Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: A Ranch for His Family\Cowgirl in High Heels\A Man to Believe In (40 page)

Ryan looked around. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Besides, if I hadn't been arguing with you, maybe you would have latched the gate.”

“I doubt it,” he said straight-faced. “I suck at gates.”

A smile fought its way out. “Regardless, I'll handle the backyard.”

“Let me know if you need help.”

His gaze drifted down toward her abdomen, and Ellie answered his unspoken question. “Two and half months.”

He flushed. “I wasn't...” He closed his mouth and shook his head. “Sorry.” His voice was low, sincere. Sexy.

“No apology necessary.” She glanced at the house, knowing she needed to get away from him, regroup. “I, uh, left the teakettle on.”

“And I left the tractor running.”

She could hear it running in the distance. He, at least, hadn't lied about his excuse to escape as she had. Ellie smiled a little before turning and retreating to the safety of the house.

The guy still made her palms sweat.

* * *

H
E
SHOULDN
'
T
HAVE
kissed her last night. The woman was dealing with issues, and judging from her skittish behavior this morning, he'd added to them. That hadn't been his intention. What he'd thought would be a comforting I'll-be-your-friend kiss had exploded into something intense within seconds of their lips meeting. So intense he felt himself growing hard at the memory, which pissed him off.

He crossed the yard to the idling tractor and climbed into the seat, raising the bucket before putting it in gear. He wanted to get the barn and corrals mucked out before his next rodeo and he had to get to the feed store to pick up the grain delivery. Lots of time alone to think, to wonder about the friggin lawyer, Ellie, Walt's future...and roping.

What had once been the center of his existence during the competitive season suddenly didn't seem all that important, which wasn't the attitude to have if he was going to make it to Nationals. He didn't know if his sudden ambivalence was related to his brother, or if it was merely a coincidence that about the time his top competition disappeared he was no longer as interested in dominating the field as he'd once been.

It'll pass.
He'd get his competitive drive back.

The tractor bounced as he pulled it forward and started toward the pen the calves had occupied until last night. Walt had put the calves in a pen on the opposite side of the barn—one with a loop safety latch in addition to the regular latch. Ryan didn't know whether he should be insulted or amused.

He'd just parked the tractor after a good hour of mucking the empty corrals when he heard the door of the main house shut. Through the open barn door he watched as Ellie cautiously approached the flagstone steps where Hiss liked to sun, then after ascertaining that it was all clear, walking briskly to her Land Rover. Was she as alone as she'd indicated? He hated the thought. Yes, she had a place to live, but did she have anyone to lean on?

You're not that someone.

No doubt, but it still bothered him to think of her facing her situation alone.

* * *

I
T
HAD
SEEMED
as if she'd had to wait forever for her OB appointment, but now that Ellie was there, in the office, she felt totally out of place—just as she'd felt on the ranch during the first few days. She didn't belong here. This hadn't been in the plan.

There were four other women waiting with her, two with small children, all on the same journey as she, but they seemed more relaxed, as if they'd clued in to whatever secret there was to raising children and felt confident in their future.

Ellie felt anything but.

“You're new in town?” the nurse said as she directed Ellie to the scale.

“Brand-new.”

“Have you seen a doctor previously?”

“No. I spent some time in denial and then I moved here and couldn't get an appointment for a few weeks.”

The nurse's eyebrows went up at her candid denial, but all she said was, “How far along do you think you are?”

“I know exactly how far along I am because there's only one time I could have gotten pregnant.”

Ellie told her the date and the nurse jotted it down.

“Hmm. Ten weeks on the nose. That's right when we first want to see you.”

“Why so late?” Ellie asked.

“If the pregnancy isn't viable, nature generally takes care of it during the first eight weeks.” The nurse removed the blood pressure cuff, seemingly satisfied with the reading. “In some larger practices, it's hard to get an appointment during the first trimester unless you're already a patient.” She took a paper cup off the top of a stack, wrote Ellie's name on it with marker and then handed it to her. “The restroom is on the right, the instructions for collection are on the door.”

Almost an hour later Ellie walked out of the office into the clear Montana morning reassured that the fall she'd taken while chasing the calves had done no damage. She had another appointment scheduled in four weeks' time, a plastic bag of reference materials and a due date.

Very sobering.

She had six and a half months to prepare to be a mom. It'd taken her longer than that to decorate her last apartment.

As soon as she got home, Ellie was going to seriously start applying for jobs. She'd had her grieving time and her adjustment time. Now she needed to set about making a life for her and her kid.

A life where?

Wherever she could find a job and afford to live as a single mother. She was facing an awesome responsibility here and it was time to get off her ass and make things work.

Ellie bought groceries and several flats of flowers at the hardware store next door, then drove back to the ranch ticking items off a mental list—people to call, areas to explore. She rounded the last corner before the ranch house, then slowed almost to a stop when she spotted a shiny black truck with a lot of chrome parked in front of the house.

She'd lived for too long in the city to feel comfortable with this situation and was seriously considering swinging the Rover around and driving back to the Garcias' place when a man got out of the truck, smiling broadly as he raised a hand.

He was dressed very much as Walt had been the first and only time she'd met with him to discuss his position—white starched shirt, dark jeans, shiny boots. His gray hat was immaculate, as were his teeth. A large silver buckle covered a good portion of his flat abdomen. He looked like a highly successful rancher—or ranch consultant. Was this George?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

E
LLIE
DROVE
THROUGH
the gate and parked, but kept the engine running as she cracked the window down a few inches.

“Are you Ellison Hunter?” the man asked in a congenial voice.

“I am.” Wavy dark hair showed from under the edge of his hat and there was a smile in the man's hazel eyes. He was really good-looking.

“George Monroe.”

“I had a feeling,” she said, turning off the ignition. “My uncle said you might be early, but I don't think he thought it would be this early.”

“It's not, but I was in the area and decided to stop by. Introduce myself.” He straightened, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed his surroundings with a practiced eye. “I can't wait to get to work.”

Ellie wasn't certain what that meant, but after talking to Ryan, she had an idea that it didn't bode well for Walt.

“If you have a minute to spare,” Ellie said after getting out of the Rover, “would you like something to drink and we can discuss your plans?”

“Sounds excellent,” he said.

George stayed for thirty minutes. Ellie had started to usher him out to the back patio with the iced tea, then remembered the mayhem the calves had caused. She stopped in the middle of the living room, smiled at George and said, “Why don't we sit inside?”

He shrugged and followed her to the kitchen.

“What I like to do,” he said, “is to take part in the daily ranch activities. Get a feel for who does what and how.” He paused as if expecting her to be impressed by his hands-on approach. Ellie gave an encouraging smile and he went on. “Having grown up on a ranch, and worked on a ranch, I know the qualities that make a competent ranch hand and ranch manager.”

“Good to know,” she said politely. How many of those qualities would Walt have? Two? Three?

“I also do a complete financial evaluation, going over the records for the past several years, make recommendations based on those. I have a background in agriculture, range management and beef husbandry. I'll evaluate the breeding program, the forage, the wildlife management practices.”

There didn't seem to be much George couldn't do. He flew his own plane, brewed his own beer and sometimes he sang with a trio at the cowboy poetry gatherings that had become popular in the West over the past few decades.

After he finished telling her how he operated and that he'd be in contact soon with a definite arrival date, Ellie walked him to the porch and then watched as he drove away.

Charming guy. Seemed to know his stuff. Highly recommended.

Ellie ticked through the reasons she should welcome George Monroe to the ranch. But there was something about him that kept Ellie from fully embracing his presence there. Maybe Ryan had prejudiced her toward him, but she was going to hold off on her judgment of Mr. Monroe. See what
he
did, how
he
operated. She was also going to tell Milo that he'd stopped by and firmed up his arrival date. She waited until the late afternoon to call, but as she'd half expected, her uncle was still at the hospital, so she gave Angela the news.

“Milo will be glad to hear that,” Angela said.

“Shouldn't he be home by now?”

“He's never home because we're going on vacation and he wants to make certain all the loose ends are tied up before he goes.”

“Is that possible in his job?” Ellie asked.

“Of course not, but that doesn't keep him from trying.”

“Where are you going on vacation?” Ellie asked, because it didn't sound as if they were coming to the ranch and she'd thought that was the plan.

“Two weeks in Belize, followed by a few days at home so that Milo can put his staff back in order and then we fly to Montana for two weeks at the ranch. I can't wait to see you. How are you feeling?” Angela asked, plowing right into the next topic.

“Good,” Ellie answered. “I saw a doctor and I guess everything is progressing as it should.”

“I heard from Mavis.”

“And...?”

“Your life is your own.”

“That's what she told me,” Ellie said, feeling a twinge of disappointment that her mother hadn't at least said that she was looking forward to a grandchild. Of course she wasn't, but Ellie still had allowed herself to fantasize in the odd moment.

“So do you have any idea when you might get here?” she asked, needing to change the subject. “I'd like to have some food in the house, have the bedroom ready.”

“Isn't there someone to do that?” Angela asked. “The woman that does the payroll?”

“I'll do it,” Ellie answered.

“Beginning to get that nesting instinct?”

“It gives me something to do.”

“Feel free to buy anything you need to make the place more comfortable. We'll reimburse.”

“Careful, Auntie. I haven't been shopping in a while.”

“Then go for it, dear. Carte blanche. On me.”

Ellie hung up the phone and leaned her head back into the leather chair cushion. It wouldn't matter how much she spent, this place was never going to be comfortable for Angela. Maybe if it was closer to a larger city, with a golf course, shopping and four-star restaurants...but it wasn't. It was close to a small town with no golf course, two small restaurants and a seasonal drive-in. Angela was moving here for Milo and she was convinced that she could do it. After living here for a couple weeks, Ellie thought otherwise.

She set the phone on the side table and slipped on her shoes. Surely, once reality set in, Milo and Angela would work out a schedule where they stayed at the ranch only part of the year. Angela might survive that. Maybe Ellie could even come and visit them. Show her child some cows and horses.

See a hot cowboy when her life was more settled.

But why? It wasn't as if it would go anywhere.

Hiss was on the steps when she opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. Sucking in a breath, she skirted around him. He sensed the movement and slithered off the step and into the grass, coming to a stop a few feet away, lying perfectly still as Ellie walked past. Lonnie was at the shop—she'd seen him go by a few minutes before calling Angela—and now would be a perfect time for him to catch the snake.

She crossed the gravel drive to the shop and walked through the open door, stopping just inside to allow her eyes to adjust.

“You need something?” Walt barked.

Startled, Ellie turned toward the direction of his voice to find him standing next to a workbench. “I was looking for Lonnie.”

“He's out in the field.”

“Hiss is out and I thought maybe Lonnie could catch him and move him.”

Walt scrunched up his face into a disgusted expression and went back to digging through the tool chest in front of him.

“If someone doesn't move him, then Angela will probably call in an exterminator.” Ellie was not exaggerating.

“What in the hell are people like that doing buying a ranch?” Walt muttered just loud enough for her to hear over the clattering of tools.

“Saving your ass, from what I gather,” Ellie retorted, turning to leave before things got ugly and running smack into Ryan. His hands automatically caught her shoulders, steadying her. She glanced up at him, gave a small snort to cover the instant reaction of her body to his touch and walked on out of the shop.

“What just happened?” she heard him ask Walt before she got out of earshot. She was barely to the flagstones when she heard the crunch of boots on gravel behind her. She turned around before Ryan reached her.

“You don't need to act as peacemaker between me and Walt,” she said before he could open his mouth.

A corner of his mouth tightened as if he was stopping himself from arguing the point. “Where's the snake?”

“In the grass by the stone steps.” Ryan immediately started across the flagstones and she followed. “He
was
there,” she said, pointing at the grass where she'd last seen the snake.

“Must be under the porch,” Ryan said.

“Comforting thought,” Ellie muttered, although truthfully she was no longer all that disturbed by the snake, which seemed to want as little to do with her as she did with it. She brushed the hair away from the side of her face as a cool gust of wind swept over them. “George stopped by.”

Ryan stilled. “What did you think?”

“He seems very accomplished.”

“How white were his teeth?”

“Pretty white,” she said. There hadn't been much about him that hadn't been polished and perfect, from his impeccably styled hair to his lizard-skin boots.

“He was a few years ahead of me in school and kind of notorious for being nuts about his teeth.”

“Being nuts about your teeth doesn't mean you don't know what you're doing.”

“I never said George didn't know what he was doing. I said that he liked to fire people because he can.”

“If that's indeed the way he operates, then I'm aware and can make sure he's fair in his recommendations.”

“Even with Walt?”

“Walt is his own worst enemy.”

“I've heard that before.”

“I'm probably the one that said it.”

“I think you were.” Ryan regarded her for a moment, a half smile on his face, but she could see that his thoughts were traveling along serious lines. “When's George showing up?”

“Early next week.”

“I'll warn Walt,” he said.

Ellie nodded, thinking
good luck,
but seeing no reason to say it out loud. They both knew what Ryan was dealing with.

“By the way,” he continued, “I have a business appointment tomorrow, so I'll be gone for a couple hours. I'll make them up—”

“When you get back from the rodeo the following day?” Ellie smiled a little, trying to keep her attitude friendly yet businesslike. “Don't worry about it. I figure you put in more hours than we pay you for anyway.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” she replied. Because that wasn't the problem. Still being attracted to him was.

* * *

A
BOUT
THIRTY
SECONDS
into the lawyer meeting, Ryan understood perfectly why his father had used an attorney from Billings, many miles away. While lawyers could not break confidentiality, Charles was obviously not comfortable having a local guy knowing him for what he was. A man who refused responsibility for his son.

Ryan sat stiffly, hardly able to believe he was hearing what was being laid out in front of him. Charles wanted him to sign a confidentiality agreement saying he would never claim kinship, never challenge his estate after his death, in return for a lump-sum settlement now.

“Do you understand the agreement?”

“Pretty hard not to. My father wants to buy my silence.”

The lawyer's expression didn't change. Apparently he was used to such things. Well, Ryan wasn't. “Is he offering the same agreement to my mother?”

“I can't discuss that.”

“I can find out, you know.”

“I can't discuss anything that doesn't pertain to the matter at hand.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, wanting very much to tell the dapper fellow across the table to tell his father to shove the deal up his ass. However, as satisfying as that would be, there was more than just himself to consider here. The sum Charles offered was generous, although not as generous as a third of the Montoya Ranch.

“Mr. Montoya did request that you discuss this matter with your mother prior to making a decision to act in
any
regard.” The lawyer emphasized the last words in a way that made them sound like a subtle threat.

“Meaning to talk to her before I announce to the world what he's offered?”

“I believe that's exactly what he means.”

Charles was taking a chance, but he'd lived for years wondering if Lydia or Ryan would break their silence, and apparently after their last encounter at the rodeo that had taken Matt out, Charles wanted some kind of a guarantee. “I want a copy of these papers.”

“I can forward them to your lawyer for review.”

“And if I don't have a lawyer?”

“I would think with a matter such as this, you may want to retain services. Have him contact me here.” The lawyer pushed a card across the table to Ryan, who tucked it into his shirt pocket without looking at it.

“Mr. Madison?” Ryan met the lawyer's eyes then, saw a touch of empathy. “Seek legal counsel.”

“Yeah.” He'd already figured that this was nothing he wanted to deal with alone and, surprisingly, he felt very much like his father—he didn't want to do this through a local attorney. Of course, he could just say take a flying leap, walk out of this office and make Charles suffer.

He kind of liked that idea...except that it wouldn't be that easy. If he did things to Charles, it was quite possible that Charles would retaliate against his mother. An ugly can of worms. One he'd had no part in creating but now had to deal with.

“I'll be in contact,” he said, getting to his feet. He didn't know if the attorney was done, but he was.

Ryan drove straight to his mom's beauty shop, only to find that she was elbow deep in foils, coloring Kadie Larson's hair.

“Do you have any time between appointments?” he asked. This wasn't a discussion to squeeze in between hair jobs, but he had to leave for a rodeo early the next morning and he wanted some answers before he left.

“I'm pretty booked this afternoon,” she said as she folded the ends of a foil. But when she glanced over her shoulder at him and saw his expression, she added, “But why don't you come back at one?”

“See you then.”

He left the shop, hearing the usual burst of noise as the door swung shut and the patrons said what they wouldn't say while he was there. He was glad he couldn't hear what it was, having hung around the shop enough as a kid to know that no subject was sacred. He pulled out his phone, called Francisco to tell him he'd be back later than expected and wouldn't be able to help move the bulls then crossed the street to his truck.