Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler (12 page)

“I want you to ask Bree Collins out on a date.”

What?
Ryan stared at her, his throat running dry. “First you want
me to fire her and now you want me to date her?”

Aunt Mary nodded. “I was wrong about her.”

“Yeah?” Ryan wondered briefly if his aunt’s sickness had addled her brain. “What made you change your mind?”

Her smile broadened. “The look in your eye when you look at her.”

“It’s not what you think. Bree and I are just working together. I made her a deal that if I helped her with—­” He
broke off as Bree came back toward them carrying the stack of orange cones through the gate.

“Do you know how to make apple cobbler?” Aunt Mary asked her.

Bree nodded. “Yes, I do. In fact, I helped my grandma make some for our guests the other day.”

Aunt Mary continued to smile, wider and wider, then gave him a direct look and said, “She’s perfect.”

Oh, no.
Ryan’s stomach clenched
tight. Did his aunt really plan to play matchmaker? His parents claimed if it wasn’t for her they would have never met. His father’s cousin claimed the same. And his cousin’s cousin.

After his aunt got into her truck and left, Bree approached him and asked, “What did she mean, exactly, when your aunt asked me about cobbler and said,
‘She’s perfect’
?”

Ryan couldn’t help but look deep into
those dark sapphire eyes one more time. “Perfect for training the filly.”

“Really? She said that?” Bree’s face lit up with her smile. “I’m so glad I have her approval.”

Ignoring the heat traveling up his neck, Ryan nodded. “Me, too.”

B
REE ADDED ONE
cup of oatmeal, one cup of lavender buds, and several drops of lavender fragrance to the pot of goat milk soap base her grandmother was
stirring on the stove.

“Are you sure homemade soap is cheaper than store-­bought?” Bree asked, her nose wrinkling at the strong scent of lavender filling the entire kitchen.

“It is the way I make it,” Grandma said, gesturing for her to get the molds ready. “Besides, no one needs all those extra chemicals and additives manufacturers put into their products. It’s not healthy and doesn’t
smell half so pretty. The guests love it because oatmeal softens the skin and the scent of lavender helps them relax.”

Bree gasped as a new idea hit her. “I could rub the soap on Ryan’s horses. Then maybe they will relax enough to let him come near them.”

Grandma laughed. “It might be better if you rub the lavender on Ryan.”

“It’s worth a try,” she agreed.

Using two pot holders,
Bree lifted the large, heavy pot off the stove and poured half the speckled, cream-­colored mixture into the wooden, rectangle tray with twenty-­four dividers for individual bars. Then she poured the rest into a cardboard tube with a four-­inch diameter. After the soap hardened they’d peel off the cardboard and slice the soap into rounds.

“Oooh-­eey! That lavender sure is strong,” Ma said,
coming into the kitchen. “At least we’ll have plenty of guest soaps for the cabins. And now that Luke got the insurance renewed we can start taking ­people on trail rides and let them sign up for the mini-­roundups.”

Bree placed the pot in the stainless steel sink to cool off and Grandma had just begun to gather up the thermometers, measuring cups, and utensils when a loud knock sounded on
the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Ma said, and when she returned to the kitchen, a man in tan trousers and a dressy brown leather jacket accompanied her.

“Shane McGrath from Fox Creek Realty,” he said, introducing himself. He held out his hand toward Bree to shake, but Ma pulled it back.

“You don’t want to do that,” she told him. “They’ve been handling lye.”

Roy scrunched up his nose.
“Making perfume?”

Bree shook her head. “No. We’re making homemade oatmeal and lavender guest soaps.”

“Maybe I could save you the trouble,” Shane stated boldly. “I heard the ranch was in trouble and was wondering if you were interested in selling. I made some inquiries and I know at least two clients who might be interested in taking this place off your hands.”

Bree pulled the yellow
rubber gloves off her hands and slapped them into the sink with the pot. “And who might they be? Susan and Wade Randall?”

He gave her an apologetic look. “My clients wish to remain anonymous for now.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re not interested in selling,” Bree told him. “Right, Grandma?”

“You’re absolutely right,” Grandma declared, tearing off her apron. “So you can get right on out of
our house. You have no business here.”

“Wait,” Ma protested. “Don’t you think we should at least consider what he has to say?”

“No,” Bree said, scowling at her mother.

“But with your father laid up and the mounting hospital bills—­”

“Loretta,” Grandma ground out in her gravelly voice. “How could you even think we’d want to sell now that Bree, Luke, and Delaney have come home?”

“I just thought—­” She looked from Grandma to Bree and shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Let me give you my number,” Shane said, handing her a business card. “In case you have a change of heart.”

“Thank you,” Bree said, taking the card before her mother could get her hands on it. “But someone would have to rip our hearts
out
before we’d ever consider selling this place.”

After the
realtor left, Bree tore up the card and threw it in the trash. Then she transferred the soap mold trays from the kitchen table to an upper pantry shelf. “Grandma, I think we need to hire a P.I. to find our embezzling ranch managers.”

“Private investigators cost money,” Grandma reminded her.

“And we can’t be sure Susan and Wade Randall were the ones who tipped off the insurance agency or
who spoke to the realtor,” Ma added. “For all we know it could be Mr. Owens. You know how he is. Or maybe it was Ryan Tanner who tipped them off. He knows what sorry shape we’re in.”

“It wasn’t Ryan,” Bree said, taking a towel and wiping the table clean. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, who would?” her mother demanded.

“I don’t know,” Bree admitted, and thought of her upcoming party just
two days away. To lighten the mood, she joked, “Someone who wants to ruin my birthday?”

“Or one of the guests who doesn’t like my cooking?” Grandma offered.

Bree smiled. “Whoever it is, we’ll find them. I’ll hire a private investigator as soon as Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca give us the deposit for the corporate retreat.”

“If only they
would
book the retreat,” her mother said, and
sighed.

Yes.
Bree nodded.
If only.

Chapter Seven

“Y
OU WANT ME
to do
what
?” Ryan asked, staring at the speckled bar of soap in Bree’s hand.

She nodded toward the mare in the end stall. “Rub the soap over your clothes and let the mare smell you.”

“You think she’ll like me if I smell like
lavender
?”

“It’s worth a shot. Lavender relaxes and so . . . yes. I hope she’ll let you come closer.”

“Like
this
?” he asked, grinning as he stepped toward her.

Bree placed her hands on his chest to push him away. “Not closer to
me
.”

“Why not?” Ryan challenged. “If the mare sees that you allow me close to
you
, maybe the mare will allow me to get close to
her
.”

Bree smiled. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

“No more ridiculous than rubbing me down with lavender.”

“C’mon,
Ryan,” she pleaded. “At least try it.”

Ryan grinned. “Only if you do.”

Bree frowned. “I already smell like lavender. I washed with my grandma’s soap this morning.”

“I meant . . . I’ll put on the soap if you take my hand when we walk toward the mare.”

“Oh.” Color rose up into Bree’s cheeks, but she met his gaze. “Okay.”

She handed him the soap and he rubbed the bar down his
bare arms. The temperature in the middle of the day rose to seventy-­five degrees now that the calendar had flipped over to June, allowing him to shed his flannel and get by with a T-­shirt. Next he rubbed the soap down his chest and down the front side of his jeans. “Okay, you’ll have to get the rest,” he said, handing the soap back to her. “I can’t reach my back.”

Bree hesitated, then nodded.
“Turn around.”

She brushed the bar over his shoulders, down his spine, along each side to his waist. She didn’t go below his waist. She wasn’t as bold as some other ladies would have been. He let out another grin and spun back around. “Am I good?”

She nodded. “Yeah, you’re good.”

“The lavender must work,” he teased. “Even
you
like me now.”

Bree laughed and gave him a playful swat.
“I meant . . . I’m finished with you.”

Ryan raised his brows. “Whoa. I sure hope that line didn’t have a double meaning.”

She laughed again and her eyes sparkled as she nodded toward the mare. “You can practice your flirting on
her.
”

Ryan reached for Bree’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “Shall we?”

They approached the mare, side by side. They’d take one step. Stop.
Take another step. Stop. It was a slow walk down the aisle, but Ryan didn’t mind because it reminded him of dancing back and forth to a slow country tune . . . with Bree as his partner.

Bree tried to loosen her fingers ever so slightly from his. He tightened his hold instead, relishing the warmth between them. She cast him a wary glance and Ryan whispered, “What are you afraid of?”

“The
same thing as the mare,” she whispered back. “Trusting the wrong person.”

“Then I’ll make you both the same promise,” he said, dipping his head to catch her full attention. “I won’t hurt you.”

The mare stuck her head over the half door of the stall and eyed them suspiciously. Ryan expected to see the horse toss her head and kick against the stall door, but as they drew closer the mare
curled her lip upward and then snorted at the strong, lavender scent.

“That’s my good girl,” Bree said in a sweet singsong voice. “Doesn’t Ryan smell pretty?” Bree glanced at him and smiled. “I think Angel likes you. Talk to her.”

“That’s my good girl,” Ryan said, imitating Bree but using a lower tone. He would
not
raise his voice like a girl. That would be going too far. Besides, the
mare needed to get to know who he really was.
So did Bree.

He squeezed Bree’s hand and took another step with her, thinking it was time he told her a few things about himself that he should have told her long ago.

“Say something,” Bree whispered.

A few steps farther and Ryan was standing directly in front of the mare. While Angel didn’t take her eyes off him, the horse didn’t protest
his presence either. “Isn’t Bree smart?” Ryan said, careful to keep his voice friendly, the way he did when trying to win over hard-­nosed women. “It was her idea to rub lavender all over me and I didn’t believe it would work, but here we are, you and me.”

“Actually, it was my grandmother’s idea,” Bree corrected.

Angel sniffed his arm and then pulled her head back and curled her upper
lip again, showing him all her teeth—­in a curious but
non
threatening way.

“And for the record,” Bree continued, slipping her hand out of his, “I didn’t think it would work either. Let’s see what the mare does when I step away.”

The minute Bree moved away from Ryan, the mare’s eyes widened and her ears went back. A second later, a loud kick sounded against the half door. Bree came back
toward Ryan and Angel relaxed her stance.

Ryan grinned. “I guess we have to stay together.”

“We were
both
right,” Bree said in amazement. “It’s not just the smell of the soap but the fact I’m with you that keeps her calm.”

Ryan didn’t think the soap had anything to do with it; the mare had simply been paying attention to their body language. But he didn’t want to argue with Bree. He
didn’t try to touch Angel either. It was enough that both Bree and the mare had let him draw this close. “I think that’s enough for one day,” Ryan said. “I don’t want to do anything else that might compromise the progress we’ve made.”

“Do you want me to stay and work with the mare and filly alone?” Bree asked.

“Why don’t we saddle two other horses and ride up to the ridge—­”

“I’ll
work with your horses,” Bree said, cutting him off. “But I
won’t
ride.”

Cody entered the stable carrying one of his dog’s puppies and handed the wriggling black and white ball to Bree. “Happy Birthday!” Cody exclaimed, a huge smile lighting his face.

“This little guy is for me?” Bree pet the border collie pup’s head, but the wariness behind her words said she was hesitant to bring another
animal into her life . . . or her heart.

Cody nodded. “He’s a present from me and my dad.”

With a jolt Ryan wondered if Bree would refuse the gift, hurt his son’s feelings . . . but she took one look at Cody’s expectant face and smiled. “He’s adorable! Thank you. I think I’ll call him Boots for his four little white paws.”

She smiled again, this time a smile that was
genuine
as the
puppy squirmed in her arms and stretched up to lick the underside of her chin. She laughed and Cody laughed with her, his eyes shining with delight at
her
delight. Ryan watched the tops of their light brown heads draw together over the puppy and his chest tightened. Bree was similar enough in appearance that an outsider might think she was his—­

He sucked in his breath as Cody pulled out the
card he’d made in school and Bree read, “Happy Mother’s Day.”

His face burned as Bree’s gaze shot past Cody and landed on him.

“It’s supposed to say ‘Happy Birthday,’ ” he choked out. “Cody, didn’t we talk about that?”

Cody shrugged. “Yeah, but I didn’t know how to change it.”

“It’s fine,” Bree assured them each with a sudden smile. “It’s a wonderful card. Look at all the colorful
hearts and different animals.”

“That one there,” Cody said, sidling up to her and pointing to the crayon drawings, “is your puppy. And the other ones are all your puppy’s brothers and sisters. My dog, Annabelle, is here in the corner.”

“Looks like one big happy family.” Bree shot Ryan another look over his son’s head and her fingers holding the card shook.

She isn’t ready to be part
of one big happy family.
The knowledge shook Ryan as well. And he realized how dangerous her continued presence could be for his son. Already since Bree had come back she’d decided the role of ranch manager wasn’t enough. She had to have more. According to her father, she now wanted to open her own boot bling business. Tomorrow she might want to do something else.

Ryan’s insides twisted and
turned. Someone like Bree would never settle for simply staying in one spot to be a wife and mom. She’d always be chasing the next dream that came her way. What if Cody got close to her and then Bree decided to go back to the city? Ryan set his jaw, his stomach churning. His son would see her departure as a repeat of his mother’s actions and be hurt all over again. So would
he
.

No.
He had
to talk to her about Cody . . . before it was too late.

B
REE WAS STILL
unsure about accepting the puppy when her family gathered together in their living room and her father announced he was giving her a
horse
. Not just any horse either, but Equinox, the red roan in Serenity’s stall.

“Equinox is sure-­footed and fast,” her father said, his face beaming with pride as if he’d given her the
best gift imaginable.

She glanced at Luke and Delaney, who looked as horrified as she felt. Grandma gasped, then placed a hand over her chest and murmured, “God help us.”

But her mother appeared oblivious to their startled reactions. “I think it’s a wonderful gift. Very thoughtful, Jed.”

Thoughtful? After what he’d done to her last horse? Did he think he could just give her another
to make up for it?

“What’s the matter?” her father demanded, his smile switching to a scowl as his gaze bored into her. “My gift isn’t good enough?”

She cringed. “Dad, I’m sorry but I . . . I don’t want a horse. I thought you knew that. I thought you knew
why
.”

“I
do
know why,” he said haughtily. “You’re afraid if you get too attached you’ll have to stay.”

Bree shook her head.
“I already said I’d stay.”

Her father let out a low grunt. “But with no strings attached it would be easy to pick up and leave again, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s not why I don’t want a horse,” Bree said, her voice cracking.

“I should have known you wouldn’t be appreciative,” her father snapped, spinning his wheelchair away from her and resuming his position along the outer perimeter of the
family circle. “You never appreciate anything I do for you.”

Bree’s eyes stung and her throat ran dry. She didn’t mean to offend her father, but he had offended her with his gift . . . and didn’t even realize it.

“How could you do this?” Delaney cried, stepping toward him. “Have you no compassion?”

“Of course I have compassion,” their father barked. “That’s why I gave her a horse—­because
she didn’t have one. I thought she’d enjoy riding again.”

“Please don’t fight,” Ma pleaded. “Let’s not ruin Bree’s birthday!”

“Too late,” Luke said, shaking his head.

Their dad glared at him. “I thought the horse would make her happy.”

“Now none of us are happy,” Delaney said, and pointed at her daughter. “Look! You made Meghan cry.”

Bree started to cry, too, and her grandma
shook her fist at all of them. “I knew this would happen. The ranch is falling apart, the family is falling apart, and it’s all because everyone has stopped going to church on Sunday.”

“We’ve only missed two weeks!” Ma protested. “We’re busy and it’s hard for Jed to get in and out of the truck with his broken leg.”

“This family had problems before Dad ever fell off his horse,” Luke said,
his voice hard.

“What problems?” Ma demanded.

Grandma looked heavenward and sighed. “And here I thought the lavender soaps I placed all over the house would help calm everyone down.”

“This house
stinks
,” Bree’s father grumbled.

“Maybe we should consider selling.” Ma pulled a card from her pocket and Bree leaned in to take a closer look. Her mother had taped together the realtor’s
business card she’d ripped up.

“You pulled his card out of the trash? Why did you do that?” She stared at her mother and gestured toward Luke and Delaney. “We can turn this ranch around, but you haven’t even given the three of us a chance.”

“A chance to screw it up even more?” her father demanded. “I must have taken too many meds when I agreed to let your grandma divide the ranch into
equal shares.”

“Agreed?”
Luke demanded. “She said it was your idea.”

This time Grandma started to cry. Luke stomped out the door with his cane. Delaney made for the stairs to her room, towing her daughter along behind her. And Bree escaped to the laundry room where her new puppy lay in a basket lined with soft towels. She brought the warm, wriggling black and white fur ball up to her chest,
hugged it tight, and sighed.

What would it take for her parents to finally believe in her?

The following morning, Bree hiked the path along the river, passing all twenty-­four square, wood-­shingled cabins, and headed across the field toward the far end of the property where she’d heard Luke had set up camp.

While he couldn’t ride a horse or drive a licensed road vehicle, her brother
had found he could still operate their small ranch Gator by reaching his left foot over to step on the gas pedal instead of his right. And although Bree would have liked to keep the motorized cart at the ranch full time, she hadn’t wanted to deny her brother his only source of mobile freedom.

However, maybe if she
had
, he wouldn’t have set up his camp so far away and she wouldn’t have had
so much delay.

The three CEOs had stopped her to ask when she’d have more jewelry. The argumentative ­couple occupying her old bedroom finally showed some unity by asking when they could go on a trail ride together. And the Walford twins, Nora and Nadine, had rattled off a list of complaints from the other groups of guests. But Bree’s only concern right now was to make her grandma happy by
convincing her brother to move back into the house.

After the family spat in the living room, Luke had packed his duffel bag and left, saying he needed his own space. Bree didn’t blame him. Part of her wished she could do the same thing. But she also knew the ranch was all they had and the only way to make their business together work was to iron out their differences.