Pulling up to the main house at the end of a hard day’s work, he sat in his truck for a moment and admired it. The stately Victorian farmhouse could use some work, but it still managed to appear inviting. He particularly loved the wide front porch. As a kid, he’d spent plenty of time there, watching while Hal made homemade ice cream, or rocking in one of the big rockers while watching a storm sweep in from the west. If he ever built his own place, he planned to make sure it had a porch just like it.
He entered the main house just as Hal slammed the old-fashioned rotary telephone back in its cradle. The old rancher slumped in his wheelchair, wheezing for air. Immediately, Travis rushed over, kneeling down next to him. “Are you all right? Where’s Delilah?”
“I banished her to the kitchen.” Straightening, Hal frowned and scratched his head. “I told her to go away and quit treating me like an invalid. That goes for you too, so get up and quit acting like I’m about to keel over at any second.”
Hal preferred everyone to pretend he wasn’t sick. Travis got it. He figured he’d probably be the same way if he were in Hal’s shoes. Pushing to his feet, he squeezed his stepfather’s bony shoulder. “She should know better,” he said. Hal’s breathing seemed better, so Travis relaxed a little. “Who called?”
“Damn oil company again.” Grimacing, Hal wheeled himself over to his spot in front of the television, which was currently off. “Nightly News with Lester Holt comes on in a few minutes.”
Which was his way of saying he wanted to be left alone. Fine. As long as daylight remained, there was work to be done. Travis glanced at his watch, then headed outside to check on the barn. One of his best mares was due to foal at any time, and he’d stationed a couple of teenagers inside the barn, with instructions to fetch him immediately if she showed signs of labor.
Once outside, Travis dragged his hand across his jaw and then strode out toward the barn. He’d been keeping tabs on Hal for years, even before the older man had gotten sick. They were close, in the way of firm-jawed, silent types. Travis admired him and looked up to him. Though not related by blood, he considered the older man his father, and knew Hal felt the same.
Several times over the last few years, Travis had stepped in and kept Hal from getting bilked of what remained of his savings. The older man believed in living simply, much to the dismay of his ex-wife, Travis’s mother, Vivian. And since she’d signed a prenup agreement before they’d married, once they divorced, she could do nothing to change that. Still, as Hal aged, he became a frequent target for scammers.
So far, Travis had managed to fend off two religious organizations, one long-lost cousin who’d claimed to have millions in a foreign bank and a few gold-digging women looking for a sugar daddy. It wasn’t that Hal was stupid—far from it—but the old man had a heart of gold. He always tried to see the best in everyone. And if he could help, he’d do his damndest to try.
At least this time, he refused to listen to Wave Oil with their false promises of untold riches and undisturbed land. Travis would be eternally grateful for that.
At the barn, he interrupted the teens giggling and playing games on their phones. Though they assured him nothing had changed, Travis checked on the mare anyway. She still wasn’t ready, though he had a feeling it would be soon. Maybe even tonight. He reminded the boys of their responsibilities, reiterated that they were to call him at the slightest sign of the horse going into labor and left.
Walking back toward the house, he stopped and stared at the cloud of dust heading his way. A little red car, moving much too fast, barreled down the private road toward the entrance to the ranch.
What now? He cursed. He figured it would head past the main house, toward his place, most likely to visit either his mother or sister. One of them likely had made a new friend or something. Though usually they took care to give him advance notice so he could stay far, far away.
But no, the car pulled up in front of the main house instead and parked. He couldn’t make out if the visitor was a man or a woman due to the tinted glass.
Until she opened her door. Definitely female. Moving with a long-legged grace that reminded him of a thoroughbred filly, she got out of her little compact car. Huge sunglasses in place, perfectly curled, long black hair swirling around her slender shoulders, everything about her screamed north Dallas. In other words, high society.
A chill snaked up his spine, sweeping over him. He shook it off, still staring, since he was not a man who believed in intuition or omens. Picking up his pace, he beat her to the house and waited, watching as she strode up the sidewalk, her high heels clicking on the cracked cement.
She didn’t acknowledge him until only a few feet separated them, and then she pulled off her dark glasses and met his gaze. Her vivid green eyes were both startling and familiar—he knew only one other person with that exact, unusual shade. Hal.
Again, a feeling that everything was about to change swept over him. He squared his shoulders. Not if he could help it. Like everything else in his life, he’d meet this challenge head-on. Head tilted, he crossed his arms, waiting for her to speak first. When she didn’t, he shook his head. “No point in wasting time. I don’t know how many times we have to tell you people to stay off our property. The answer is still no. Now go on and get back in your car and head back toward town.”
With that, he turned and went inside, closing the door behind him with her still standing silently out on the front porch.
And then he waited. Though he doubted it, he really hoped she’d get back into her car and leave, exactly as he’d told her to.
Of course she didn’t. A sharp knock on the front door made him curse under his breath. The sound startled Hal awake in his recliner. “Well?” he demanded, his faded green eyes bright as he stared at Travis. “Are you going to answer that?”
Damn. He’d been hoping to keep Hal out of yet another confrontation with someone from Wave Oil. Reluctantly, Travis nodded. Though both he and Hal had told them in no uncertain terms to stay off the property, clearly they’d once again completely ignored his wishes.
Taking a deep breath, he yanked open the door to glare at the dark-haired young woman standing there, coolly composed in her formfitting dress and high heels. Ignoring the instant tug of attraction, he glared at her.
“I thought I asked you to leave,” he said. The coldness in his tone should have warned her he wouldn’t be amenable to a sales pitch, no matter how much she fluttered her pretty green eyes.
“Well, that’s not really up to you, now is it? I’m here to see Mr. Hal Gardner,” she drawled, appearing not the least bit put out. He couldn’t place her Southern accent, though it definitely wasn’t East Texas, that’s for sure. Out of state, most likely. Alabama, Tennessee, maybe even Mississippi or Georgia. Another spark of interest, which again he immediately quashed.
“For the one hundredth time, he isn’t interested. Stay off our land.” He started to close the heavy door, but she slipped one pointy-toed, clearly expensive, patent leather high-heeled shoe inside to prevent him from doing that.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He stared at her foot in disbelief.
“So sorry,” she drawled. Her clearly false smile lit up her heart-shaped face, making her emerald eyes sparkle. “While I’m not sure why you think I’m here, I can tell you Mr. Gardner isn’t even aware of my existence. Therefore, there’s no way you can truthfully state he’s not interested. Maybe you should give him the chance to meet me and decide for himself. Now if you don’t mind fetching him...?”
Fetching? Any other time, any other place,