The Cowboy's Promise

by Macie St James

  He was still standing there. She decided the best thing she could do was breeze right past him and head straight to his house. Hopefully, he’d catch up to her because storming into his house didn’t seem the polite thing to do. For now, she just wanted to put herself a little closer to that hot cup of tea she’d been looking forward to for the past two hours.

  “Hold up,” he called out and fell into step beside her. He had his phone out and was pointing his flashlight at the ground. “Don’t want a repeat of the shoe incident from earlier.”

  Okay, she’d give him that. This was her only other pair of footwear to get her through the next two days. The last thing she needed was to lose one of these shoes to cow excrement.

  “Thank you,” she said. It was the polite thing to say. As independent as she wanted to show herself to be, she’d grown up in a town full of cowboys and ranchers. There was no way she couldn’t appreciate a man in a tight pair of jeans being a total and complete gentleman.

  “It’s the least I could do.” He grinned, flashing his dimple again. “My momma raised me right.”

  “Your dad, too,” she commented. “Seems growing up here was good for you. Why did your parents leave?”

  He looked away. “Long story.”

  Wow. Could he be any vaguer? It wasn’t just his words, either. He seemed like he’d shut down even more than usual.

  He stepped ahead of her to open the front door for her. She took the hint and kept her mouth shut, entering the house for the second time. She didn’t really want to talk anyway. She wanted hot tea and some alone time, which mostly meant he could just go away—as long as she could find the cookware to make that tea, that was.

  “Your room’s this way.”

  He’d pivoted again, this time to her left. She followed him down the hall, feeling far more awkward than she’d like to admit.

  “There’s bread and sandwich meat in the fridge if you want to make a sandwich,” he said. “There’s a full pot of soup on the stove. Help yourself.”

  Harley didn’t want to admit it, but that sounded good. She’d been sure the burger she’d wolfed down a couple of hours ago would hold her for the night. That was normally what she’d have on the rare occasion she was in the mood for junk food. But her stomach was starting to feel a little empty, and she knew it would only get worse as bedtime neared. Plus, how long had it been since someone had offered her fresh, warm, homemade soup?

  “I’d love to make some tea, if you don’t mind,” she said as she followed him into a bedroom at the end of the hall.

  “I have sweet tea,” he said. “It’s full octane, though. About as sweet as it gets.”

  Iced tea. She didn’t know anyone who drank cold iced tea loaded with sugar. Not in this part of the country, anyway.

  “Hot tea. It helps me relax after—”

  She broke off. She’d started to say “a stressful day” but stopped herself. If she said that now, he’d assume she meant her time with him rather than the long drive here. And she didn’t want him to think trying to sell him on taking money for his property was in any way stressing her out.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “Herbal?”

  “Chamomile,” she said.

  He said nothing, and she knew this was a dead-end conversation. All she really needed was a pan and some hot water. Oh, and access to a stove. She could heat up her water in the microwave in a pinch, but she preferred boiling water for her tea.

  He shrugged. “Help yourself. I’ll be eating my soup while you get settled in. Just let me know when you’re ready and I’ll show you around the kitchen.”

  He breezed around her, his arm passing just inches from hers. Even though there was no contact, her body felt all warm and tingly anyway. Just being in the same room with him seemed to put all her senses on full alert.

  She’d have to do something about that. The last thing she needed was the distraction of a romance.

  4

  The last thing Clay needed right now was a gorgeous redhead distracting him.

  But that was exactly what he had, like it or not. And, at least for now, she was under his roof.

  The worst part was, he didn’t really want to do anything about it. By morning, his brother would probably have responded with a completely different code. She’d be safely under Jared’s roof and he could at least have some time away from her. That would be good for him, right? He should be happy about it.

  But he wasn’t. He liked the idea of her being stuck in his guest room while she tried to come up with ways to convince him to sell this property. She was wasting time anyway. May as well enjoy hanging out in the meantime.

  Shaking his head to rid himself of the thought, he sat down at the table with his bowl of soup. She was on the other end of the house from him, so he could, technically, forget about her and go on with his life. Get up in the morning, feed the livestock, go over his books… Sure, he had to give that tour he’d promised, but that would take all of a half an hour or so. From there, she could do whatever it was Seattle businesswomen did when they traveled to mountain towns.

  A knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced at the clock on the wall across from him. At dinnertime, it had to be family.

  Sure enough, his brother Reilly came strolling in. No surprise. Reilly dropped by around dinnertime at least a couple of times a week, mostly because he knew Clay always made enough dinner for more than two people so there would be enough for leftovers the next day.

  “Potato soup?” Reilly asked, heading toward the stove.

  “Loaded,” Clay corrected.

  “I thought I smelled bacon.” Reilly opened the cabinet and pulled out a bowl. He turned to look at Clay, but his gaze kept going…toward the door to the kitchen.

  Where Harley was standing.

  “Hi,” she said, suddenly looking very shy.

  “Well, hello.” A smirk on his face, Reilly shifted his gaze over to Clay without moving his head. “I didn’t know you had company.”

  It didn’t stop him from scooping a generous helping of soup into a bowl and bringing it to the table. Reilly hadn’t stumbled upon another woman here for a reason. There hadn’t been one. Not since Clay had moved back home after having his heart ripped to shreds by a woman in Chicago. It was interesting to see that Reilly still made himself at home even with a woman here.

  This was their parents’ home. Probably would be as long as they all lived on the property. Reilly felt as much at home here as Clay did. It just seemed like a space they all shared.

  “Harley, this is my brother, Reilly,” Clay said.

  Clay was suddenly all too aware of Reilly’s charm. For as far back as he could remember, Reilly had always had his pick of women. Clay couldn’t help but wonder if he’d suddenly become invisible to Harley.

  Harley looked a little flustered about the situation. “Nice to meet you. I’m just— I’m going to make some tea.”

  Reilly plopped down at the table, taking the spot directly across from Clay. He flashed Clay a sly smile, nodding his head as if to say, Great job.

  “Harley’s one of Jared’s renters,” Clay felt the need to jump in and explain. It didn’t seem right to let Jared continue to believe she was here for romantic reasons. “The code he gave her didn’t work.”

  “Really? Hmph.” Reilly seemed to be carefully considering what Clay had said while he shoveled soup into his mouth.

  “What?” Harley asked.

  She was at the sink, filling a small pot with hot water. It didn’t seem like she should be able to keep up with their conversation. They were just too far away. But her full attention was on the two of them.

  “Nothing,” Reilly said. But he went on to show it was definitely something. “It’s just, normally Jared lets me know someone’s staying with him. He’ll send me a copy of all the information so I can serve as his backup in case there’s an issue. He didn’t do that this time.”

  “Reilly’s a real estate agent,” Clay explained. “Harle
y is a consultant. She thinks we should sell these properties. Did I sum that up correctly?”

  Reilly set his spoon down and turned to look at her, his eyes wide. In all reality, Reilly and Harley could just sit down and hash this out and leave Clay out of it. The only problem was, Clay didn’t want to be left out of it.

  “Sort of.” Harley was at the stove now, standing in front of her pan full of water. “It’s…a bit more complicated than that.”

  “This is prime real estate,” Clay told Reilly. “She thinks this could be our best chance to monetize it.”

  Reilly laughed. “You don’t know my brother. You’re wasting your time.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying,” Clay said with a laugh of his own. “She’s determined.”

  “I’m not leaving until he agrees to sell,” Harley said. She threw the comment out like it was an afterthought. Probably because her full attention was on her tea, which was now in a mug she’d found on the rack of mugs next to the coffeemaker. She blew on the beverage inside, cradling the cup with both hands as she walked toward the table.

  Reilly flashed Clay another smirk. “So you’re moving in?”

  Clay knew when his brother was teasing, but Harley couldn’t possibly know that. It was no surprise she’d stalled next to the chair at the end of the table and was now staring at Reilly. “What?”

  “He’s joking,” Clay said to let her off the hook. “He’s just saying I’ll never agree to sell. Same thing I told you.”

  “A good salesperson never takes ‘no’ for an answer.” She pulled the chair out and settled onto it, her mug on the table in front of her.

  “That’s funny,” Clay said. “I always heard the key to winning any negotiation is your willingness to walk away.”

  “I don’t think she wants to walk away.” Reilly still had that amused look on his face. He was having a little too much fun with this. “Seems she wants to stick around.”

  “My parents have one wish,” Clay said. “Keep this property a working ranch.”

  “As I said, it can remain a working ranch.” She gestured to indicate everything around them. “Only a small portion of this land is dedicated to actual ranching.”

  “Have you toured the property?” Reilly asked Harley.

  “I researched it.”

  “Well, your research should have told you that the barn and stables aren’t the only thing that makes this a working ranch. There are pigs, cows, chickens—”

  “Horses,” Clay added.

  “And a nice lakefront property at the end of it,” Reilly said with a smile. “That’s where I live.”

  “Where’s the livestock?” Harley asked. “That wasn’t noted online.”

  “Your research was on the internet?” Reilly shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  She took a sip of her tea. “Yes, and court records. I was limited in what I could do remotely, but I have some documents.”

  Clay smirked, remembering the overload of papers in her bag. “She loves her documents,” Clay told Reilly.

  “I try to keep it as simple as possible,” Harley said calmly. “I have numbers. Projections. You can’t continue to operate at this much of a loss.”

  Both brothers stared at her, silent, for a long moment. Finally, Clay found his voice. “How could you know that? You have a copy of our books or something?”

  She smiled, showing white, even teeth. “Glad you asked. I have some paperwork for that. Be right back.”

  “Paperwork,” Reilly commented dryly. “Yippee.”

  “She showed up here at five o’clock,” Clay said. “What was I supposed to do, turn her away?”

  Reilly gave him an incredulous look. “Um…yeah? Although I can see why you didn’t. You know, she isn’t off base. We’ve talked about this.”

  They hadn’t really talked about it. Not the full truth of it. Clay was tracking the books carefully, crunching the numbers every which way he could, all in an attempt to shield the rest of his family from the truth. Still, that didn’t stop his brothers from occasionally bringing it up, pushing him for information.

  The truth was, the industry was changing. The demand for cattle for food purposes had dropped in recent years, and distributors wanted promises that everything was done in an environmentally-friendly, animal-healthy way. In other words, he had to be able to answer a bunch of questions about how his cattle were raised, what they ate, what his practices were for running things around here... And he simply didn’t have the money right now to invest in new equipment to make the ranch competitive with the big dogs several cities away.

  But his parents had asked one thing of him. One thing. He was their trusted oldest child, the one his dad had groomed to take all of this over when he was gone. It was non-negotiable. The ranch had to remain a working ranch, no matter what.

  Reilly gave Clay a knowing stare. “You don’t have to keep proving yourself. Dad knows you’ve grown a lot.”

  Harley came strolling back into the room, her arms pressing the stack of documents to her chest. But Clay was still stuck on what his brother had just said.

  Clay had gone through a wild phase as a teen, rebelling against years of too many rules at Cedar Tree Ranch. He’d been disciplined and responsible until he reached the age of sixteen, when he insisted on getting a job at a local restaurant and earning his own money independently.

  That was where he’d also met Ted Varney, nicknamed Bubba. Bubba was that guy at school, the one who knew where all the parties were. Hanging out with him, Clay had finally felt independent for the first time ever…until they’d gotten in trouble with the law.

  Clay would never forget the disappointment in his dad’s face. Only then had he realized just how much Andrew Briscoe counted on him to hold this ranch together. From that point on, he’d been determined to win back his father’s respect, starting with a job as a bill collector in Chicago and eventually leading him back here, where he was needed.

  “Okay, so here are the projections.”

  She set sheets of paper out, shifting them around until they were facing Clay and Reilly. He didn’t want to look, but it would be rude to decline. Instead, he continued to focus on his soup while Reilly picked one of the sheets up and looked over it.

  “The property’s paid off,” Reilly said, holding the page up, turning it so it faced Harley. “So this mortgage amount is wrong.”

  “That’s for the second loan,” Harley said. “Your parents took out a home equity loan a few years ago. Then there’s the lease on the equipment, the cost to pay your ranch hand, utilities, feed and hay… You can see it all listed there.”

  Reilly had already set the page down and was staring at Clay. The bookkeeping was something his parents had entrusted to him. He hadn’t shared the finer details with his brothers, and they hadn’t asked to see the books. He’d just assumed they weren’t interested, which worked out fine for his need to shield them from the truth.

  “Just how bad is it?” Reilly asked Clay.

  “We’ll get it under control,” Clay said, avoiding direct eye contact. “We just need to make some cutbacks. This is supposed to be a mild winter, so we’ll make up for the cattle we lost last winter.”

  “And line up some contracts.” Reilly picked up the page again. “We’ve lost most of those relationships over the past couple of years. We haven’t kept up with the times.”

  “Sustainability is essential to success on a farm.” From the way Harley said those words, he knew she’d practiced them. She sounded like a clickbaity online article.

  Reilly instantly corrected her. “We don’t run a farm. A farm has crops and maybe some livestock. A ranch is strictly livestock. This is a ranch.”

  “And this ranch is switching to a sustainable model,” Clay added. “We’re working on it. We’ve cut back on —”

  “Which is part of the reason our expenses are up, cutting into any income we’re making,” Reilly interrupted.

  Clay tossed his brother a let me handle this l
ook. “I’m focusing on expanding our customer base beyond Canyon Falls. I can’t do it yet because our meat can’t compete with other ranchers in those areas, but my goal is to be able to show our processes qualify as sustainable.”

  “Which will cost more money,” Reilly pointed out.

  “I have it under control.” The words came out more forcefully than Clay had intended. But this was something he’d been losing sleep over for months. Now this enticing redhead had barreled into their lives and pulled Reilly into it. Reilly didn’t need to be losing sleep, too. It was Clay’s job as big brother to absorb all the worry.

  “It’s prime real estate,” Harley said.

  He couldn’t help but notice she was looking at Reilly now instead of him. He knew why, too. Accurate or not, Reilly was coming off as the weak link here. Harley saw him as a way in. If she could get through to him, maybe, just maybe, she could make this happen.

  Whatever this was.

  Clay studied her. “Let me ask you something? What, exactly, are you getting out of this?”

  It was the question he’d been dying to ask since she’d marched into his life a few hours earlier. He just hadn’t asked until now because he wanted to keep her around a little longer. And that made him realize he’d spent far too long on this ranch, talking only to his brothers, his ranch hand, and the few people he ran into when he went into town.

  She glanced at him. “I need to keep my job. I’m not just the consultant. I work for the buyer.”

  Silence again. Clay looked at Reilly. Reilly looked at Clay. Then they both turned their attention to the redhead at the end of the table.

  “So your boss is going to buy our property and flip it?” Clay asked. “And you think we’re dumb enough to fall for that?”

  She set down another document. It looked like the map she’d shown earlier but zoomed in on the ranch. “I’m willing to offer you top dollar. I’ve already secured funding. You can consolidate whatever you need to this parcel of land and continue your ranching operations.”

  “That’s not nearly enough,” Reilly said. “She’s definitely going to need a tour.”