Read No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) Online

Authors: Amanda McIntyre

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #Western, #Westerns

No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) (2 page)

BOOK: No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1)
11.17Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“Sweetheart,” Liberty said, glancing at Rein with a look of amused concern, “is there something you need to tell me?” A faint smile played on her lips.

Rein stared at her, then snapped his fingers. “Bowling,” he said, ignoring her jab. “You like to bowl, right?” He directed his question to Sally.

“If, by that, you mean can I gutter-ball, then yes.” Sally said. She pointed at Liberty. “Maybe you should ask your wife what she thinks.”

Liberty dropped her hand on his shoulder. “Honey, I don’t think the doctor wants me lifting any balls heavier than—” She tipped her head and gave him a smile.

“Okay, a movie then.” He picked up the drawings and nudged Liberty out of the booth. “I’ll be in touch. On both counts,” he added, grabbing his coat.  He waited, albeit anxiously, as Liberty casually fastened the buttons of her coat. “I’ll just go pay the tab.” He scooted off to the register.

Liberty looked at Sally and grinned. “He means well, you know. But, God, I love to ruffle his feathers when he goes into bossy mode.”

“I know he means well,” Sally said. “And honestly, a movie seems benign enough. Maybe he’s right. I
do
need to get out and have a little fun.”

Liberty glanced up and met Rein’s gaze. He was waiting at the front door. “We’ll talk soon. But, honey, don’t let Rein decide what’s fun for you. You make the choice
and
with whomever you please.” She leaned down and gave Sally a quick hug. “Are we still on for our girl’s potluck next week?”

“Absolutely. I’m going to need your help in planning this Montana Buckle Ball.”

Liberty untucked her hair from the collar of the coat. “And when was it you said you had time to date?” She grinned. “I’m there for you. Whatever you need.”

Sally boxed the remainder of her leftovers and thought about what Rein had said. A movie might be fun. What she wasn’t sure about was going out with Tyler. They’d known each other since the first grade. He’d been quiet, polite, and painfully shy back then, and he hadn’t changed much. And yes, while he was cute—adorable, really, in a quiet, shy sort of way—he was no easier to talk to now than he’d ever been. Most everyone she knew felt it difficult to carry on a normal conversation with Tyler. But he and Rein had become fast friends while working on the Last Hope Ranch project and she didn’t want to seem unfriendly about the idea. She could handle it for one night.

The bell over the café entrance jingled just before Dalton and his friend, current cabin resident Clay Saunders, entered. A rush of frigid air swirled around her legs, seeping through her tights. Clay’s sullen, steady gaze slammed into her unexpectedly. The air felt suddenly sucked from her lungs. She wasn’t afraid of him, not really--just cautious. He seemed larger than life, a layering of mystery and angst that she’d preferred to avoid. It’d been Hank, a common college friend of both Rein’s and Dalton’s, who had suggested he spend some time at the ranch. A shiver ran across her shoulders and she blamed the winter chill. Dalton spotted her and tossed her a wave as he headed toward the table.

She stood, grabbing her box and coat. “Here, you all can have this booth. I was just leaving.”

“Thanks. Hey, I just saw Rein in the parking lot. Said you two talked about the renovations and such.”

Squeezed between the two cedars that were Dalton and Clay, Sally set her jaw and prayed that Rein hadn’t mentioned anything about the double-date idea.

Dalton raised a brow. “Mentioned that you and Tyler have a hot date.”

So much for privacy.

Wedged between Dalton getting out of his coat, the now-crowded tables with the mid-morning rush, and Clay Saunders’ mammoth chest, Sally felt her cheeks grow warm. She glanced up at Clay. His expression was unreadable, unchanged. While Tyler was difficult to converse with, Clay was another matter altogether. He was all brawn, honed like a mountain, Grade-A military stock, and carried a lot of anguish from his past. Suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, survivor guilt, and missing part of a leg, he was a wounded warrior in more than just a physical sense. He intrigued and frightened her at the same time, especially after the brief incident at the ranch last fall where she’d seen his demeanor change on a dime. Things had been said between them that had never really been resolved. She hugged the to-go box to her chest and tossed him a quick glance. “Mr. Saunders,” she offered in brief greeting.

He stepped to the side to let her though the narrow passage. “Sally,” he muttered in a barely discernable tone.

“And for the record, Dalton, I am not
dating
anyone.” She leveled him an emphatic look, then turned to a surprised Betty standing behind the register. “Rolls were delicious today, Betty.” Sally glanced around the small café, aware that the normal chatter had stopped and several eyes were on her.

“Thanks, doll. Don’t be a stranger.” Betty gave her a wink.

“I still want to hear how it goes,” Dalton called to her.

Sally paused at the door. There were times when living in this small town was akin to living in a fishbowl. She caught Dalton’s grin and the expectant look of several other patrons. He knew very well that he’d pushed a button.

Dalton was the last of the Kinnison brothers—and the least likely—to find love. But he and Angelique’s story had come full circle after years apart and, despite the obstacles they suffered, they’d found love—giving Sally hope that she, too, would find love… just not with Tyler Janzen. Then again, she’d changed her mind about her “perfect man” so many times in the past few years that she wasn’t entirely sure she could handle a relationship with any man.

Clay Saunders glanced over his menu, his dark green eyes capturing hers. A snappy comeback to Dalton’s remark dissolved in her brain.

***

Clay took another long swallow of the coffee he’d brought with him. Rein had jostled him out of bed at the crack of dawn, insisting that they had to get chores done early so they could begin demolition today in Sally Andersen’s kitchen. He turned as he heard Sally thundering down the stairs and could have placed bets on the fact that she’d not be able to stop when she hit her highly polished hardwood floor.

He peeked around the industrial plastic they’d hung over the kitchen entrance to prevent as much dust and dirt as possible from getting into the rest of the house. Sure enough, he heard the thud and a gasp just before a tote somersaulted through the air, its contents fluttering across the floor.

Clearing his throat, he walked idly over to where the pretty redheaded Sally sat looking suitably stunned. He held out his hand to help her stand. “In a hurry?” he said, eyeing those legs in old-fashioned winter tights. She wore a red plaid skirt, decidedly bunched high on her hips at the moment and a black cashmere turtleneck that molded to her body. Her hair was wound up in some twist that he hadn’t seen since episodes of Green Acres, but on her it looked damn appealing.

“I forgot I had bus duty this morning.” She accepted his hand.

He pulled her to her feet in one quick yank. Her stocking feet slipped a bit as she bent down to pick up the papers littering the floor. “You know they make stair treads and rugs for wood floors.” he said, trying to force his gaze not to linger too long on the spot where the skirt curved around her thighs. Bending down was not an easy task with his artificial leg, but he attempted to scoop up as many papers as possible without toppling over.

“Where’s Rein?” she asked, not looking up—and, he noted, ignoring his comment.

“Had to go to the hardware store to pick up a couple of things,” Clay answered.

“Thank you.” She took the papers from him and stuffed them in the bag. Searching around her, she sighed and looked up at him. “Would you mind holding this?” She grabbed her winter boots and, sitting on the bottom step, slipped them over her feet and zipped them up. She quickly slid into her coat. Her hair listed precariously to one side.

Clay fought the urge to reach up and let the fiery waves slide through his fingers. Damn, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even toyed with such thoughts.

“Thank you,” she said in a curt tone.

Sensing she was clearly a woman on a mission, he thought it best to step aside. He handed her the bag and did just that. She’d probably bruised her tailbone with the intensity of her landing. But he knew the woman’s pride ran deep. He’d bruised it once a few months ago at a moment when she’d challenged him and he snapped, saying some unkind things to her. Things between them had been chilly since, to say the least. He told himself that he didn’t care. That she was a strong-willed, bossy little thing who could drive a man to drink. But in the dark hours of the night when he was left alone with nothing but his anger and his guilt, he knew that part of what she’d said to him was true.

But he’d be damned if he’d let her think she was right.

He watched her hobble gingerly down the front porch steps to her beat-up old truck. A blue Ford with more rust than paint that was her dad’s as he understood. He envied her a little, not only for the truck, but because she possessed something of her past—her family. He had nothing except a sister whose pity had driven him away after he’d come back home and a mother who recently passed from Alzheimer’s, never again regaining any recognition of him, but always talking to him about her son in the Army.

“Okay, these bits ought to work better at getting those cabinets out.” Rein walked in the back door, his cheeks red from the brisk half-block walk to the hardware store. That, too, had been part of Sally Andersen’s past. Her dad had opened the store after moving to End of the Line. He’d thought a number of times of asking Rein about Sally—but the way gossip spread in this little town, he feared that given how things were between them, it would likely only make matters worse. Besides, he had no idea how long he’d stay around. Working at the ranch, helping Michael with the horses, even helping Rein with odd jobs like this wasn’t bad—for now. But he didn’t want to end up here for the rest of his life. Hell, he’d had plans to go pro in college. He had been the star quarterback. A twinge of a muscle in his thigh caught him off-guard and he gritted his teeth against the sudden pain.

“You okay, man? Do you need to sit down?”

“Stop it.”

“Hey, I’d say that to anyone.”

Clay held up his hand, holding in the darkness curling inside his brain. Some days, anger was too easy of a response. “It’ll pass. I’m getting used to this—he paused— “new leg.”

Rein eyed him. “Okay, well, I’m going to get started. I’d like to have the cabinets torn out by evening. With any luck, Tyler will have that new sink he ordered in by day after tomorrow.” He stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. “Damn, I forgot to tell Sally we’re going to have to shut off her water for a couple of days to reroute the pipes.” He sighed. I’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. She’s got enough on her plate right now.”

Not to mention seems a might tightly wrapped.
He mentally added, knowing it sounded ironic coming from him.

He worked most of the day carrying the cabinets out to the one-car garage, stacking them neatly as Sally had ordered. She apparently never threw anything away. He stopped to survey the clutter that prevented the woman from actually using her garage. Boxes of old
National Geographic
magazines lined the shelves, along with stacks of yellowed
Readers Digests.
It was a junker’s dream. Parts of old lamps hung from the rafters. Dusty old board games were stacked on the shelves, shoved in at all angles. A variety of old tires and hubcaps sat in the corner, teetering like some forgotten sculpture. He spied an old Victrola—seemed in fair condition from what he could see through the thick layer of dust.

“Here’s the last of them.”

The voice startled him and he turned to find Tyler Janzen. He stood at the garage entry balancing a cabinet in his arms.

“Hey, Tyler.” He tossed him a smile as he started to leave. Tyler was the only guy he knew that spoke less than him.

“Sal keeps everything. Says they remind her of moments in her life.” Tyler set the wall cabinet atop the others that Rein had brought in. He brushed his hands together, looking around as he spoke, though he hadn’t looked to see if Clay had even stayed.

Clay waited politely at the door, his curiosity to hear what Tyler knew about Sally piqued.

“Her dad was the same way. Pack rat. Lord, you should have seen the basement of the hardware store when he sold it.” He chuckled.

It was odd that Tyler should be so chatty and especially with him. Since coming to the ranch, Clay had done little to socialize with anyone. He enjoyed the physical labor the ranch offered him. He’d learned a great deal from working with the horses, finding empathy that they’d managed to survive their own brutal nightmares. It’d been enough for Clay. “That so?” he replied, hoping Tyler would go on. He glanced at the man. Nice enough guy, a little on the lanky side, but hard-working and honest from what Clay had noticed. Sally could do worse. He glanced away, slapping himself mentally for thinking he’d have any damn idea about what a woman needed. It’d been a year since his fiancée had left him. After that, he’d blocked out all women. Cut himself off. Convincing himself that he didn’t need that kind of intimacy, he didn’t think about how good it felt to have a woman curled against him at night. He eyed Tyler and scratched his cheek. Then again—she could do a whole helluva lot better. He slapped that notion right out of his head. “So, I hear you and Sally are going out.” It was casual conversation.

BOOK: No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1)
11.17Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

My Billionaire Cowboy: A BWWM Western Romance by Esther Banks, BWWM Romance Dot Com
Playing for Keeps by Joan Lowery Nixon
Beneath the Honeysuckle Vine by McClure, Marcia Lynn
A Lady Never Lies by Juliana Gray
Guilty Pleasure by Leigh, Lora
Ah King by W. Somerset Maugham
Bedding Lord Ned by Sally MacKenzie
Learning the Ropes by C. P. Mandara