Читать книгу Matchmaking with a Mission - B.J. Daniels, B.J. Daniels - Страница 9

The auction was held in front of the Harper House on a bright blue-sky June day. Someone had mowed part of the weeds in the front yard the night before. The air smelled of fresh-mown grass and dust from the county road out front.

As McKenna mounted the steps to the open front door, she saw that the footprints she’d seen yesterday evening in the thick layer of dust had been trampled by the half dozen people who’d traipsed through the house this morning.

April had been right. The house needed work. But that wasn’t what surprised McKenna. She’d always been enthralled by the house. She’d just assumed she would feel the same once inside. The interior had a dark, cold feel even with the warm sun shining through the dirty windows, and she found herself shivering as she walked through the rooms.

She noticed the shovel and shirt she’d seen by the back door yesterday were gone. On the third floor, when she looked out a small back window, she couldn’t see the places where the man had dug. They’d apparently been covered with cut weeds. Had she not caught the man in the act yesterday, she would never have guessed anyone had been digging on the hillside.

It still made her wonder what he might have been looking for, but she turned her attention to the house as she wandered from room to room, trying to imagine herself living here. It was hard given the condition of the house. It would take days just to clean, let alone paint. She knew exactly what her sister Eve would say.

Raze the house and start over.

McKenna had heard several such comments from the other people who had gathered for the auction.

“There’s a nice building spot upon the hill once the house is gone,” she’d heard one man say.

But the rooms were spacious, and she told herself once the house was cleaned up, painted and furnished she could be happy here. Anyway, the house was the reason she’d always wanted the place, wasn’t it?

At one fifty-five she gathered with the others in the front yard as the auctioneer climbed the porch steps and cleared his throat to quiet the small crowd.

McKenna glanced at the group around her, surprised that some of the people who’d toured the house earlier had left. Just curiosity seekers. She recognized only one elderly man and his wife, Edgar and Ethel Winthrop. The couple lived about two miles to the north. McKenna was surprised they’d stayed, since she doubted they would be bidding on the place.

She didn’t recognize any of the others waiting. Three of the men appeared to be in their early thirties; the fourth man, in his forties, was on a cell phone. She figured he was here bidding for an investor and turned her attention to the other three men.

One, clearly a local rancher, wore a Mint Bar cap, a worn canvas coat and work boots and had a toothpick sticking out the side of his mouth. The second was dressed in a dinosaur T-shirt, jeans and athletic shoes. The third man wore jeans, cowboy boots, a Western shirt and a gray Stetson.

As the auctioneer described the property and the county auction requirements, she saw another man, one she hadn’t noticed before. He’d parked on the county road some distance from the proceedings and now stood, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the front of his pickup truck, his battered Western straw hat pulled low against the sun.

He’d obviously just come to watch. He was dressed in work boots, jeans and a white T-shirt that called attention to his tanned, muscular arms. There was a toolbox in the back of his truck and a construction logo of some kind on the cab, but she couldn’t make out the name from where she stood.

“If everyone’s ready, let’s begin,” the auctioneer said, drawing her attention back to the front.

The cowboy glanced over at her as the auctioneer began the bidding. He was good-looking enough to make her do a double take.

“I can’t believe anyone would buy that house,” Ethel Winthrop whispered behind McKenna.

“Not everyone cares about a house’s history, Ethel,” her husband whispered back.

“Who would like to start the bidding?” the auctioneer inquired.

When no one responded, the auctioneer started the bid high and had to drop the price when there were no takers.

McKenna waited as the man on the cell phone bid along with dinosaur-shirt man and the local rancher. The cowboy hadn’t bid either, she noticed, apparently waiting as she was. Or maybe he’d just come to watch.

As the price rose, the man on the cell phone quit bidding and left. It had come down between the rancher and dinoshirt man when the cowboy jumped in. McKenna feared the men were going to drive the price up too high for her.

The rancher quit. It was down to the cowboy and the dino-shirt man when McKenna finally bid.

The cowboy shot her a look and raised her bid.

She bid two more times, dino-shirt dropping out, so it was just her and the cowboy. One look into his dark eyes and she realized he was enjoying himself—at her expense.

“The young woman has the bid,” the auctioneer said after they’d gone back and forth.

Time seemed to stop, and then the cowboy tipped his hat, his dark eyes flashing. “It’s the lady’s.”

McKenna couldn’t believe it.

The auctioneer closed the bidding. Edgar Winthrop stepped up to congratulate her and ask her what she planned to do with the house as the remainder of the small group dispersed.

“I’m going to live here,” she said and saw his wife’s expression.

“Not alone, I hope,” she said.

“Ethel,” the husband said in a warning tone.

“Edgar, she should know about that house,” the elderly woman insisted. “If she moves in and then finds out…”

The husband took his wife’s arm. “You’ll have to excuse my wife. All houses have a history, Ethel.” He smiled at McKenna. “I wouldn’t concern yourself with local gossip. What’s past is past, right?”

McKenna smiled, too excited to care about the house’s history. Anyway, she figured the woman was referring to the troubled boys who’d lived on the place when she was a girl. They couldn’t have been any worse than she and her sisters.

“Congratulations, I’m sure it will make you a fine home,” Edgar said.

“I’m sure it will, too,” she agreed.

He tugged at his wife’s elbow, but Ethel grabbed McKenna’s sleeve. “If you need us, we live up that way as the crow flies.” She pointed north.

“Thank you,” McKenna said as Edgar Winthrop took his wife’s hand and led her toward their car.

“You remember what I said,” Ethel called over her shoulder.

“I will, thank you.” She turned, looking for the cowboy who’d given up the bid to her, but he’d apparently left right away.

As she moved up to the porch to take care of the paperwork, she noticed the man who’d parked on the road and watched from a distance also leaving. While she couldn’t see his face in the shadow of his Western straw hat, she had the impression he was upset.

IF NATE DEMPSEY HAD been superstitious, he would have gotten the hell out of Whitehorse the moment he’d seen the blond cowgirl again.

When he’d seen her in the small crowd that had gathered for the auction, he’d hoped she was here out of curiosity and nothing more. Ultimately he’d hoped that no one would bid on Harper House or that the minimum bid would be too high and that the house would remain empty just long enough for him to finish what he’d come here to do.

But that hope had been shot to hell the moment the young blonde began to bid. He’d seen her interest in the house when she’d come around the place before.

When she kept bidding, he knew she was determined to have Harper House.

When the dust settled, the bidding done, the blonde had the house. McKenna Bailey. He’d discovered he’d been right about her living nearby. Her family owned the ranch adjacent to the property. The Bailey girls, as they were known in these parts, had a reputation for being rough-and-tumble cowgirls with a streak of independence that ran as deep as their mule-headedness.

McKenna Bailey had proven that today.

Not the kind of woman who would be easily intimidated.

But as he drove away from Harper House he knew he had to find a way to make sure McKenna Bailey didn’t get in his way. He’d waited so long to end this, and now she had unknowingly put herself in the middle of more trouble than she could imagine.

He cursed the way his luck was going as he raced north toward the small Western town, ruing the day he’d ever laid eyes on Whitehorse, Montana—and McKenna Bailey.

BY THAT EVENING McKenna was actually in the mood for a date—even a blind one—as she walked into Northern Lights restaurant. She was still floating on air from the excitement of her purchase earlier that afternoon, although she hadn’t had much time to look the place over after signing all the papers.

She couldn’t wait to take her horse out and ride her property.

Northern Lights restaurant had been opened just before Christmas by McKenna’s friend Laci Cavanaugh and her fiancé Bridger Duvall. It was the place to eat in Whitehorse. The fact that her date had chosen it gave McKenna hope.

She was instantly disappointed, though, when she was told by a young waitress she didn’t know that Laci wasn’t working tonight and that Bridger was swamped back in the kitchen.

“Are you dining alone?” the waitress asked.

She certainly hoped not. As she glanced around the restaurant, she spotted a lone male sitting off in one corner. He raised his head and got to his feet when he saw her.

He was the good-looking cowboy who’d bid against her at the auction earlier that day. Just her luck. And his.

“Small world, huh?” he said with an ironic smile.

This was her date? She remembered the way he’d tipped his hat to her when he quit bidding. She was pretty sure that had been anger she’d seen in his dark eyes.

“You look like you could use a drink. I know I could.” He motioned to the waitress before turning back to McKenna. “What’ll you have? Hell, you probably want champagne to celebrate, don’t you? Give us a bottle of your best.”

The waitress took off before McKenna could stop her. The last thing she wanted to do was have dinner with this man, let alone celebrate with him.

He held out his hand. “Flynn Garrett.”

His hand swallowed hers. “McKenna—”

“Bailey,” he finished for her. “Yeah, I know.” His smile broadened as he seemed to take her in. “The woman who bought herself a house and forty acres today. No hard feelings. You won fair and square. So let’s celebrate.”

He pulled out a chair for her and waited.

She tried to think of a good reason to break the date, but then the champagne arrived and she found herself taking a seat as the cork was popped and Flynn made a show of pouring them each a glass.

“To you, Miss Bailey,” he said, tapping his glass against hers.

His dark eyes never left hers as he took a sip. “Hmm, not bad,” he said, although she was almost positive he would have rather had another beer like the one he’d been nursing when she’d arrived.

She tried to relax. Blind dates were nerve-racking enough without her ending up having dinner with the man she’d outbid. A very handsome man, she might add.

“You’re a tough woman to beat at her own game,” he said, his gaze hard to read. She’d put her money on him still being angry. She’d bet he was the kind of man who didn’t like to lose.

“If it makes you feel any better, you drove the bid up so high I have very little money left for improvements.”

He appeared shocked. “You aren’t considering doing anything with that house?”

“Yes. Why?” She watched the way he nervously took a drink of his champagne. “What had you planned to do with it?”

“Burn it down.”

Now it was her turn to be shocked. “You aren’t serious.”

“I just wanted the land. The house is in such bad shape…” He frowned. “Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear that.”

“It needs work, I’ll admit, but structurally—”

“You planning to do the work yourself?”

She bristled. “I’ll have you know I’m capable of doing just about anything I set my mind to.”

He nodded slowly, eyeing her with an intensity that made her a little nervous. “I bet you are.”

The waitress brought the menus and he disappeared behind his. McKenna told herself that he was still angry with her for outbidding him and that he wouldn’t have bid so high if he hadn’t wanted the house as well as the land. What he said about the condition of the house was just sour grapes.

“How are the steaks here?” he asked over the top of his menu. His eyes were almost black. “You look like a woman who could handle a steak.” He put down his menu as the waitress appeared and grinned at McKenna. “Am I wrong?”

She ordered a rib eye, rare, which made him chuckle. He ordered the largest T-bone the restaurant served, also rare.

“So tell me about McKenna Bailey,” he said, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table, those dark eyes intent on her again.

“And bore you to tears?”

He shook his head. “There is nothing boring about you, and we both know it. Why Whitehorse? Come on, I really want to know.”

“I was born and raised here.”

His eyebrow shot up. “No kidding.”

“Well, that’s somewhat true,” she amended with a smile. “I was adopted when I was born. My adopted family lives in Old Town Whitehorse. That’s where I grew up.”

“You’re adopted?” That seemed to interest him.

“I didn’t find out until recently.”

“No one told you?”

She shook her head. “If you knew my adoptive mother, that would make sense to you. She said the moment she laid eyes on my sisters and me we were hers and nobody else’s, and that’s why she didn’t tell us. Lila Bailey Jackson is a very strong, determined woman.”

“Like her daughter.” He took a sip of his champagne, then frowned. “Lila Bailey Jackson?”

“She recently married Loren Jackson. It’s a long story, but apparently they were in love for years.”

“Jackson,” he repeated softly. “Like the sheriff?” He refilled her glass. She hadn’t realized she’d emptied it already. Nerves.

“The sheriff is Loren’s son and my sister Eve’s fiancé. It’s a small town,” she added with a laugh and realized she was starting to enjoy herself. And why shouldn’t she? She did have something to celebrate, and her date was just as handsome as Arlene had said.

She hadn’t dated all that much, too busy between school and a job working for a local veterinarian in Bozeman while she’d attended Montana State University. It felt good to be in the company of an attractive cowboy.

“So tell me about you.”

He shrugged. “Not much to tell. Raised on a ranch, like you.”

Had she told him she was raised on a ranch? She couldn’t remember.

“I’ve worked all over, wrangling and doing odd jobs. Once you turn thirty you can’t help but think about planting roots. Not too deep, though,” he quickly amended. “I like being a free spirit. When I leave here I’m thinking of going to South America. Like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. You know, they robbed a train up here right before they went to South America.”

Allegedly. But she didn’t tell him that. She knew Flynn Garrett’s type. He liked to think of himself as an outlaw. He’d used his looks to get him through life, always taking the path of least resistance. She’d dated a few boys like him in college. They were fun. At least for a while.

“So why did you bid on the old Harper place?” she asked and took a drink of her champagne. She might as well celebrate because she’d just bought herself a house and forty acres.

He shrugged in answer. “I like competition.”

She eyed him over the rim of her champagne glass. Yeah? But he wasn’t as good at losing as he was at pretending, she thought. The question was: had he wanted Harper House or did he just not want anyone else to have it?

“What will you do now?” she asked.

“I don’t know. You’ve forced me to change my plans.” He smiled at her as if he thought he could con her into thinking she owed him. Not likely.

“Sorry,” she said with a grin, “but I’ve always wanted that place.”

“Really? Why?”

She shook her head. “I wish I knew.”

Flynn seemed lost in thought for a long moment, and she wondered if he understood the pull of Harper House more than he was admitting.

She felt a kinship with him because of the house. It was odd. She’d just met him earlier today and yet it was as if she’d known him a lot longer. Which made this date a little sad, since she didn’t think she would be going out with him again.

Flynn poured them both more champagne, emptying the bottle. “Don’t worry about me,” he said as if there hadn’t been a lag in the conversation. “I’m a man who always lands on his feet, one way or another. Meanwhile, I’m having dinner with a beautiful, fascinating woman.” His expression was so intense she was glad that the waitress appeared with their salads.

The conversation turned to horses during dinner and that awkward moment passed. McKenna realized that he’d either guessed about her love of horses or someone had told him. But then, that would mean that he’d asked around about her. Arlene. How had McKenna forgotten that Arlene had set this up?

She recalled how Arlene had been so confident this man would be perfect for her. She really should cancel her membership in Arlene’s dating service first thing in the morning. If only she’d read the contract more closely.

The evening passed quickly, and suddenly they were at that uncomfortable end of the date where he walked her out to her pickup and she feared he would kiss her.

And feared he wouldn’t.

His kiss was nice. Soft, sweet, tentative. What surprised her was that she sensed a vulnerability in him when he kissed her that he’d kept well hidden in the time she’d been around him. Flynn Garrett didn’t have it all together as much as he wanted everyone to believe.

He drew back from the kiss, and she was surprised to see regret in his gaze. As he turned and walked away, she could only assume she wouldn’t be seeing him again.