No Strings Attached (Last Hope Ranch Book 1) (8 page)

“Be careful. The other handle broke. I can’t really vouch for this one.” She scooted backwards, avoiding eye contact as she slithered off the bed and inched around him. Grabbing her house slippers and pressing them against her chest to hide how he’d affected her, she watched him lift the suitcase, seemingly with little effort, and stand it upright, where it listed precariously. Luckily, he caught it before it fell.

Clearly a matter of leverage. She turned to walk ahead of him down the stairs.

“Need these?”

She turned and her heart stilled. He stood at the top of the steps, holding the stack of brochures out to her.

“They were lying on the bed. Figured you might need them.”

She snatched them quickly from him. “Thanks, I’ve been doing a little research for a friend of mine.” She averted her eyes from his, hoping he’d bought what she was trying to sell.

***

Yeah, he hadn’t bought that line about researching for a friend. Sally had been avoiding him since she arrived at the ranch. She’d begged off the traditional family dinner the night after she arrived, stating she had work to do for school and needed to get herself settled.

She was bunked in the first cabin nearest to the main house on the asphalt roadway, while he was in the last cabin, farthest from everything. He’d wanted the privacy and just outside his door was the creek than ran through the back of the Kinnison property and the dense forest that covered the foothills. When weather permitted, he enjoyed sitting on his patio out back, taking in the stars, letting the quiet seep into his pores when his memories became too much to ignore. Rein had given him full use of the mini utility farm cart for tooling around the ranch, but he enjoyed the walk when the path was clear.

He’d been busy the past week, up at dawn to help with chores, and then off to Sally’s house with Rein to work on her renovations. Those brochures and the rumor Tyler had spoken to him about filtered in and out of his brain. The Montana Spring Buckle Ball was two weeks away and he and Rein were busting their butts to get Sally moved back home before then.

“Hey, guys,” Tyler called from Sally’s back door. “The sink’s here.”

Clay looked over his shoulder and saw Tyler with a two-wheel dolly standing at the open end of Sally’s new kitchen. The water line had been re-routed, electrical lines updated and replaced. Sally’s new island with a yawning gap in the center sat gleaming, awaiting the finishing touch.

“Fantastic,” Rein said, dropping the drill he’d been using on the new hood range. “Gentlemen, I think we’re going to be out of here by Monday at the latest.” He looked around. “Just about a week.” He grinned.

Tyler unstrapped the box and stood looking at what had been accomplished. “Sally’s going to love this. Taking out this back wall really has made a difference. And turning her dad’s old bedroom back here into a family room is a great idea. Now she can cook and keep an eye on her kid.” He glanced their way. “Whenever that should happen.” Tyler viewed the room with his hands over his chest, unaware that Rein was staring at him.

Clay raised his eyebrows. This was going to get interesting.

“What are you talking about?” Rein asked. “Sally doesn’t have any kids, you know that.” He picked up the drill and resumed his task.

“Oh, come on, everyone’s talking about it.” Tyler fished out his box cutter and began to open the box.

Clay kept his eyes on the cabinet hinges, wanting to caution Tyler to shut his pie-hole. The guy seemed to have few, if any, filters.

Rein’s drill stopped.

Both Clay and Tyler looked up. Clay scratched his chin—by the look on Rein’s face, this was not going to bode well for Tyler.

“Geez. Why are you looking at me?” he said. “I didn’t start it. I only heard about it.”

“Didn’t start what? Just heard—
what,
exactly?” Rein turned to face Tyler.

“You know, that Sally’s looking for a guy to father her child.”

Holy mother of God. Clay reached over and gently took the drill from Rein’s hand. There was a moment when it seemed the air in the house was sucked into a vacuum, and then Rein was in front of Tyler, grabbing him by his shirt. He pushed his face into the shocked plumber’s face. “I hope to hell you’re stopping any kind of shit like that you’re hearing, Tyler.”

Clay straightened, prepared to intervene if things got ugly.

Tyler turned a pale shade of chalk. “Really? You hadn’t heard?” He chuckled lightly. “I guess not.”

Clay could all but see Rein reeling in his fury.

Rein took a deep breath and stepped back, though his fist still held a wad of Tyler’s shirt. “I think you best go. And if I hear that you’re helping spread this crap, you’ll have me to answer to. Are we clear?” He dropped his hold.

Confusion clouded Tyler’s expression. “I don’t know what you’re so upset about. I didn’t start it. I overheard it at Betty’s the other day” He glanced at Clay. “Isn’t that what I told you the other night at Dusty’s?”

Rein stopped rubbing his temple and looked at Clay. “Jesus, you’ve heard this, too?”

Clay decided to keep the information about the brochures close to the hip. “Just what Tyler mentioned. But I don’t get around town much.”

“I’ve got to talk with Sally and apologize,” Rein said, looking out the kitchen window. “Wyatt and I were sitting at Betty’s the other day and he was mentioning something about Sally wanting a child of her own.” He shook his head. “Clearly, someone overheard and has decided to fill in the blanks with their own version.”

Tyler brushed down the front of his shirt. “I thought it was common knowledge. Hell, I’d offer my services to Sal in a heartbeat, if I thought she’d give me the time of day.”

Rein’s gaze snapped to Tyler’s.

“Purely out of friendship.” He put up his hands in defense. “For Sally, I’d do anything.”

“The out of friendship, maybe you should start focusing on setting people straight if you hear this rumor again.” Clay suggested quietly. “That kind of talk could affect her job. Besides, it’s nobody’s business what Sally chooses to do with her life.”

Rein and Tyler stared at him. “You agree she should raise a kid by herself?” Rein asked.

At what point the tide had turned, Clay wasn’t sure. “Hell, no. I think it’s insane. It’s hard enough to raise a kid with both parents.”

Rein nodded. “You’re right about her job. Principle Kale can be a hard-ass. And rumors in this town seem to take on a life of their own once they get fuel under them.”

Clay shrugged. “It happens. People mean well. They’re curious about one of their own. Everyone wants to think they’re helping, but it can get out of control and pretty soon everyone has their own spin on it.”

“I’m sorry, Rein. I don’t want Sally getting hurt.”

Rein nodded. “I know, Tyler. Sorry, man. I’m as mad at myself really. I should know better not to discuss sensitive stuff over at Betty’s. You never know who may overhear your conversation.” He released a sigh. “Come on, let’s get this done so she can have at least this much that’s back to normal in her life.” Rein looked from Tyler to Clay. “I’ll talk to Sally, but you guys help squash anything you hear, okay? I’ll let Betty know, too. That way she can stop what she may hear, and I know she will.”

***

Clay was curious as to whether or not Rein had spoken to Sally. He’d seen her a couple of times from the barn as she headed off to school. Each time she’d been wearing that mass of gorgeous red hair secured with a clip that seemed more like a prison sentence for her locks, in his opinion.

The weather had turned unseasonably mild for Montana in February. Having lived in Texas and California longer than he had Montana, his body wasn’t as used to the cold as the locals here in the mountain town. Michael Greyfeather blamed it on global warming, Clay was just grateful that the bitter north winds had subsided and his muscles didn’t seem to ache as badly. That, however, was nothing compared to the blazing fury of a woman late for her trail ride. Wyatt and the four kids from the Women and Children’s shelter in Billings had saddled up and were waiting as Sally’s beat-up truck came sailing down the long drive, kicking up bits of ice and gravel as she came to a halt in front of her cabin.

Clay eyed her as she flew into her cabin, and a short time later emerged in her riding clothes, tugging a jacket over her arms. She grabbed the reins to the horse he’d been saddling for her and, before he could get a word out, she dropped her boot in the stirrup. “Sally, wait, I’m….”

Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. He scratched his jaw. She was loaded for bear, that much was true. The saddle listed and she wound up on her butt on the frozen mud, foot still stuck in the stirrup.

She looked up at him with a dazed look that dissolved into fury. Clay bit back a laugh. Damn, little bossy butt.

“Didn’t Michael teach you how to properly saddle a horse?”

He casually reached over and unhooked her boot from the stirrup and righted the loose saddle. “Pardon me, but you didn’t really give me a chance to tell you I wasn’t finished yet.” He offered her a hand. She slapped her gloved palm to his begrudgingly and he hauled her to her feet.

She glanced at him, those green-gold eyes meeting his as she wiped the dirt off her backside. He’d thought to offer his help, but changed his mind. Clay glanced at his feet, concealing a smile as he maneuvered the blankets and saddle over the horse’s back.

“Feel free not to choke on that laugh, Mr. Saunders.” She nudged him aside and started tightening the cinches. The horse snorted and stamped his hoof, seemingly taking sides in Sally’s displeasure.

He cleared his throat, then stepped forward and nudged her out of the way. “You can just simmer down—” The nickname he’d given her teetered on the edge of his tongue.

Her gaze held his in challenge.

“Why don’t you give me five minutes to finish.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You seem a little preoccupied.” Clay didn’t claim to be psychic, but he sure as hell felt her ire.

“You know, despite what everyone seems to think around here, I can manage quite well on my own.”

No doubt, Clay thought, but didn’t back down, reminding himself that Miss Bossy Butt was in some kind of mood today and curious if it was only that she was running late. Still, he breathed a quiet sigh when she stepped aside and leaned against the nearby fence. She brushed errant strands of hair from her face, looking off into the distance. Worry was etched on her beautiful face. “Everything coming together for the ball?” he asked casually. Tightening the harness, he smoothed the blanket under the saddle for the horse’s comfort.

“Hum? I’m sorry, uh, yes, things seem to be coming together.” She hadn’t looked at him, instead raising a hand to Wyatt as though to say she’d be right there. It was usually Michael who went along on the trail rides because of his familiarity of the area, and he loved to entertain the kids with stories of folk and animal lore.

“That’s good.” Small talk. Clay had difficulty enough with long discussions unless it happened to involve a deck of cards and a cold beer. Small talk? Not his thing.

“By the way, you have your tux, right?” she asked in an urgent tone.

He finished adjusting the stirrup, wanting to remind her that he’d heard of his acceptance—not from her—but from Maggie, the owner of the newspaper and a member of chamber committee. It’d been clear to him from the night of the blizzard that she wasn’t fully convinced of his inclusion. Now she cared to check up on him? “Ms. Andersen,” Clay said. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a big boy. And whatever the hell has your panties in a twist, you can just tone it down. You need someone to listen to whatever the hell is eating you—fine. I’ll be happy to. But cut with the attitude. Lady. It doesn’t look good on you.”

She looked at him as though he’d slapped her.

“There you go. She’s ready.” He eyed her shocked expression. “Need a lift up?”

Without a word, she took the reins and he stepped back to offer her plenty of room. She grabbed the saddle horn and paused. “I could use the lift, please. If it’s not too much trouble.”

He bent down, offered his clasped hands, and lifted her to mount the horse.

She toyed with the reins, then glanced at him, her demeanor far more contrite. “I’m sorry I seem a little edgy today, Mr. Saunders.”

He tossed her a smile. “I’m sorry you got your backside dirty when you fell.”

She nodded.

Dammit. The woman was a quandary for certain—bossy, unstoppable one minute and soft and vulnerable, the next. He reached out, taking the reins and stopped her quiet departure. “So you can relax. Yes, I have my tux…on a hanger, by the way, ready to go.”

She searched his eyes, then sighed. “I have so much on my mind. You just happened to be here and got the brunt of it. I’m sorry.”

Clay shrugged. “Apology accepted on one condition.”

She raised her brow and looked down at him. He had to blink to jump-start his brain. He had to stop this—it wasn’t helping him sleep any better at night. “I think it’s time we call each other by our first names.” He held out his hand. “Hello, my name is Clay.” To his amazement, she accepted it.

“Sally.”

He nodded, dropped his hand and his hold on the horse. “See, that was fairly painless, wasn’t it?”