Phoebe's Fate (Burnt River Contemporary Western Romance Book 9)

by Amelia C. Adams

  Chapter Seven

  “So, they let themselves in with my spare key while I’m gone? Why don’t they just stop by for a visit while I’m home?” Eileen asked, a little perplexed.

  “They’re just hoping to give the sellers and the buyers both their privacy,” Phoebe explained. “This way, if the buyer hates the carpet and wants to rip it out, they can say so without offending you.”

  “Well, gracious, if they want to rip out the carpet, that’s no business of mine,” Eileen said. “It would be their house. They could do whatever they wanted.” She looked down at the floor. “I did pick this out myself, though . . .”

  Phoebe put her arm around Eileen’s shoulders. “See? It’s best that you’re not here. Do you have a place to go? An errand to run?”

  “Gertie and I are going to see Vi. I bought a new movie I thought she’d enjoy too.”

  “That sounds really nice. I’m almost jealous.”

  “You could come over too, you know.”

  “I could if I didn’t have to work.” Phoebe glanced around. “It looks like you’ve got everything shipshape.”

  “I hope these people like it. I’d hate for this to drag on forever now that I’ve accept the fact that it’s happening at all.” She turned, dug into a vase on the mantel, and handed Phoebe a key. “Here’s the spare. Thanks again for what you’re doing.”

  Phoebe put the key in her pocket and then gave Eileen another hug. “You’re more than welcome. And you, young lady.” She turned and scratched Gertie under the chin. “You get better.”

  Gertie’s tail thumped once on the couch, but she didn’t respond much otherwise.

  Phoebe shook her head. “Have you taken her to the vet?”

  “I have, and it’s just what I thought—grief. How do you heal something like that?”

  “I sure wish I knew.” Phoebe gave the dog another scratch, then turned. “You have a great afternoon with Vi, and I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from the other agent, okay?”

  “Thank you, dear.” Eileen walked Phoebe to the front door, her steps a little slower than usual. Was it grief slowing her down too, or her health?

  She paused before stepping onto the porch. “Bryce Davidson asked me this morning if there was any chance that you’d consider seller financing. I explained that the odds were low.”

  Eileen nodded. “I wish I could say yes, but I’ve got to pay this place off. We took out a second mortgage to help out Mike’s mother when she fell ill.”

  “I completely understand, and I made sure Bryce did too. Thanks, Eileen. Take care.”

  Phoebe affixed the drop box, put the key inside, and texted the code to June. Then she got in her car and drove off, wishing she could stay and hide in the bushes so she could watch this Mr. Knight’s reaction when he saw the place. Stalking a buyer from the bushes was never a good idea, though, so she kept driving. It stunk sometimes, having to be a grownup.

  ***

  “There now. Who’s a good boy?” Bryce rubbed behind Rocky’s ears, breathing in the very horsey scent of him. He’d missed that scent so much since checking into the hotel. He’d never even noticed it when he was around it all the time.

  “You’ve sure got a nice animal there.” A young man about eighteen years old walked up the aisle of the barn and paused at Rocky’s stall. “My name’s Sam. I’ve been the one exercising him. He’s a real good horse.”

  “Yes, he is.” Bryce gave Rocky another rub and then turned to face Sam. “You into the rodeo at all?”

  Sam shrugged. “A little. I’m more into riding for the fun of it.”

  “Well, Rocky here helped me win six titles. He’s the best bulldogging horse I’ve ever seen, and I’m lucky I got to ride him.”

  “Six titles? Wow.” Sam gave a nod of appreciation. “He seems a little tired on his left side.”

  “Yeah, he’s pulled some muscles over the years. Time for him to retire. You’re taking it easy on him, right?”

  “Sure am. It’s in his notes. We’re real good about checking all the animals’ notes before we take them out.”

  “Thanks. That’s much appreciated.”

  He chatted with Sam for another minute before the boy had to move on to other things, then he turned back to his horse. “I’m going to find us a nice place, boy. One where you can have all the room you want to stretch your legs. I’ve even been thinking about getting another horse or two, but don’t be jealous. They’d be good friends for you, and horses I could ride without wearing them down. You’ll always be my best buddy.”

  Rocky nudged his shoulder and gave a whiffle. Bryce didn’t know if the horse was trying to say something or was just looking for another apple to follow the first one Bryce had brought in.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow, boy. I’ve gotta go see a house first, and maybe I’ll tell you about it, if it’s any good.”

  He walked out and climbed into his truck, noticing that he was almost out of gas. He’d get some on his way back into town. As he started the engine, he thought about what he’d just said to Rocky. Did he want the house to be a fit? He didn’t want to stay in the hotel forever, that was for sure, but whenever he thought of himself in a house, it was the Weikers’ he imagined.

  He had to get over that. He wasn’t going to be the kind of person who threw a fit if they didn’t get their own way. A smaller house with less land was a better way to go. And if he kept telling himself that, maybe he’d eventually believe it.

  Chapter Eight

  Bryce nodded with appreciation when he saw Phoebe get out of her car. She’d traded in her dress for jeans and boots, and they looked good on her. Really good.

  “Now you just need a hat and a lasso,” he said as he walked up to greet her.

  “Well, I can’t very well show a ranch in heels, can I?” She closed her car door and followed him up the walk. “Do you want to start with the house or the property?”

  “Might as well start with the house since we’re right here.”

  She punched a code into a box on the house and retrieved a key, letting them both in. “This house is twenty-five years old and has been updated throughout,” she said as they walked into the kitchen. “All these stainless-steel appliances were put in this past January. I don’t know if you cook much, but this is a fantastic work area.”

  “I don’t cook a lot because I’ve been on the road so much, but now that I’m settling down, I’ll probably cook more,” Bryce replied. “Are these counters marble?”

  “Granite, actually. Over here is a convection oven, and this door hides a huge pantry . . .”

  Bryce followed her around, listening to her give the tour. He couldn’t find a single thing wrong with the house—it was solidly built, decorated in neutrals that suited him, and had room for everything he could possibly want or need. There were even built-in cabinets throughout, meaning less furniture he’d have to buy.

  “It’s a great house,” he said when they’d worked their way through the whole place. “And no dead bodies in the attic. I have to confess, that part kind of disappoints me. I was looking forward to it.”

  “Well, if it would increase the chances of a sale, I can arrange to have one brought in,” Phoebe replied. “In this business, I have to maintain a lot of connections, and I’m sure I know a guy.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind and will possibly take you up on it. How about the property now?”

  The barn was absolutely perfect—roomy enough for Rocky and three more horses besides, and there was a lot of space for grazing and roaming around. The yard abutting the house featured a barbecue area and a set of outdoor furniture. It would be fun to invite people over and cook up some burgers.

  “I like it,” he said when Phoebe turned to him, an expectant look on her face. “Let me sleep on it a night or two first, though. Are there any other places sort of in this same vein?”

  “There’s another one out on the south side of town, but it hasn’t been maintained nearly as well as this, and the barn i
s a mess,” Phoebe replied. “I figured you’d want a place where Rocky could go immediately.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t want him out in the elements while I’m fixing a leaky roof or something.” Bryce leaned both arms along the top rail of the fence. “It’s kind of funny, you know? I think about him like he’s my kid or something. If anyone takes care of anyone, though, he takes care of me.”

  “Does he? How so?”

  “I’m a bulldogger—I’m not sure you’re into the rodeo. You know what that means?”

  “Is that the event where you ride in and jump on the steer’s back?”

  “That’s right. You grab it by the horns and wrestle it to the ground. It’s one of the most dangerous rodeo sports there is—I wasn’t too bright when I chose that as my specialty.”

  Phoebe laughed and leaned up against the fence beside him. “I’m not sure there’s a safe sport when it comes to the rodeo.”

  “Roping. Roping’s pretty safe. Especially when you’re just lassoing barrels. They hardly ever charge you.”

  Phoebe laughed again. It was a great sound—he wished he could hear it more often. “So, tell me about Rocky.”

  “Well, his job is to get me in there nice and close so I can jump on, but there have been a couple of times when he’s flat-out disobeyed my prompts and saved my life. The horse isn’t supposed to have a mind of his own, but Rocky does, and I’m sure glad of it.”

  “How does that work, exactly? Does he dodge out of the way, or . . .?”

  “Yeah, something like that. There was this one bull that was meaner than anything I’d ever seen before. He had pure hatred in his eyes. Now, I’ve gotta admit, these animals don’t live warm, cuddly lives and you shouldn’t expect them to be friendly, but this guy took it to a whole new level. As soon as I got close, he wheeled and slashed with his horns so fast, if Rocky hadn’t darted to the right, I would have been sliced right open. No doubt about it. Now, those are the smaller animals—they only weigh around a thousand pounds—but they can be tough.”

  Phoebe lifted an eyebrow. “A small one weighs a thousand pounds? That’s not small, buddy.”

  He laughed. “When it comes to bulls, yeah, it is. The ones we rope and wrestle are smaller, but those fellows get up to a ton in weight.”

  “I’m so glad I’m not in the rodeo. Real estate is a nice, safe profession.” She motioned toward their cars. “Shall we go?”

  “We can, but first, I’d really like to ask you out to dinner tonight,” he said, not sure where the words came from. He hadn’t intended to blurt them out and didn’t even know he was thinking them.

  “Dinner? Like, to talk about houses, or . . .”

  “Like, because I enjoy spending time with you.”

  He watched as her eyes flickered from professional to alarmed and then back again. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Bryce. I have a lot of work to do, and I have to be present at a closing tomorrow, and . . .”

  He held up a hand. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like you . . .” Her voice trailed off as she kept trying to explain herself. Finally, she pulled in a breath. “Being around you is hard for me. Is it all right if I’m honest and I just spit that out? You deserve to know the truth.”

  He nodded. He did understand. “It’s hard for me to be around you, too,” he said softly.

  She blinked, stunned. “I’m sorry—what did you say?”

  He exhaled. How to put this . . . “I’ve never seen so much suffering on someone’s face before or since. And I couldn’t fix it.”

  She closed her eyes and leaned against the fence again. “How many lives did that one creep try to ruin?” she muttered.

  “The main thing is that he didn’t succeed,” Bryce reminded her. “And I want us to get to know each other as who we are now—as Bryce and Phoebe. We’re going to run into each other a lot now that I plan to live here—do we really want to go through this every single time?”

  She lifted her gaze to meet his. “No, we don’t. We’re going to move past this and find awesomeness. So yes, I’ll have dinner with you.”

  He grinned. “Great. I’m glad to hear it. Now, I was surfing the web a lot last night, and I saw an ad for a new restaurant that opened up about thirty miles away. It’s an Italian place. Do you like Italian?”

  “I love it.”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at six, okay? Can you text me your address?”

  She nodded, still looking a little apprehensive, but she wasn’t turning him down anymore.

  “Thanks, Phoebe. I’ll see you tonight.”

  He turned on the radio when he got in his truck. Suddenly he was in the mood for a little country music. Something about trucks and horses and dogs . . . hey, he should get a dog. That would just about complete the picture he’d painted in his mind of what a real home should be. The wife part . . . that was trickier. He’d start with the dog and go from there.

  Chapter Nine

  Phoebe all but collapsed into her desk chair. She’d gotten three texts on the drive back—Mr. Knight wanted to put in an offer on the Weikers’, the agent representing the house they’d just seen was letting her know about a pending offer on it, and the loan appraiser for the closing she had the next day hadn’t turned in his report on time, so they’d have to reschedule. She hated rescheduling closings. It made everyone upset, and when everyone was upset, she invariably got blamed for whatever it was, even if it was someone else’s fault. She could just wring that appraiser’s neck.

  Deep breaths. One thing at a time. She texted Bryce her address, thinking that the sooner she did it, the sooner it would stop feeling like an elephant on her back. Then she made the necessary calls about the closing, handled the resulting emotions, made the appropriate noises of consolation and reassurance, and called Eileen to tell her about the offer.

  “They’ll send over the paperwork in the morning and you can look it over then, but I wanted to give you a head’s up,” she said, trying to make her voice sound cheerful.

  “Oh, my. Again, this is happening so fast,” Eileen said. “How long until I have to move out?”

  “Generally it takes everything thirty to forty-five days to go through, but you realize, you don’t have to take this offer,” Phoebe said. “I don’t even know how much they’re offering right now, just that they’re in the process. They might come back with a terrible number, you know.”

  “I’m sort of hoping they do,” Eileen replied. “Deanna wants us to knit matching sweaters. Isn’t she a little young for knitting matching sweaters? I thought old women did that.”

  Phoebe laughed. “I think she’s just excited that you’re coming.”

  “Well, I’m about to move down to Florida instead, or wherever it is that retired people are supposed to go. This is just ridiculous.”

  “You’ll love being surrounded by your grandchildren, though. Won’t you?”

  “Not if they’re all wearing matching sweaters!”

  Phoebe laughed again as she hung up. She’d needed that little dose of Eileen to get her through the remainder of her tasks.

  She answered a couple of emails, then tidied up her desk. When she couldn’t put it off one more minute, she finally stood up, grabbed her bag, and headed out to her car. It was time to get ready for her date with Bryce.

  Her date. With Bryce.

  Words she’d never thought she’d say.

  She stood in front of her closet, trying to decide what to wear. She wanted to look nice because she’d be out in public and she assumed that Mickey Mouse pajamas weren’t quite up to this restaurant’s standards, but she didn’t want to look too cute because she didn’t want Bryce to get the wrong idea. Of course, she had no clue what his idea was now. He said he liked spending time with her, but that didn’t have to mean anything romantic. Maybe he just liked thinking back on his high school days and she was a link to his past.

  She was reaching, and she knew it.

  She finally
settled on a jade blouse and a pair of jeans, then grabbed her black ballet flats. There. She wouldn’t get mocked for her appearance, but it didn’t say “flirt with me.” No flirting. Flirting was bad. Not in general—just flirting with Bryce. That would be too weird.

  And she was driving herself nuts.

  By the time the doorbell rang, she’d managed to calm her brain down, and she answered the door with a smile on her face. “Hey there,” she said.

  “Hey.” He stood there awkwardly and made a motion like he wanted to hook his thumb in his pocket, but there wasn’t a pocket there because he was wearing slacks, so his hand just slid down his side. She was so glad to see he was nervous too.

  “Would you like to come in, or should we just go?” she asked.

  “Let’s just go.”

  Good answer.

  She climbed into his truck with a minimum of effort, glad she’d decided against wearing a skirt. That would have been disastrous. When he came around the truck and climbed in himself, she said, “I’ll tell you this right up front so you’re not wondering—Eileen Weiker is getting an offer on the house tomorrow. They’re sending it to my office first thing. That doesn’t mean that she’ll take it, but she just might.”

  “I see.” Bryce started the engine and backed the truck out of the parking spot. “Well, I believe things happen for a reason, so I have to believe that some good will come out of this too.”

  “Do you really think things happen for a reason?” she asked, suddenly curious. “What about your injury?” As soon as she said that, she wanted to clap her hand over her mouth. Why was she being so nosy? “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

  “No, it’s fine,” he replied. He waited until he’d turned the next corner, and then he replied, “Trust me, when I was stuck in the hospital afterwards, it was hard for me to see anything positive about it. I’d gotten my timing wrong and jumped off my horse too soon, and that gave the bull the chance to buck and it knocked me clean backward. I came down hard and crunched about every vertebra I have. That was a treat, I tell you what.”