If there was no hotel, no availability at the only
B and B and no room for him at Redemption Ranch, then he wasn’t sure what that viable solution might be. The only thing he could think of was to find someone willing to rent him a spare bedroom or garage apartment. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He had more than enough money to make it worth someone’s time to rent him the space, but the last thing he wanted to do was to start flinging his money all over town. That was why he’d been so quick to snap up Vivian’s offer to borrow her house. He could lay low at the Grainger’s, not have to bump heads with any more people than strictly necessary. The less folks knew about him, the better.
People changed when they started figuring out his net worth. He’d seen it over and over again—their eyes filled with dollar signs and any hope he had of establishing a real, personal connection went straight by the wayside. Back in Houston, everybody wanted something from him, and all he wanted was for everyone to leave him alone. He could think of nothing better than to hole up on his own little spread of land on the outskirts of Serendipity, where he could fend for himself and not have to deal with cruel and two-faced individuals ever again.
He focused his gaze on her, determination pressing his breath into his throat. “There must be something. Please, Alexis. You’re all I’ve got right now.”
Alexis’s gorgeous electric-blue eyes widened and her full lips dropped into a pretty little frown that made Griff’s gut do a backflip. Alexis was nothing if not gorgeous and he was painfully aware of his own weakness—he was particularly vulnerable to the ladies, beautiful women in particular.
How twisted was that?
In his experience, women were insincere and manipulative. The whole lot of them, bar none. What had he been thinking to have trusted Vivian to be honest with him? He should have known better.
And despite the fact that Alexis had done nothing to make him suspect she might be playing him, he figured it would be smarter to be wary. Better to be safe than to expose a vein. Compassion flooded her gaze and he felt a momentary twinge of guilt that he was pressing her buttons. For a second he was tempted to blurt out the whole sorry truth.
Instead he clenched his jaw until the urge passed. Honesty was overrated. No matter how kind Alexis appeared to be, he knew better than to trust her. Look what had happened when he’d given Vivian a little bit of leeway.
He’d been scammed. Just as with his ex, Caro.
Let Alexis interpret his words any way she wanted. He was here in Serendipity and he wasn’t leaving. He shouldn’t be penalized because of Vivian—and he wasn’t about to let this awkward situation with Alexis force him to tip his hand.
“I understand what you’re going through.” She was softening toward him—her gaze, her posture, her expression. His expectations rose with the smile on her lips. “Sometimes life changes are—” she paused and gave a little sigh “—seriously complicated.”
He wanted to pump his fist in the air. Not that he was necessarily proud of his ability to manipulate people, but he was good at it. And he was winning.
“I’ll tell you what. You can stay here at Redemption Ranch as long as you have the need to do so.”
Score.
“In the wrangler’s bunkhouse, where my ranch hands live.”
Or not.
“The wrangler’s bunkhouse?” he repeated lamely. Surely she was joking.
She nodded.
His lip curled. He’d slept in worse than a bunkhouse—much worse. But that was exactly the point. He was above that kind of lifestyle now. He’d paid his dues and had risen to the top of society. Surely she could see he was too refined to share sleeping space with the hired help. Why, the scarf he was wearing cost more than a rancher made in—
Whoa. How stupid could he be?
His designer clothes were a dead giveaway, suggesting he might be more than a burnt-out shell of a man ready to invest his whole life savings on a ranch. Of course, he’d thought he was going to be alone in the house, so he hadn’t given much thought to his choice of attire at the time. But he was thinking about it now—and it mattered, if he was planning to continue in the manner in which he’d originally presented himself: a man of limited means determined to make himself into a rancher. He wondered if she’d noticed his get-up, or even if she’d be able to identify the names that accompanied the fancy apparel.
He scoffed inwardly at his own thoughts. What a snob he’d become. The man he’d never wanted to be. At the first available opportunity, he’d visit the general store in town and pick up some plain Western-style clothing so he wouldn’t stand out among the natives. If he wanted to be a rancher, his attire would be a good place to start. And if it meant that people wouldn’t be able to accurately guess his bank balance from his brand names, then all the better.
Luckily for him, she didn’t appear to have noticed the high-fashion nature of his clothing, since she was at least partially falling for his fish-out-of-water ruse. He sighed in relief.
“Take it or leave it.” She slapped her palms on the table with all the finality of a judge’s gavel. “It’s my best offer. I wish I could do more for you, but I can’t.”
Griff narrowed his gaze on her, his brow furrowing. She was offering the bunkhouse as if it were somehow an answer to prayer.
If Griff believed in the power of prayer—and he didn’t—having the opportunity to bunk down with a bunch of rowdy cowhands would not have been what he considered a legitimate answer to his problems. The trouble was, he couldn’t think of a better option that wouldn’t reveal that he had the means to pay for housing indefinitely, that his bank account was bigger than he was professing it to be.
He leaned forward on his elbows, steepling his fingers under his chin. His mind was spinning, scrambling for a way to salvage this conversation. He’d all but thrown down the gauntlet to her. If he wanted to maintain the slim facade he’d offered, what choice did he have but to accept?
Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. And he had no one to blame but himself.
“Okay. Er, thank you for the offer.” He flashed what he hoped was a confident grin. “I always wanted to be a cowboy.”
She stared at him speculatively, gnawing on her bottom lip.
“What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
He suspected he was going to regret accepting her offer. In some ways he already did. If he had a lick of good sense he would just walk out of here right now and bunk at the nearest five-star hotel, even if it was an hour’s drive away. What he lost in the convenience of the short proximity to the town he could make up in the extravagance of his surroundings.
And why was his heart so set on this particular town, anyway? Surely there were dozens of other places just like Serendipity. Did he really care if he made his home here or somewhere else?
He couldn’t entirely explain it, but the answer to that question was yes. He did care where he landed, and this town was it. Vivian had been full of stories about the town of Serendipity and the folks who resided there. According to her, the town was small. Quiet. Unassuming. Becoming a recluse here would be easy, and the surroundings would be peaceful and beautiful. It was a gut feeling more than anything, but he’d learned over the years to follow that internal leading. Why should one small bump in the road cause him to change lanes?
Years before, when the thought first occurred to him that he ought to leave his unfulfilling life in the city and move to a small town to raise horses, he’d simply tucked it into the back of his mind. His subconscious mulled over it, occasionally spearing him with the desire to make that dream a reality. He’d had the means, but he’d been too focused on his