The Doctor Wore Boots. Debra Webb
sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you.” She hung her head. “I know what our families have always wanted.” As difficult as it was, she met his gaze. “But this is what I want.” How did she tell the man that she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life as just his wife? She didn’t want to hurt him. She cared about him. Deeply. She just wasn’t in love with him. And she desperately wanted to see her father’s wish come true.
“You could hire a contractor to finish up,” he suggested, while studying the dark, mossy-green color of the pool water. It would take lots of chemicals to clear up that mess.
“That takes more money than I can afford to spend,” she told him. It annoyed her because he of all people should know her circumstances. Well, at least, to a degree. She and her mother were too proud to tell the whole story. “I’d rather do the work myself anyway. That’s what my father would have done.”
He nodded. “Well, I think it’s a great idea. Dude ranches are usually a big hit when operated properly. Are there—” He cut himself off abruptly. “Have you researched the probability of success?”
“If you’re asking if I’ve done my homework, the answer is yes. There isn’t one anywhere near here,” she said, hardly believing he’d even asked. “Tourists love this part of the state, as you well know. I think it would be a tremendous success.”
“All right, then.” He braced his hands on his lean hips and studied the guest cabins that circled the pool. “I’ll help you.”
Leanne felt a ripple of shock. “What did you say?”
He shrugged awkwardly. “I’ll help you. Court and Chad have things at the Circle C under control. There’s no reason I can’t pitch in here.” His gaze locked with hers, and heat roared straight through her. “Isn’t it the neighborly thing to do?”
Leanne couldn’t argue with that reasoning.
Truth be told, she didn’t want to. Another little shock wave shook her.
“Well, then.” He smiled, sending her heart into a wild tattoo. “Let’s do it.”
Before she could stop herself she’d thrown her arms around him. “Thank you for understanding, Ty,” she murmured against his neck.
“It’s nothing,” he argued, his posture rigid.
Darn it. She didn’t want to cry. But the tears came anyway. She held onto him with all her might and cried into his shirt. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“It’s all right.” His arms closed around her waist sending a new shard of heat slicing through her. “I—” He let go a heavy breath. His arms tightened around her, drawing her nearer. “It’s okay,” he said softly, his breath whispering against her cheek.
And she knew it would be.
Because Ty had told her so. He’d never let her down before.
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