“It was rotted and an eyesore. I’m planning on replacing it with a split pine fence once I reexcavate the wash and line it with river rock.”
“That’s a big project.”
“But it’ll look nice and divert rainwater away from the house. There’s seepage damage on the west side.”
Ryan was convinced potential buyers would love a picturesque river-rock wash. He might even add a small footbridge in the middle. But, then, Bridget had a point about it being a costly project requiring months to complete. In hindsight, he might have bitten off more than he could chew with this newest flip.
They circled the house to the backyard, taking a worn dirt path. Another someday-maybe project was laying decorative pavers, so he could convert the path to an attractive walkway that would be even more attractive once he cut back the thorny thatch of overgrown rose bushes.
He studied Bridget as she surveyed their surroundings. Did she notice the faded exterior paint on the house and the missing roof shingles? They were hard to miss, as were the weathered shutters and overgrown landscaping. Ryan had been concentrating the majority of his efforts on the house’s interior, with the exception of removing the fence.
An inspection of the shaded horse stalls and outbuildings yielded no errant teenagers in hiding and no fresh evidence of vandalism.
“They must have taken off when they heard us pull in,” Ryan said.
“Have you tried posting Keep Out or No Trespassing signs?” Bridget stood at the stalls petting Ryan’s two horses. They nickered contentedly, enjoying the attention.
“I could. I have some leftover particleboard and red paint in the workshop. Not convinced how much good it’ll do.”
“What about a security system?”
“Not in my budget. I might get some of those motion-activated security lights.” Except those were only helpful at night. This incident had occurred in broad daylight.
Leaving the horses, they strolled together to the house, Bridget saying nothing. Ryan continued seeing the property through her eyes. Worse than a fixer-upper, it was a wreck.
To his credit, he’d accomplished a great deal since he’d bought the place and was proud of his efforts. She might change her opinion of him if she saw how far he’d come rather than how much work remained.
“Would you like a quick tour of the inside?” he asked. “I’ve just about finished the living room.”
“Lead the way.”
They entered the house through the back door. “Oh, my” were Bridget’s first words. He supposed he should have warned her that he’d demoed the entire kitchen. In addition to tearing out the old floor, he’d removed all the cabinets and countertops. The only appliances left were a ready-for-the-junkyard refrigerator and a microwave sitting atop a rickety table and chairs. Ryan stored his nonperishable food in a crate pushed against the wall.
“I don’t cook much,” he explained.
“No, you wouldn’t.” She offered a weak smile.
“This way.”
They entered the living-room-and-dining-room-combo area. Ryan had laid the ceramic tile himself and spent an entire day scrubbing and resealing the brick fireplace. He’d also painted the walls and taken down the wrought-iron grills over the windows, allowing sunshine to pour in and brighten the formerly dingy room.
“This is pretty,” Bridget remarked. “I love the tile.”
“Me, too. I drove all the way to south Phoenix to buy it.”
“Did you install it yourself?”
“One of my many talents.”
“Don’t tell me. You spent a summer working for a tile installer.”
“Not exactly. I’m self-taught.”
“No kidding!”
“I made a lot of mistakes and had to start over more than once.”
“Impressive.”
Finally. The positive response he’d been waiting for and wanting to hear. She might only like this one thing about his house, but he did have that.
“What’s the old saying? Necessity is the mother of invention. For me, it’s lack of money. I can’t afford to hire professional contractors for every job.”
“The going is slow, I imagine.”
“That’s the downside.”
“You’ll get there.” She met his gaze. “You’re a determined man.”
Was that admiration he detected? “I’ve gotten there three times before.”
“This isn’t your first house?”
He took her arm and guided her between a pair of sawhorses situated at odd angles, being sure to release her the instant any danger of tripping had passed.
“Actually, it’s my fourth. In eight years.”
“Are you serious?” Bridget’s jaw went slack. “You must have been young when you started.”
Ryan locked the door behind them, thinking he should do more to secure his outbuildings.
“Early twenties. An opportunity presented itself, and I had a modest bankroll from a recent win at team penning. Believe me when I say the house was a dump. Worse than this one. A tiny cracker box on a tiny lot. Which was good. Not as much time or money needed to remodel it.”
“I’m guessing you sold the house and bought another one.”
He slid into the front passenger seat. “My plan is to always buy low, remodel economically and then sell at a profit.”
“Is your plan succeeding? Well, it must be, seeing as you bought this place.”
“I’ve been averaging about a twenty-percent return on my investments. Not counting my labor.”
She shot him a surprised look. “Ryan, that’s great. You’re making a living at this.”
“Hardly,” he scoffed. “Every dime of profit I’ve earned has gone into buying and remodeling the next property, which is always bigger than the last one and with more land. I still need a regular job to feed my face and keep the lights turned on. Eventually, when I’ve made enough, I’m going to find myself a small ranch. One that doesn’t require renovations and where I can run a few head of cattle and build an apartment for my folks to stay when they visit or, if they prefer, live permanently. The farm has gotten to be too much for my dad. I wish he’d sell it so that he and my mom can start taking things easy.”
She seemed to like that he was concerned about his parents and how they’d get along in their retirement years.
“Eventually,” he continued, “I’d like to get a regular job or even start my own construction business.”
“Good for you.” That also seemed to impress Bridget.
She stopped at an intersection and let a pair of women on horseback pass. In Mustang Valley, so Ryan had learned, equine had the right of way.
“Won’t happen overnight.”
“But you have ambition,” Bridget said. “And a direction, even if you have a long road ahead of you. That’s more than a lot of people can say.”
He liked hearing her praise. He’d have liked it more if she hadn’t seen the need to add “a long road.” She’d made him feel like he hadn’t accomplished enough. Or was that his self-doubt talking?
“What, if I may ask, made you decide to buy that first house? It’s a rather ambitious undertaking for someone so young.”
Ryan started to give his usual reply, how he saw an opportunity and seized it. Which was true, though not entirely accurate. Instead, he told her the whole story. Why he felt the need eluded him.
“I’m from a big family. You know that.”
She nodded.
“We didn’t have a lot to go around. I mentioned that, too, when your grandmother interviewed me.” He paused, choosing his words. How to be honest without sounding shallow? “I want more than what I had growing up, which wasn’t much. I think anyone can look at where I come from and understand that.”
“Of course.”
“Not because I was deprived. What my
siblings and I lacked in material possessions my parents more than made up for with love and dedication. But when I have my own kids—and I do want them one day—they won’t grow up with a father who struggles simply to put food on the table and shoes on their feet. Don’t get me wrong, I respect the heck out of my dad. He went above and beyond. But I’m going to do my best to have the struggling part out of the way before I bring any kids into this world. I don’t need to be rich, but I won’t be constantly scraping by, either.”
Bridget’s expression softened. “That’s very commendable.”
“I want more for my wife, too. Mom is an incredible woman. She sacrificed everything for my dad and us kids. Who knows what she could have been if she’d been free to pursue an interest other than how to stretch one meal into two or help with homework. My wife will be an equal partner, with her own career if she chooses and my full support. To accomplish that, I have to contribute my share. For me, my share is a decent home. I can do that. I’m good at it.”
“You’re an interesting man, Ryan DeMere. Part old-fashioned and part forward-thinking.” Bridget’s gaze searched his face. He wished he knew what she was seeking and if she found it. Unfortunately, all she said was “We should get back to the ranch.”
When they arrived, they spotted not just Nora’s car in the parking area but Homer’s, too.
Bridget hit the garage-door opener. “I wonder what Homer’s doing here. He’s only at the ranch when he’s officiating a wedding.”
Ryan followed her into the house, where they found a small gathering of people in the parlor, chatting excitedly.
“What’s this?” Bridget called out. “No one told me there was a party today.”
“Come join the celebration.” Grandma Em slung an arm around Bridget and walked her to Nora and her granddaughter. “Gianna has news.”
“She does?” Bridget smiled brightly. “Tell me.”
As Ryan watched the exchange, Homer meandered over to stand beside him. He hitched his chin at the younger woman. “Gianna’s about to graduate GCU. Hard to believe. Seems like just yesterday she was a little girl.”
Ryan figured Gianna’s announcement must have something to do with her finding a job or being accepted into graduate school.
“I’m engaged.” Gianna held up her left hand for Bridget’s inspection, fingers splayed. “Derrick proposed last night.”
Bridget’s expression appeared to freeze momentarily, and then she produced a smile. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks. We haven’t set a date yet,” Gianna gushed. “We were thinking in about a year. Of course, we want to have the wedding here.”
“We’d love that.”
“You’ll be next.” She spun and wagged a finger at Molly. “I’m surprised Owen hasn’t proposed yet.”
“We’re waiting,” Molly answered, a sparkle in her eyes Ryan took to mean she fully expected them to make their own announcement in the near future.
Bridget visibly swallowed.
He glanced around. Was he the only one in the room who noticed the subtle signs of tension and slight strain in her voice?
Apparently, yes, because they were all focused on the bride-to-be and not paying attention to anyone else.
Ryan filed away his curiosity about Bridget’s reaction for later contemplation and quietly left, sneaking out through the kitchen door. This was an O’Malley family celebration. He didn’t belong. And besides, he had to prepare for the trail ride that started in less than an hour.
* * *
“CAKE!” MOLLY EXCLAIMED and turned to Bridget. “Is there any left over from yesterday? We have to celebrate.” She yanked open the refrigerator door. “What about champagne?”
“No, no.” Grandma Em wagged a finger. “Not in the middle of a workday.”
“Lemonade, then. And iced tea.” Molly removed two pitchers and handed them to Nora. “Somebody grab the plastic cups and paper plates from the pantry.”
Bridget let her sister be the one in charge, content to remain in the background. Once the cake was served and drinks poured, Grandma Em lifted her plastic cup. “To Gianna and Derrick. May the two of you be blessed with a lifetime of joy and love.”
“Hear! Hear!” Bridget echoed, along with everyone gathered in the kitchen, though with marginally less enthusiasm.
She wasn’t envious of the engagement. It just reminded her of how far away she was from achieving the same state of engaged bliss.
Looking about, she noticed Ryan was missing. When had he ducked out? She checked the clock on the stove. Noon already? He must be taking the couple on their trail ride.
Of course. He was a responsible individual and would have remembered about the ride. She should be glad that guests weren’t left waiting. Only a small part of her had wanted him to stay. Silly. What was she thinking? There was nothing romantic between them.
She’d been thinking how much she enjoyed spending the morning with him, hearing about his family and his remarkable career flipping houses.
Who would’ve guessed? Ryan, a property entrepreneur.
“We need to have a real engagement party,” Grandma Em said and linked an arm with Gianna’s. “Pull out all the stops. What do you say? The ranch will foot the bill.”
Gianna flushed with excitement. “You’d do that for us?”
“Oh, honey, you’re practically family.”
“Seriously, Emily,” Nora said. “That’s too much.”
Grandma Em ignored her. “Molly, don’t we have a free evening a week from Saturday?”
“Technically,” Molly answered. “Though the rest of the day is full. We have the Literary Ladies’ luncheon at noon and a wedding at three thirty. Other than that, we’d have to look at June or July.”
“Saturday is perfect. We’ll make it work.” Like a general, Grandma Em assumed command of the situation. “Molly, block out the evening. I don’t care if the governor calls and wants us to host a wedding, we’re booked. Gianna, you and Derrick are in charge of the guest list and invitations. Molly, Bridget and I will do the rest, won’t we, girls? All we require is a head count.”
“I insist on helping,” Nora interjected. “And paying for the food.”
Bridget offered to handle the menu, and Molly volunteered to oversee the decorations. Gianna said she and her teenaged sisters would assist with setting up for the party and serving, and then cleaning up afterward.
The good wishes and party planning continued with Bridget watching and listening more than contributing. Twenty minutes later, the impromptu gathering began winding down. Gianna had an exam the next day to study for, and the rest of them needed to get back to work.
“You doing okay?” Grandma Em asked. She was helping Bridget tidy the kitchen.
“A little tired. I was up early this morning.”
“I was more curious how you’re taking the news of Gianna’s engagement.”
“I’m thrilled for her and Derrick. Why wouldn’t I be? They’ve been together since their freshman year.”
“You used to babysit her and her sisters.”
Bridget avoided her grandmother’s stare. She truly was thrilled for Gianna, she hadn’t been lying. That didn’t change the fact that the news had sent an electric jolt to Bridget’s biological clock and started it ticking a tiny bit faster.
At thirty-two, she was hardly past her prime. Many women started families at her age or later. But she’d yet to meet her future husband—or start dating him, anyway, she amended, thinking of Dr. Hall. Gregory.
Assuming she and Mr. Right wouldn’t wed for a year or more after becoming serious, and assuming they chose to wait another year before starting their family, Bridget could easily be closer to thirty-five. More than ten years older than her mother and Grandma Em, who were married and with babies already by their twenty-fifth birthdays.
Yikes! Even though she considered herself a modern woman, midthirties still sounded old to be starting her family. And what if she couldn’t become pregnant right away or suffered the unthinkable and had a miscarriage? There were so many uncertainties to consider.
Moving too fast wasn’t the solution, she told herself. Neither was choosing the wrong man like her mother, simply because she was feeling pressure—from herself or by circumstances beyond her control.
But sitting on her butt waiting for Mr. Right to magically appear wasn’t the best choice, either. Bridget must be proactive. Lightning didn’t strike unless a person stood in the open during a thunderstorm. Dr. Hall felt like the right thunderstorm to be standing out in.
“I think you should give Ryan a chance.”
Grandma Em’s comment penetrated Bridget’s thoughts, returning her to the present. “He’s nice,” she conceded. “I like him. But he’s not a good prospect for me.”
“Molly didn’t think Owen was a good prospect at first. Look how that turned out.”
“It’s different for them. Owen has a good job with a future.” And Molly was two years younger than Bridget. She could afford to wait a little longer to start her own family.
“But he was unemployed when they first met,” Grandma Em insisted.
Bridget recalled Ryan’s remark about how he refused to wind up financially overextended like his parents. That he wanted to own not merely a nice home, but a small ranch, free and clear, before settling down. By his own admission, that was going to take a while.
“Ryan’s not ready for marriage,” Bridget said. “And won’t be for a long time.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me. In pretty much those exact words. We stopped at his house before coming here.” She recounted their conversation to her grandmother.
“Okay, maybe he’s not the perfect match for you. But he’s easy on the eyes and has a great sense of humor. No reason you two can’t go out.”
“I repeat, Grandma, he’s not in the market for a wife.”
“He reminds me of your grandfather.”
Bridget could see that, only she’d compared Ryan to her late father.
The Cowboy's Perfect Match Page 7
