by Liz Isaacson
Missy definitely liked him, but now that he’d confessed what he used to do in New York, she couldn’t imagine telling him about her debts. She’d only told him the basics about her split with Kelton, and she certainly didn’t want him to know she hadn’t been able to buy the farm she loved because of financial problems.
She thought of her old boss, Jamie, and what she might say. It’s just money, Missy.
Pretty much exactly what Tucker had said.
Somehow, though, it was more than that.
Missy banished the thoughts about her inadequacy because her bank account didn’t have enough zeros by the time they arrived back at the farm. She let Tucker take her horse’s reins, and she said, “I’m going to get the office ready for the meeting.”
“See you there in a few.” Tucker moved with confidence and ease now, two horses trailing him like he’d been a horseman his entire life. Missy marveled at him, at the way everything seemed to come easily to him, at the perfection she’d experienced in his kiss.
Her lips tingled with the memory, and she turned away from him as if someone would be able to tell she’d just had her life changed with a simple kiss. With a heated face, she strode into the office, where she found all four of the men Tucker had hired being guarded by Fritz, who lay in the doorway lest anyone should try to leave before he indicated they could.
“Afternoon, gentlemen,” she said as she bent down to scratch Fritz’s head. The men wore appropriate farm gear—jeans and boots and lightweight, short-sleeved shirts.
She pointed at a tall man wearing a blue, checkered shirt. “Sam, right?”
He grinned and nodded. “You must be Missy.”
She shook his hand, as well as the others’—Logan, Darren, and Ben—and said, “Tucker will be just a couple more minutes. How are you boys liking the house?” At first, she’d been appalled that Tucker had decided to use Jamie’s home as a bunkhouse of sorts for cowboys. But she also saw the wisdom in having someone on-site with the horses, and she could sure use the help around the farm. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to work from sunup to sundown.
A former employee and good friend, Holly Gray, was coming back to town also, and she’d be at the farm on Monday to do a checkup on every horse.
“The house is fine, ma’am,” Darren said. His hair extended out of the bottom of his cowboy hat, and Missy liked the gentle quality of his voice.
“Do you guys have everything you need?” she asked.
“We went into town this morning,” Sam said. “Bought groceries and cleaning supplies.” He glanced at the other men. “I think we’re all set.”
“Boys,” Tucker said as he entered the office, though a couple of the cowboys were probably as old as he was.
Everyone turned toward Tucker, and Missy couldn’t help the leap her heart took. At least it had happened to an internal organ and no one else had seen it. Tucker gave her a knowing look, though, and she wondered if he somehow knew how strongly he affected her.
She bent her head over the show application for her junior riding team, determined to focus on work at work and personal things during personal time.
She made it through one application before Tucker said, “Missy will take us around. She’s the stable manager, which basically means she’s your boss. She asks you to do something, you do it. That’s how I’ve survived the past several weeks here on the farm.” He beamed at her as he waved for her to go first out of the office.
“Very funny,” she said as she approached. “Don’t let him fool you. He hasn’t survived on the farm.”
“I’m still alive,” he said, that sexy glint in his dark eyes calling to her very soul.
“True.” She stepped past him into the hall. “But we want Steeple Ridge to thrive, not just survive.”
When Missy pulled into her driveway that evening, another truck already sat there. An instant smile swept across her face, and she jumped from the cab and hurried up the front steps.
Fritz barked and balked at entering the house, but when Holly said, “Come on, Fritz,” the dog’s tail went berserk, and he launched himself into the living room.
Missy laughed as she hugged her once-best friend, who had moved to Montana to complete a veterinary internship there. “You made good time,” she said, once the reunion had ended. “I don’t have anything for dinner.”
Holly scoffed as she waved her arm, her dark curls bouncing with the movement. “I ate on the way in. I can’t resist those apple fritters at Jerome’s.”
Missy groaned at the mere thought of them. “Who can?”
“I hope you can’t, because I brought you one.” Holly brandished a box toward Missy, who grinned and took the pastry.
“Thank you, Hols.” She sighed, content and happier than she’d been in a really long time. “So, how’s the ranch?”
Holly’s dark complexion turned waxy, and she couldn’t seem to swallow. “I left the ranch.”
Missy had been turning toward the kitchen, where she was planning to pour herself a cold glass of milk to go with her apple fritter dinner. Her movement stuttered, but she forced herself to keep going. “You left the ranch? Did you finish your hours already?”
“No.”
Missy cast her a look, trying to judge her emotions by her expression, but Holly had always been hard to read. Her Latina fire tended to keep certain feelings under wraps.
“What happened?” Missy asked.
Holly collapsed at the dining room table like the very life had just been stolen from her. “I met an amazing guy.”
Missy poured the milk and put the jug back in the fridge. “You seem real happy about that, too.”
“I was once engaged to his brother.”
Missy’s movement did freeze this time, the apple fritter held halfway to her mouth. “I’m sorry. What?”
Holly groaned and buried her face in her hands. A moment later, she straightened and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She shook her head as if dislodging the thoughts and feelings associated with her time on the ranch in Montana. “Tell me about you.”
Missy took a bite of her doughnut and chewed, her mind churning over what she could tell Holly, who’d only been gone for four months. But still, a lot had changed for Missy in the past four weeks, so she opened her mouth and said, “I met an amazing guy too.”
Holly blinked at her and then squealed. “Who is it?”
“The new owner at Steeple Ridge. Tucker Jenkins.”
“Oooh,” Holly teased. “Do you love him?” She tipped her head back and laughed, but Missy actually considered the question. Her gaze wandered to the bulletin board she kept by the fridge—the one where she pinned all her notices, her calendar, her bills.
Cold fear struck her like lightning, and she had a hard time swallowing her milk. “Of course not. We’ve only known each other for a couple of months.”
Holly studied her, a giant smile on her face. “I can tell you like him.”
And Missy did like him, so she admitted it. “But …”
“But what?” Holly asked.
“He’s a multibillionaire.”
“Even better,” Holly said without missing a beat.
Missy cocked her head and said, “Get real, Holly. It’s never been about money for me.”
“What? Love? Of course it’s not about money.” She shrugged. “But money helps.”
Money certainly would help Missy, but she didn’t want to admit that to anyone—even herself. “I feel … inadequate around him now.”
“When did you find out?”
“This afternoon, just before he kissed me.”
Holly’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs, and her dark eyes sparked with fire. “First kiss?”
Missy sighed and rested her cheek in her palm. “Yeah.”
“Sounds like it was amazing.” Holly giggled just as someone knocked on the front door. Fritz went wild, barking and leaping against the door once, then twice. He settled into silence immediatel
y after that, so Missy knew whoever stood on the other side had been here before.
She looked at Holly. “Not a word about Tucker or the kiss. Promise me.”
Holly crossed her heart and followed Missy into the living room, where they found Jewel standing on the front porch holding a pizza box. “I thought you could use dinner tonight.”
Missy welcomed her and asked, “Why did you think that?”
“Saw the four new cowboys in town this morning. Thought you might want to talk about it.”
“I’m fine with it. We need the help.”
Jewel exchanged a glance with Holly. “Sure, because you handle change so well.”
Missy rolled her eyes. “Getting some extra hands on deck isn’t a change.”
“Dating a cowboy is,” Holly said, immediately sucking in a breath afterward. Missy shot a death glare in her direction as Jewel volleyed her gaze between the two of them.
“Dating a cowboy? Already? I thought they were new in town.”
“I’m not dating a cowboy,” Missy said, the lie sitting heavy against her tongue. She admitted defeat and reached for the rest of her apple fritter. “Fine, I am dating a cowboy, but he’s a transplant at best.”
“He wears a hat and boots, right?” Holly asked.
Missy nodded, her mouth full of sugar and bread and apples.
Jewel set the pizza box on the table and retrieved a stack of paper plates from Missy’s cupboard. “So I’m confused. Who are you dating?”
“Tucker,” Holly said, her eyes shining like dark diamonds as she reached to open the pizza box.
“Traitor,” Missy mumbled as Jewel’s excited yelp filled the kitchen.
“Gladys?” Tucker called from the elderly woman’s front porch. “You home?”
He heard something on the other side of the door, and it could’ve been Gladys calling for him to come in. He twisted the knob and entered the house, scanned her front room, glanced down the hall, and found her standing in the kitchen with a carton of ice cream in her hand.
He chuckled. “Eating dessert before dinner?”
Gladys’s wrinkles lifted as she smiled at him. With slow, almost painful, movements, she put the ice cream back in the freezer and gestured to the bag he held. “What did you bring me?”
He lunged forward to give her an elbow to hold as he walked her back to her recliner in the front room. “I picked up your favorite sandwich at Harry’s.”
“You spoil me.”
“You gave me three pies last week.” He sat on the edge of the couch as she unwrapped the Rueben sandwich and took a bite. “A sandwich is the least I can do.”
“You’re a sweet boy, Tucker,” she said. After only three bites, she wrapped up the sandwich and began rocking. “Anything new between you and Missy?”
“No,” Tucker said automatically. “And how do you know about me and Missy?”
“We sit by her at church every week. I’ve seen you hold the woman’s hand. You’re not as sly as you think you are.”
Tucker’s mouth went dry. If Gladys had seen him holding Missy’s hand, who else had? And why did he care if they did? He shrugged and grinned. “I like her.”
“Mm hm.” Gladys leaned her head back against the chair and let her eyes drift closed.
Tucker normally didn’t stay long at Gladys’s. He dropped by as often as he could, which meant almost every evening after work. He’d learned she had four grown sons, a dozen grandchildren, and even some great-grandchildren. She’d won the best yard award in Island Park for five straight years back in the eighties—a fact she boasted about at least once a week. She had a sweet tooth and liked to bake to support it.
As she asked, “How much do you like her?” he realized she was more observant than he’d given her credit for.
“A lot,” he admitted. “Kissed her today.”
Gladys nodded, her eyes still closed. “She kiss you back?”
“Sure did.” Tucker smiled just thinking about it.
“Don’t be so proud of yourself,” Gladys said. “You’re a big, strong, handsome man. Pride doesn’t become you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said automatically, the smile sliding from his face.
“Did she tell you she wanted to buy Steeple Ridge?”
“No,” Tucker said, ready to end the visit now. He’d told her about his parents, his job in New York, his favorite foods, and about the new things he learned at the farm. He wasn’t prepared for rumors about Missy. “Well, I have to go, Gladys. I’ll be by about nine-thirty for church, okay?”
“Mm hm,” she said again, and he left her to rock and rock in her chair. Once home, he paced in his house, his own sandwich from Harry’s diner forgotten on the counter. He wasn’t sure what had his stomach buzzing—the kiss with Missy? The fact that everyone in town might know they were dating? That he’d admitted to her how wealthy he was?
She’d handled that information quite well, he thought, though she did wear a bit of a puzzled look, almost like she didn’t believe someone could acquire so much wealth. He didn’t really believe it either, to be honest.
“Just lucky,” he told himself, finally settling down enough to open his sandwich. The fact that he’d gotten to kiss Missy was also luck, and Tucker thanked the Lord above for that particular bit of good fortune, wondering for the first time in five years if he could get married again and make it work this time.
He took a slow bite of roast beef and avocado, chewed slowly, and forced himself to think things through. He didn’t want to repeat the same mistakes he’d made with Tiffany. Everything about that relationship had been rushed—they met, kissed, and got married in less than three months total.
Tucker would not rush anything this time, as evidenced by the eight weeks it had taken him to kiss Missy. A smile quirked his lips as he thought about the time he’d been able to spend with her, and about the possibility of sharing a lot more of his life with her.
On Monday morning, Tucker arrived at Steeple Ridge first. Well, besides the four cowboys who lived on-site. He puttered around the main barn, scratching the ears of his favorite horses as he unlocked the top half of their stalls. He’d started to lead the horses out to the pasture by the time Missy arrived, and he flung her a smile as their eyes met.
They’d sat together at church yesterday, and Tucker had done a lot more than hold her hand on the bench where no one else could see. She’d snuggled right into his side, and he’d kept his arm around her shoulders for the duration of the sermon. If anyone had been wondering if they were dating, they could stop speculating. Tucker had made sure of that, and Missy hadn’t seemed to mind.
“Mornin’,” he called to her as she continued into the barn. He wasn’t quite sure how to navigate the line between kissing her and working with her. He’d never had an office romance, though he knew lots of his employees had.
She lifted her hand into a wave and disappeared into the main barn. While he’d asked her to attend to the administrative tasks of the farm, she didn’t start the day that way. Sure enough, she started bringing out horses, until all thirty-seven of their charges were grazing happily in the huge outdoor pasture.
“I got the boys working on mucking out the stalls.” Missy removed her hat and swiped her hand along her forehead, the heat of the late June day unseasonably warm. “After that, two of them will exercise the horses that aren’t riding today, and the other two will be out in the fields.”
“Sounds great,” Tucker said. He knew most of what it took to run the farm by now, but he was glad he didn’t have to think about it on a day-to-day basis.
“I’m doing the summer camp this morning, and then I’ve got practice with the juniors for their show.”
Tucker nodded, his fingers twitching toward hers. “We’ve got eight riders in the show, right?”
Missy finally lifted her eyes to his, and he lost himself in their swirling depths for a moment. He leaned closer, and she seemed to have fallen under the same spell as him, because she let him kiss h
er.
All the rough edges inside him softened at her acceptance, and he accelerated the kiss beyond sweet to mirror the intense way he felt inside.
Missy drew back and ducked her head with a soft chuckle.
“Sorry,” he murmured, not retreating a single inch. His body hummed, the vibrations combining with the energy she emitted. “You’re just so irresistible.”
Her fingers found his and squeezed. “We do have eight riders in the show, and that’s where you come in. I left the paperwork I need you to sign on the desk, and then you said you’d teach me how to build the app for the show.”
“I can do that,” he said. “I think I know what you want on it.”
She released her hold on him and took a couple of steps back toward the barn. “There’s a list with the show paperwork in the office. I’m going to go check the equipment for the camp.”
He watched her go, admiration flowing through him. Missy had been a true blessing in his life. She’d accepted his presence on the farm without question, and she’d taught him everything she knew free of charge. As she disappeared from his sight, he felt himself falling.
In love? he asked himself, and he found he couldn’t quite contradict his feelings. He spun away from the barn, sure he was making another mistake. Another mistake he wouldn’t be able to run from this time. Wouldn’t be able to bury himself beneath his work. Wouldn’t be able to rationalize away.
He tipped his chin toward the sky. “I don’t want to hurt her,” he whispered. He couldn’t imagine doing anything to Missy that would upset her. He saw the weight she carried on her shoulders. She’d explained most of it to him, but he knew there was more.
He got the distinct impression he should go talk to her, so he turned back to the barn and went to find her, knowing that his life wouldn’t be the same without her in it.
Missy had just sat down at the desk in the office when Tucker’s tall frame filled the doorway. Her stomach leapt, and her first inclination was to meet him halfway across the room and kiss him again.
Though she’d told herself that she’d spoken true earlier—there’s no kissing at work—she hadn’t been able to resist him. And so what if they kissed at work? There wasn’t anyone around to chastise her—he was the boss.
