Gretchen turned away to look up at her fiancé and smiled. “Block a week off the calendar next spring, ladies,” she shouted while she focused only on him. “We’re all going to Italy for a wedding!”
Epilogue
“Christmas is coming.”
Gretchen’s brow went up at Natalie’s morose declaration. “You sound like a character in Game of Thrones. Of course Christmas is coming. It’s almost December, honey, and it’s one of the more predictable holidays.”
Her friend set down her tablet and frowned. Gretchen knew that Natalie didn’t like Christmas. She’d never pressed her friend about why she despised the beloved holiday, but she knew it was true and had been since back when they were in college. Every year, the chapel would shut down for the week or so between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day. Natalie claimed it was a built-in vacation for everyone, but Gretchen wondered if there wasn’t more to it.
Natalie was a workaholic to begin with, but when December rolled around, she redoubled her efforts. She claimed that she wanted to get a head start on the accounting and taxes for the end of the year, but Gretchen was certain that she was trying to avoid anything to do with Christmas.
While Bree might stroll into the office wearing reindeer antlers that lit up and Amelia might try to organize a holiday party, Natalie did not participate. She insisted they not exchange gifts, arguing they were just passing money around and it was pointless.
Natalie wasn’t a Grinch, per se. She wasn’t out to stop everyone from having a good holiday. She just didn’t want others to subject her to their merriment. That usually meant she hid in her house and didn’t leave for a solid week, or she went on a trip somewhere.
Even then, she couldn’t avoid everything. Always the professional, Natalie usually had to coordinate a couple winter-or holiday-themed weddings this time of year. There was no avoiding it. Especially when one of this year’s weddings was the wedding of Natalie’s childhood best friend, Lily.
Natalie leaned back in her office chair and ripped the headset off, tossing it onto her desk. “It’s bothering me more than usual this year.”
“Are you taking a trip or staying home?” Gretchen asked.
“I’m staying home. I was considering a trip to Buenos Aires, but I don’t have time. We squeezed Lily’s last-minute wedding in on the Saturday before Christmas, so I’ll be involved in that and not able to do the normal end-of-year paperwork until it’s over.”
“You’re not planning to work over the shutdown, are you?” Gretchen planted her hands on her hips. “You don’t have to celebrate, but by damn, you’ve got to take the time off, Natalie. You work seven days a week sometimes.”
Natalie dismissed her concerns. “I don’t work the late hours you and Amelia do. I’m never here until midnight.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re still putting in too much time. You need to get away from all of this. Maybe go to a tropical island and have some kind of a fling with a sexy stranger.”
At that, Natalie snorted. “I’m sorry, but a man is not the answer to my problems. That actually makes it worse.”
“I’m not saying fall in love and marry the guy. I’m just saying to keep him locked in your hotel suite until the last New Year’s firecracker explodes. What can a night or two of hot sex hurt?”
Natalie looked up at Gretchen with her brow furrowed painfully tight. “It can hurt plenty when the guy you throw yourself at is your best friend’s brother and he turns you down flat.”
* * * * *
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SNOWED IN WITH HER EX
THIRTY DAYS TO WIN HIS WIFE
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RECLAIMED BY THE RANCHER
Janice Maynard
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
One
Not much rattled Jeff Hartley. At twenty-nine, he owned and operated the family ranch where he had grown up during a near-idyllic childhood. His parents had taken early retirement back in the spring and had headed off to a condo on Galveston Bay, leaving their only son to carry on the tradition.
Jeff was a full member of the prestigious Texas Cattleman’s Club, a venerable establishment where the movers and shakers of Royal, Texas, met to shoot the breeze and oftentimes conduct business. Jeff prided himself on being mature, efficient, easygoing and practical.
But when he opened his door on a warm October afternoon and saw Lucy Peyton standing on his front porch, it felt as if a bull had kicked him in the chest. First there was the dearth of oxygen, a damned scary feeling. Then the pain set in. After that, he had the impulse to flee before the bull could take another shot.
He stared at his visitor, his gaze as level and dispassionate as he could make it. “I plan to vote Democrat this year. I don’t need any magazine subscriptions. And I already have a church home,” he said. “But thanks for stopping by.”
He almost had the door closed before she spoke. “Jeff. Please. I need to talk to you.”
Damn it. How could a woman say his name—one measly syllable—and make his insides go all wonky? Her voice was every bit the same as he remembered. Soft and husky...as if she were on the verge of laryngitis. Or perhaps about to offer some lucky man naughty, unspeakable pleasure in the bedroom.
The sound of eight words, no matter how urgently spoken, shouldn’t have made him weak in the knees.
Her looks hadn’t changed, either, though she was a bit thinner than he remembered. Her dark brown hair, all one length but parted on the side, brushed her shoulders. Hazel eyes still reminded him of an autumn pond filled with fallen leaves.
She was tall, at least five-eight...and though she was athletic and graceful, she had plenty of curves to add interest to the map. Some of those curves still kept him awake on dark, troubled nights.
“Unless you’re here to apologize,” he said, his words deliberately curt, “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”
When she shoved her shoulder against the door, he had to step back or risk hurting her. Even so, he planted himself in the doorway, drawing a metaphorical line in the sand.
Her eyes widened, even as they flashed with temper. “How dare you try to play the wronged party, you lying, cheating, sonofa—”
Either she ran out of adjectives, or she suddenly realized that insulting a man was no way to gain entry into his home.
He lifted an eyebrow. “You were saying?”
His mild tone seemed to enrage her further, though to her credit, she managed to swallow whatever additional words trembled on her tongue. Was it bad of him to remember that small pink tongue wetting his— Oh, hell. Now he was the one who pulled up short. Nothing stood to be gained by indulging in a sentimental stroll down memory lane.
No tongues. No nothing.
She licked her lips and took a deep, visible breath. “Samson Oil is trying to buy
the Peyton ranch.”
Two
Lucy was diabetic; she’d been diagnosed as a twelve-year-old. If she didn’t take her insulin, she sometimes got the shakes. But nothing like this. Facing the man she had come to see made her tremble from head to toe. And she couldn’t seem to stop. No amount of medicine in the world was ever going to cure her fascination with the ornery, immoral, two-faced, spectacularly handsome Jeff Hartley.
At the moment, however, he was her only hope.
“May I come in?” she asked, trying not to notice the way he smelled of leather and lime and warm male skin.
Jeff stared at her long enough to make her think he might actually say no. In the end, however, gentlemanly manners won out. “Ten minutes,” he said gruffly. “I have plans later.”
If he meant to wound her, his barb was successful...though she would never give him the satisfaction of knowing for sure. As they navigated the few steps into his living room and sat down, she found herself swamped with memories. This old farmhouse dated back three generations. It had been lovingly cared for and well preserved.
For one brief second, everything came crashing back: the hours she had spent in this bright, cheerful home, the master bedroom upstairs with the queen-size mattress and double-wedding-ring quilt, the bed Jeff had complained was too small for his six-foot-two frame...
She didn’t want to remember. Not at all. Not even the spot in this very room where Jeff Hartley had gone down on one knee and offered her a ring and his heart.
Dredging up reserves of audacity and courage, she ignored the past and cut to the chase. “My cousin is trying to sell his land to Samson Oil.” Recently, the outsider company had begun buying up acreage in Royal, Texas, at an alarming rate.
Jeff sat back in a leather armchair and hitched one ankle across the opposite knee, drawing attention to his feet. “Is it a fair offer?”
Nobody Lucy had ever known wore scuffed, hand-tooled cowboy boots as well as Jeff Hartley. At one time she wondered if he slept in the damned things. But then came that memorable evening when he showed her how a woman could take off a man’s boots at the end of the day...
Her face heated. She jerked her thoughts back to the present. “More than fair. But that’s not the point. The property has been in the Peyton family for almost a century. The farmland has contributed to Maverick County’s food supply for decades. Equally important—the wildlife preserve was my grandfather’s baby. Samson Oil will ruin everything.”
“Why does Kenny want to sell?”
“He’s sick of farming. He swears there’s nothing for him in Royal anymore. He’s decided to move to LA and try for an acting career. He pointed out that I sold most of my share to him, left for college and then stayed away. He wants his chance. But he needs cash.”
“And this is my problem, how?”
Three
Lucy bit her lip until she tasted blood in her mouth. She couldn’t afford to let Jeff goad her into losing her temper. It had happened far too easily on his front porch a moment ago. Her only focus right now should be on getting what she needed to stop a bad, bad decision.
It might have helped if Jeff had gotten old and fat in the past two years. But unfortunately, he looked better than ever. Dark blond hair in need of a trim. Piercing green eyes, definitely on the hostile side. And a long, lean body and lazy gait that made grown women sigh with delight whenever he sauntered by.
“I need you to loan me twenty thousand dollars,” she blurted out. “The farm is self-supporting, but Kenny doesn’t have a lot of liquid assets. He may be bluffing. Even if he’s serious, though, twenty grand will get him off my back and send him on his way. He thinks the only choice he has for coming up with relocation funds is to unload the farm, but I’m trying to give him another option.”
“What will happen to the farm when he goes to the West Coast?”
It was a good question. And one she had wrestled with ever since Kenny told her he wanted to leave town. “I suppose I’ll have to come back to Royal and take over. At least until Kenny crashes and burns in California and decides to return home.”
“You don’t have much faith in him, do you?”
She shrugged. “Our fathers were brothers. So we share DNA. But Kenny has always had a problem with focus. Six months ago he wanted to go to vet school. Six months before that he was studying to take the LSAT.”
“But you already have a career...right? As a physical trainer? In Austin? That fancy master’s degree you earned in sports medicine won’t do you much good out on the farm.” He didn’t even bother to hide the sarcasm.
She wanted to squirm, but she concentrated on breathing in and breathing out, relaxing her muscles one set at a time. “Fortunately, mine is the kind of job that’s in demand. I’m sure they won’t hold my exact position, but there will be plenty of similar spots when I go back.”
“How long do you think you’ll have to stay here in Royal?”
“A few months. A year at the most. Will you loan me the money, or not?”
Jeff scowled. “You’ve got a lot of balls coming to me for help, Lucy.”
“You owe me,” she said firmly. “And you know it.” This man...this beautiful, rugged snake of a man had been responsible for the second worst day of her life.
He sat up and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His veneer of calm peeled away, leaving a male who was a little bit frightening. Dark emerald eyes judged her and found her wanting. “I don’t owe you a single damn thing. You’re the one who walked out on our wedding and made me a laughingstock in Royal.”
She jumped to her feet, heart pounding. Lord, he made her mad. “Because I caught you at our rehearsal dinner kissing the maid of honor,” she yelled.
Four
Something about Lucy’s meltdown actually made Jeff feel a little bit better about this confrontation. At least she wasn’t indifferent.
“Sit down, Lucy,” he said firmly. “If money is going to change hands, I have two conditions.”
She did sit, but the motion looked involuntary...as if her knees gave out. “Conditions?”
“It’s a lot of money. And besides, why ask me? Me, of all people?”
“You’re rich,” she said bluntly, her stormy gaze daring him to disagree.
It was true. His bank account was healthy. And sadly, Lucy had no family to turn to, other than her cousin. Lucy’s parents and Kenny’s had been killed in a boating accident eight years ago. Because of that tragedy, Lucy had a closer relationship with her cousin than one might expect. They were more like siblings, really.
“If my bottom line is good, it’s partly because I don’t toss money out the window on a whim.”
“It wouldn’t be a whim, Jeff. I know the way you think. This thing with Samson Oil is surely eating away at you. Outsiders. Taking over land that represents the history of Royal. And then doing God knows what with it. Drilling for oil that isn’t there. Selling off the dud acres. Shopping malls. Big box stores. Admit it. The thought makes you shudder. You have to be suspicious about why a mysterious oil company is suddenly trying to buy land that was checked for oil years ago.”
That was the problem with old girlfriends. They knew a man’s weaknesses. “You’re not wrong,” he said slowly, taken aback that she had pegged him so well. “But in that case, why wouldn’t I buy Kenny’s land outright? And make sure that it retains its original purpose?”
“Because it’s not the honorable thing to do. Kenny will see the light one day soon. And he would be devastated to come back to Royal and have nothing. Besides, that would be a whole lot more money. Twenty thousand is chicken feed to you.”
Jeff grimaced. “You must know some damn fine chickens.”
Perhaps she understood him better than he wanted to admit, because after laying out her case, she sat quietly, giving
him time to sort through the possibilities. Lucy stared at him with hazel eyes that reflected wariness and a hint of grief.
He felt the grief, too. Had wallowed in it for weeks. But a man had to move on with his life. At one time, he’d been absolutely sure he would grow old with this woman. Now he could barely look at her.
“I need to think about it,” he said.
Lucy’s temper fired again. “Since when do you have trouble making decisions?” Her hands twisted together in her lap as if she wanted to wrap them around his neck.
“Don’t push me, Lucy.” He scowled at her. “I’ll pick you up out at the farm at five. We’ll have dinner, and I’ll give you my answer.”
Her throat worked. “I don’t want to be seen with you.”
Five
The barb wasn’t unexpected, but it took Jeff’s breath momentarily. “The feeling is mutual,” he growled. “I’ll make reservations in Midland. We’ll discuss my terms.”
“But that’s fifty miles away.”
Her visible dismay gave him deep masculine satisfaction. It was time for some payback. Lucy deserved to twist in the wind for what she had done to him. A man’s pride was everything.
“Take it or leave it,” he said, the words curt.
“I thought you had plans later.”
“You let me worry about my calendar, sweetheart.”
He watched her flinch at his overt sarcasm. For a moment, he was ashamed of baiting her. But he shored up his anger. Lucy deserved his antagonism and more.
The silence grew in length and breadth, thick with unspoken emotions. If he listened hard enough, he thought he might even be able to hear the rapid beat of her heart. Like a defenseless animal trapped in a cage of its own making.
“Lucy?” He lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t have all day.”
“You could write me a check this instant,” she protested. “Why make me jump through hoops?”
One Week with the Best Man: Reclaimed by the Rancher Page 16
