The Rancher's Rescue. Cari Lynn Webb
took off her glasses and ran her fingers across her eyebrows.
“I can bring everything here if it’s more convenient. Or drive you up to the ranch.” Ethan moved to the edge of her desk within kissing distance. “I remember you mentioned preferring not to drive at night.”
She could touch Ethan without any real effort now. Instead, she sank her hand into the peppermint candy bowl on her desk and wondered what else he remembered from their night together. Did he remember how they shared things no one else knew? Or recall how much they’d laughed about their childhoods? Did he treasure those moments? Or was she just as foolishly sentimental as Sarah Ashley? “That’s fine.”
“Then you’ll help?” Surprise softened his voice and relief relaxed his mouth into a smile that made even the peppermint swirl churn through her insides.
Her phone chimed, alerting her of her upcoming call with Isaac and reminding her to focus.
Ethan twisted the door handle. “I’ll get out of your way and let you work.”
Grace looked at him and willed her mouth to open and the truth to come out. But it didn’t happen.
“I’ll bring the books by tomorrow morning and then we can put together a strategy to stabilize the ranch’s finances?”
Grace nodded, clinging to her plan. A baby plan. One that did not include Ethan as more than an absentee parent. And one that definitely did not involve her heart.
ETHAN STOPPED HIS truck and stared at the white house with forest green shutters until his gaze blurred and all he saw was the land and home from his childhood. The house had so many good memories for him prior to his parents’ fatal accident. The twin rocking chairs on the wide front porch and banging screen door. The lawn scattered with sticks from his brothers’ sword fights, plastic army men and laughter.
He’d never wanted his home to change and wanted it back even more after he’d left his childhood at his parents’ gravesite.
Too many potholes since, they littered memory lane and tripping in those craters now solved nothing. That home was gone and had been for quite a while. A two-winged, thirty-bedroom log cabin, more manor estate than quaint lodge, squatted nearby, surrounded by barns and outbuildings painted red as if cheerful about the massive guesthouse intrusion.
Like it or not, the Blackwell Ranch had expanded to also become a dude ranch and there was no turning back the clock. In Ethan’s mind that left one option: sell the ranch that was no longer his home. No longer anything he wanted. What he wanted was the money from its sale to pay off his debts and buy his entry into a veterinarian clinic in Kentucky or Colorado, but definitely not in Falcon Creek.
First, he had to fix the accounts with Grace’s help.
Ethan cut the truck engine, but not his guilt. That kept running like a high-speed train making up time for a late departure.
He shouldn’t have asked for Grace’s help in the first place. He should’ve apologized.
He shouldn’t have searched for those familiar copper flecks in Grace’s green eyes when she’d removed her glasses. It was futile to try to prove the vivid memory wasn’t his imagination. Those same copper flecks had sparked under the chandelier lights on the dance floor at her sister’s reception and continued to burn through him whenever he thought of her. He should’ve never agreed to Jon’s suggestion to approach his accountant or stepped inside Brewster’s.
Ethan shouldn’t have come home.
He gripped the steering wheel, imprinting the leather into his palms. He should’ve called Grace the morning after their night together and every day after that until she’d answered. But instead he’d excused his behavior because she’d walked out on him first. How pathetic that he cared who’d left first, as if she’d dinged more than his pride. Yet Big E hadn’t raised his grandsons to be weakhearted fools.
And yet, his mother had raised him to be a gentleman, not callous and selfish. She would not be proud of him today.
That settled it. Tomorrow he’d say sorry to Grace and then find another accountant. Or straighten out the books himself.
What had Grace been thinking when she’d agreed to help him? And she had agreed. He hadn’t missed that part. He might’ve missed hearing that she was glad to see him. Or that she’d thought about their night together. Or that she’d wanted to call him. But he really hadn’t wanted to hear any of that, did he?
A fist rapped against the closed window of the truck cab. He glimpsed Katie’s frown a second before she smacked a piece of paper against the glass.
Not just any piece of paper, but a delivery notice for one rabbit and four sheep. In bold print: no returns or refunds. The words mocked him. The notice also explained the invoice for twin sets of long-wool providers he’d found in Big E’s desk. Zoe hadn’t ordered wool bales, but purchased sheep for her new petting zoo. Clearly, he needed to look through the recent purchase invoices and translate Zoe’s handwritten notes on those as well.
Before he could respond, Katie smacked a second piece of paper against the window. Thankfully, not another delivery notice. But, the title, “How to Set Up a Petting Zoo Business,” drilled a hole in his stomach. As did the phrase liability insurance required, which she’d carefully highlighted in yellow.
Big E’s checking account dipped further into the red. They were out of time. They needed professional advice and they needed it last week. There was no time to find a substitute. Help would have to come from Grace.
He climbed out of his truck, yanking the delivery notice from Katie. Curse words banged around inside his mouth like popcorn kernels chipping his teeth, but he located his inner gentleman before he spewed any into the air. “We don’t have a place for these sheep.” He needed to chase down spare cash, not sheep, across forty acres.
Katie checked her watch. “You have two hours to figure something out.”
Ethan crumpled the delivery notice in his fist and lashed out. Each word pinged like a burned popcorn kernel. “What are you doing in the next two hours?”
“Locating a battery for the ATV and making sure all the linens are clean and accounted for.” Katie shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and tipped her chin toward the stalls. “The horses still need to be ridden. Butterscotch could use another walk or even some more attention.”
The mare had been a birthday present from the family to Ethan’s mother. After his mom had passed, Ethan had become the mare’s guardian, protecting the paint from Big E’s temperamental wives. Butterscotch hadn’t judged Ethan when he’d curled up in her stall more than once to give in to his grief. But he’d left for college and abandoned Butterscotch to Zoe’s whims. The mare deserved better. Ethan wouldn’t fail her now.
He dug his boot into the dirt, grinding the last of his temper into dust. “Sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”
Katie punched him on the shoulder and grinned. “I didn’t know we had a thing.”
He laughed, but sobered quickly. “It just seems every day there’s something else. Something we aren’t aware of. Something we aren’t prepared for.”
“That’s the nature of ranch life.” She reached down and rubbed Hip behind her ears. Hippolyta was the Australian shepherd dog’s full name and she was Katie’s sidekick and one constant.
Lately, Ethan’s one constant seemed to be bankruptcy-induced worry. “No, that’s the nature of Big E’s current wife.” He frowned at the main house. Zoe’s extreme overspending had dismantled the past. The enormous guest lodge was the latest in a series of renovations to turn a working ranch into something from a movie set. There’d been nothing wrong with the Blackwell Ranch when his grandmother and parents had lived on the land. The original Blackwells had respected