Tugging on the end of her ponytail, Kelly stepped back. She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t expect you to solve my problems for me, Hank. Ty, either.”
“Hey, we’re just talking.” Uncertain where the conversation had veered off track, he held up his hands in mock surrender. “There was a time when we could talk about anything.”
“That was different.” Kelly’s arms remained in place, her posture stiff. “We were friends.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “We were a lot more than friends.”
The gelding pawed the wooden floorboards as Kelly stared at a spot somewhere over his left shoulder. “Those days are done,” she whispered. “I’m not interested in starting over.”
“Me, either.” Even if he was dumb enough to take up with a woman who’d walked away from him without so much as a second glance, with all he had going on this year, starting up with his old girlfriend again had bad idea written all over it.
“Just so you know,” Kelly said, thawing a bit.
“No problem. I’m just trying to be neighborly.” He grabbed a brush and gave the little mare another rub down. While he worked, he explained, “Besides, you know the Parkers. They’ll insist on helping with your grandfather’s cattle till he’s on his feet again.” For good measure, he added, “Any of us would.”
Kelly appeared to mull things over. With a sigh, she dropped her arms to her sides, the fight seeping out of her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“It’s all right.” Hank scuffed one boot through the straw. “You’ve got a lot on your plate.” He fought an urge to wrap an arm around her shoulders when moisture dampened her eyes. Neighborly kindness would only explain so much. Instead, he gathered an armload of curry combs and brushes. Stopping at the door to the gelding’s stall, he glanced back at her. “So, we’re good, neighbor?”
“Yeah,” she said, running a calming hand over the gray’s long neck. “We’re good.”
By the time the horses were fed and watered and the tools stowed properly, the sun had dipped beneath the horizon. In the distance, the last glimmers of daylight painted the low-lying clouds gold. Night birds winged across the sky, their calls rising above the drone of cicadas. From somewhere far off came the throaty growl of a bull alligator.
Hank paused for a moment, drinking in the view he’d missed during the years he’d spent in North Florida, where sunsets hid behind hills and tall trees. It seemed ironic that Kelly wanted to leave all this behind just as he was rediscovering it, but—he shrugged his shoulders—the choice was hers. He wasn’t a part of her life anymore. Still, if she was serious about selling the ranch, he wouldn’t mind handling it for her. Or earning the big commission the sale would generate. He leaned against his truck. Though the housing market had dried up, he still had contacts in Tallahassee who might be interested in the ranch as an investment.
“I’m more familiar with land prices in North Florida, but I’d be glad to run some comps—comparison sales—for you. It’ll give you a good idea of the market.” He gestured to the barn door, which, thanks to a broken hinge, tilted at an odd angle. “I can tell you one thing, though. You won’t get top dollar without fixing the place up a bit.”
“I have a meeting with Pops’s attorney in West Palm tomorrow morning. I’ll know more about what I can or can’t do with the ranch after that.”
“Oh, yeah? I’m going there myself. I’m driving over to pick up my daughter.” Hank lifted his Stetson and ran a hand through his hair while he worked out the logistics. The two-hour drive into the city would give them time to hammer out a plan for selling the Bar X. “Maybe we can ride together and talk over those comps on the way.”
Kelly’s head rose. “You have a daughter?”
“Noelle. She’s ten, going on eighteen.”
Something dark worried Kelly’s eyes. “You didn’t mention you were married.”
“Divorced,” he corrected. “I met Amy while I was riding in the rodeo. The marriage didn’t last past Noelle’s first birthday.”
“Didn’t take you long to move on, did it?”
He winced at the accusation, but he couldn’t argue. She was right. He’d practically bounced from the breakup with Kelly straight into Amy’s arms. With her golden hair and a willowy figure so much like his first love’s, the fan who’d walked up to him in a bar the night before the Silver Spurs rodeo had seemed irresistible. As it turned out, the two women were nothing alike, though Amy had kept her true colors under wraps for a while. It wasn’t until after the wedding that he’d discovered his bride’s family owned half of Tallahassee. A short while later, he’d realized she’d skipped over the faithfulness part of her oath to love, honor and obey.
He cleared his throat. “It was one of those whirlwind courtships you hear about all the time, but nobody thinks will happen to them. This one didn’t have a happy ending.” But that was a story for another day.
For a minute, he thought Kelly might insist on hearing the sordid details. He held his breath until, at last, she shrugged.
“Well, I best get moving if I’m going to have a handle on Pops’s accounts when I meet with the lawyer.”
“And I’ll check out the local real estate tonight so we can go over some numbers on the way. Pick you up at nine?” Noelle’s flight was due a little after noon.
“That works.” On her way to the house, Kelly turned back. “Thank Emma for the casserole,” she said. “And you for all your help.”
Hank resettled his hat. Forgiveness wasn’t a particularly strong trait in the Tompkins clan. He supposed, based on the harsh relations between their families, an uneasy truce with Kelly was the best he could hope for. But, watching her walk away, he couldn’t help wishing fate had spooned just a smidge more forgiveness into the tall blonde’s nature. If it had, he was pretty sure they’d still be together.
One shoulder propped against the concrete wall in the arrivals area, Hank pulled a scrap of paper from his back pocket and consulted his notes. Noelle’s flight had left Tallahassee on schedule that morning. According to the airline, she’d had plenty of time to make her connection in Atlanta. A glance at the flight status board told him his daughter’s plane had touched down in West Palm half an hour earlier. But no flight attendant escorting a preteen had streamed past his vantage point. In fact, five minutes had passed since the last person had walked down the Jetway.
Had his daughter missed her flight? Worse, had she missed the connection in Atlanta? His heart clenched at the thought of his child wandering unaccompanied through the huge international hub. He pushed upright, his pulse thudding, as he looked around for someone in charge.
He spared a last glance down the walkway and spotted a thin slip of a girl flanked by airline employees. A welcoming smile sprang to his lips and he waved, but he might as well have saved himself the effort. Noelle’s head remained down, her sandy-blond hair draping her face while her fingers flew across her cell phone. Hank heaved a sigh. So much for their happy reunion.
When Noelle lagged behind, the attendants exchanged exasperated looks over her head.