get away from it all. They find it relaxing.”

  Patrick held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I’m sure it’s great.”

  Rachel opened her mouth to argue back, but the door opened, and she didn’t have a chance. She plastered on a smile and helped serve the food. Those who knew her well steered clear when they saw her face, while others tried to make conversation. By the time everyone had their food, she was ready to spit nails. She grabbed her own food and a fork and headed up to her room before Mama could say anything.

  She had to stop herself from slamming her bowl onto her desk once she got upstairs. No need to waste the stew. There was no reason to let Patrick get under her skin. Of course he wouldn’t care about the ranch. It wasn’t what he’d grown up with. But he’d just seemed so . . . rude about it. Her papa had worked hard to build this ranch into what it was, and to have it dismissed so quickly was just ridiculous. Especially after she’d brought him here out of the storm.

  A tap at the door made Rachel jump. She hadn’t realized she was pacing, her stew forgotten on the desk.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Patrick. Can we talk?” His voice was muffled through the door.

  Rachel ground her teeth, but opened the door a crack. “What?”

  “Look, I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I think this place is nice.” His eyes pleaded with her, and despite her earlier anger, she couldn’t help melting just a little under his gaze.

  “It’s more than nice. You’ve only seen it in the dark. Wait ‘till the sun comes up tomorrow.” She opened the door wider, but still didn’t let him in.

  “I’m sure it will be amazing.” Patrick grinned, making Rachel’s heart beat just a little faster. “I’m headed to bed. I want to get back to the house as soon as possible and see what needs to be replaced and what can be salvaged.”

  And just like that, the anger was back. “What do you mean, replaced? That house is a historical landmark. Nothing should be changed.”

  “Whoa. I meant things like floorboards that have rotted out, or windows with cracks. Things like that. I won’t touch the rest. The original woodwork is better than anything I’ve seen in more modern styles.”

  Rachel stepped out of her room and closer to him. “You’d better not. I’ve gone to that house since I was a young child, and I don’t want you or anyone messing up what has been such a huge piece of history.”

  Patrick stared down into her eyes. “Why do you care so much?”

  Rachel opened her mouth to explain, but stopped herself. Why should it matter to him? Well, except for the fact that it was his mansion. “It’s an icon for the town. I just don’t want to see you changing things that shouldn’t be changed.”

  “You don’t even know what I want to do with it. I’m not planning anything drastic. This place obviously hasn’t had any work done on it for years. You can’t expect me to keep it rundown like it is now.” His eyes flashed, and Rachel couldn’t help admiring a guy who was willing to fight with her on this. People usually backed down from arguments with her.

  “Even so, you can’t just come waltzing in here from California and think you can do whatever you want to the place. You don’t understand anything about this town: about the history of that house.”

  Patrick ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick out in all directions. “Are you always this stubborn?”

  “No. Well, yes. I mean, I am when it’s important.” Rachel wanted to growl. He was so frustratingly adorable. And that made her even angrier. “I’m going to bed. Breakfast is at six.” She went back into her room and slammed the door, breathing heavily as she flopped onto her bed.

  That man. She rolled over and pulled out her notebook. She flipped through it, staring at all the notes she’d made over the years. Plans for the mansion, the grounds, even advertising. And now it was all wasted. A tear dropped onto one of the pages.

  She pushed the notebook off the bed, and a photo slipped out as it hit the floor. The picture was of her at the house when she was around sixteen years old. She’d taken Blake to see it. He’d laughed at the idea of such a small town having a hotel, but as they were getting ready to leave, he’d snapped this picture of her staring up at it.

  The memory faded, and she thought back to earlier when Patrick had asked about the nearest hotel. His plans weren’t set in stone. She could still try to talk him out of it. Rachel turned off her lamp and smiled up at the ceiling. No need to give up hope just yet.

  Patrick groaned and covered his head with a pillow. Who in their right mind would wake up before the sun had even risen? After the initial blast of the bullhorn, he’d hoped to go back to sleep, but the thundering of the ranch hands coming in for breakfast seemed like it would never end.

  It was another few minutes before the noise finally quieted down enough for him to relax. He lifted his pillow and waited a second. Silence. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes to go back to sleep.

  “Patrick, wake up. It’s time to get a move on,” a loud male voice bellowed from the hallway.

  Okay that was it. Patrick stood and stormed over to the door. He flung it open to find a tall, rather large man standing in the doorway. “What do you want? I’m trying to get some sleep.”

  “It’s time to get chores done. Rachel told me to make sure you got the full ranch experience, and I’m gonna do it. Be downstairs in ten minutes.” The man clomped away.

  Patrick wasn’t sure if he should be scared or annoyed, but he did know he’d rather not deal with the big guy. He looked through the clothes he had scattered around his room to dry. What did someone wear on a ranch? He didn’t have any cowboy boots, but he had a pair of sneakers he’d grabbed just in case. The slacks he packed were definitely not appropriate, but he had no choice. He got dressed and hurried downstairs, hoping to find some granola and fruit for breakfast.

  What he found was a table full of cowboys eating sausage, bacon, eggs, toast, and pancakes. Thoughts of granola went out the window. He didn’t like his diet anyway. He grabbed a plate and loaded up, then turned to find a place to sit.

  Everyone had gone quiet, staring at him. Someone snickered, which set off everyone else. Patrick looked down at himself to see what they were laughing at, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  “All right, guys, it’s time to head out. Leave the poor guy alone.” Rachel’s mom stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. She glared until everyone left, some glancing over at him as they went past. As soon as the last one had shut the door behind him, she turned to Patrick. “Those clothes aren’t going to work for doing chores. But then, I assume you weren’t planning on that anyway. I’ll make sure Rachel gives you a ride into town after she gets in from milking the cows.”

  Patrick sat at the empty table and ate his food. Everything was cooked to perfection. He could get used to eating like this every day
. When he finished, he stood and took his plate to the sink. “Breakfast was delicious. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Rachel should be in any minute now.”

  “Thanks.” Patrick went back upstairs to pack his things. He wanted to be ready to go as soon as Rachel got in. He was anxious to get back to the mansion. His rental car was still there, and he had a few things he wanted to look at outside. He’d stayed up late last night with thoughts of making this house work, which meant a lot of renovations both inside and out. The landscaping needed an overhaul, and he wanted to put that into the budget as well.

  When he got back downstairs, Rachel still hadn’t come inside, so Patrick figured it was time to go find her. He had to avoid puddles as he walked across the property to the barn. A few of the ranch hands waved, but otherwise they ignored him.

  The barn was filled with lines of stalls, and he finally found Rachel milking a cow while humming softly to herself. The melody was familiar, but her voice made him stop, mesmerized. It was almost angelic, so different from the tones she tended to use with him.

  He moved closer so he could hear her voice better, but accidentally tripped on a stool that stood next to one of the stalls. Rachel gasped and whipped around, her beautiful brown eyes wide.

  “Oh, hey, Patrick. I didn’t hear you.” Her face was bright red, and she bent over to pick up the bucket of milk. “I was just finishing up.” She stopped and glanced at his clothes. “Those aren’t very ranch friendly.”

  “I don’t plan to stay on the ranch. I was actually hoping you’d take me back to the house so I can get my car.”

  Rachel checked her watch. “I won’t have time until closer to lunch. Mama is sewing all day, so I’m in charge of cooking.”

  Patrick frowned. “So you’re just going to leave me here all morning? I have things to do before I can head back to California.”

  “I can see if Mark can take you in, but I think you’re stuck. Sorry.” Rachel patted him on the shoulder as she walked by, but Patrick could tell by her smile that she wasn’t sorry at all.

  “Fine, I’ll find something to do here. What can I help with?” Patrick smiled to himself as Rachel stopped and stared at him in disbelief.

  “You want to help?”

  Patrick shrugged. “Why not? It’s the least I can do after you brought me here instead of letting me get stranded somewhere.”

  Rachel poured the milk into a large canister and set the bucket down. “Okay, so what can you do? Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

  “No. They don’t have many options for that in the middle of L.A.”

  “Good point. Why don’t you collect eggs? There’s a basket near the coop. Just watch where you step, and you should be fine.”

  Patrick nodded and went to find the chicken coop. If only the board of directors could see him now. He shook his head. Collecting eggs. He should be back in California getting ready for the next quarter. The coop stood to the side of the barn and housed a few dozen chickens. Patrick grabbed the bucket sitting next to the coop, pulled down the latch on the door, and went inside.

  Loud clucking surrounded him as he moved from one nesting box to the next, collecting the eggs. He reached inside one box and jerked back as a hen tried to peck at him. Apparently, she wasn’t done for the day. He hesitated for a moment before moving on to the next box. He’d have to ask Rachel what he was supposed to do if the hens were still sitting there.

  Louder clucking suddenly erupted from the far side of the shed, followed by an ear-splitting crow. Patrick jumped and jerked away from the boxes, his heart pounding. A large red-and-white rooster stood in the center of the row, eyeing him. It gave another loud squawk, flapped its wings, and charged after Patrick, crowing loudly.

  Patrick whirled around and fled the coop, slamming the door behind him. He leaned against the structure and took a deep breath, trying to get his heart rate back down. Birds were never his favorite animal, but now he had even more reason to hate them. He opened his eyes to find several of the ranch hands staring at him, laughing.

  Rachel leaned against a post, trying unsuccessfully to hold in a laugh. She pushed off and sauntered toward Patrick with a grin. If he wasn’t trying so hard to breathe after being chased down by a rooster, he’d probably stop to admire how good she looked in her jeans and button-up shirt.

  “I guess I forgot to warn you about Ol’ Red.” Her eyes danced.

  “Yeah, I guess you did.” He held out the bucket of eggs. “Here’s what I collected before I was chased out.”

  Rachel took the bucket from him and glanced inside. “I’m actually impressed you got this many before he came after you.”

  “There’s probably more in there. A few of the hens wouldn’t move.” Patrick stayed focused on Rachel’s face instead of paying attention to the audience around him. “Anything else you need to get done before we go?”

  “I have a few other things to do, but I can take you now. Hopefully that’ll make up for Ol’ Red.” She turned and walked back toward the house. “Everyone, get back to work. The show’s over.”

  Patrick walked inside behind her and went straight up to his room to grab his bag. When he returned to the dining room, Rachel was nowhere to be found. He checked a few other rooms before going outside. She stood over the flowerbeds, frowning. Even then, she was beautiful. Not like the businesswomen he usually dated back in California. Her beauty was more natural, more . . . real.

  “Is everything okay?” He stared down at the flowers, trying to figure out why she was upset, but they just looked like flowers to him.

  “Mama told me we have guests coming tonight for the celebration, and I didn’t get the weeding done like she’d hoped I would. I was trying to figure out the best way to get it all finished in time.” She pulled her keys out of her pocket. “Are you ready to go?”

  Patrick held up his bag. “Yep. Thanks again for letting me stay here last night.”

  “No problem. I wasn’t about to leave you there. The ghosts might have gotten to you.” She unlocked the truck and pulled open her door.

  “Ghosts?” Patrick snorted, but caught the look on her face. “There aren’t actually ghosts, right? I mean, they’re not real.”

  Rachel shrugged. “Could be stories. Anyway, let’s get going. It’s supposed to rain again this afternoon, and you don’t want to get stuck out in it.”

  Patrick climbed into the truck and looked over at the flowerbeds. “Are you sure you don’t want to work on those right now?”

  “You need to get back, remember?” Rachel started the truck and put on her seatbelt.

  “Well, I know, but if it’s supposed to rain, shouldn’t you just get it done?” The chance of getting a hotel room was slipping through his fingers, but that expression of melancholy she’d had as she studied the flowers tugged at him, even after she’d tortured him with the rooster.

  Rachel shrugged. “I can probably get through most of them before the storm hits. Besides, you said you had work to do there, remember?”

  Patrick put his hand on the door handle. “I did, but that can wait. Look, I can help and we’ll get done twice as fast.”

  Rachel raised an eyebrow. “You know how to pull weeds?”

  “It can’t be that hard, right?” Patrick had never pulled a weed in his life, but she didn’t have to know that.

  “If you’re sure.” Rachel turned the truck off and climbed out.

  Patrick left his bag in the cab and followed her back to the flowers. “Okay, so I assume this is a daisy. What else do I need to know?”

  “Well, you just pointed to a lily, so I can see we’re going to have to start at the beginning.” Rachel laughed. “Seriously, you’ve never bought flowers for a girl before?”

  “I have. I just . . . never paid attention to what they were called.”

  “Of course.” Rachel jogged over to a small shed next to the house and came back with a couple pairs of gloves and two small shovels. “Now, if it has a blossom, it’s most likely
a flower. All the grass goes, and if you see any morning glory, make sure you get it at the roots. Otherwise, it’ll just come back.”

  Patrick blinked. “I got everything until morning glory.”

  Rachel sighed and muttered under her breath. She knelt down and pushed flowers out of the way until she found a long vine. “See this? It’s morning glory. We don’t like it.”

  “Got it.” Patrick pulled on the gloves, but they didn’t come close to fitting him. He set them aside and watched Rachel use the shovel before trying it himself. The root he pulled out with the morning glory was only about half the size that hers had been, but it was still pretty long.

  A week ago, there was no way Patrick would have thought he would be on a ranch in Idaho doing yard work. A week ago, life still made sense. He tugged on a stubborn weed and it suddenly gave way, knocking him backward with the momentum.

  Rachel ducked her head, but her shoulders shook, betraying her laughter. Patrick picked up a handful of the dark dirt and tossed it at her. She gasped when it hit her, and she stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before grabbing her own handful to throw at him.

  The dirt hit him right in the face. He sputtered and wiped it out of his eyes and mouth. It was war. He grabbed another handful.

  “Truce!” Rachel held up her hands. “I call a truce.”

  “You can’t just call a truce after throwing dirt in my face.”

  “I can totally call a truce.” She pointed at the flower bed. “These weeds need to be pulled.”

  Patrick chuckled and dropped the dirt. “Fair enough.” He cringed at the thought of what it would cost to clean his clothes after this, but it had been worth it.

  Rachel picked up her shovel and started working again. Patrick did the same, smiling to himself. This beat paperwork any day.

  A ball of mud hit him in the shoulder, but when he looked over at Rachel, she was busy pulling weeds. So that’s how it was going to be. He pulled a particularly long strand of morning glory and tossed it toward her, the vine tangling up around her arms.