Hometown Holiday
Page 19
She had a calendar app on her phone—and she used it, but she sometimes forgot to schedule reminders along with appointments. A careless oversight that had resulted in the end of her previous relationship when Boyd Watkins had shown up to take her out for their six-month anniversary and discovered that she’d completely forgotten their date and the significance of it.
In the two years that had passed since then, she’d purposely limited romance to her fantasies because the men in her dreams never protested being forgotten when the animals needed her attention. And the animals always needed her attention, which was why a vacation to Hawaii—or anywhere else—wasn’t on her agenda in either the near or distant future.
And that was totally okay because Happy Hearts was as much a joy as a responsibility. But every once in a while—and maybe a little more often since her oldest brother had announced his engagement—she found herself wishing she had someone special in her life with whom to share the joys and responsibilities. Someone she could love and who would love her back, like Jordan loved Camilla.
“If wishes were horses,” she mused wryly, and forced herself to refocus on her task.
As the hands on the clock inched closer to three o’clock, she finished clearing out the soiled straw and dumped it behind the barn. She looked around for Barkley, who didn’t usually venture too far away, then remembered that Elaine, one of the volunteers, had borrowed Daphne’s canine companion to help socialize some of the other dogs in the adoption center this afternoon.
She returned to spread fresh straw in the stalls, still racking her brain in an effort to remember what task or appointment she was certainly forgetting.
“Knock, knock,” a male voice called out from the front of the barn. “Is anyone home?”
She turned automatically, pitchfork still in hand.
“In here,” she responded, waiting for the visitor to make his way to her.
When he finally stepped out of the shadows and into the light created by the late-afternoon sun slanting through the windows, he appeared almost luminescent, like an angel—or a ghost.
Daphne shook off the thought as every hormone in her body came to full alert to remind her that she wasn’t just alive but a woman—and one who hadn’t experienced such an immediate and visceral attraction to a man in a very long time. If ever.
Because…wow. He was definitely the best-looking guy to set foot on the farm in all the time that she’d lived there. Brown hair, neatly trimmed but long enough that she could see the natural wave in it; darker brown eyes with tiny crinkles at the corners; a square jaw with the two days’ growth that so many guys seemed to be sporting these days but that looked really good on this one.
Straight, dark brows rose as his gaze zeroed in on the implement in her hands and he slowly lifted his own in a gesture of surrender. “I come in peace,” he promised.
Flustered to realize she was holding the pitchfork as if it was a weapon, she lowered her arms and pushed the prongs into the straw at her feet. “How can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m looking for Daphne Taylor.”
“And now you’ve found her,” she said, and sent a silent thank-you to the universe that her prayers had finally been answered—and in such spectacular fashion. Even deducting points for what was obviously a leather jacket worn open over a navy sweater with dark jeans, the guy was almost heart-stoppingly good-looking.
But apparently he wasn’t as entranced as she was, because his brow furrowed and his tone held a note of disbelief when he said, “You’re Daphne Taylor?”
Of course, he was impeccably dressed while she was wearing a pair of oversize coveralls and clunky rubber boots, not to mention there were several strands of hair falling out of her ponytail to frame a sweaty face devoid of makeup.
“Welcome to Happy Hearts,” she said, with a forced smile.
“I’m sorry.” His apology was quick, if a little gruff. “I just didn’t expect to find the owner of the sanctuary mucking out stalls.”
“Around here, everyone pitches in to do whatever work needs to be done.”
“Makes sense,” he said, and added a curt nod before finally introducing himself. “I’m Evan Cruise. We have a three o’clock meeting.”
“Yes, we do.” She suddenly remembered and winced as she glanced at the clock. “Sorry. I’m a little short-staffed today and fell behind on my chores.”
She pulled off her gloves and tucked them into the back pocket of her coveralls to accept his proffered hand. Heat jolted through her system in response to the contact, tempting her to snuggle up and melt against him. But she managed to hold her ground as she lifted her gaze to his, wondering if he’d felt something, too.
She couldn’t tell from his neutral expression, but she thought his eyes had gotten a little bit darker, and he definitely held on to her hand for another few beats of her racing heart.
“Your assistant said something about a business proposition when I spoke to her yesterday, but she caught me in the middle of feeding the animals and I didn’t have a chance to ask for any more details.”
“I own and operate Bronco Ghost Tours,” he said.
Which she knew, of course, because one of her friends used to work for him. And while she recalled Brittany grumbling that her boss was a tyrant, she’d been unprepared to discover that the tyrant was unbelievably hot.
And now that Daphne had put the pieces together, she was certain she knew why he was there, though she wasn’t eager to admit as much.
“What do you think I can do for you, Mr. Cruise?” she asked instead.
“Evan,” he said, then added a smile that started her heart racing again.
Yes, he was good-looking, and just being near him was making her feel things she’d almost forgotten she was capable of feeling. But she had no intention of letting her farm be a sideshow to his circus.
She was about to repeat her question when the sound of a bell preceded the appearance of a fleecy not-so-white sheep hobbling toward them.
“You never can resist an open door, can you, Winnie?” Daphne asked, her tone laced with affection and exasperation.
Baaaa.
“Even though you know very well that you’re not supposed to be in here,” she continued.
The sheep ignored her admonishment and moved past the humans toward Tiny Tim’s pen at the back of the barn, her casted back leg dragging slightly behind her.
Daphne wasn’t sure how or when it had happened, but the pig and the sheep had become good friends. And while she didn’t object to the visit, she did move past Evan to close the door so that no other animals would wander inside.
“What happened to her leg?” he asked.
“She got it caught in an electrified fence at the wool farm where she used to live. The farmer tried to treat the injury with home remedies at first, obviously unsuccessfully, and when she finally called the vet and learned that Winnie would need surgery—and the cost of that surgery—she decided it would be cheaper to euthanize her.”
It required a concerted effort for Daphne to recite the details in a neutral tone, because her blood still boiled to think that Winnie’s life could easily have been snuffed out because some farmer—whose negligence was responsible for the injury—didn’t appreciate the value of it.
“Thankfully, the vet suggested that she bring Winnie to Happy Hearts instead,” she continued.
“It must be expensive,” he mused, “caring for sick and injured animals.”
His tone was sympathetic and sincere, and Daphne found her guard dropping, just a little.
“The bills add up,” she acknowledged. “But I know you didn’t come here for the educational tour, so why don’t you tell me how you think I can help Bronco Ghost Tours?”
“Actually—” he flashed another smile, and her guard dropped a little farther “—I think we can help each other.”
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ISBN-13: 9780369717283
Hometown Holiday
First published as The Maverick’s Holiday Masquerade in 2015. This edition published in 2020.
Copyright © 2015 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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