Rocky Mountain Romance

by Lesley Ann McDaniel

  “Marlene, look at the boy.” Manipulating the reins to keep control of his horse, Dad waved a hand in Ben’s direction. “He is outdoors. He’ll be fine.”

  With a pitying shake of her gray-flecked head, his mom gave a resigned sigh. She wouldn’t stop cosseting him until he found a wife to take over the job, which meant she might never be relieved of that duty.

  As Micah mounted his horse, he tossed Ben a sympathetic look. “We won’t go out of cell range, in case there’s any news about Courtney.”

  Ben nodded, tapping the phone in his pocket. “No worries. Have fun.”

  Watching the horses move slowly out of the corral, Ben admired Micah’s way of carrying himself. Of course a guy like him had found a terrific girl to marry. If only Ben could have that kind of self-confidence. As it was, he could barely even open his mouth to talk to a girl. He might as well face it. He was doomed to a life of nothing but long days in front of his computer and long nights in front of his TV. He was the epitome of pathetic.

  “Come on, sweetheart.” His mom put an arm around his shoulders. “If Tandy will let me into her kitchen, I can bake you some chocolate chip cookies. They’re still your favorite, aren’t they?”

  He angled her a glance. The mere suggestion of gooey chocolate tempted him to regress about twenty years. “You’re the best, Mom.”

  As they started in the direction of that magnificent and colossal house that he still couldn’t believe his baby sister called home, he drew in a slow breath. Sheila and Courtney had gone back to Courtney’s office, and they had said they’d be returning to the café after it closed to help them get ready for the TV show. He knew he wouldn’t run into Sheila at the house, which was sort of good, but it offered him no particular reason to go back there either.

  He gave his mom’s shoulder a squeeze. “I think I’ll stay out here for a little while. I might as well soak up some of this springtime sunshine while I can, right?”

  “That’s right.” Mom’s expression conveyed a complicated mixture of disappointment and hopefulness. “You spend too much time indoors.” She slipped her arm from his shoulder and patted his stomach. “I’ll see if Tandy will let me ring that big bell when the cookies are ready.”

  As Mom continued toward the house, Ben shoved his hands in his pockets and ambled off in the opposite direction. It was strange not having the pressures of work weighing on him, and he felt a little useless. This was supposed to be a vacation. Didn’t he even know how to unwind and enjoy himself?

  Stepping carefully through the mud and who-knew-what-else surrounding the barn, he found himself in the corral on the far side of it. His eyes lit on a bale of hay with fake steer horns attached to one end that he’d seen Adam use for roping practice. He moved closer, noticing a coiled rope hanging from one of the horns.

  He glanced around, seeing only wide-open fields with mountains beyond and hearing nothing but a soft rustling of the trees and a distant baying of a dog. Firming his jaw, he bent down and reached for the rope. Holding the dusty, splintery coil firmly in both hands, he took another look at the dummy. Sure, he’d taken up racquetball to keep his muscles from turning to mush, but he was a far cry from cowboy material. Did he dare give it a try?

  Taking a few steps back, he started circling the looped end of the rope in front of his feet, just as he’d seen Adam do. When he had a good momentum going, he raised it up over his head, but instead of twirling like a real cowboy’s lasso, it thwacked him on the back of the skull.

  “It’s not as easy as it looks, is it?”

  Ben snapped his head toward the deep drawl from behind him and saw Hank sauntering out of the barn carrying a bucket.

  Great. It was bad enough he had to always feel like a dork. Why did he seem to attract spectators to corroborate it?

  “Let me show you how it’s done.” Hank reached just inside the barn and exchanged the bucket for another coil of rope.

  “I appreciate it...” Ben felt like an idiot. He was only going to prove what a klutz he was and make himself feel even worse. What would be the point of that? “...but you really don’t have to—”

  “It’s all right.” Hank took a few steps and twirled the loop over his head, then tossed it around the horns as if it were nothing. “It’s not so hard once you get the basics down.”

  He retrieved his rope, then moved next to Ben. “You gotta start with holding it right.”

  Ten minutes or so later, Hank actually had Ben doing some halfway decent roping. He’d even nearly caught one of the horns in his loop a time or two.

  “Not bad for a city boy.” Hank nodded his approval. “If you come out here every day and take a few swings, you’ll be roping like a cowboy in no time.”

  Ben smiled, doubting that but appreciating the reassurance. He took another swing. “I won’t expect Adam to be hiring me as a ranch hand anytime soon, but it is kind of fun.”

  “It’s like anything else—you get better over time. I’m sure it’s the same in your job.” Hank did a fancy figure-eight twirl to prove his theory before making another easy catch. “What do you do, anyway?”

  “I’m a computer programmer.” The words came out sounding a little swallowed. Whatever confidence Hank had developed in Ben’s prowess would certainly evaporate once the truth of who he was came to light.

  “No kidding?” Hank actually sounded impressed. “Must be nice to have computer know-how. We have one over at the bunkhouse, but I barely know how to turn the thing on.”

  Ben raised a brow. Didn’t everyone use computers these days?

  Retrieving his rope, Hank went on. “Be mighty handy to be able to order supplies online and write to my nieces and nephews in Billings, but I’ve been afraid to even touch it.”

  A thought took hold of Ben as the sweet aroma of chocolate wafted through the air. “I’d be happy to teach you some basics. In exchange for the roping lesson.” He wound up his rope and placed it back over the horn the way he’d found it. “I’m sure we can use the computer in the ranch house kitchen, and besides—” he took another whiff “—my mom is baking cookies. Is now a good time?”

  “Sure.” Hank tossed his own rope over Ben’s. “I’m waiting on Liam and Owen to get back from town with supplies. Might as well make good use of my time.”

  A few minutes later, Ben sat next to Hank at the computer desk in the large cheery kitchen of the ranch house.

  “So you’re telling me I can look up anything I want just by typing it into this box?” Hank asked.

  Ben nodded. “That’s right.” Hank seemed to respect him as an expert, and that provided a much-needed boost to his flailing ego. “What do you want to start with?”

  Hank rubbed his chin. “Well, there’s one thing...” He started to type, haltingly and with just his two index fingers.

  Ben smiled at his mom as she set the plate of cookies down on the desk next to the keyboard. Taking one, he watched as the words took form.

  “‘Thornton Springs Realty,’” he read. “You thinking of buying?”

  Hank tilted a nod as he reached for a cookie. “I’ve had my eye on a little piece of property that just went on the market.” He took a bite and spoke through it. “You think I can find out more about it on here?”

  Ben swallowed. “Sure. Just type in the address if you know it.”

  His mom patted his shoulder, telling him she’d be in the parlor if he needed her. Ben had to smile, recalling his childhood days when she was pleased as punch if one of the neighbor boys actually came over to see him. What they usually wanted was help with a homework assignment, but Ben was always happy to oblige. Watching Hank navigate the site, it struck him that his social life really hadn’t changed all that much.

  A moment later, a photo of a small house with a red barn behind it and snowcapped mountains in the background came up.

  Han
k squinted at the screen. “That’s the place, all right. This little ranch is just what I’ve always thought I’d own someday.”

  “Looks awesome. You going to make an offer?”

  “Well...I have a plan.” Hank straightened. “But there’s a problem.”

  “Oh?” Ben furrowed his brow. “What’s the plan?”

  Hank rubbed his neck and glanced at the door where Ben’s mom had exited. “Be sure you don’t tell any of the women. If one finds out...well, you know how that can go.”

  Ben nodded, fairly certain he knew what Hank meant.

  “See—” Hank lowered his voice “—I’m planning on asking Andra to marry me.”

  “Really? Congratulations.” A pain stabbed through Ben’s chest. Of course Hank wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life alone like Ben. He was the kind of guy women loved, just like Adam and Micah and all the rest. Ben cleared his throat. “So that’s the plan. What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that if I want this ranch, I have to make my offer real soon before someone else beats me to it. I need Andra to see the place first. I’ve been saving for a long time and I can’t afford to lose any money.”

  “Oh, I get it. You want to decide together where you’ll live.”

  “Right. Andra’s not the type of woman who takes kindly to decisions like that being made for her.”

  A knowing smile tugged at Ben’s lips. What woman was? “So I get why you have to propose to her soon. But why’s that a problem?”

  Hank lifted his hands in a gesture of resignation. “The woman is always working. I mean, I totally support her being in business and all and I know it’s because the café is just getting off the ground.” He rubbed his jaw and looked at the photo on the screen. “Now, with this TV show happening, there’s not much chance I’m going to get a good opportunity soon. I could really use your advice, city boy.”

  Ben went a little numb. No one had ever asked for his help with anything like this before. “Well. Couldn’t you just go into the café and talk to her on her break...?”

  “I thought about that.” Hank shook his head. “But I can’t just propose to her in the alley behind the café. Standing next to the garbage Dumpster and staring out at Beau’s Auto Repair Shop. A guy only has one shot at ‘the proposal,’ and if he doesn’t get it right, he’ll never live it down.”

  Ben nodded. He’d really never thought of it that way, but he supposed it must be true. “Look, I wish I could help, but I’m not exactly an expert at romance.”

  “Yeah, well.” Hank shook his head. “What guy is?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m worse off than most.”

  “Why’s that?” Hank looked sincerely interested.

  Was he actually admitting this? It wasn’t exactly something he wanted people to know about. There was just something safe about admitting it to Hank, as though he might understand somehow.

  Lowering his chin, he spoke through a tightness in his throat. “I’m just a little...afraid of women.”

  “Afraid?” Hank twisted his mouth. “You mean like a phobia?”

  “No....” A relatively unfamiliar need to be understood started to whittle away at his self-consciousness. “I mean it’s not like I’m afraid of all women. Just certain ones.”

  “I see.” Leaning back, Hank rubbed his jaw contemplatively.

  Ben sighed. At work he faced the giants of the software industry daily. Why was he so afraid to talk to Sheila? “Pathetic, right?”

  “Actually, that seems pretty normal to me. Look.” Hank put a hand on the back of Ben’s chair and turned to face him. “Women are just like us, except...well...different.”

  “Thanks.” Ben chuckled. “That helps.”

  “I can give you a few pointers if you want. Show you the ropes, so to speak.”

  “That would be great, but—” he gestured toward the little white house on the screen “—you’ve got your own problem to solve.”

  “Maybe we can help each other.” Hank shrugged his eyebrows. “That’s the cowboy way.”

  Ben caught the glint of humor in Hank’s eye. “Sure. You give me some tips on how to talk to women, and I’ll help you figure out the right time to propose to Andra.”

  “It’s a deal.” Hank nodded. “Now, the first step is to learn to give sincere compliments. The next time you see a woman you want to talk to, just start off by telling her you like her clothes or her hair or something. Women love that.”

  “Clothes and hair.” He pondered. That seemed easy enough. But it wasn’t as if women had a task bar that he could just click on for reliable shortcuts. His eyes narrowed. “There has to be more to it than that.”

  Hank shrugged. “That’s the first step. I’ll tell you what—I’ll buy you a piece of pie tonight at the diner in town. We’ll find you some gals to practice on, and then we’ll talk about my options.”

  Picturing the two of them sidling up to a couple of elderly church ladies, complimenting them on their neatly coiffed hair, Ben laughed to himself. At least that might be a start. “Sounds good.”

  It also sounded safe. Sheila would probably still be in town, but she’d be at either Courtney’s office or the café, a safe distance from the diner.

  Ben sat up a little straighter. For the first time all week, he felt a confidence that he hadn’t felt since last summer. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

  * * *

  Sheila’s heart felt like a lead weight as she slid into a booth at the diner. Not even her afternoon spent exchanging emails with major Hollywood players about Mr. Bloom’s upcoming movie premiere had kept her mind off Ben. Why couldn’t she just admit defeat and move on?

  As she reached out to help Courtney ease into the seat next to her, she suppressed a yawn. While staying up half the previous night working on the Abbott account had taken its toll, it had been worth it. Karl had called that afternoon to tell her that Mr. Abbott had accepted the new design with a few minor tweaks. This had been a red-letter day for her—and her assistant—and she was really proud of him.

  “This thing tapes on Friday.” Sounding apprehensive, Andra plunked a stack of papers down on the table and scooted in next to Janessa on the other side of the booth. “That’s only three days from now.”

  “It’s better to get it over with, don’t you think?” Janessa looked considerably less confident than she had earlier in the day—before the reality show had moved from “good idea” to “actual reality.” “I can’t take much time away from school, so I’d rather just do it.”

  Andra nodded in agreement and Sheila knew just what she was thinking. She was anxious for Janessa to complete her culinary program so she could take over as chef at the café and Andra could focus on the catering part of the business. That had been their plan all along.

  “Well—” Andra started to thumb through the papers “—considering that there’s really nothing we can do to prepare besides making sure the place is clean and the pantry is well stocked, I guess you’re right.”

  “There is one more thing we can all do.” Courtney rubbed her belly and glanced toward the kitchen, no doubt anxious to eat again. “We can pray for everything to go smoothly.”

  “And for us to win,” Janessa added with a grin, which she quickly dropped. “Oh. I guess that wouldn’t be right.”

  “Maybe not.” Andra let out a giggle. “But we can pray to do our best.”

  “Evenin’, ladies.” Joe, the owner of the diner, appeared with a tray of ice waters. “Say, is it true about your café bein’ on TV?”

  “It’s true, all right, Joe.” Janessa smiled sweetly. “Our little place could become famous.”

  “I’ve always said it would pay off for the two o’ you to dream big.”

  “Right now I’m dreaming of a piece of lemon meringue pie.” Courtney smile
d as Joe set a glass of water in front of her. “We all want some if you have enough left.”

  “Sure do.” He addressed Andra and Janessa. “You ladies just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you out.”

  “Thanks, Joe.” Andra patted the stack of papers. “But all we really have to do is read through the rules and make sure our place is presentable.”

  “Well, as owner of your buildin’, I’ll take care of any spiffin’ up you need done.” He gave them a fatherly wink. “I’ll be right back with that pie.”

  Andra’s eye started to twitch as she tucked a wayward strand of hair under her purple paisley headband and flipped through the pages of rules. “I’m starting to get nervous about who we’re going to compete against. It could be any restaurant in the whole country.”

  “It’s not going to be just any restaurant,” Janessa assured her. “It has to be one that’s struggling. Like ours.”

  “The Golden Pear isn’t ‘struggling.’” The expression on Andra’s face resembled that of a mother who’s just been told her baby is homely. “It’s just having a little trouble getting off the ground with our limited resources.”

  “And that makes it perfect for Food Fight,” Janessa enthused. “We have to have a financial need to be on the show.”

  “A financial need and a viable business model.” Sheila leaned forward, trying to read what she could from the rules in spite of them being upside down. “So you should expect lots of customers on Thursday and Friday when the cameras are there.”

  “Right.” Flipping through the quarter-inch-thick stack of papers, Andra started to go a little glassy-eyed. “The judges show up on Friday at twelve-thirty. They can order whatever they want from the menu, so we have to be sure we don’t run out of anything.”

  Sheila’s phone beeped inside her purse, and her stomach instantly tightened as she recalled her promise to call Kevin. She slipped her phone into her lap as she checked the screen.

  Miss u.