Читать книгу I Cross My Heart - Vicki Lewis Thompson - Страница 9

NASH WAS GLAD FOR AN excuse to leave the Last Chance when five-thirty rolled around. All eight boys in the Last Chance Youth Program had arrived. they ranged in age from twelve to fourteen, and they were all hyper. Emmett had assured Nash they’d settle down once they were put to work, but that wouldn’t happen until tomorrow. Tonight they were like Mexican jumping beans. Very loud Mexican jumping beans.

Pete, Sarah’s fiancé and the philanthropist who’d dreamed up the concept, had divided the boys into teams for a relay race in the yard before dinner. He’d roped Nash’s buddy Luke Griffin into helping. Luke had the kind of easygoing attitude that made him perfect for the job.

Nash didn’t know much about kids, so he left with a wave and a smile. He admired Pete’s humanitarianism and was thrilled that Sarah had found someone worthy of her. Jonathan Chance would have been a tough act to follow, but Pete seemed to be up to the challenge.

Nash took his own truck for the drive to the Triple G. He couldn’t justify wearing out the shocks on a Last Chance truck for a side job. Besides that, he intended to haul away what was left of the recliner when he left tonight, and if he used his pickup, he wouldn’t have to worry about the mess.

Deciding what to wear for this first night of work had been a chore. He expected to get dirty when he tackled the repairs, but she’d invited him to dinner, so he didn’t want to show up in ratty clothes for that. In reality, he wanted to look good no matter whether he was eating at her table or working on her outbuildings.

That was stupid of him, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. She remembered him as a high school stud, and he didn’t want to destroy that memory by dressing like a hobo. So he’d compromised on middle-of-the-road jeans, shirt, hat and boots. They were nicer than he’d wear to muck out stalls, but not new enough for a Saturday night trip to the Spirits and Spurs.

All of it would wash except the boots and hat. He could take the hat off because the sun would be going down, and the boots usually cleaned up pretty well with some saddle soap. He’d also showered and shaved before changing into those clothes, which he’d caught some guff from Luke about. He’d wanted to know why Nash was getting spit-shined before going off to do carpentry.

Nash had told Sarah and Jack that he would be working for the Graces’ daughter, but he hadn’t gone into detail about her. He had to be especially careful when mentioning the job to Luke, who might recognize Beth-any Grace’s name. Everyone at the stable in Sacramento had heard about her books from Lindsay.

But Luke was more interested in the possibility that Nash might finally be coming out of retirement. His shower and shave had given Luke the idea that romance was brewing. No matter how many times Nash had denied it, Luke had continued to tease him about being her handyman.

The teasing had hit home, whether Luke knew it or not. Right before he’d left Bethany’s this morning, they’d had a moment. A silent exchange had taken place, one that any man or woman with a pulse understood.

He didn’t plan to act on it, and he doubted that she wanted him to. She was focused on the next stage in her career. Besides, she was paying him to do an honest night’s work, and adding mattress bingo into the deal skated a little too close to sex for hire.

Plus, if he needed more reasons to curb any lust he felt toward her, he’d remind himself that she lost her dad a week ago. And besides, she had money and he did not. He knew how that sort of situation played out, and only a fool jumped into the same kettle of hot water twice. She needed him to help her make the Triple G attractive to buyers. End of story.

This time he didn’t miss the turnoff to her ranch, but a day of baking in the June sun hadn’t improved the road any. It was while he slowly maneuvered around the potholes and deep ruts that inspiration struck. Once the idea came to him, he couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. The solution to her problem and his was obvious. He would buy the ranch from her.

Sure, it would take some creative financing and wipe out the savings he’d carefully accumulated so far. But there were programs for first-time buyers, something he’d researched not long ago. Lindsay’s parents had given them a house as a wedding present, and so that meant he was, in fact, a first timer.

What a brainstorm! The ranch abutted the Last Chance, so he could keep in close touch with his friends. It was small, but that made it more likely he could swing the deal. He might not even want more land than this. And the view of the Tetons was almost as spectacular as the Last Chance had.

If she went for this solution and still wanted him to do repairs, he’d consider it sweat equity instead of taking money for it. She wouldn’t be ready to turn the property over to him until she’d finished her sorting inside the house, but she could forget the hassle of listing the place and considering offers, so he’d actually save her time in the long run.

He also had a hunch she wasn’t selling the ranch for the money. Maybe selling to someone she knew, someone who loved this area and would make the ranch into a showplace, would compensate for his lack of a sizable chunk of cash. He was so eager to broach the plan that he sped up and hit a rut that nearly jolted the eyeballs out of his skull.

Forcing himself back to a crawl, he allowed himself to dream of actually owning this ranch. Because he wouldn’t have income from it right away, he’d keep his job at the Last Chance. He’d sink every penny into improvements, and eventually buy a couple of horses. And he’d get a dog.

Maybe he’d turn it into a boarding stable. He understood how to run one of those, thanks to Lindsay. She’d had the business degree and he’d had the animal science degree. On paper it had seemed like the perfect match. Luke had reported that horse-care standards at the stable had fallen quickly after Nash had left.

The drive to the Triple G, which he’d already started thinking of as his, took freaking forever. He had time to decide what color he’d paint the barn—deep red—and whether he needed shutters on the ranch house windows. Probably not. He hoped that at least one of the corrals was solid, because he desperately wanted a couple of horses. Without horses, what kind of ranch was it, anyway?

When he finally pulled into the clearing, he saw that the recliner remained in the middle of the yard like an abstract chunk of modern art. At least it didn’t smell quite so bad now. Next he noticed four colored pots—red, yellow, blue and green—lined up on the front porch. Each was filled with an array of petunias, daisies and pansies.

He’d keep those pots and refill them every spring. It was amazing how flowers in pots classed up a place. Even the weathered gray boards on the porch looked better because of those flowers, almost as if the weathering had been left that way on purpose, for artistic effect.

After parking his truck next to her rented SUV, he started toward the front porch steps. She must have heard the engine, because she opened the screen door and came out. He almost didn’t recognize her.

This morning he’d thought she might clean up pretty good and be reasonably attractive. Time to reevaluate. She’d shot way past attractive and traveled straight on to beautiful.

Her glossy cap of dark hair curled around her ears and made him want to slide his fingers into that black silk to see if it felt as good as it looked. She probably had on makeup, but she was skilled enough for it to be invisible. That left her with a wholesome and very kissable face, big gray eyes and a sweetly rounded chin that begged to be cupped in one hand while he combed through her hair with the other. He could almost taste her lips.

She’d traded in the damaged suit for a ruffled white sleeveless blouse and gray capris. She wore sandals that showed off lavender toenails. He could eat her up with a spoon. But he’d thought of a great idea while he was driving here, and he should tell her what it was…just as soon as he remembered. Seeing her looking so sexy and approachable had made him forget everything else.

“You’re right on time.” She smiled, which warmed him in a way he hadn’t been warmed in a very long while.

“I was eager to leave.” Although his brain wasn’t working very well, his gift of gab seemed functional. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about the Last Chance Youth Program. It just started, and the place is overrun with wild adolescent boys.”

She shook her head. “I hadn’t heard, but what a cool idea. You don’t like kids?”

“Sure, in small numbers. Eight of them running around the ranch is…a lot.”

“They’ll be living there?”

“Until the middle of August. The idea is to take boys from troubled situations and give them a couple months of ranch life. With luck they’ll leave with a work ethic and maybe even some self-esteem.”

“I love it. If I were staying, I’d want to see if I could help.”

Nash grimaced. “Which makes me the guy with the bad attitude who’s griping about the mayhem involved.”

“Not at all. Not everybody’s in love with kids that age. You have a right not to be.”

He thought about that. “No, I don’t. I’m at the Last Chance because the folks there believe in giving both people and animals one more shot at success. That’s what this program is about, too, and I’m going to adjust my thinking.”

Taking a deep breath, he smiled at her. He’d love to compliment her on how nice she looked, but that might not be appropriate for the hired hand. “The flower pots sure spruce up the porch.”

“Thanks!” She seemed genuinely pleased. “I thought so, too. Hungry?”

Now there was a loaded question. “Sure am. Some-thing smells really good.” He actually meant her, because she gave off a delicate scent that reminded him of plants that flowered only in moonlight. He’d learned about those while he’d lived in California.

But she’d think he was referring to the smell of food coming from the kitchen, and that was fine. They should keep their interaction platonic, or as close to platonic as they could manage given that they were both healthy and human. Looking at her in the soft light of early evening, he was feeling very human, indeed.

“It’s chicken,” she said. “Not very exciting, I’m afraid. Come on in.”

He followed close enough that he could hold the screen door for her and breathe in her night-blooming flower scent. “I don’t cook, so anything more than peanut butter and jelly is exciting to me.” He might be wise to stop talking about what excited him, since Bethany had chicken beat by a country mile.

“Don’t look at the living room,” she said as she walked quickly through it. “I haven’t had time to do much in here.”

“I bunk with a bunch of cowhands. You can’t shock me.” But he tried to honor her request and not notice that the room was shabby and unkempt. No liquor bottles were lying around, but the faint smell of whiskey lingered. Once you spilled liquor on carpet, the stink was hard to get out. Maybe she hadn’t needed much gasoline to light that recliner on fire, after all. He understood her fierce desire to haul it out of here.

The living room was separated from the dining room by French doors, and when she opened them, he walked from a miserable space into a joyous one. “Wow. You’ve been working hard.”

“You have no idea how I loved making at least one room in this house look the way it’s supposed to.”

He surveyed the flickering candles on the table and the sideboard, the flowered centerpiece, the white linen tablecloth and what had to be her mother’s best china, silverware and stemmed glasses. A modest crystal chandelier above the table sparkled and as the sun drifted lower in the sky, its rays shone through clean windows. He’d bet she’d washed the curtains, too.

“I can tell.” He gazed at her, touched by all the effort she’d made. “I’m honored to be your guest.”

She flushed. “I did it as much for me as for you. I wouldn’t want you to think that I was trying to…to create a romantic setting for some reason.”

“No, no, I’m sure you weren’t.” Damn. He hadn’t thought of that, but it would have been kind of nice if she had.

“I mean, for all I know you have a girlfriend, and I—”

“No girlfriend, but you’re headed off to Atlanta, where you may have a boyfriend.”

“No boyfriend, but I am headed off to Atlanta.” She gestured toward the festive table. “This was just a whim, to make the house seem a little bit happy again.”

“Right. I completely get that.” No boyfriend, but she wasn’t interested in pursuing anything with him. Okay. He should be relieved, because they had no business getting involved, but from the minute she’d stepped out on that porch, he’d found himself wishing that somehow they could…what?

He’d already had this talk with himself. It went against his moral code to get cozy with the woman who was paying him to make some quick repairs so she could sell the place. And that was when he finally remembered the idea he’d had driving in here.

Once he remembered, he had trouble not blurting it out, but that wouldn’t be the best way to approach such an important discussion. He should lead up to the topic. She had wineglasses on the table. Although he was opposed to drinking on the job, maybe tonight he should make an exception, because this idea might go better if it was presented over a glass of wine.

If she accepted his offer to buy the house, would that change the dynamic between them? Then he’d be a buyer, not an employee. His moral code might allow him to get cozy with the seller of the property he was purchasing. After all, why not? Because she might think that was a really bad plan, that was why not.

“Nash? Are you okay?”

He blinked and wondered how long he’d been standing there staring into space as if he had buckshot for brains. “I’m fine. Sorry. Got lost in thought for a minute.”

“I noticed. You looked a bit startled, and I hope this setting didn’t trigger a bad memory.”

“It’s not that at all.”

“Are you sure? Because I can blow out the candles and we can eat out on the front porch. It takes time to get over a divorce. Sometimes a situation will blindside you with memories, good or bad.”

“You’ve been divorced?”

“No, but I talked to plenty of divorced people back when I was working full-time as a counselor. I can tell it was a painful event. So if all this reminds you of something to do with your ex, then let’s—”

“Not at all. This is great.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m glad you like it. I put out the wineglasses automatically, but we don’t have to drink wine. You may not want to, considering that you’ll be working later.”

“Let’s have a glass of wine,” Nash said. “I’m a big guy, so one glass won’t put me under the table. And we should toast getting one room looking really good.” There, he’d finally managed to get them on a safe track.

She smiled. “That would be lovely. Stay right there. I’ll be back in a flash with the wine and the food.”

“I’ll help.” He started to follow her into the kitchen.

“No.” She turned so abruptly that he bumped into her.

Although she backed away immediately, his body still felt the imprint of hers—soft, yielding, delicious. He closed his hands into fists so he wouldn’t do something really stupid and reach for her.

She’d been affected by the accidental contact, too. Her pupils widened with awareness. She might be heading off to Atlanta, but that didn’t stop her from being attracted to him. That was gratifying.

She cleared her throat. “I don’t want you to come into the kitchen. I scrubbed it down, but it still isn’t very pretty. The dining room is, and I want to maintain the illusion.”

“Having you wait on me doesn’t seem right.”

“Humor me, okay?”

He relented, partly because she looked so incredibly beautiful standing there with the light from the chandelier sparkling in her eyes. He also realized that she’d encountered mostly ugliness when she’d walked into the house earlier today. If limiting his view to this dining room helped her cope, then he’d go along.

“All right,” he said. “But I refuse to sit down like some lord of the manor. I’ll stay standing until I can help you into your chair.”

She nodded. “It’s a good compromise.” With that she turned and walked over to the pocket door leading into the kitchen. “No peeking. Enjoy the sunset.”

Because he wanted to make her happy, he walked over to the set of two double-hung windows that faced southwest and watched an orange sun slide behind a bank of clouds. From here he could see a little bit of the Grand Tetons to his right. The house wasn’t angled to capitalize on a view of the majestic range. The best spot might be at the back, and he wondered if there was a porch out there.

If not, he’d add one. Ah, listen to him, talking in his head as if she’d already agreed to sell him the Triple G. But he couldn’t think why she wouldn’t.

Then a very logical reason came to him. Obviously making this dining room pretty again had been a labor of love. The crystal chandelier told him that at one time, someone, probably her mother, had tried to bring cheer into this house.

Now Bethany was attempting to do the same thing by rescuing the house, room by room. As she gradually removed the ugliness her father had created and replaced it with beauty, she might begin to love her old family home again. In the meantime Nash would improve the look of the outbuildings so they wouldn’t be depressing anymore, either.

Sure, Atlanta was a long way from Wyoming, but her decision to sell might be a knee-jerk reaction to her father’s neglect of the place followed by his undignified death. Once the house and outbuildings looked decent, though, she might decide to keep the ranch.

He still planned to ask if she’d sell it to him, but his conscience would require him to add that she could change her mind later. That was the right thing to do. But as he contemplated how this could turn out, his cherished dream began to crumble.