conversation with an appealing man. It was nice.
Dangerous, but still nice.
Then her phone rang and all hope of any normal conversation with Vic fled.
It was Alex Rossiter.
* * *
Vic finished off the last of his cookie as he tried not to listen to Lauren’s phone conversation. He knew she was talking to her buyer.
“I know you told me you were coming tomorrow,” she said, her voice sounding strained. “But I forgot to make plans.” She nodded as Vic faintly heard the chatter of a male voice.
The buyer.
The man with all the money.
Then she said goodbye and slipped the phone into her back pocket again.
“So what does he want?” Vic asked, wiping the remnants of cookie crumbs off his pants.
“He asked me last week if he could come tomorrow.” She scratched her chin with her forefinger as if thinking. “He wants me to show him around the ranch, but...”
“You don’t know that much about it,” he finished for her, remembering the phone call she got when he brought her to town.
“I know something, but I haven’t been here for over ten years. And I thought—”
“You want me to show him around.”
She looked over at him, her eyes pleading. “I would feel better if someone who knew the ranch could talk to him about it.”
He exhaled, shoving his hair back from his face in a gesture of frustration. What irony. Escorting the future buyer over the ranch he had counted on buying himself.
Though he hoped to go through more of the papers in Keith’s office tomorrow, he was starting to see the futility of it all. All they had found so far was an old lease agreement Keith had drawn up with Rusty Granger—frustrating that he had protected Rusty’s interests but not his—and a host of grocery lists and to-do lists, but that was about it.
He doubted that a further search of the office would yield anything more. And yet he knew he had to give it one more try.
“I know it’s a lot to ask and I’m sorry—”
“I’ll do it,” he said as he got to his feet.
She stood as well, looking sheepish. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“What time is he coming?”
“About noonish tomorrow. Does that work?”
“I’ll be done haying today, provided I don’t get any more distractions.” In spite of his irritation with the situation, he couldn’t help smiling at her. He appreciated the lemonade and cookies, and the fact that she had taken the time to think about him.
“I won’t bug you anymore,” she said, returning his smile.
“Bringing lemonade and homemade cookies hardly constitutes bugging.” He looked over at her and to his surprise she didn’t turn away. As their eyes locked, he felt an age-old emotion rise up in him. The beginnings of appeal and connection. The hesitant looks. The careful dance between a man and a woman signaling a shift toward attraction.
Be careful. This one isn’t for you. She’s not sticking around. She created a host of problems for you.
But in spite of the very wise and practical voice warning him, he kept his eyes on Lauren and she on him.
He wanted to touch her face, brush his fingers over her flushed cheek. The impulse was so strong, he felt his hand rising.
Then she turned away—the moment was gone—and he clenched his fist, frustrated with how she was insinuating herself into his life. Yesterday, after he came back from delivering her plants at the ranch, he’d found his thoughts returning to her again and again.
Reliving that moment when he had touched her.
He gave himself a shake, then bent to pick up his phone.
He frowned when he saw two identical black phones lying in the cut hay, neither of them with covers.
“Which one of these is yours?” he asked, picking them both up.
She looked as puzzled as he was, then took one. “I think it’s this one,” she said, hitting the home button.
A picture of his mother and Dean flashed on the screen and she handed it over to him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“That’s okay,” he said,
Dangerous, but still nice.
Then her phone rang and all hope of any normal conversation with Vic fled.
It was Alex Rossiter.
* * *
Vic finished off the last of his cookie as he tried not to listen to Lauren’s phone conversation. He knew she was talking to her buyer.
“I know you told me you were coming tomorrow,” she said, her voice sounding strained. “But I forgot to make plans.” She nodded as Vic faintly heard the chatter of a male voice.
The buyer.
The man with all the money.
Then she said goodbye and slipped the phone into her back pocket again.
“So what does he want?” Vic asked, wiping the remnants of cookie crumbs off his pants.
“He asked me last week if he could come tomorrow.” She scratched her chin with her forefinger as if thinking. “He wants me to show him around the ranch, but...”
“You don’t know that much about it,” he finished for her, remembering the phone call she got when he brought her to town.
“I know something, but I haven’t been here for over ten years. And I thought—”
“You want me to show him around.”
She looked over at him, her eyes pleading. “I would feel better if someone who knew the ranch could talk to him about it.”
He exhaled, shoving his hair back from his face in a gesture of frustration. What irony. Escorting the future buyer over the ranch he had counted on buying himself.
Though he hoped to go through more of the papers in Keith’s office tomorrow, he was starting to see the futility of it all. All they had found so far was an old lease agreement Keith had drawn up with Rusty Granger—frustrating that he had protected Rusty’s interests but not his—and a host of grocery lists and to-do lists, but that was about it.
He doubted that a further search of the office would yield anything more. And yet he knew he had to give it one more try.
“I know it’s a lot to ask and I’m sorry—”
“I’ll do it,” he said as he got to his feet.
She stood as well, looking sheepish. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“What time is he coming?”
“About noonish tomorrow. Does that work?”
“I’ll be done haying today, provided I don’t get any more distractions.” In spite of his irritation with the situation, he couldn’t help smiling at her. He appreciated the lemonade and cookies, and the fact that she had taken the time to think about him.
“I won’t bug you anymore,” she said, returning his smile.
“Bringing lemonade and homemade cookies hardly constitutes bugging.” He looked over at her and to his surprise she didn’t turn away. As their eyes locked, he felt an age-old emotion rise up in him. The beginnings of appeal and connection. The hesitant looks. The careful dance between a man and a woman signaling a shift toward attraction.
Be careful. This one isn’t for you. She’s not sticking around. She created a host of problems for you.
But in spite of the very wise and practical voice warning him, he kept his eyes on Lauren and she on him.
He wanted to touch her face, brush his fingers over her flushed cheek. The impulse was so strong, he felt his hand rising.
Then she turned away—the moment was gone—and he clenched his fist, frustrated with how she was insinuating herself into his life. Yesterday, after he came back from delivering her plants at the ranch, he’d found his thoughts returning to her again and again.
Reliving that moment when he had touched her.
He gave himself a shake, then bent to pick up his phone.
He frowned when he saw two identical black phones lying in the cut hay, neither of them with covers.
“Which one of these is yours?” he asked, picking them both up.
She looked as puzzled as he was, then took one. “I think it’s this one,” she said, hitting the home button.
A picture of his mother and Dean flashed on the screen and she handed it over to him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“That’s okay,” he said,
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