Another silence fell, until Heath finally cleared his throat. “About Ginger…”
Claire tasted the frosting she was making and added a bit more vanilla. She hit the switch on the mixer, keeping her eyes on the concoction swirling around in the bowl. “I really don’t want to talk about Ginger, either,” she said tightly.
Resisting the urge to forgo all conversation and simply pull her close and kiss her again, he said, “I know how she made it sound last night.”
“Really.” Claire turned off the mixer and planted a hand on her hip. “And how was that?”
“Like she and I are getting closer than we are.”
Claire’s brow lifted. “Shouldn’t you be having this conversation with her?”
“I don’t have to—Ginger knows where she and I stand. Ours is a business relationship, period.”
“Yeah, well—” Claire’s lower lip shot out “—so is ours, and you kissed me.”
Heath tore his gaze from her mouth. “That kiss had nothing to do with business,” he told her gruffly.
“I agree.” Her eyes glimmered with emotion. “Which is why it shouldn’t happen again, given the fact that you and I have a business relationship.”
“Actually, we don’t have a business relationship,” Heath corrected, aware that, ethically, there was a fine line, and he was walking it. “My business arrangement is with your niece and nephew.”
Claire began icing the rolls. “You represent the fiduciary interests of the kids. And I’m their guardian.”
“Which puts us on the same team, because you want what is best for them, too.”
The buzzer went off. She slipped on heat-proof gloves and removed a casserole from the oven. “I’m just not sure we agree what that is going to be.”
Heath wasn’t, either. “I want you to succeed,” he said finally.
Noting him eyeing the egg, sausage, cheese and potatoe medley, she went ahead and cut him a square. It was piping hot and delicious, and only helped make her case that she knew what she was doing here…
“Then do whatever you have to with the bank and the trust to give me more time,” she pleaded, in a way that made it very hard to resist.
Heath reminded himself to stay in business mode. “I’d like to help you in any way I can.”
“But you’re not going to, right?” Claire twisted her lips as the phone rang, then reached over and picked it up. “Red Sage Guest Ranch, Claire Olander speaking…Your parents and their friends stayed at the ranch last summer? I’m sorry. I don’t remember, but we were…I don’t normally rent to anyone under twenty-one. I see.” She paused. “You understand it’s a dry county and we don’t allow drinking on the ranch?”
Heath cleaned his plate as the phone conversation continued. Claire gestured for him to help himself to more. She grabbed a piece of paper and pen and began jotting down names and numbers.
“Right now, we have seven cabins available. Three are two bedroom, with a sofa bed in the living room, so they can sleep a maximum of six adults. If you want to do that, I’m going to have to charge you per adult. Tonight? Sure. I can have everything ready by seven-thirty. Cash is fine. Thank you. Yes. See you then.”
Heath lifted a brow. It was easy to see something good had happened, from the excited gleam in her eyes.
“We’ve got twenty-eight college kids checking in tonight,” she reported.
The number sounded good. The type of guest did not. “There goes the peace and quiet.”
Heath expected her to be insulted. Instead she laughed and went back to icing rolls. “You are old.”
Heath could not understand why she wasn’t concerned. “They’ll be up all night,” he predicted. Not to mention the damage to the property that might be done.
Claire regarded him confidently. “I don’t think so.”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “Then you’re naive.”
She continued to smile as if she’d won the million-dollar lottery. “Are we done calling names here?”
“Who’s calling names?” Ginger breezed in the back door. “Any chance I can grab a roll and a cup of coffee for the road?”
“Help yourself.”
The real-estate agent plucked one of the unfrosted rolls off the tray, then smiled at Heath. “I’ll pick you up at the bank at five tonight?”
“Make it six,” he said, wishing she hadn’t chosen this moment to remind Claire they were going out to look at property.
Ginger smiled. “Six it is, then.” Breakfast in hand, she sashayed toward the door. Reaching it, she turned back and said with deliberate cheer, “Have a great day, y’all.”
Claire gave Heath a look that said he had just lost every bit of ground he had gained with her, and then some.
“Oh, I plan to,” she said.
CLAIRE MANAGED TO AVOID any direct personal contact with Heath for the next two days. She was busy with the influx of guests, and he was rarely around, despite the fact it was a weekend. Claire told herself she was happy he wasn’t there. One less thing to worry about. Obsess over. Yet on Sunday afternoon, as she was stripping cabins of their linens and towels after the group checked out, and she heard Heidi say, “There he is!” her spirits inexplicably rose.
She knew who the twins were talking about even before she turned around.
Looking innocent as could be, Heath sauntered toward them, stopping when the twins barreled into his legs.The two giggled in delight as he swooped them up in his arms simultaneously.
No one had done that since Sven died.
Claire felt tears well up inside her, but she pushed them away. She was not going to cry right now…She took a deep, bolstering breath.
“Did you see all the bi’cles?” Henry asked Heath.
He spared her a quick, assessing glance before turning back to the little boy. “I sure did.”
“There were lots and lots of them,” Heidi exclaimed.
“We’re too little to ride bi’cles,” Henry announced.
“Yeah. If we want to ride something, we have to ride our trikes!” Heidi said.
“Want to see us ride our trikes?” Henry asked.
“After we’re done,” Claire interjected, before they could jump out of Heath’s arms and run off to get them. “We’re in the process of taking out all the trash and collecting the linens. Remember? Say goodbye to Mr. McPherson, kids, so we can get back to our chores.”
Their expressions altered instantly. “Do we hafta?” Henry asked sadly.
Heidi’s lower lip shot out petulantly.
Their disappointment affected Heath. “Actually, I’m not doing anything. I could push the cart, too.”
“But you’re a guest.” Claire protested.
Gently, Heath set the twins back down on the ground in front of Cottage 2. He challenged her with a steady. “You accepted help from other guests.”
As if it were already settled, Henry walked up to the hotel laundry cart. “We’ll show you how to do it. First I gotta fix it with my wrench.” He got the plastic tool out of the carpenter’s belt around his waist and twisted and tightened the handle. Finished, he stepped back to admire his handiwork, the way he had