by Tracy March
Lindsey pressed her lips together tightly. No way were there two Cardens. The gorgeous guy standing in front of her was the unshaven handyman from the other night.
Oh, God.
She’d asked him to tighten the toilet handle and tipped him five bucks—the man who ran a family trust and had a huge cattle ranch? Not only was the guy stupid rich, he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the whole state.
Lindsey’s face went hotter than the scorching summer sun he’d warned her about.
He held out his hand and dipped his chin. “Pleasure.” And there was that deep voice with the sexy drawl.
She shook his hand, hyper-sensitive to the sandpapery swipe of calluses, the firm grip of long fingers. Awareness swirled through her—totally inappropriate for business.
“I believe we’ve met,” she said. “But it was dark.”
Stella raised her eyebrows and cast a curious gaze at Carden. “Oh?”
He nearly grinned, seeming amused to see Stella caught off guard. “Lindsey lives in Dean’s cabin,” he said. “I was trying to get the lights to work when she showed up the other night.”
“Thank you,” Lindsey said, giving him credit for not mentioning the loose toilet handle. “They’re working fine now.”
Stella clutched his arm. “He’s got so much going on, but he always helps out when someone needs something fixed.”
He had so much going on all right. But sadly for Lindsey, there was no fixing this awkward moment, and no taking back her mortifying fix-the-toilet to-do list and five-dollar tip. No telling how many people in Thistle Bend had heard that story by now and had a good laugh at the new girl in town.
“Are you going to join us?” Stella asked him.
Lindsey’s stomach dropped to her toes. Please, no. She’d never form a cogent thought with him hanging around. Besides, the guy already had twenty-two other jobs. Was he involved with the museum, too?
He gave Stella a full-watt smile and Lindsey nearly melted into a puddle on the wide-plank floor. “This is your project,” he said to Stella. “I’ve got to get back to the ranch, but I’m sure I’m leaving you in good hands.” He set his blue-eyed gaze on Lindsey. “Best of luck, Lindsey. Hope I’ll see you around.”
Chapter 4
A cloud of dust rose in the distance, acres away from where Carden knelt in the dirt, repairing the latch on a gate along his fence line. His Australian shepherd, Blue, sprang up from Carden’s side and barked. Blue had a merle coat—a bluish-gray color mottled with black—with patches of reddish-brown and white on his face, chest, and legs. But it had been the dog’s ice-blue eyes that had inspired his name. Carden had several herding dogs on the ranch, but Blue was his best buddy.
“It’s okay, boy,” Carden said to Blue.
Odds were that it was Gran, stirring up the dirt with her Range Rover, determined to find him. It amazed him that, at seventy-nine, she texted and used her smartphone like a teenager, but when she had something important to tell anyone, she made sure to say it in person. He liked that policy, and had adopted it himself, along with a list of other Cardenisms that he lived by.
No doubt her visit was prompted by what had happened with Lindsey at the museum this morning. Gran had asked him to come by after his meeting to report how it went. Thrilled that she still took an interest in family business, he’d been happy to stop in for a second, and eager to get another look at Lindsey Simms—with the lights on. He had to find out if the girl he’d seen the other night was for real.
Sure enough, Gran’s black Range Rover rumbled over the horizon, rough-riding the road as if a pro four-wheeler was driving. A minute later, she parked next to his pickup, and her boots hit the ground. Blue bounded over to her and she patted his head as he eagerly trailed by her side as she approached Carden.
“You’d already met Lindsey Simms?” She joined Carden at the gate, her hand propped on her hip. Gran thought she knew everything, and most of the time she did. Heaven forbid that something got past her.
“Yes, ma’am.” Carden stood, took off his hat and hung it on the fence post. The sun had disappeared behind a buildup of afternoon clouds. No doubt a storm was brewing.
“And you thought you’d keep it a secret?”
“It was no big deal.”
“And now you’re going to lie about it?”
Who was he kidding? His grandmother knew him better than anyone, as if she had direct access to his brain. “Let’s just say that I wasn’t sure it was a big deal.”
“That’s a little better,” Gran said. “But it doesn’t take one of the Montgomery sisters to see the sparks flying between you two.”
That was news to Carden. Seeing Lindsey again had confirmed that he hadn’t been hallucinating when she’d appeared at Dean’s cabin. Whatever had left him spellbound returned full force the second he saw her this morning. But he was rusty reading signals from women. Had Lindsey been into him, too? He gazed up into the darkening clouds.
“Don’t be making too much of what you thought you saw,” he said. “I’m not sure she even knew I was the same guy she met the other night.”
Gran crossed her arms. “Let me guess. You had your old Rockies cap on, a three-day beard, a greasy T-shirt, and torn-up jeans. And it was dark.”
“It was a four-day beard.”
She pursed her lips and shook her head. “And she’d just driven in from D.C. to see that she’d be living in Dean’s cabin? Poor girl was probably in shock. Is he still using those pictures from ten years ago to rent that place?”
“Far as I know.” Several cows wandered over to the fence—Herefords, with numbered yellow tags on their ears. Blue perked up as the cows got closer.
“Did you two talk about anything?” Gran asked. She wouldn’t give up until she had enough details to satisfy her.
“We didn’t have a conversation, really. I mean, I was kind of taken by surprise.”
“Not expecting a girl like her?”
Not ready for one, that’s for sure. He shook his head.
“I was,” Gran said. “A girl that could steal your heart.” She let that sit a second. “And who’d make sure the museum presents the truth about the Crenshaws and the Karlssons.”
For generations, the Crenshaws had been on the right side of a family feud with the Karlssons that still flared up fairly frequently—as if that disputed land deal had happened just yesterday.
“I imagine she’d see things our way,” he said.
“It wouldn’t be wise if she didn’t.” Neither Carden nor anyone else liked it when Gran took that tone. But cliché or not, truer words were never spoken. Everyone knew not to mess with Stella Crenshaw. Either you stayed on her good side, or you wished you were dead.
“But Tansy was at the museum this morning, too,” Carden said. “She’ll be trying to influence Lindsey the same way we will.”
“No she won’t.” Gran grinned slyly.
Carden cocked his head and grimaced. “I hate to say it, but maybe you’ve finally started losing your mind. That woman will be plotting against us from her grave.”
“But we’ve got the truth on our side,” Gran said. “And we’ve got you. There’s no way Tansy can compete with that.”
Carden narrowed his eyes. “We’ve got me? I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I’m just suggesting we put those sparks between you and Lindsey to good use. If she falls for you, she wouldn’t be tempted to skew the history in the museum to favor the Karlssons.”
Lightning flashed behind majestic Paintbrush Peak, the steel gray clouds headed their way fast.
Carden shoved his hands in his pockets. “I hate to disappoint you, Gran, but I’m not looking to make Lindsey fall for me.”
Shifting winds blew her hair across her face, then away from it. The cows that had gathered moved restlessly and started to moo. Blue paced along the fence line.
“And why on earth not?” Gran asked.
“I don’t know anything about her other than she
looks like a fresh summer sunrise.” He bowed his head and dragged his fingers across his brow. “Besides, I’m not available.”
Even so, he’d spent the last couple days wondering how Lindsey had gotten into his head when no other girl had…since Amanda.
And that was years ago.
Everyone except Gran and his late grandfather, Pops, thought Carden had never been in love. He even got teased about it, as if he couldn’t relate to anyone who was. But he’d been in love all right.
Lesson learned.
By the time Carden had graduated from college, his mom and dad had leased out their ranch land in Thistle Bend and moved to Denver part time. He could’ve headed there, but he’d wanted a ranch of his own. Thistle Bend was in his blood. He’d lived and worked on his family’s ranches all his life, but his grandfather wanted him to prove he could run one before he would deed Carden his inherited land. By the rules of the family trust, Carden would’ve had to wait until he was thirty unless he got his grandfather’s approval. So he’d lived with his grandparents, and worked day and night to earn his land early.
During that time, his grandparents had employed a couple who had come from Arizona—the guy, a ranch hand; his wife, a cook. Their daughter, Amanda, had helped with housekeeping. They’d lived in one of the workers’ cabins on the ranch.
Carden had fallen for Amanda hard, and kept their relationship secret at her urging. But when everything blew up and left him shattered, he’d turned to his grandparents.
Gran leveled her gaze on him, sadness and compassion in her eyes. Clearly she was going to go soft on him, and he didn’t know if he could take it. His heart thudded.
“I know how hard it’s been for you,” she said. “And I can’t fault you for protecting yourself. But you can’t tell me you’re not starry-eyed for Lindsey. I haven’t seen you like that in way too long.” She reached out, took his hand, and squeezed it. “I want you to follow your heart and see if there’s something there with her.”
Carden had more manners than to tell his grandmother that it wasn’t his heart that was guiding him toward Lindsey.
Gran pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “And after you find out there is, I want you to make damn sure she does right by the Crenshaws in that museum.”
Big raindrops started to fall, plopping heavily on the vehicles.
He dipped his chin and looked Gran in the eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up for a romance.” He put his arm around her narrow shoulders. “But the museum thing might be doable.”
“I’m counting on it.” She hugged him tightly and he wrapped his arms around her, always amazed at the energy that came from such a tiny woman. “Now I’ve got to get out of here before this place turns into a godforsaken mud bog.” She hurried back to her Range Rover, got inside, and spun out of there within seconds. Blue barked as the SUV’s taillights disappeared in the dust.
Carden shook his head, pulled his hat off the fence post, and put it on. He loved that fiery little lady, and she wasn’t going to be around forever. The least he could do was make sure the Crenshaw’s presence in Thistle Bend Mountain Heritage Museum turned out the way she envisioned it…and that depended on Lindsey.
Chapter 5
Lindsey rarely met a pizza she didn’t like, and the good ol’ pepperoni-and-extra-cheese one she and Holly shared for dinner had oozed with welcome-to-Thistle-Bend in every bite. Three slices later she was wobbling down the rain-soaked sidewalk of Larkspur Avenue with Holly, trying to walk it off.
“No way are you going to eat dinner alone,” Holly had said. “Come with me.”
So far, the people were as sweet and quirky as Thistle Bend itself. Lindsey’s first impressions were holding true. People smiled and waved and said hello. They volunteered and helped one another—repairing toilets and replacing screws. Except for Stella and Tansy, they actually seemed to like one another.
Yes, people really do live like this.
Lindsey and Holly walked down Larkspur Avenue, chitchatting about the town and how some of the businesses came to be. With Holly as her tour guide, Lindsey got to do some of the exploring that she’d been too busy to enjoy. They made their way toward a flat-fronted building divided into three sections with a common tin-roofed awning. An art gallery, a clothing store, and a real estate office.
“This is another one of those buildings like the one they bought for the museum,” Holly said. “Most of them along here have been multi-use over the years—some for more interesting things than others. With three sections, this one might hold the record for the most different uses. Other than what’s here now, sections of it have been the Bank of Thistle Bend, the post office, a drugstore, and a mortuary.” She bunched her lips as if she was trying to remember more. “I’m sure there are others, but I’m a little foggy on what they were.”
“A mortuary?” Lindsey asked.
“Way back when.” Holly gestured toward the middle section of the building. “Right where the real estate office is now. I worked in there for a while and I used to get creeped out late at night when I was alone and the place started creaking and moaning.”
“For real?” Lindsey had slept like the dead last night, but this conversation might have her blanching at every little noise in her cabin come nighttime.
Holly nodded. “I’m sure it was the wind, the weight of the snow on the roof, or just normal expanding and contracting with the temperatures, but my imagination worked overtime trying to convince me that someone from the mortuary still had unfinished business.”
Lindsey shivered as she imagined Holly alone in the building late at night, frightened by strange noises. “Did you ever see anything…ghostly?”
Holly shook her head. “But I didn’t rent space in that building for long. I opened a little office on the second floor above one of the shops on Snowberry Street. But first I made sure the place had never been a morgue,” she grinned.
“Good thinking,” Lindsey said as they passed the Mexican restaurant. She glanced at the faces of her new neighbors—or tourists—dining in the charming outdoor seating area festooned with terra-cotta pots overflowing with flowers and party lights strung from a trellis. It was as if everyone had hurried outside as soon as the storm had passed. The sidewalks were also busy with people strolling, but still comfortable for an easy walk. Families, people with dogs, young couples. “So you’re a real estate agent?”
“I’m a real estate attorney,” Holly said, as if it was no big deal. “I was really interested in criminal law, but I also wanted to live in Thistle Bend. I would’ve gone broke here with the low crime rate. Check the police blotter in the newspaper and you might see that someone got busted for painting graffiti at the school, or nabbed for being drunk in public if they were super-obnoxious.”
No wonder Dean hadn’t minded leaving the door to Lindsey’s cabin unlocked.
“I’d imagine there’s plenty of real estate work to keep you busy,” Lindsey said. “Not only with locals, but also with the tourists.”
Holly nodded. “Especially the tourists. They come and stay at the ski resort on Paintbrush Peak, or here in town. This time of year, lots of people come just to see the wildflowers. They fall in love with the place, and end up buying a house or a vacation condo. Business is good.”
Lindsey wasn’t sure about falling in love with Thistle Bend, but she had to admit that the town had a certain appeal. “I can see why they’d come to check out the flowers,” she said. “They’re beautiful. I’d like to learn to identify some of them.”
“I’ve got a guidebook I can loan you.”
“That’d be great.”
As they approached the next intersection, Holly asked, “Have you heard about the homemade ice cream at Get the Scoop?”
Lindsey gazed up into the clearing sky and pressed her hand against her stomach. “You’re killing me. This storybook town has homemade ice cream, too?”
“What kind of story do you have in mind?” Holly grinned mischievously. “Because this town i
s full of temptations.”
Like Carden Crenshaw. But Lindsey knew better than to be tempted by a guy like him. Two years ago, she’d made the naïve mistake of dating Hopper—one of D.C.’s celebrated bachelors. Turned out there hadn’t been much about him to celebrate. After a wasted year of heartbreak and that sex-on-the-couch incident with him and her roommate, she’d finally accepted her spot in the parade of women who’d thought they were special to him, but been woefully wrong.
Lindsey blinked away the bad memories. Not sure whether thoughts of Hopper had left her cold, or if the temperature was growing cooler by the moment, she put on the jacket she’d brought along. “Let’s start with ice cream and go from there.”
“You’re gonna love it.” Holly nodded. “All their ingredients are fresh, and they make the most delicious, wackiest flavors you’ve ever heard of.”
Clearly she’d forgotten that Lindsey had come from D.C. “Like what?”
“Honey lavender. Sweet corn raspberry. Toasted coconut fudge. Lemon fig. And their waffle cones taste like shortbread. Totally worth the calories.”
“Completely wacky, but most of them sound delicious,” Lindsey said. “Let’s get some.”
Old-fashioned streetlights lined the sidewalk, casting a welcoming glow up and down the avenue. But beyond Larkspur Avenue, there were few streetlights, the neighborhoods brightened by the stars.
They walked another block down the main street, past a women’s clothing and accessory shop that had Lindsey gazing behind her at a pair of boots in the window even after they’d passed by. There was also a bike rental shop, a breakfast restaurant, and a dentist’s office, all with billowing baskets of wildflowers out front.
