Sarah was afraid to ask.
Her mom prompted, “Did he call you?”
“Logan Crawford, you mean?”
“That’s him.”
“Yes, he called me.”
“Honey, that is one fine-looking hunk of a man, a complete hottie, I don’t mind telling you.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen him. Thanks, Mom.”
“You should snap that one up.”
“Mom. He wants me to straighten out his accounts, that’s all.”
“Oh, I think he’s hoping to have you straighten out a lot more than his accounts.”
“Mom!”
“Sweetheart, don’t be a prude. Life is beautiful and so are you. You deserve the best of everything—including a tall, hot cowboy with gorgeous blue eyes.”
“Yes, well. I didn’t call to talk about Logan. I was wondering if you would watch Sophia Saturday night. Lily and I want to get together for dinner.”
“Honey, at last!”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You’ve been home for weeks and this is the first time you’ve asked me to take Sophia for you.”
“Oh, well, I...” Sarah didn’t know what to say. Her mom had offered, but it had never really been necessary.
“It’s all right,” Flo reassured her. “I’m just glad you’ve finally asked me—and yes, I would love to.”
“Perfect.” Sarah thanked her and ended the call before her mother could say another word about Logan Crawford and his hotness.
* * *
Armed with her laptop, her business tote and the steely determination not to be seduced by a sweet-talking cowboy, Sarah arrived at the Ambling A at eleven the next morning.
Logan was waiting for her on the long front porch of the giant log-style house. He wore faded jeans that fit his strong legs much too perfectly and a dark blue shirt that clung to his lean chest and arms and brought out the color of his eyes. He dropped his hat on one of the porch chairs and came down the steps to open her car door for her.
“Where’s Sophia?” he asked. She’d just picked up her laptop from the passenger seat. He reached in and took it from her, tucking it under his arm as he offered his hand to help her from her car.
She hardly required assistance to get out from behind the wheel and she really was trying not to let him get too close. But to refuse him just seemed rude.
“The baby?” he asked again as his warm, slightly rough fingers closed around hers. His touch felt way too good. She grabbed her giant leather tote with her free hand and hooked it over her shoulder.
“Sophia’s at home today.” She emerged from the car into the late-morning sunlight. “My friend Lily was free and agreed to babysit.” They stared at each other.
His fine mouth twitched at one corner as he quelled a smile. “I’m disappointed. I was looking forward to another lively game of peekaboo.”
Just like the other day at the train depot, she had to remind herself to ease her hand from his.
He led her inside, where there were moving boxes stacked in the front hall.
“It’s a great house,” she said, staring at the wide, rustic staircase that led up to a gallery-style landing on the second floor. “I vaguely remember the Abernathy family. They owned the place first and built the house, but they left a long time ago.”
“We got a hell of a deal on the place from the last owners, I’ll say that much.” He put his hand on the fat newel post. “The house needs work, but we’ll get around to that eventually. Right now, we’re just trying to get everything unpacked—my dad and Xander and me. My other brothers will be showing up in the next couple of days. Then we’ll be focused on buying more stock. The barn and stables need repair. Lot of ditches to burn and fences to mend. Fixing up the house is low on the list of priorities.”
She should move things along, tell him she needed to get going on the work he had for her. But she was curious about him. “So, you’re from Texas, I think your dad said?”
He nodded. “We had a ranch near Dallas. Me and my brothers grew up there.”
“You had a ranch?”
“We put it on the market when we decided on the move here.”
“So, you’ve always been a rancher, huh?”
He shook his head. “I went to college for a business degree and then moved to Seattle. Been there ever since.”
“Seattle.” She remembered then. “That’s right. Your dad said you were in real estate.”
“Property development, to be specific. I got there just in time for the boom years, and I did well. But then my dad got this wild hair to move to Montana, get us all together working a new spread. The timing was right for me. I’d been thinking that I was ready to try something different.” He was looking at her so steadily. She liked having his gaze focused on her. She liked it way too much.
Then he asked, “How ’bout you? Where did you go to college? Have you always lived in Rust Creek Falls?”
His questions were perfectly reasonable.
Her response took her completely by surprise.
All of a sudden, her throat was too tight and there was pressure behind her eyes.
Really, what was the matter with her? Out of nowhere, she hovered on the verge of bursting into tears, right here in the front hall of the Ambling A ranch house with this too-handsome, charming man looking on.
Crying? Seriously? She wasn’t a cryer. Crying was pointless and completely uncalled-for in this situation.
And yet still, she wanted to put her head in her hands and bawl like a baby over all the ways her life hadn’t turned out as she’d planned, just stand here sobbing right in front of this superhot guy. A guy who seemed hell-bent on seducing an overworked, constantly exhausted single mom who wanted nothing more to do with the male of the species, thank you very much.
She gulped the ludicrous tears down and managed an answer. “I went to Northwestern and then I worked in Chicago for a while.”
Now he was frowning at her, a worried sort of frown. Those eyes of his seemed to see way too much. “Sarah, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She pasted on a wobbly smile. “Really. And don’t you have a mountain of records and receipts to show me?”
He gave her a long look, a look both considering and concerned, as though he was trying to decide whether to push her to confess what was bothering her or back off. She breathed a sigh of relief when he said, “Right this way.”
They went down a central hallway, past a big living room and a kitchen that could use a redo to an office at the back of the house.
By then, she’d pulled herself together. “You weren’t kidding.” She gave a low laugh as she approached the big mahogany desk that dominated the room, its surface piled with old ledgers, dusty CDs and floppies.
“Most of this is probably meaningless to us, I realize,” he said, setting her laptop on a side chair.
She put her tote down beside it. “Yeah, it’s doubtful I’ll need any of the records generated by the former owners.”
“If you don’t need them, we can just toss them out.”
“I might need