by Liz Isaacson
“How good are you with meeting new people?” she asked, a bit of desperation in her eyes now. Logan knew the look; he saw it every morning in his own expression.
“I’m…okay,” he said. “Why? Georgia—ma’am—what is going on here?”
“I don’t need your help with the barn,” she blurted. “I can do that myself.” She took a long, deep breath while Logan’s hopes of getting on at this ranch in any capacity faded to a distant dot on the horizon.
“Oh.”
“I need someone to be my boyfriend for the next three months.” Her eyes slid down to his cowboy boots—probably noting how he’d glued patches back together—and back to his eyes. “What do you think?”
Logan had no idea what to think. He took another step toward the door. “I—I have no idea what’s going on here.”
She moved sideways too, positioning herself between him and the wide open exit. “Look, the Quinn family is like, the biggest clan in the valley, right?” Her face screwed up in disgust, and she sounded like she’d rather have a different surname.
“Yeah,” he said slowly.
“Well, we have a lot of events between now and New Year’s. I don’t want to go alone. I’d be hiring you to go with me.”
“Georgia!”
She spun toward the door at the sound of the male voice calling her name. Relief painted Logan’s insides when her older brother appeared in the doorway. Rhodes, who was the same age as Logan’s thirty-six, stood there. He looked back and forth between Georgia and Logan.
“Oh,” he said, clearly taken aback by finding Logan there. “What’s going on?”
“I’m hiring him to fix this barn,” Georgia said without looking away from Logan. Oh, so she was fairly decent at telling little white lies. And he wasn’t so stupid that he couldn’t see the edge of desperation in her gaze. That edge that said, Please, please, Logan. Go along with it.
“Hiring him?” Rhodes asked, his gaze stuck on the side of his sister’s face. “Georgia, we’re done with the seasonal workers.”
She finally tore her eyes from Logan’s and looked at Rhodes. “I’ll pay him from the admin budget. I can’t get to this barn, and it’s driving me nuts that it’s not done.”
That at least sounded true.
“We don’t have budget for the barn,” Rhodes said, obviously still confused.
Logan felt like a fool, standing there while they talked about the job right in front of him.
“Then I’ll pay him from my check,” Georgia said. “I’ll handle it, Rhodes.” She turned fully toward him. “What do you need?”
“Betsy wants to see you.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “I was on my way out to the bull pens and said I’d see if you were talking to the pigs.” He flicked his eyes to Logan, and his whole face turned bright red. “I mean—”
Georgia drew in another breath, and Logan didn’t want to be around when that particular tactic stopped working. Oh, no, he did not. “I’ll be in soon,” she said. “Tell her I’ll be there at nine-thirty, like we agreed.”
“All right.” Rhodes backed out of the barn, turned, and practically ran away.
Georgia faced him, her own face a shade of red that Logan actually found quite attractive on her. “I do not talk to the pigs.”
“Of course not,” he said. “Now dogs. You can talk to dogs. It’s like they know what you’re saying.” He clamped his mouth shut. What was he doing? He had no idea, only that he didn’t want her to feel self-conscious.
She lifted her chin. “You have my number. I think I’ve made the job quite clear. Any questions, text me.” Georgia started for the doorway, and she’d just stepped through when a question popped into Logan’s head.
“When does the job start?” he called after her.
She twisted and looked at him over her shoulder, those half-green, half-brown eyes calling to him even across a couple dozen feet. “Tomorrow night. Our annual Harvest Festival includes my whole family, and every employee who helped with the harvest. Probably fifty people.”
He nodded and said, “I’ll let you know by morning.”
She walked away, leaving him to stand in the nicest barn in the county, wondering what in the world he’d gotten himself into. Well, not yet, but he had the very dangerous thought that he would be telling the beautiful Georgia Quinn that he could probably pretend well enough to be her boyfriend for a few months.
Probably.
“How’d the interview go?” Knox kicked off his boots at the back door, an old habit from their childhood, because their mother didn’t like dirty boots mucking up her clean house.
“It was…interesting,” Logan said. “And before I left, I talked to a guy in their horse stables.”
“Oh?”
“They’re looking for a farrier. I told them about you. He took your number.”
“What was his name?” Knox pulled out his phone and continued into the house where Logan lived with his twin. It was smack dab in the middle of Quinn Valley, everything he needed within a twenty minute drive—including that white whale of a ranch to the north.
“Rhodes,” he said, looking at Knox like he’d lost his mind too. Honestly, had Logan entered the Twilight Zone and not known it? “You know Rhodes.”
“Oh, well, yeah. You said ‘a guy.’ I thought it might be someone else.”
Logan was tired, and he hadn’t even worked that day. But if there was one thing more demoralizing than any other, it was looking for work. “Sorry,” he said.
“So the interview didn’t go well.”
Georgia hadn’t mentioned that he couldn’t tell anyone about their arrangement. But it felt like that was an unspoken rule. Quinn Valley might have fifteen thousand people, but in a lot of ways, it felt like everyone knew everyone else’s business.
“It went okay,” he said. “I think I’ll get the job.” All he had to do was text her and say he’d take it.
“When will you know?”
“Tomorrow morning,” he said.
Knox’s phone chimed, and he looked down at it. “It’s Rhodes.” He grinned as he looked at his brother. “Maybe we’ll both get a job out at that ranch. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“It sure would.” Logan busied himself with heating up a couple of bowls of soup they’d brought home from the farm over the weekend while Knox started having quite the text conversation with Rhodes Quinn.
With dinner hot, and Knox grinning like he’d won the Idaho lottery, Logan pulled out his own phone and typed out a text to Georgia.
I’m in. Should we meet before the party to get some details straight?
He stared at the words, thinking he was absolutely insane to even be considering the woman’s offer. She’d lured him out to that ranch under false pretenses. Asked him all kinds of crazy questions. Proposed something absolutely unthinkable.
Then he thought about her pretty face and that expansive and expensive barn. That ranch. If he could get the experience at a ranch that big—and keep a job for a few months—he might have a shot at buying his own cattle operation in the near future.
He hit send and flipped his phone over before picking up his spoon.
He hadn’t even taken a bite when his device vibrated. Logan couldn’t help it; he looked at the message.
It was from Georgia and very short. 9 AM. The barn. See you tomorrow.
He grinned at his brother. “I just got the job.”
“Great.” He showed Logan his phone. “I got an interview too.”
“Amazing.” He picked up his spoon again, a simple prayer of thanks running through his mind. Maybe God had led him out to Quinn Valley Ranch for a different reason than finishing a barn. Maybe he’d been able to open the door for Knox to get a job. Maybe he could help Georgia weather the holiday season—which was obviously rough for her.
Whatever it is, he prayed. Let me be successful in doing it.
After all, he wanted to keep the job at Quinn Valley Ranch too.
Chapter 3
At least Betsy, the self-proclaimed chef of the family, was downstairs. Then Georgia didn’t have to listen to how she was crimping the pie dough wrong on the apple turnovers. Instead, she got to listen to Jessie sing in her gorgeous soprano voice, a song about lost love on the range.
Granny hummed too, her gnarled fingers some of the best at making the baked ham and cheese sandwiches they had every single year. It was simple really, with hamburger buns, ham slices and Swiss cheese. But the sauce was a family secret, and Georgia wasn’t even sure how to make it yet. She knew it had poppy seeds and butter, but there was something else in it too. Granny had brought a vat of it from her cabin, so Georgia hadn’t seen her make it.
Her stomach fluttered at the thought of Logan’s text. He’d taken the job, and a smile spread her lips now the same way it had last night. She couldn’t believe it, but she’d been praying all morning that she could sneak out to the barn to meet with him for a few minutes come nine o’clock.
A timer went off, and she practically jumped out of her skin. Even with floury fingers, she reached for her phone to silence it, noting that Jessie had quieted too. She wore her reddish-blonde hair shorter than Georgia, and she cast her sister a look.
“What’s that for?” The oven clicked, something it did from time to time for no reason. So it was still on, and the apple turnovers inside had twenty more minutes.
“I need to check on Columbus,” she said. “He was having a hard time last night.” She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped over to the sink, hoping the little white lie wouldn’t cost her too many points with the Lord.
The potbellied pig had eaten too much last night, and Georgia had found him lying on his side near the fence. So it wasn’t exactly a lie.
“Those have twenty minutes left,” she said, nodding toward the oven timer as she suds-up her hands. “I should be back by then. If I’m not, this tray is ready to go.” She skipped drying her hands in an effort to get out of the homestead more quickly.
“Seems like she’s sneaking off,” Granny said, but Georgia ignored her. Behind her, Jessie giggled and said something to their grandmother. Georgia didn’t care what they thought. They were up to their elbows in food prep, and neither of them would come looking for her.
She hurried down the back steps and across the lawn, the scent of baking bread from the basement kitchen meeting her nose. As soon as she stepped from grass to gravel, the smells of the ranch returned. More horse than yeast. More cow than savory ham. More sweat than sugar.
Ducking into the unfinished barn, she expected to see Logan already standing there, just like yesterday. But it was empty. She looked at her phone, and sure enough, she was a few minutes late. Which meant so was he.
Annoyance sang through her. Didn’t he get how important this was? They’d start the masquerade that afternoon. She turned and checked outside again, lifting her phone to her ear as she stepped over to the pasture where the pigs and llamas grazed.
Before the call could connect, he said, “Hey, sorry I’m late.”
She jumped away from him, her heart pounding against that encasing inside her chest. “You scared me.”
He was just as handsome today as yesterday, and she thanked God one more time for this good fortune in her life.
“Sorry, I couldn’t find anywhere to park.”
“Yeah, the Harvest Festival is today,” she said. “Everyone’s on-site already.”
“Maybe we should start with what the Harvest Festival is,” he said.
Georgia explained it quickly, and then she said, “So we need a story about how we met. Because our relationship is so new, I think that’s all we’ll get asked today.”
“There will be a lot of people here. Who’ll be asking?”
“Mostly my parents and my siblings,” she said. “Maybe Granny.” Gramps didn’t usually get involved in the romantic things happening around the ranch. Heck, Georgia didn’t either. But no one else in her family was seeing anyone right now, so a new boyfriend would be big news at the Quinn Family picnic table.
“All right.” He blew out his breath and leaned against the fence as Magellan the llama came closer.
“Magellan bites,” Georgia said. “I’d back up a bit.”
Logan looked at her like she’d spoken Japanese, and she nodded to the llama. “That’s Magellan. He bites.”
Logan danced away from the fence, surprise on his face. “Interesting name.”
“They’re all explorers,” she said. “The pigs and llamas, at least. I didn’t name the goats, and we only have two anyway.”
Logan looked like he had no idea what to say, and Georgia cursed herself for exposing her eccentricities so soon in their relationship.
Then she had to remind herself that this was not a real relationship.
She gazed out into the pasture too, wishing a nicer llama had come over so she could pat it and take some comfort from its soft summer hair. Instead, she got the grumpy face of Magellan who would spit if Georgia even so much as twitched toward him.
“What about an online story?” she asked. “I mean, we did meet online. It wouldn’t be a complete lie.”
“In like, an online dating…thing?”
At least he seemed as unfamiliar with Internet dating as she did. “You know what? I’ve heard of that app—Soulmates.com? What about that?”
“I’ve heard of that,” he said.
“So we met on the app,” she said. “And we’ve been having so much fun getting to know each other that we’ve decided to meet in person.” In the distance she saw Columbus, the dark brown potbellied pig, waddling toward her. So he was okay. “Sound okay?” She flicked a look at Logan, not wanting to look right at him again.
Number one, he was so handsome, it hurt. Number two, she didn’t need to explain about the explorers right now. Number three, she was sure her embarrassment showed in her face like a bad sunburn—something else that happened to her frequently without the proper sunscreen usage.
Then her freckles popped out and her eyes looked more watery than normal. They were already the color of the duck pond behind the garden, and she didn’t need them to be even murkier than they already were. So she kept her eyes on the slow-approaching pig.
“So if we’ve been chatting online, shouldn’t we know a little something about each other?” he asked.
Georgia opened her mouth to start listing her favorites, but her phone alarm sounded. She jumped and said, “I’ll text you, okay? I have to get back to the kitchen.”
She made the mistake of looking into his green-like-summer-grass eyes, and the whole world stopped. Somewhere outside the two of them, her alarm continued to sound. She breathed, but only because it was involuntary.
The air smelled like lightning had just struck, and she wondered if the weather had turned so quickly. It was known to do so in Quinn Valley, and they’d have to relocate the Harvest Festival.
He smiled, and Georgia had never seen anything so beautiful in her whole life. His mouth moved, and she jerked again. She’d have to get an appointment with Raina if she kept up with all the jumping and being startled. Maybe she should get a massage anyway. Georgia certainly felt wound tight.
It’s just the Harvest Festival, she told herself as she fumbled to silence her alarm. She wasn’t sure what Logan had said, so she ducked her head and said, “The Festival starts at three. Can you be there?”
“Yes,” he said, the word finally having sound in Georgia’s ears. “Did you need help with the setup or preparation or anything?”
“Oh, I’m sure we do,” she said. “Rhodes is in charge of the huge tent, and I don’t see it up yet
.”
“So I’ll go find him.”
“Sure,” Georgia said.
“And you’ll text me all those things I'm supposed to know about you.”
“Yep.” She stepped past him and hurried back to the homestead. It wasn’t until she turned the corner and put a physical structure between her and Logan that she could breathe properly again.
“You’re in so much trouble,” she whispered to herself. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t even breathe around the man. How was she supposed to take him to family functions and act like they knew each other?
She was used to flaunting her boyfriends at family events, and as she crossed the lawn and hurried up the back steps, she knew what she needed to do.
Flaunt him.
She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and pushed into the house.
“There you are,” Jessie said. “I was just about to send out a search party.”
Georgia put a big smile on her face. “Sorry. I got…distracted.”
“By a pig?” Jessie indicated the empty tray. “That needs to be full in twenty-five minutes.”
Georgia stepped over to the sink and washed her hands again. “Not by a pig. By a man.” Those words got Jessie and Granny Gertrude to stop their work in the kitchen. It was so quiet that Georgia could’ve whispered and they’d have heard her.
The oven clicked.
“Who is it?” Granny asked, her blue eyes so keen now.
“Logan Locke?” Georgia said like it was a question. “It’s brand new, but I invited him to the Harvest Festival just now. He’s gone to find Rhodes and help set up.” She returned to her bowl of dough and started rolling again.
“Logan Locke,” Jessie said. “I don’t know him.”
“Doesn’t he have a brother who’s a farrier?” Granny asked. “I think we’ve had a Locke out here before.”
“Yes,” Georgia said, though she wasn’t sure. “I can’t remember his name though.”
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she was up to her wrists in turnover dough, and she’d have to rush to fill the tray as it was. Logan—at least Georgia hoped it was Logan—could wait.
