Heart of a Rancher

by Renee Andrews

  She smiled. “Okay.” Then she released his hand to start climbing the wooden planks, and John instantly missed the touch of her skin against his. He waited, let her get a couple of steps ahead, then followed, ready to help her if she stumbled along the way. The homemade rungs were steady enough, but the ridges weren’t all that thick and he wanted to be there if her boots slipped. However, she had no trouble at all, climbing the makeshift ladder as though she’d been climbing into tree houses her entire life. What a shame that she hadn’t.

  “Oh, my!” Her exclamation came at the moment her head crested the floor of the tree house and she peeked inside. John knew exactly what she saw, hardwood forming the floor, walls and ceiling, windows that had burlap curtains and plaid tiebacks, courtesy of Eden, a small table and a wooden chest that, unless Abi had changed things, held an assortment of John and Landon’s favorite books from when they were young. Other various “tools,” primarily for kids—binoculars and telescopes and flashlights—as well as a few board games and decks of cards.

  He waited until her boots disappeared inside and then followed her in.

  She checked her phone. “No signal here, either.”

  “Guess we’ll have to wait for town, after all,” John said, but neither of them made any move to leave. In fact, Dana wasted no time moving to the opposite wall and peeking out the window.

  “John, come look at this. This view is amazing.”

  “I know.” He joined her to look through the trees. It wasn’t a view of the mountain itself, but more of the woods, the dogwood trees blooming stark white beneath the taller hardwoods, as well as patches of those vibrant rhododendrons offering bright splashes of color, like paint tossed from Heaven, across the forest.

  “Mandy has to photograph this.” Dana snapped several pictures with her phone. “And that artist in town—what was her name again?”

  “Gina Brown?”

  “Right. She should paint it. This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

  Her admiration for the old tree house and the view it provided again reminded him of how much she truly enjoyed where he lived. The city girl loved the country. And John couldn’t deny the truth any longer.

  He loved the city girl.

  She gazed out the window and sighed, her eyes blinking several times as she took it all in, and then her tears pushed free.

  “Dana?”

  Her mouth quivered, and those tears found paths down her cheeks and along her neck. He reached out and gently wiped them away, her skin soft and smooth against the pad of his thumb.

  “My entire life, I remember my dad working hard so that we could have everything, do everything, see everything. He hardly enjoyed our time together, because he was always concentrating on how to get more, have more, do more. And all the trips and all of the gifts—none of those things were as beautiful as this.” She pulled her gaze from the scene and focused intently, completely, on John. “And no one has ever made me feel like this, the way I feel here, with you. There’s nothing fake, no thoughts of money or things, no opinions based on last names or prestige or anything. That’s how I know this is different, that this is real. This feeling I have for you. I—” she shook her head “—I probably shouldn’t be saying this now, and I don’t even know if you feel the same...”

  John couldn’t let her finish. He’d held back on telling her how he felt, because of the situation. She was his investor. She was an affluent socialite. She was Dana Brooks, the Dana Brooks.

  But emotions consumed him now, in the confines of the old tree house, with Dana looking at him with undeniable love.

  He brushed her last tears away, and felt her tremble at his touch. “I can’t deny that I’m falling for you, Dana.” His mouth slid into a smile.

  The corners of her mouth lifted.

  But memories of MaciJo and the sting of losing her to the lure of the city pushed forward, and John wasn’t sure if he could handle going down this road again. “But,” he said, taking a deep breath, then easing it out, “you’re going back to Chicago. Your life is there. And this is my home.” He wanted Dana, wanted her more than anything he’d wanted for as long as he could remember, but he didn’t want to give his heart only to have it broken again. “I don’t want to start something here, pursuing our feelings and exactly how far this can go, and then have to watch you leave.”

  Honest, that was the only way he knew, and he couldn’t bear to hand over his heart and then see her leave him behind. He cleared his throat, started to turn and head back down the tree house, and away from the woman he was fairly certain he loved.

  “John.” Her whisper was barely audible, but he stopped his progress. “Look at me, please.”

  He did as she asked, and his heart clenched in his chest as he saw the emotion in her eyes. Because she also had to see the reality. Their lives were separate, and they’d need to keep them separate now, so they wouldn’t have the pain of breaking apart later. “We’ll be okay,” he said. “We can still work together, get the ranch going together. I just can’t act on these feelings, because I’ve done that before, and I don’t want to risk going through that again, Dana. I can’t.”

  “I care about you, too, John.”

  John swallowed, her admission causing his heart to race. How would they work together each day knowing how they felt about each other?

  “I love it here, and I honestly have no desire to go back,” she said.

  “What are you saying, Dana?” Though he thought—hoped—he knew.

  She edged closer. “I’m saying that I don’t think I want to leave. Ever.”

  John couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but this was no dream. The emotion in her eyes, in her heart—he felt it, saw it and believed it. He cradled her face in his hands, studied the exquisite woman who’d entered his world, won his heart and now said she wanted to stay in his life forever. Exactly where he wanted her. “You’re sure?”

  “Very, very sure.” Her whisper feathered across his lips, and he lost himself in the tenderness of the moment. Their kiss was sweet and gentle, like the love they were finding one day at a time. The warmth of her embrace let him know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, for the rest of their lives.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dana knew she needed to talk to Ryan about her new plans for the future. But every time he called, she chickened out. Plus, he was so much more interested in pointing out all the ways that the dude ranch didn’t make the cut for an investment Brooks International should ever support.

  The problem was, as much as Dana loved the farm and wanted the dude ranch to thrive, Ryan was right. In the past two weeks, ever since she’d managed to get insurance—and since she and John had admitted their feelings for each other—they’d completed the website, prepared the tent area, composed daily activities and schedules and advertised in every publication Dana could find, as well as the largest newspapers and radio stations across the Southeast. When that only yielded a few phone calls, and no reservations, Dana expanded her budget and extended her advertising to larger cities across the United States, thinking families in the bigger cities would find the change of pace a wonderful attraction for their summer vacation.

  But still, not a single reservation.

  And Ryan had viewed that fact as the final nail in the coffin for any future “high-risk, rags-to-riches investments,” as he’d dubbed the ranch.

  Dana prayed that a miracle would happen and that somehow people would see the beauty that this place had to offer. She really needed it to happen quickly, because she was supposed to go back to Chicago tomorrow. And she still hadn’t told Ryan she didn’t plan to get on the plane. Nor had she told John that she hadn’t found the nerve to tell Ryan that she wanted to stay in Claremont.

  “Hey, Miss Dana, are you still getting the tents ready? Because this is taking a
lot longer than we thought, and I don’t want to miss the fun things if you’re doing something fun!” Abi’s yell echoed through the woods, followed by John’s laughter.

  Dana finished rolling out Abi’s sleeping bag, poked her head out of the tent the two would share tonight and answered, “I’m getting the sleeping bags ready, then I’m going to unpack the rest of the things in our tent, and then I’ll do the same in your uncle John’s tent. Nothing fun at all.”

  Again, she heard John’s laugh, then his deep baritone as he told his niece, “Abi, we have to gather the sticks for the fire, or we can’t roast the marshmallows and hot dogs.”

  Abi’s response was muffled by the woods, but Dana could almost hear the child’s typical, “Awww.”

  Smiling, she returned to the tent and prepared her own sleeping bag, laid out Abi’s nightclothes so they’d be ready for later and tried to push her worries about the ranch’s success out of her mind. She and John had basically planned their future, with the two of them running the dude ranch as well as finding additional types of start-up business investments across the country for this new arm of Brooks International to fund.

  But if the ranch failed, there was no way the board would keep forking over money, especially not to the tune of the amount she’d spent for the dude ranch. And if she and John didn’t have the dude ranch to run—plus working with Brooks International from here to get new start-up businesses up and running—then how could she justify moving? What would she tell Ryan?

  God, I know You hear me. And I know that You can see the problems I’m facing and how much I want this to work. Help me figure out what to do. I can’t completely walk away from the company Daddy built, the company he loved. But I also can’t leave the ranch and the man I love. I know it’s asking a lot, but if there’s a way, can You let me do both?

  A buzz sounded from the small duffel bag she’d packed with her things, and for a moment, she didn’t recognize the sound of her phone. Gaining a cell signal in the woods was rare, and she rather liked the thing not going off all day long, the way it always had in Chicago. But now, since she hadn’t answered a call in forever, she fished it out, saw Ryan’s name and answered. “Hey.”

  “Well, you gave it a valiant effort, sis.”

  “What?”

  “I’m looking at the neat little calendar for bookings that your web guy put on the dude ranch site. The site looks pretty sharp, by the way, for a kid to have done it.”

  “Casey is twenty, Ryan. He’s hardly a kid.”

  “That’s a kid in my book.”

  She didn’t point out that Ryan was merely eight years older than the “kid.”

  “Anyway, from what I see, there isn’t a single date booked with anyone. Unless there’s a problem with the site and it doesn’t actually show reservations on the calendar. Is that it? Is there a problem?”

  He knew there wasn’t, so Dana didn’t answer.

  “That’s what I thought. I commend you on trying to help this country boy out, but you have to admit, it didn’t work. I’m leaving for San Francisco Saturday and will be evaluating that Napa Valley property. But with the final details coming in on the Miami deal and the board’s monthly meeting coming up, I need you back here.”

  “Ryan, I don’t think I’m coming back,” she started, then couldn’t keep herself from adding, “yet.”

  He paused a beat then she heard him exhale thickly through the line. “What do you mean, you aren’t coming back yet?”

  “We’ve still got a lot going on down here.” That was true. She and John were finally taking Abi camping, and the city’s First Friday celebration for the month of April would happen next week. Apparently, they had a festival on the first Friday of every month at the town square with local artists and vendors entertaining the community. She’d looked forward to it ever since John mentioned it. Truthfully, she looked forward to everything Claremont had to offer. And she looked forward to experiencing it all with John.

  “Dana, the gala at the Art Institute is Tuesday night. And you can’t have that much going on down there. You told me the place was up and ready to go last week. There’s no reason for you to stay, and there’s no way you can cancel on the presentation of the Brooks wing at the Institute. They already have it on their website that you’re attending, and they’ve advertised around the city.”

  “You could go,” she said, even though she knew that wasn’t an option. He was due to be in California, and she’d committed to the event. And their father would have wanted one of them there for the presentation; Lawrence Brooks had been a big supporter of the Art Institute, even though Ryan didn’t agree with their father about donating so much money to something that didn’t yield a profit. He didn’t appreciate the beauty of the Institute the way Dana and their father did. Dana took after their father that way, appreciating the beauty of unique things. She glanced toward the creek, glistening with a hint of gold as it reflected the setting sun. Then she looked toward the waterfall in the distance, and the dogwoods blooming, and the trees in endless shades of green. This was more beautiful than any painting or structure she’d ever seen at the Institute, or anywhere else.

  “Dana, I can’t go. You said you would, and William Montgomery is looking forward to escorting you to the event.”

  She didn’t want to ask how Ryan knew William looked forward to it. They were probably still golfing together, still lunching together, still planning a joint future for Montgomery Incorporated and Brooks International. But it didn’t matter; her future would be here, one way or another. However, she didn’t see a way out of attending the art event. So she’d go back, attend the gala and then find her way back to Claremont. And back to John. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  “Good. I’ll have the plane there early tomorrow morning. I’d like a chance to talk to you before I leave town and fill you in on everything that’s been happening here while you’ve been gone.”

  “No, I’ll call and let them know when I’m ready to go. I have a few things to take care of here before I leave.” Like telling John that she was going back to Chicago, but also promising him—and praying he believed—that she’d return.

  “Miss Dana, we got the sticks! Are you ready to cook marshmallows and hot dogs?” Abi ran toward the campsite.

  “I’ve got to go, Ryan.”

  “Are you camping?”

  “Yes, I’m camping—testing the ranch’s campsites.”

  “You went down there to invest our company’s money in a profit-making business. That hasn’t happened, and I’m not sure what’s going on there, but you need to come back and get back to real life.”

  John walked toward the campsite with his arms filled with wood for the fire. He winked at Dana, sending her heart racing and her mind planning all the wonderful days that she looked forward to spending with this man. She held up a finger to John, then moved back into the tent and whispered to her brother, “Ryan, you don’t understand. I am happy here. I love it here. And if I didn’t have to come home for that gala, I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

  “Dana, you aren’t thinking—”

  She disconnected, turned off the phone and climbed back out of the tent. “Ready to cook some hot dogs?”

  * * *

  John always thought Dana looked beautiful, but tonight, in the glow of a campfire with Abi sitting on her lap, she was mesmerizing. Abi had wanted to roast one more round of marshmallows before she went to bed, but her heavy eyes were taking some very long blinks. Consequently, Dana had to help her roast the treat by holding Abi’s tired wrist as she held the stick toward the flame.

  “Are you sure you want to eat another one? We’ll do this again another time,” he said to his sleepy niece. “You don’t have to stay up all night.”

  She yawned, blinked and rested her head against Dana’s shoulder. “I—I guess I can go to bed.” Then she lifte
d her head a little and squinted at Dana. “I’m too tired to eat the last one, anyway.”

  “That’s okay,” John said. “I’ll take care of that for you.” He took the stick from Dana, carefully slid the hot marshmallow off the end and held it toward Abi. “Sure you don’t want it?”

  “No, too tired,” she said, yawning again. “Maybe for breakfast.”

  John laughed at that, then popped the marshmallow in his mouth and leaned over Dana, still sitting on a sideways log and holding his exhausted niece. “Here, I’ll carry her to the tent.”

  Abi blinked a couple of times as John eased her out of Dana’s arms and into his own. “Are you coming to bed, too, Miss Dana?” The tiny hint of panic told John that Abi didn’t want to sleep on her own.

  “Yes, I’ll be there soon,” Dana assured.

  “But—” another wide yawn “—you can come say prayers now, right? With me and Uncle John? And tuck me in?”

  Dana blinked, swallowed. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

  She stood and followed John to the small tent he’d set up for Dana and Abi to share. Then the three of them crawled inside, and Abi shimmied into her sleeping bag. Her eyes were still heavy, but she wasn’t surrendering to the pull of sleep until she said her prayers. The importance of her nightly ritual touched John’s heart, as did the fact that she’d wanted both John and Dana to be a part of it tonight.

  “Okay,” he said. “You want to go first?”

  “Sure.” She closed her eyes. “Dear God, thank You for letting the rain stop and letting us finally go camping.” A big yawn. “And—and thank You for letting us have a dude ranch. And thank You for letting Miss Dana come and for her being Uncle John’s girlfriend. And thank You for them loving me.” She yawned once more, the biggest yawn yet. “Night, night, God. I love You. Amen.”

  John could barely see Dana in the faint moonlight spilling in through the tent, but even in shadow, he could tell she was touched by Abi’s prayer. “You want to go next?”