She didn’t know a lot about ranches, but she knew a run-down property when she saw one. The outbuildings were old and weathered. The house hadn’t seen a new coat of paint in many years. The yard was wild and fences that weren’t made of wire were made of long poles instead of flat planks. Any fanciful thoughts she’d had of keeping her part of the ranch and moving to Montana, thus putting a lot of miles between her and Andrew and all reminders of her failed engagement and stolen business, evaporated early that morning when the sun had risen and she’d gotten a good look at the H/H in the light of day. This was not a place she wanted to live.
The sound of the door opening brought her head up. A second later, Gus Hawkins emerged from the house, heading toward her like a man on a mission. And that mission was to get her off the ranch. Great. They had the same objective.
“Thad needs some time to work through things,” he said as he drew closer. “In the meanwhile, we’ll get your car out of the mud.”
She leaned down and scooped up Henry, who was pressing against her legs while keeping an eye on Gus. “All right.”
There wasn’t much else she could say. She lifted her chin to meet Gus’s less than friendly gaze, hugging her dog a little closer. Do not show weakness. Bullies thrived on weakness. She didn’t think that Gus was a bully, per se, but he was protective of his uncle and his ranch and had made it clear that he didn’t trust her one bit.
Fine. She didn’t trust him, either. He was tall and good-looking and probably used to getting his way. He thought he’d be able to run her off the property, get her away from his uncle—and she was leaving, but not because of anything he’d done. She’d wanted to meet Thaddeus Hawkins, learn her grandfather’s secrets, before putting her part of the ranch up for sale.
She started toward the truck they’d traveled in the night before, but Gus called her name and she stopped, looked at him over her shoulder. He jerked his head toward the tractor. “We’ll take that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s better at pulling things out of the mud. You might want to leave your little dog with Thad.” He started toward the tractor without another word and, after a brief hesitation, Lillie Jean crossed the driveway to the house. The kitchen was empty, so she set Henry on the floor and promised him she’d be back shortly.
Gus was waiting in the idling tractor when she returned. She started to the passenger door, but he motioned her to the other side of the machine. Cautiously she climbed the steps, finding a small jump seat beside the operator’s chair.
Once the door was closed, Gus pulled a few levers, raised the bucket, and the tractor started down the driveway, shaking and rumbling as he shifted to a higher gear.
Lillie Jean simply held on and focused on the road ahead of her, doing her best to tamp down the feelings that (a) she didn’t belong in a tractor, and (b) the cab of the tractor was too small for two people who didn’t trust one another.
“Do you have the keys?” he asked as they drove through the log archway that marked the entrance of the ranch proper.
“Yes,” she said shortly, glad that she did indeed have the keys sitting deep in her coat pocket. She could have left them in the car, stuck as it was, but old habits died hard. One didn’t leave keys in the car for even a little while where she lived. The place wasn’t crime ridden, but enough things happened, even in the suburbs, to leave one erring on the side of caution.
Lillie Jean held herself so stiffly in the small seat, trying not to let any part of her body come in contact with Gus in the small confines of the tractor cab, that by the time they reached her car, her muscles were starting to cramp. For his part, Gus ignored her. No small talk. No questions about who she really was, or dire warnings about taking advantage of his uncle—both of which she’d fully expected. Instead he’d focused straight ahead, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown of concentration. Plotting how to get rid of her, probably.
Lillie Jean refused to let it bother her. Instead she thought about next steps. The trip back to Texas. Going through the last of her grandfather’s personal belongings which were stacked in her friend Kate’s basement and attic. Her grandfather hadn’t left much. He’d lived comfortably, but hadn’t possessed a lot of material things. Lillie Jean had always assumed his frugal habits had been born of necessity, only to find out that he’d owned half of an eight-hundred-acre spread. It still boggled her.
Lillie Jean had questions about her grandfather and his secret past, and before she left, she hoped that Thaddeus Hawkins would give her answers. He wasn’t suspicious of her, like his nephew was, but he was unsettled by her sudden arrival, and she sensed that it went beyond the surprise element. What on earth had gone on between him and her grandfather?
* * *
LILLIE JEAN SMELLED like lilacs, a scent Gus knew well, due to the thick hedge near the ranch house that burst into blossom each spring, filling the air with perfume and sending old Sal’s allergies into high gear.
He hated that he noticed that Lillie Jean smelled good. Hated the way the delicate floral scent made him feel like leaning closer and taking a deeper breath. In fact, it was really annoying to find himself feeling that way, so he was very glad to finally arrive at the car.
Lillie Jean put her hand on the door handle before he’d rolled to a stop, and he automatically reached past her to keep her from opening the door. She shot him a startled look, which he met with a frown, once again doing his best to ignore the lilacs and the incredible color of her eyes.
“Never open the door until the tractor is out of gear.” He made a show of moving the gear lever. “Big tires,” he said in a clipped voice. “Very unforgiving.”
“Is it okay now?” Lillie Jean asked as she eyed the giant rear wheels.
“Yeah.” He put on the hand brake and set a hand on the back of her seat to maneuver himself out of the cab. Lillie Jean took the hint and climbed down the stairs and jumped to the ground, quickly moving out of range of those big tires. Gus followed her and then reached up to drag the chain off the floorboards under the seat.
The mud was deep and water soaked into his jeans as he crouched down to attach the chain to the frame of the big car. Once done, he motioned for Lillie Jean to get into the driver’s seat.
“What do I do?”
“You start the engine and steer. Do not step on the gas.”
“Why?”
“Because it’ll annoy me if you ram that big car into the tractor.”
“Oh.” She moistened her lips—a mistake in the cool weather—and then said, “You don’t have much faith in my driving ability.”
All he did was point a finger at the car in the mud then turn and walk back to the tractor. “Just put it in Neutral,” he said, “and let me do the rest.”
“Why even start it?”
“So that the steering wheel works.”
From the way her jaw muscles tightened, Gus deduced that she was starting to hate him a little.
“I knew that.” She abruptly turned and headed toward the car, mincing her way across the lumpy half-frozen mud next to the door.
Gus climbed into the cab and, once Lillie Jean was situated behind the wheel, he gently eased the tractor back until the chain was taut. He continued inching backward until the car jerked, then moved forward. Lillie Jean kept the wheels straight until finally the car was free, and he swore he could see her biting her full bottom lip as she concentrated, even though they were separated by twenty feet and two windshields. Once he was certain Lillie Jean wasn’t going to throw the car in gear or anything unexpected, he