She'd always loved heights. Preferred the aerie to the earth, the whip of wind to the solidity of ground beneath her feet. When you were up high, everything else receded. Worry and doubt and confusion, all of them seemed to clear.
Her shoulders settled. She leaned against the framed opening and simply…breathed. Let her gaze range over the vista before her, the buildings around the square with the architectural details she'd missed from the ground. The smattering of houses beyond, in every direction, the river meandering its way to separate Sweetgrass Springs from the world beyond.
And past all that…the land. The ranches where men like Ian sweated and toiled.
You sure don't know much about family. You don't desert family when they need you.
She'd been too hard on him this morning.
Did she really have to go?
How can you possibly stay? said the voice whispering in her ear. After what Mama did, abandoning Ruby, you think finding out that you're notorious will sit well with her?
She couldn't be sure. Ruby was tough and demanding, but she understood hard knocks, Scarlett was beginning to realize. Maybe she'd understand.
But maybe she'd be disappointed. Having just found family and treading such shaky ground, Scarlett wasn't ready to risk Ruby's rejection. Even if she wasn't also courting potential danger if Kostov tracked her here.
You are meant for more than this, murmured the voice of her ambition. You have talents. These people are stuck here, but you don't have to be.
But Ruby was here. Her grandmother. Her only family—wait, no. She had cousins, too. Amazing. She'd never known anyone her age who was related to her. How could she leave until she met them?
And Ian was right. Ruby was not young.
Correction—Nana was not young. Scarlett smiled, recalling her grandmother's reaction to the name Nana. You'd name me after a dog? The memory of Ruby's feigned indignation, her shocked pleasure, made Scarlett laugh.
Yes, Nana. I love the name Nana. I love…you. She sucked in a breath. Could she say that? Seriously? She and Ruby had barely met. How could she love her, especially when she had not a clue why her mother had left. Whether Ruby had driven her away. I lost my daughter, and it had to be my doing.
Ruby was complicated, but she took in strays and helped so many. She cared for a whole town, so why would she have done less for her own child?
This place was full of mysteries, of unanswered questions.
Just then a pickup entered the square and caught her eye.
Ian. He was here, and they'd parted badly this morning.
She shook her head. She shouldn't care.
She left us, me and Dad. She liked city life, and she didn't want anything tying her down. She hated the ranch.
Another one who hadn't stayed.
Love strong enough to stay, wasn't that the legend? She swiveled her gaze below and off to her left, to the tree-shaded bend in the river where Sweetgrass Spring bubbled its bounty.
She thought of the woman still waiting… Something shivered up her spine.
Oh, good grief. It's a story, that's all.
But Ian…he'd been five. What did that do to a small boy, to lose his mother's love so young? To have the one person who should love you without reservation throw that love away?
She yanked herself back forcibly. There was no point in furthering this fascination for Ian McLaren. She would leave him, too—she would have to.
Not that he'd asked her to stay for him. In fact, he'd probably laugh at the very notion.
She could picture his dimple then. His teeth were white and even when he smiled. His eyes were beautiful.
And his body…
Best not to think about those acres of muscles, the impressive strength held in such tight check. What would it take to snap the reins on his formidable control?
Now she was the one smiling in anticipation…
Oh, just stop it. You have work to do. Get after it.
She stirred from her perch against the sill, then she threw her arms wide and breathed deeply, inhaling air so fresh she couldn't recall ever experiencing its like. With her head thrown back, her face open and willing, Scarlett felt her mind settling, dropping the day's worries, one by one by one.
One last deep breath, then a long sigh of satisfaction.
I see why you come here, Nana. Even if Mama's never coming back…this place is special.
Scarlett opened her palms to encompass the beauty like a canvas before her, the crisp wind, the starry, starry night. Had she ever seen so many stars?
A movement at the corner of her right eye.
A faint glimmer of white.
She glanced over, but no one was there. "Hello?"
The only answer was a faint rustle up high, maybe a bird or a bat… Again, a shiver crawled up her spine, and she couldn't help thinking about The Lady…
Oh, get real.
Scarlett straightened her spine. Time to return to the duties she'd assumed for the grandmother she still knew far too little about. On the way down, she cast away fanciful thoughts and instead she shone her flashlight over the spaces she passed, and her busy mind began to think about Ruby's idea. About what else could be done with this physical space and the town in which it existed.
The options her grandmother could realize in it.
Downstairs she quickly crossed to the back door to the café, hastily trading her jacket for an apron, settling it over her neck and tying it swiftly around her waist. Then she turned to get back to work.
And nearly screamed at the shape that loomed in front of her.
"Hello, New York."
"You scared me," she accused.
"Been over to see the ghost?"
"You believe in that? Seriously?"
He shrugged, and she studied him more closely than before, aware of her undeniable attraction to him.
Ian wasn't pretty, no. He was far too masculine and rugged, too big and rangy and rough.
But wow…he sure made an impression.
"Can we start over?" he asked, his brown eyes serious. "I'm sorry about this morning."
Scarlett realized how much she would like the same. "Yes." She smiled. "I have to go cook now, but maybe later, you can tell me what you have in mind."
For a second, his expression went blank, then he stirred. "Oh. You mean the work day."
"What did you think I meant?"
His eyes twinkled. He glanced at her mouth, then dragged his gaze back to hers.
She couldn't help grinning. So they were both intrigued. She wondered how he would kiss. What it would feel like to be in his arms. "Yes, the work day."
His eyebrows rose. "For real? You're going to stay?"
"Probably not for long," she said honestly. "But I'll be here until your work day. Ruby needs my help." And I need to understand Ruby. Her life, her mother's choice to hide the truth, would never make sense until she did.
His smile lit him from the inside, and she began to see just how much worry this man carried around with him every waking second. "Good." He nodded. "That's real good."
They stared at one another for a long time.
"Anybody cooking back there?" came Jeanette's voice.
Ian stirred and Scarlett sighed. "No rest for the wicked. Are you staying for dinner?"
"I am. My dad really wanted to come back. You need some help?"
"You said you can't cook."
Color stained his cheeks, and delight rose inside her. "I guess I could wash dishes or something."
"Nope," she said, suddenly proud that she sounded a little like a native with that Nope. "I think you'd better—"
"—Get out of your kitchen," he finished for her.
She laughed. "You know me well."
His gaze grew serious, and his voice softened. "No, I don't." He stared at her again. "But damned if I don't want to." Then he turned on his heel and left.
While Scarlett stared after him.
* * *
"You think you might fini
sh your supper anytime soon, son?"
Ian jolted. Swiveled his head to see his father grinning at him. "What?"
His dad shook his head. "Nothing. Can't blame you. She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?"
"I wasn't—"
His dad rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh. You haven't been looking back into the kitchen oh, more than every five seconds or so. No big deal."
"I was just—"
"Hi, Ian! Hey, Mr. McLaren." Ben approached their table, his twin sisters and mother right behind. Ben had already reached David's height and seemed to be sprouting by the day. His hair was black where David's had been a dark brown. The little girls were blonde and delicate like Veronica.
"Well, hello there, young Ben. You all come to have supper?" Ian's dad asked.
"Yes, sir. My mom is treating us."
"We were a lot of help," chirped Abby.
At least Ian was almost certain it was Abby and not Beth. He wasn't around David's twins as much as he had been with Ben. "Really? What did you do?"
The girls launched into a recitation of the various chores they'd done after kindergarten let out for the day. Ian listened to them, but he spared a glance for Veronica.
She looked completely worn out.
As soon as the little girl slowed down, he nudged a chair from its spot. "How about you all join us? Bet we can grab another table."
"Oh no, we couldn't—" Veronica began.
"'Course you can," said his dad. "We insist on it, don't we, son?"
"We sure do. I have something I need to discuss with you, anyway," Ian said to Veronica.
"Oh?"
"Have a seat." He rose and made his way to the next table, which hadn't yet been bussed, and started dragging it to adjoin theirs.
Henry bustled over, as did Jeanette. "We can take care of this," she huffed. "All you had to do was ask."
Ian lifted his brows at her tone. "You're busy tonight. Henry can help me, can't you, Henry?"
"Yes, sir."
But Jeanette wouldn't go. "You really shouldn't—"
He looked at her. "Problem?"
He noted her sideways glance at Veronica and remembered Scarlett's scathing accusation that the waitress had a thing for him.
Seriously? Jeanette? He found himself studying the younger woman. He guessed she was attractive, but…
His gaze flicked involuntarily toward the kitchen.
Where Scarlett was watching him, too. With a slow, satisfied smile and raised eyebrows as if to say See? What did I tell you?
"Ian?"
He snapped back to attention and busied himself moving chairs around, settling the twins and helping Veronica into her seat. He listened to his dad josh with Ben and ask the little girls questions that made them laugh.
Then he resumed his seat, Veronica to his right.
Almost like a family, he thought. His buddy's family. For the first time, Ian let himself imagine being the head of a household, the dad who helped with homework and stole kisses from his wife. Who read bedtime stories and put out all the lights, the last one in bed, snuggling down with his wife as children giggled from their rooms and silence settled in.
Was that the life his father had hoped for?
Was it what he himself wanted? He was at a crossroads—if he could wrap his mind around selling the ranch, he could travel to all those places he'd read about and dreamed of.
He'd never felt so restless, not in several years. He'd never allowed himself to think about options besides the ranch—at least, not seriously.
Then Scarlett Ross had shown up and opened a window onto the bigger world.
Fish or cut bait.
Something had to be done, and soon, about the ranch. He could break his father's heart and sell out, securing a future for both of them, albeit nothing like the one his father had worked his whole life for.
But that life was over and done. The Double Bar M could not continue as it had for nearly two hundred years. It had to evolve…or die.
And if Ian let it die, it would probably kill his father.
Though he would be free.
Or he could push for the riskier plan he really believed was the best long-term option, raising solely organic beef for nearby city markets, then expanding into his own feedyard and certified organic processing plant. All those would create jobs beyond those Billy and his other two hands currently held.
But that, too, would be done only over his father's objections.
And he would be stuck here for the rest of his life.
In Sweetgrass Springs, the town he both loved and desperately longed to leave behind. Not forever, maybe, but how could he know for sure when this was all he'd ever known?
"Heavy thoughts," Veronica whispered. "You okay?"
He stirred. "What? Oh—no, I'm fine. Fine," he hastened to reassure her.
"I don't think so. Something's really bothering you," she murmured.
He arched one brow. "Something's bothering you—a lot of somethings, I'm pretty sure. Ladies first."
"I'm okay," she said automatically.
"Veronica, you're not." When she stiffened, he grasped her hand. "There's no shame in it. You're only one person. You're trying to do your job and David's too. Something has to give." He bored his gaze into hers. "David would never forgive me if that something turned out to be you."
Her eyes swam. He'd never seen her cry, not even at David's funeral, though many times in those days, her eyes had been red. "What else can I do?" she whispered, glancing to be sure her children didn't hear.
But Ben was listening, and he spoke up. "We have an idea, Mom. You should hear us out." He sat up straight, and Ian wished in that moment that his buddy could see the boy now. Even if he didn't much resemble David in looks, Ben would be every bit the fine, upstanding man his father had been.
You did well with this one, my friend, he said silently.
"What are you talking about?" Veronica asked.
Ben glanced at Ian, nerves in his gaze.
They both knew the footing would be dicey.
Ian nodded and took up the gauntlet. "You remember barn raisings? Like with Old Man Kinslow?"
She frowned and nodded. "My father wouldn't let us help, but yes, I remember hearing about it."
Of course that bastard wouldn't let them be part of anything good or neighborly, but Ian wasn't going there right now. "There are always people who could use help around here. I think we should renew the tradition. Neighbors all coming together on one day, maybe once every month or two, and helping other neighbors."
She cocked her head, and in her expression he could see both approval and the exhaustion of wondering where she would ever come up with the extra time. "It's a nice idea. Who are you thinking of? Where would you start?" Then she reared her head back as she understood where he was headed. "No. Oh, no, you don't, Ian McLaren. I don't need that."
Careful, he cautioned himself.
"So you're going to kill this great idea, along with your neighbors' chances to get assistance, because you won't serve as the pilot project?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Give me a list. Who else would you help?"
This was where it turned out to be helpful that much of Sweetgrass Springs seemed to turn to him when trouble arose. He rattled off a list. "Rissa could use help rebuilding fences, and Raymond's barn needs a new roof and a coat of paint."
"So let's help one of them first."
He bent closer. "No one is trying to embarrass you, Veronica. Everyone in this town loved David, and they would gladly pitch in to help his family. If we can make this work, then others will let us help them. You're going to let your pride stand in the way when there are folks who could really use this?"
She was clearly torn between embarrassment and the first faint stirrings of relief. Her jaw tightened. "Folks don't like the Pattons. I will not be a charity case."
"You've been a Butler for years now, and people have always liked you, regardless of your maiden name. It's not charity if you retur
n the favor. Will you? You could help me think of others in need."
Her expression was so vulnerable. Across the table, Ben watched his mother like a hawk, clearly torn, too. The twins chattered on with his dad, for which Ian was grateful.
He kept his gaze firmly on Veronica. "Please. This could be a good thing for a lot of people. Sweetgrass is floundering, and with Ruby down injured…"
"You don't play fair, Ian."
But he could feel the capitulation. Still, he proceeded with caution. "Will you help?" he persisted.
"How is it helping if I'm the one who benefits most?" But her argument was losing steam.
"Because somebody needs to lead the way. You can't hide on that farm forever, Veronica."
Her eyes swam once more. "It hurts too much to hear people speak of him."
And he was pushing her too hard, perhaps. "I'm sorry."
She wiped her eyes with her napkin. "I'll survive." Then she touched his hand. "Thank you, Ian. You are such a good man."
He shrugged. "David was the good man. I'm just his lucky friend." He cleared a lump from his own throat and looked around the table. "Everybody ready to order?"
"Yeah!" cheered the twins.
Veronica bent to him. "One thing, that's all. One project. Something simple."
"Ben has already begun a list."
"Ben is not in charge. I mean it, Ian. One small project, then we move on to the next person."
Ian sighed. "We'll talk about it."
"I'm done talking," she muttered furiously.
Then she noted her children's anxious expressions and quickly sat up straight, pasting on a smile. "So what's good tonight, Mr. McLaren?"
"Anything that little girl back there cooks," his dad responded.
Ian looked up and saw Scarlett watching them, but immediately she turned away.
"I'd like to meet her," Veronica said.
"Well, Ian here can make that happen, I'm sure. He's gotten pretty well acquainted with her."
"Oh?" Veronica glanced back and forth between Ian and the kitchen.
Ian glared at his dad, who only looked innocent, then lifted his good arm. "Jeanette, we're ready to order."
"Something you want to tell me?" Veronica asked, bending close.
"Not a thing." Ian buried his face in the menu he could have recited by heart.
Texas Roots: The Gallaghers of Sweetgrass Springs Page 12
