by Jaclyn Hardy
“We’ll take a break here. Uncle John, can you grab the food?”
“Sure.” He climbed off his horse and tied his reigns around a branch.
Rachel patted Patrick’s horse and looked up at him. “Are you going to come down from there?”
“Uh, maybe. If I can move.” Patrick leaned forward so he could swing his leg and lift it over Duke. He stepped down and nearly fell over. His legs were sore, and he was sure he’d rubbed off several layers of skin. He limped to where Dallin and his mom stood. He thought he heard Rachel giggle, but when he looked over at her, she had her hand covering her mouth.
John handed him a sandwich, and Patrick took it thankfully. He was surprised at how hungry he was. The sun had dipped lower in the sky. They’d been gone longer than he’d thought.
“It’s beautiful up here.” They sat on a small patch of wild grass. Flowers mingled with weeds and bushes around them.
“Isn’t it? I love hiking up here.” Rachel took a bite of her sandwich and stared out into the distance.
Patrick would have liked to know what she was thinking, but he was too exhausted even to ask. Once his lunch was gone, he lay back in the grass and used his hat to shield his face from the sun. The cool breeze and the softness of the grass beneath him helped him relax as he listened to the laughter around him. Rachel’s laughter was the perfect sound to hear as he drifted off to sleep.
“Hey, Patrick, wake up. We need to get back to the ranch.” Rachel’s voice pulled Patrick from his nap.
He rolled over and groaned at the pain in his legs. “How long was I out?”
“About half an hour.” Rachel stood and wiped the dirt off her pants. “Come here. I want to show you something.”
Patrick pushed himself up and limped over to her. “Where’s everyone else?”
“They left a while ago. Aunt Kristi wanted to help my mom with some of the baking.” Rachel nodded toward the edge of the cliff. “Look down there.”
It took a moment for Patrick to realize what he was looking at. “Is that my mansion?”
“Yeah. From the pictures I’ve seen, there used to be a huge garden in the back with a maze of shrubs.” She pointed toward the back of the yard.
“There’s more land than I thought. It’s grown so wild.”
Rachel nodded and laughed. “My grandma used to say it gave the fairies somewhere to live.”
Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Fairies?”
“Yeah, you’d have to know her. She also insists she can talk to leprechauns. We just let her tell her stories.” Rachel bit her lip. “It was supposed to be a hotel.”
“Uh, what?” Patrick was still stuck on the fairy thing.
“You asked what I wanted to do with the mansion.” She met his gaze. “For years I dreamed of making it into a hotel. Everything was planned out, including a fairy garden next to the house. I even went to the bank to see what it would take to buy the place.”
“And?” Patrick’s stomach dropped. He knew the answer before she said it.
“You showed up.”
Patrick wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”
“So the thought of me making it into an office . . . ?”
“It just seems wrong. But it’s not my house.” She stepped away from the cliff and walked back to the horses. “Let’s go. I don’t want to ride home in the dark.”
Patrick climbed back up on Duke, and his legs protested. They just needed to get to the ranch so he could collapse in bed.
They rode in silence, and when they arrived at the barn, Rachel gave him simple instructions on how to brush Duke down before leaving. Patrick finished up and limped toward the house, then he stopped. The thought of dinner was appealing, but sleep sounded even better. He turned and walked to the bunkhouse and dropped into bed. He kicked off his shoes and rolled over, hoping he’d be able to move in the morning.
Pain. So much pain. Patrick rolled over and stumbled toward the shower. Feeling slightly better, he found the loosest clothes he could and went to the house for some breakfast. His limping earned a few snickers from the others, but he didn’t care. He planned to eat and then go to the mansion to work.
He headed back to the bunkhouse to get his keys and headed for his car. He’d hoped to see Rachel before leaving, but she hadn’t been at breakfast, and she wasn’t in the barn when he stopped by.
The mansion welcomed him when he pulled up. It needed a lot of work, but he couldn’t help thinking of it as home. He went through and opened the windows to let fresh air into the house. He’d get done what he could while he was there, and then have the cleaning company come in to do the rest when he went back to California. That way when he got back, they could focus on redecorating, as long as he could get the approval from his board.
Thoughts of a hotel kept running through his head, but he pushed them away. He’d worked too hard to build up his company to quit and run a hotel instead; something he’d never thought of and had no experience with.
He walked into the front office and pulled down the old curtains that hung in tatters. One of the floorboards creaked louder than the others. He frowned and stepped on it again. He knelt and found a spot where he could pull it up. Inside was a jar full of cash, along with a few notebooks. He took them out and flipped through them. Drawings and ideas for the house filled the pages. Some were a little farfetched, but the landscaping was perfect. Were these Rachel’s? Or had they belonged to his grandparents? He picked up the money jar and found a receipt inside it with Rachel’s name.
Guilt took over, and he started to put everything back, but he remembered that if he had a cleaning crew come, it would be dangerous to leave the money there. He set the board in place and then took everything out to his car. He made sure the money was hidden under the backseat in case someone went by—not that anyone would—and went back inside to finish cleaning.
He took down the rest of the curtains. They weren’t doing their job anyway. He’d have to ask Rachel where to get a dumpster so he could get rid of the rags.
Patrick’s phone buzzed. He smiled when he saw Rachel’s face on his screen.
About to head into town. Want to go shopping?
He smiled. Ordinarily, the question would make him invent other plans in a hurry, but he was still hurting from last night, and a break from cleaning sounded good. Spending time with Rachel was an added bonus.
Just finishing up. Be back to the ranch in fifteen minutes.
Perfect. See you then.
Everything was already put away, so Patrick set the curtains to the side until he could figure out what to do with them, then he locked up. He dialed his mom’s number and pulled out onto the road.
“Hello?” Mom’s voice was drowned out by music and other noises in the background.
“Hey, Mom. Just wanted to call and see how you’re doing.”
“Fine. One second.” Patrick could hear muffled sounds for a moment until a door closed and the background noise suddenly went quiet. “Okay, sorry. We’re having a party by the pool and I couldn’t hear you. How are things there?”
Patrick sighed in relief. It sounded like Mom was doing just fine without him. “The house needs a lot of work, but it’s gorgeous. I’m doing what I can before getting crews in here.”
“That’s great, honey. So you think you’ll keep it?”
“It depends on what the inspector says. Some of the boards are wearing out, and we’ll have to do a lot of updating. But it would be great if we could move the business here.”
“Sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to hear how it turns out.”
Patrick smiled into the phone. That was Mom’s way of saying she wanted to hang up. “I’d better go. Just got to the ranch. Love you, Mom.”
There was a slight pause. “Ranch?”
“Yeah, I’m staying at a ranch while I’m here. It’s easier than driving to the next city.” Patrick pulled into the ranch. “I’ll call tom
orrow, okay?”
“Okay, but then you’d better spill about this ranch. I have a feeling you’re not telling me the whole story.”
“Bye, Mom.” He climbed out and took the journals and money jar with him.
He found Rachel in the kitchen, but he didn’t want to say anything to her about the money with her mom right there. She’d hidden it at the house instead of here, so it was obvious she didn’t want anyone knowing about it.
“Hey. Ready to go?” He kept the jar behind his back.
“Yep. We can take my truck and leave your car here if you’d like.” Rachel grabbed her keys off the counter.
Patrick shook his head. “I’ll drive this time. We’ll melt without AC.”
Rachel laughed. “Fair enough. Bye, Mama. We’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
As soon as Rachel was in the hallway, Patrick showed her the jar. Rachel gasped, snatched it from his hands, and grabbed his wrist, yanking him upstairs. Once they were near Rachel’s room, she whipped around, eyes blazing.
“How’d you find this?” She held the jar tightly to her chest.
“Whoa! Don’t get mad at me. I found it while I was dusting the room. I figured with cleaners and contractors coming in, it wouldn’t be safe just to leave it there.” Patrick handed her the journals. “I found these too.”
“Thanks.” Rachel walked inside and slammed the door.
Patrick stood there, waiting to see if she was coming back out. When she didn’t return, he headed to the bunkhouse. A nap sounded good anyway. The door flew open, and footsteps hurried to catch up with him. Silence stretched out between them as they walked out to his car.
“I’m sorry. I should have just left the money where it was.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket.
“No. It’s not your fault. You were right to bring it here. I’m sorry I got upset. I keep forgetting that the mansion’s not my personal hideout anymore.” Rachel smiled up at him.
Patrick laughed and unlocked his car door. “You’re welcome there whenever you want to come. That hasn’t changed.”
“Thanks. It’s just not quite the same.” Rachel climbed in, and Patrick went around to the other side.
“Okay, so where are we going?” He backed out and headed for the road.
“Into town. There are a few places still open.” She leaned back in her seat. “Did you get much done today?”
Patrick sighed. “I swept up the dirt that’s collected over the years and dusted the fixtures, but it doesn’t look like I’ve done anything.”
“I’m sure it looks better than you think.”
“Maybe.” Patrick turned down the road toward town. “So . . . I saw some of your plans for the hotel. They’re pretty amazing.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “You looked through the notebooks?”
“I had to figure out who they belonged to, right?”
“I guess. I’m sorry. Again. You’re right. They’ve just been hidden for so long.”
Patrick glanced over at her. “You have some great ideas. I could use them, if you’re willing to let me.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I especially love the landscaping. But the front desk by the main doors? It would go better by the stairs.”
Rachel smiled. “The landscaping is just what I remember my grandma telling me about. I always wanted to know what it would look like in real life, so I drew out everything she told me. I wanted it to look how it used to.”
“Well, I think we’ll have to make that happen.”
Rachel sat on a bench just outside the dressing room and waited for Patrick to try on the clothes they’d found. She asked herself yet again what she was doing. Instead of finding a way to get him to sell and leave town, she was making up excuses to spend time with him.
Patrick came out of the dressing room and struck a pose with one hand on his hip. “What do you think?”
“That you should never become a model.” She grinned to let him know she was joking. “Honestly, though, I don’t think that’s the right color for you. Go try on the other shirt.”
He raised an eyebrow, but did what she asked. A few minutes later, he came out, and Rachel had to suppress a gasp. The blue of his shirt brought out the blue in his eyes, and it made her heart beat just a little faster.
“That’s perfect. I think you should wear that for the celebration next weekend.” Rachel tried not to stare at the way the shirt showed off the muscles in his chest, or how the jeans fit just right. “Go change, and we’ll find you a cowboy hat and some boots.”
“Uh, I don’t think so.” Patrick laughed. “Do you realize what would happen if my coworkers found out I owned a pair of boots? I would be mocked for the rest of my life.”
Rachel twisted a strand of hair around her finger and batted her eyes. “Please? Just for me? And who knows—maybe you’ll actually like them.”
Patrick shook his head and went back into the dressing room. Rachel stood and walked over to the rack of hats, trying to find one that looked right for him. She stopped at a white one and picked it up. It was straw, which meant it would be cooler for the summer.
“White? You sure about that?” Patrick’s voice made Rachel jump.
She set it on his head and situated it. “See for yourself.”
Patrick checked the mirror mounted on the wall. “It’s not too bad, I guess. But what about this one?”
The hat was black, and the brim was a little narrower than Rachel would have chosen, but it looked good on him. Really good. He tried it on and put the other one back on the shelf.
“I like it. That brim won’t keep out much of the sun, but it works for you.” Works wasn’t the word she wanted to use, but she could already feel her face burning. Why did he have to do this to her? “Is that the one you want for sure? Because that was a little too easy.”
“What can I say? I know what looks good on me.” He laughed and put it on the pile of clothes they’d gathered. “I’ll go check out and we can head back.”
“Uh-uh. You’re not getting out of this so easy. We have one more stop.” She dragged him over to the boots and made him sit. “What size do you wear?”
“Twelve, usually.”
Rachel pulled out the twelves that she could find and set them next to him. “I’ll let you pick out a pair yourself, but make sure they’re comfortable. Blisters would stink.”
Patrick stared at the pile with a frown. “You sure I can’t just stick with my dress shoes or sneakers? A hat is one thing, but boots?”
“You could, but what’s the fun in that?” She pointed down at her feet. “These boots get me through anything. Riding, working, shopping—everything.”
Patrick picked up a boot and ran his fingers along the embroidery. “I’ll make you a deal. I get a pair of boots, and you have to get a pair of sneakers.”
Rachel raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Have you actually tried a pair of sneakers?” Patrick set the boot down and picked up another one.
“Well, no. I’ve never seen the point—except for PE in school.”
Patrick picked up a different boot and pulled it on. He stood and walked a few steps before sitting and pulling it off. “They don’t feel terrible, I guess.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought they would be stiff.” He pulled on another pair and then stood. “Much better. And they match my hat, so that’s good, right?”
“You’re going for the villain look, I see.” Rachel had to admit, the black was perfect for him.
Patrick set the box on top of his clothes and then the hat on top of that. “Well, sometimes it’s fun to be the bad boy.”
Rachel followed him up to the cashier so he could pay for his things. They took his bags to the car, and Rachel opened her door to climb in.
“Whoa! Where do you think you’re going? We had a deal.” Patrick took her hand and led her to a small department store.
Rachel tried to ignore the sp
arks that went up her arm, but it was useless. He was actually holding her hand. And she didn’t want him to let go.
He weaved around the clothing racks until they came to the shoes. “Now, I won’t ask you your shoe size because I might get slapped, but here you go. I suggest the Converse, but any of these will do.”
There were several colors and options, which was one reason Rachel tended to stick with her boots. It narrowed her choices. She picked up a pair of red Converse and checked the size. She pulled off her boots and tried the sneakers on.
“Comfy, right? And they look great on you.” Patrick’s eyes danced as he smiled at her, making her stomach tie in knots. His phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “I have to take this. Be right back.”
Rachel nodded and twisted around in a circle as she stared in the mirror. He was right. They were perfect. She pulled them off and started to put her boots back on, but stopped when a pair of sandals caught her eye. Something was definitely wrong with her. She stood and picked them up.
They fit perfectly. Rachel checked them in the mirror and bit her lip. It was completely unlike her to buy two pairs of shoes, but she couldn’t help herself. She scooped up both boxes and hurried to the checkout line before she could change her mind.
Patrick rolled over and stared at the bunk above him. The bullhorn woke him, and he couldn’t fall back asleep. So much for sleeping in while he was on leave. He stood and changed into the jeans, shirts, and boots he’d bought the day before and studied himself in the mirror that was mounted between the bunkbeds. It was good he was so far away from home or he’d never live it down.
He finished the look with the cowboy hat and took a deep breath before leaving the bunkhouse. Helping with the chores was the least he could do while staying here. Breakfast had been served by the time he went into the dining hall, so he grabbed his pancakes, eggs, and sausage before sitting down with the rest of the employees. While everyone else talked, he quickly ate his food so he could be the first to leave.
