“What will you do with the video?” Bree asked.
“I’m putting together a nature series for our guests,” Delaney announced. “Luke is building an amphitheater with a screen so we can show the films every Friday night before the bonfire.”
“That’s a great idea,” Bree said, imagining the possibilities. “Everyone loves your wildlife photography.”
Her sister’s photo cards she’d placed in the office were selling like crazy. So was Bree’s own boot bling and cowgirl jewelry, which reminded her she needed to make more.
“Well, I have to get a shower and wash my hair to get ready for my date tonight,” Rebecca said with a smile. “I hope Josh is more fun than his brother. Ryan’s gorgeous, and his family has money, but he’s not interested in me. Seems he has specific ideas for what he considers his ‘ideal woman.’ ”
Bree gave a double take. “What do you mean?”
The dark-haired woman shrugged. “While we ate dinner he started asking me a bunch of questions, as if our date were an interview.”
“Maybe he was just trying to get to know you,” Chelsea suggested.
“Or just trying to be friendly,” Katelyn said, a sympathetic look on her face.
Rebecca sighed. “No, it was more than that. He had this list of exact qualifications and I . . . failed.”
“What kind of qualifications?” Bree demanded.
“He wants someone who’s . . . perfect,” she said, and heaved another sigh. “Someone he can be proud of and show off.”
Bree doubted anyone could be perfect, but after Ryan’s first miserable marriage, she could understand why he’d want someone respectable.
Rebecca continued to fret. “Don’t you think I can be someone’s ideal woman?”
“Of course you can!” Chelsea assured her. “You just haven’t met the right guy yet. You need someone who appreciates you for you.”
“You’ll be someone’s ideal woman someday,” Katelyn agreed. “You’re beautiful, smart, sexy, love to travel, and—”
“CEO of a prominent corporation?” Bree supplied, remembering the reason she’d come. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk about the corporate retreat?”
“Not now,” Rebecca said, turning away. “My hair comes first.”
“But you still have hours before—” Bree watched her disappear into the cabin, the other two with her.
Del jumped down from the tree and they shared a commiserating look of their own. “Better luck next time.”
Bree nodded. “Yeah.”
On her way back to the house, Bree thought about what Rebecca had said, and whipping out her cell phone, she texted Sammy Jo. Does Ryan Tanner have an ideal woman qualifications list?
A few seconds later her cell phone buzzed back with an answer. LOL. Yes.
Bree’s fingers furiously typed in the appropriate letters she needed to pursue the subject. What’s up with that?
Exactly.
List!
(1) Confident (2) Caring (3) Playful (4) Talented (5) Sexy (6) Beautiful (7) Blue-eyed (8) Brown hair (9) Loves horses (10) Loves children.
Bree bit her lip as she read each item. Many of them fit her own description. After all, she had honey-brown hair, blue eyes, and loved horses and children. She wasn’t as sure about the rest. She also noticed he hadn’t included an additional item—Loves me.
She typed back, What about love?
Her friend responded, I don’t know.
Bree put her phone away and scowled. Love was definitely on her list. Then she remembered she didn’t have a list. Maybe she would make one. Ryan Tanner didn’t have to be the only one with ideal specifications. She could list requirements of her own. Requirements for an ideal man. And love would be at the very top. Because she was done with one-sided relationships!
Luke intercepted her before she stormed into the ranch office. “Did you ask Ryan why his brother Dean was in the stable the night of the dance?”
“Not yet.”
“Too busy texting Sammy Jo?” he teased.
Bree gave him a brief smile. “Sammy Jo texted me first, earlier this morning, to tell me she’s on her way to the next rodeo.”
“Good riddance.”
“What’s the matter with you? Aren’t you interested in women anymore?”
“Not her.”
“Any woman?” she pressed, holding the office door open for him as they both went inside.
Her brother groaned. “Relationships are too complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
Luke turned around to face her and said, “When a man gives a woman his number he’s expected to sell his soul to his cell phone.”
As soon as he was gone, Bree sent one last message to Sammy Jo, one that was sure to crush her heart.
Luke’s Ideal Woman List: (1) No texting.
AFTER RYAN FINISHED his chores on his own ranch, he drove over to the Collins Country Cabins to meet with Bree. And this time he was determined not to screw anything up, so as soon as he got out of his truck he strode straight toward her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her.
Yep, just as tender and sweet as he remembered. This was going to be a great day.
Bree glanced around at the guests milling around the grounds who had stopped to stare at them. Then her gaze shot back to him. “You shouldn’t do that.”
He dropped his hands down to her arms. “Why not?”
“I didn’t ask you to kiss me.”
Ryan laughed. “I didn’t know I had to wait for that.”
She looked flustered. Didn’t want to admit she was attracted to him. Even though he could see that she was. “What?” she demanded. “I kiss you once and—”
“It was more than once,” he teased, cutting her off.
“Okay, maybe it was more than once,” she admitted. “But do you think that gives you the right to kiss me whenever you want?”
He laughed again. “I sure hope so.”
“I still think you should wait to be asked,” she scolded, the corners of her mouth lifting, almost begging him to kiss her again.
He did. Without waiting for her to ask him to. And she didn’t push him away. “Be honest,” he coaxed. “Don’t you want to be kissed?”
Bree’s face turned all kinds of pink. Like the blush of the sun before it dipped from the horizon. “Not now,” she insisted. “We have to meet with the realtor.”
“You’re right,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to his truck. “There will be time enough for kisses, after the work is done.”
“You sound like a Kenny Rogers song,” she told him, buckling her seat belt.
“You kiss like an angel,” he told her.
“Like the Angel in your stable?” Bree asked, arching her brow.
“That Angel doesn’t kiss,” Ryan said with a groan. “She bites.”
Bree was quiet a moment and then, while looking straight ahead, she said, “I got a call from New York this morning. I was offered the position of head director at the fashion retail store where I used to work.”
Ouch. Okay, maybe Bree could bite, too. He swallowed hard and chose his words carefully. “Are you thinking about taking it?”
She shook her head. “I said no.”
“Then why are you telling me about the offer?”
Bree looked at him then, her expression soft . . . and troubled. “I guess I just wanted to let you know.”
Or prepare him. He could tell from the way she was fidgeting with the straps of her purse that deep in her heart she still hadn’t made a final decision. Was that the real reason she didn’t want him to kiss her?
THE REALTOR’S OFFICE was located in the strip of businesses across the street from both the general store and the Fox Creek Café. A small shop, the wood-shingled buildin
g had a large window to the right of the door. Peering through, they could see Shane McGrath sitting behind his desk. He rose as they entered.
“I knew if I gave you time, you’d reconsider,” McGrath said, reaching out to shake Bree’s hand.
Ryan kept his by his side. “She didn’t say that she had.”
Bree shot him a look of warning and turned toward the man. “How much do you think my ranch is worth?”
“That depends,” the realtor said, shuffling through some paperwork and sitting back behind his computer. “Let me check on a few stats.”
Bree didn’t know it but while they were questioning the realtor, Dean and Zach were visiting the realtor’s house and checking out his plane. The thought that this weasel could be the guy who had salted their fields set him on edge almost as much as Bree’s announcement about New York.
Ryan’s phone rang and he stepped away to answer it. The caller ID said it was Dean.
“He’s our guy,” his brother told him. “We found several empty salt bags in the back of the plane.”
Ryan clenched his jaw and glanced at Shane McGrath again, just a few feet away. “Any sign of the horse supplement?”
“No. Owens may still be the one responsible for that. We didn’t find anything else except for a few traps.”
“What kind of traps?”
“Large enough for a rabbit,” Dean replied. “There’s a few hides hanging from one of the inside windows of the house so I’d wager he likes to hunt. How’s it going over there?”
“I’ve got him in sight,” Ryan said, and after he hung up, he went over and pounded his fist on the realtor’s desk. “Yes, what is the Collins guest ranch worth? Fifty pounds of horse supplement?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” McGrath said stiffly.
“But you do know about the bags of salt that are in your plane, don’t you?”
Bree placed her hand on his arm, her eyes wide. “Ryan, what bags of salt?”
“The bags of salt he dumped into his crop duster to spray out over our right end field.” Ryan glared at the man in front of him, hoping to intimidate him. “Were you working alone? Or did you and Owens hash out the plan together?”
The realtor didn’t deny the accusations but smiled, a malicious, wicked smile. Then he handed Ryan a business card and said, “Let me know when you’re ready to sell.”
“Why you—” Ryan reached out a hand to grab the guy by the throat, but then the door opened and a man he recognized as one of the local outdoor outfitters walked in. Probably the guy who supplied the realtor with traps.
“Excuse me, but you’ll have to leave,” McGrath said, pulling back. “I have another client.”
Ryan did not want to go anywhere, but the outdoor outfitter looked as if he was already sizing him up in case there was a fight. No doubt this guy would take the realtor’s side. Ryan wouldn’t have had a problem with that, except his top concern was for Bree. He needed to make sure she was safe. Outside the building.
He ground his teeth together as he led Bree back to his truck. He hoped to lock her inside, then go back into the realtor’s office to deal with the two men, but instead of getting in, she took his hand and pulled him down the sidewalk toward the gazebo in the riverfront park.
“You’re as wired as a porcupine on six cups of coffee,” Bree teased, her voice soft as she leaned against him. “Tell me about your fields.”
AS RYAN DROVE her back to her family’s guest ranch, Bree sat close to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. He kept one hand on the steering wheel, his other on her knee.
Bree smiled, her head replaying their afternoon talking in the gazebo. The sun had been shining, the river beside them had been softly gurgling, and the words that had poured forth from Ryan’s heart had never been so encouraging. At least she could now tell Luke why Dean had been in their stable the night of the dance. The Tanners had been keeping their eye on Mr. Owens as well as the three women from Iridescent Beauty. Because they cared about her. Because Ryan cared about her.
When Bree heard about the crop duster and the Tanners’ ruined fields, her heart went out to him. She knew how costly the damage from something like that could be. If the same had happened to her family, they’d be devastated both financially and emotionally. Her knee-jerk reaction was to wrap an arm around his shoulders to offer comfort, but the move surprised him, and the look he gave her in return surprised her.
He needed her as much as Cody. He trusted her. Respected her. Wanted her. Adored her.
She’d sucked in her breath, her heart hammering in her ears, and trembled as his head drew closer and closer to her own. His arms came around her, locking her in an embrace, and the warmth of his touch made all the worries she carried inside her disappear. Then he laid a light kiss on the top of her brow, another on the bridge of her nose, and a third on her cheek. She tilted her head back slightly to raise her mouth toward his, closed her eyes, and . . . waited, wanting this kiss more than she’d ever wanted any other kiss.
“Ask me,” he whispered.
She opened her eyes and stared at him, wondering what he meant, wondering why he’d stopped, wondering why . . . then she recalled their earlier conversation and smiled. “Kiss me?”
His mouth captured hers and the rest of the afternoon spun away into a joyous cyclone of oblivion that, even now, left her emotions spinning and her equilibrium unbalanced. All she knew was that she wished the day didn’t have to end, wished Ryan never had to take her home, wished he’d never leave her side again.
The sight of a group of people crowded around the outside of Cabin 12 snapped her back to reality. She exchanged a quick glance with Ryan, then as soon as they parked, they jumped out of the truck and hurried over to see what was going on.
Delaney, Meghan, Ma, Grandma, and a few guests were chattering back and forth. Josh Tanner was also there, ready to pick up Rebecca for their date, but the cosmetic exec and her two friends were nowhere in sight.
“The women think there’s a cat in their cabin,” he explained. “They’re trying to get it out.”
“Make way,” Nora said, running between them. “I’ve got a broom to scoot it out from under the bed. Nadine, open the door and—”
“Got it!” her sister yelled.
The twins ran inside and a few seconds later Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca ran out, screeching and screaming, and bursting into hysterics.
“It ran in the bathroom while I was trying to put on my makeup,” Rebecca exclaimed. “And I’m allergic to cat hair.”
“You aren’t sneezing,” Chelsea said, her eyes wide from the excitement. “I think you’ll be okay.”
“I love kitties,” Katelyn crooned, turning toward Bree. “Do you think after they catch it I can take the cat home?”
Another set of shrieks nearly shook the cabin, bloodcurdling shrieks that told Bree something was dreadfully wrong. She lunged forward, but Ryan shot out an arm to stop her.
“Let me,” he said, and ran toward the open door.
Before he could enter, Nora and Nadine ran out. Both girls continued to shriek as they covered their eyes with their hands, and after one whiff of the strong, putrid, one-of-a-kind odor, Bree knew why.
“Skunk!” she shouted, warning everyone else to get back as the black and white animal darted from the door of the cabin to the brush beneath the trees.
“But I’ve never seen a skunk with long legs like that,” Chelsea said, holding her nose.
“When have you ever seen a skunk?” Rebecca demanded.
Katelyn put her hands on her hips. “We all know what a skunk looks like, but this one didn’t have a white stripe down its back. It had white patches all over it like my neighbor’s cat back in L.A.”
“It’s a western spotted skunk,” Delaney told them. “Their hair can have different patterns.”
&nbs
p; “We’ve been sprayed!” the twins wailed together.
Nora’s eyes teared. “What do we do?”
“Someone help us,” Nadine cried. Then the teen let out another scream. “Oh, no! I think I broke another nail!”
Ma gasped. “Should we bathe them in tomato juice?”
“Or lemon juice?” Bree suggested.
“Leave them to me,” Grandma said, stepping toward them. “The only thing that will take the stink off them is my special formula of vinegar, baking soda, and homemade dish detergent.”
“They can’t bathe in the house,” Ma protested.
Grandma agreed. “Ryan, Bree, can you two bring over one of the metal troughs from the outdoor paddock and fill it with water?”
They hurried to do what they could to help, and when they returned, Josh had something to show them. “I found it near the cabin,” Josh said, exchanging a look with his brother.
Bree studied the object Josh held in his hands. “A syringe?”
“A tranq dart,” Ryan informed her. “The kind an outdoor outfitter might use to tranquilize an animal to transport it in a cage to a different location.”
“An outdoor outfitter like the realtor’s friend?” she gasped. “You think they put the skunk in our guests’ cabin on purpose?”
Josh nodded. “The women went to visit their neighbors in the cabin next to them and when they came back the door was closed.”
Bree glanced at Cabin 12 and wrinkled her nose at the smell, ready to gag. “Why would they do that?”
“Uh . . . Bree?” Chelsea asked, a worried look on her face. “Where are we going to stay?”
Chapter Twelve
BREE’S STOMACH LURCHED. She’d checked in several new guests that morning and all the other cabins were full. She’d just got her own bedroom back, but even if she were to offer it up, the room only had one bed and they needed three.
This was exactly what the Owenses wanted, and she was more sure than ever before that Mr. Owens and the realtor had joined forces to team up against her.
But what could she do? Kick the guests out of another cabin so the cosmetic execs would agree to stay? Offer them a tent? Dread crept up her spine and threatened defeat.
Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler Page 18
