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The screech of brakes alerted Grace Lockhart to the fact that something was wrong.
She hurried out of the farmhouse. A sleek, black SUV stood in the middle of the dirt and gravel driveway. And a man was hunkered down on the ground, looking under the vehicle.
Her sisters, Tess, and Harriet, were out. They weren’t expecting any bed and breakfast guests today, unless this was an unexpected arrival?
“I didn’t hit them, did I?” the man demanded, his voice echoing from under the SUV.
She froze. Even muffled, she would know that voice anywhere. It belonged to Sam Hartwell, her ex-boss. One of her ex-bosses, to be precise.
Glancing around, her thoughts in a whirl, she spied a hen with seven fluffy yellow chicks, toddling along the dirt driveway toward the house, as if they had no idea they had been the cause of the vehicle braking suddenly.
“No, you didn’t hit them.” She attempted to collect herself. “If you’re talking about the chickens.”
“Grace.” The man backed out from underneath the vehicle and straightened, brushing down his expensive looking smoke gray suit.
It wasn’t fair. He looked exactly as she remembered him. Her unrequited crush came roaring back to full life. She swallowed.
“What are you doing here, Sam?”
“Looking for you,” he said casually, as if he checked to make sure he didn’t hit a stray chicken every day of the week. Maybe he did.
“It seems that you found me,” she replied, turning her gaze to the chickens. How had they gotten out of their pen? She’d rather think about that than think about Sam – or look at him.
She didn’t have to. He was tall, maybe six inches over her five foot six, with short dark hair, brown eyes, and handsome – just handsome. At thirty-four, he was ten years older than her.
And he was one of the reasons she’d quit her job in Seattle and moved to the Rose Lark Ranch in Montana she’d inherited with her sisters one year and three weeks ago.
“I need to talk to you.” His gaze took her in, then scanned his surroundings, landing on the chicks. “Should they be allowed to roam around like that?”
“No.” She followed his gaze. “They must have gotten out of their pen. I better put them back in.”
Grace hurried over to the fluffy little creatures and their mother, encouraging them to follow her back to the pen.
She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder at Sam, feeling alternately hot and cold all over.
Grace had dreamed of Sam arriving at the ranch, saying he couldn’t live without her. But that hadn’t happened. Not for one year and three weeks. Just when she’d told herself to give up on her crush, he turned up.
What must he think of the ranch? She and her sisters had finally begun to turn around the rundown place, building two bed and breakfast cabins and a three-goat herd of angoras.
And now, her eldest sister Tess was married and lived in an impressive log home on the ranch, and her sister Harriet was newly engaged to their ranch hand.
Which left her, all alone.
“Stop it,” she muttered fiercely, spying the section of wire fence that had a small gap in it. The hens must have worked it loose, allowing the brown hen to squeeze through, along with her chicks.
She grabbed some grain from the shed next to the pen and rattled the container, enticing the chicks to hop back into the grassy enclosure.
Picking up the mother hen, she gently lifted her over the fence and down on the other side.
“They’re cute.” His attractive, deep voice was right behind her.
“Yes,” she managed. “I just have to fix this hole or they’ll get out again.”
“What do you need?”
She forced herself to swing around and face him, her gaze drifting over him. He looked so – so – debonair. And handsome. He didn’t belong on a ranch where dust and dirt went hand in hand.
“You might get dirty.” Her blue capris and T-shirt were no match for his designer suit. And her curves were so different to his tall, muscular frame.
He chuckled. “I think that’s already happened.” He gestured to his gray trousers, a little bit of dust still clinging to them.
“There’s a piece of wood over there.” She gestured to the side of the shed, making her way over to it as she spoke. “I’ll just put that here to block the hole, and ask Coop to fix the fence.”
“Coop?” he enquired, his dark eyebrows drawing together.
“Our ranch hand. And my sister Harriet’s fiancé.” She hadn’t needed to explain that.
She busied herself with placing the wood in front of the hole so she wouldn’t have to observe his reaction.
“Oh.”
She couldn’t tell if her statement had any impact on him or not.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” he asked as she straightened up.
“We can go inside the house,” she replied, realizing too late she would be alone with him.
You’re alone with him now.
But somehow, being alone with him outside on this warm July afternoon seemed totally different to being alone with him inside the old farmhouse.
He walked by her side as they reached the farmhouse. Blue sky that seemed to go on forever highlighted the green pasture opposite the house and the tall pine trees in the distance.
The house had recently been repainted. Fresh yellow clapboard replaced the tired, faded hint of lemon, but the two creaky wooden steps announced their presence under Grace and Sam’s feet.
“Come in.” She opened the screen door and led the way inside the cool house toward the kitchen.
“Coffee?” She gestured to the coffee machine sitting on the counter top.
“Sure.” He nodded.
Grace focused on getting out two mugs and putting capsules into the machine.
She remembered how he liked his coffee – a dash of cream. In fact, she remembered everything about him. That was the problem. Just having him here in the kitchen – no, having him turn up at the ranch – brought all her feelings back to vivid life.
And she didn’t like it.
How could she get over him when he was here, right in the same room?
Grace made the coffee and brought it over to the scarred wooden table.
Since she and her sisters had moved into the farmhouse, they had slowly made improvements, but the kitchen was still the original, with homey, old-fashioned décor.
“I need your help,” he stated as she sat down opposite him.
“Oh?” She managed to hold his gaze for an instant, before focusing on stirring the black depths of her coffee as if her life depended on it.
Why had he come to see her? How could she possibly help him? He was a millionaire – not only did he co-own the art gallery with his brother Parker, but he also had financial interests in other businesses, as well as the stock market. She’d gleaned that much from Parker, whom she’d worked for at the gallery.
“We’re hosting a big exhibition for Emmett Corvin and his new painting is late.”
“Really?” She looked up at him. Emmett had been her favorite of all the artists the gallery had hosted when she’d worked there.
“Yeah.” He frowned, as if he wasn’t used to the idea that something like this could happen.
And maybe he wasn’t. Although he was a co-owner, he was mostly hands off, giving Parker the reins. When she’d worked there, he usually dropped by once or twice per week to check everything was running smoothly, before going back to his other business dealings, or spending his evenings at society events, his photo in the paper with a glamorous woman on his arm. A woman who was not curvy.
“Did Emmett say why he’s running late with it?”
“No.” His frown deepened. “Parker called him, but Emmett wanted to speak to you. When my brother told him you no longer worked for us, Emmett hung up.”
She managed to hide a small smile. Parker was essentially a good guy, but wasn’t known for his tact.
“Why did you leave us, Grace?” He studied her face.
Her heart skipped a beat at his scrutiny, but she kept her tone light.
“I’m sure Parker told you why,” she replied. “I inherited this place—” she waved a hand around the kitchen “—with my sisters, and we decided to move here and live in the fresh country air. And when it happened, you were out of the States.” At his inquiring look, she added, “Parker told me.”
“Right.” He didn’t appear to look happy at her reminder. “I had some stuff to deal with.”
“It didn’t make sense to stay in Seattle while my sisters moved in here.” Had he really expected her to hang around in Seattle just so she could tell him in person she was quitting her job?
“Where are your sisters?” He craned his neck, as if expecting them to pop up at any second.
“They’ve gone to Spring River Bend.”
“The small town I passed on the way here?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Harriet works as a barista at the coffee shop there, and Tess is doing the grocery shopping.”
“And you all live here – in this house?”
She wondered why he was asking all these questions. He hadn’t seemed so interested in her when she’d been working at the art gallery for two years, straight out of college.
“We used to,” she replied. “But now Tess is married and has her own house on part of the ranch, and Harriet spends some of her time with her fiancé.”
“The ranch hand,” he clarified.
“Yes.”
It was weird practically having the farmhouse to herself. She’d been used to all three of them living together, but now she was mostly alone.
“Why do you think I can help you with Emmett?” she asked briskly.
“He likes you.” His tone indicated he was stating the obvious.
“And I like him.” She smiled as she thought of the senior. He could be a bit brusque and set in his ways, but inside she knew he was an old softy.
“And I don’t think he likes Parker.”
“Have you tried talking to Emmett?” she asked.
“Not yet. He told Parker if we didn’t stop hassling him he’d sign with a different gallery. And as you probably know, Emmett brings in a lot of money for us.”
“I’m aware.” At times she’d wondered if it had been wise to depend so much on the revenue one artist brought to the gallery. She’d worked there as Parker’s assistant, which meant doing practically everything that needed to be done, including picking up lunch for him, and soothing highly strung artists who were certain their latest work was so terrible they were ready to splatter a big black X over their painting. Her role hadn’t included giving her thoughts on the gallery’s financial position. Would Parker have welcomed them if she had?
“We’re in the process of diversifying now,” Sam added.
“Really?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise. Parker had seemed certain having a few big artists every year had been the best way to manage things.
“I’ve taken my eye off things,” he admitted with a grimace. “I’ve been too caught up in – other stuff – and hadn’t realized how much we were relying on proven artists – even if they can be temperamental at times. But we need you – I need you – to work your magic with Emmett.”
“Magic?” She crinkled her brow.
“Whatever it is you do that has him eating out of your hand.”
“He’s a seventy-year-old man, not a grizzly bear.”
“That’s not what Parker says.” His mouth edged into a smile.
“I treat Emmett like a human being. When he comes to the gallery for his exhibitions, I chat to him, and bring him some home-made brownies. His wife died a few years ago, and he told me she made wonderful brownies. I’m sure mine aren’t as good, but Emmett seems to appreciate the gesture. He also likes Earl Grey tea with a dash of milk.”
She noticed him staring at her and she flushed.
“What?”
“Parker’s an idiot.”
She thought it best not to say anything.
“When you told him you were quitting, did he offer you a raise?”
“No.” Parker had seemed sorry to see her go, but hadn’t offered her any inducements to stay. Not that he could have – only Sam would have had the power to entice her to stay, and since he’d been out of the country at the time, that obviously hadn’t happened. He hadn’t even contacted her when he’d returned and learned of her resignation.
“He’s now on his fourth assistant and she doesn’t seem to be working out too well.”
“Oh.” When she’d first started working at the gallery, she hadn’t been too sure about Parker – he seemed like the playboy type – but they’d eased into a friendly working relationship, even going out for drinks a couple of times, but that was all. She hadn’t seriously been tempted by Parker even before she’d met his brother Sam. And once she’d met Sam – she’d been insistently smitten. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say the same for him.
“Emmett’s exhibition is next week and we need the painting he’s working on. It’s the main piece in his new collection. Without it, well—” he grimaced “—it’s not going to be much of a showcase without it.”
“I guess I can call Emmett,” she suggested.
“I don’t think that will work.” He shook his head. “It’s too easy for him to hang up on you. I think the best thing to do is to go and see him – in person.”
“In Wyoming?” Her eyes widened.
“Yeah.” He checked his watch. “We might be able to get a flight this evening and go straight to his house.”
“And then what?” She wondered if he was joking – but Sam didn’t usually joke about things, unlike his brother.
“And then we talk to him, get him to finish the painting, and fly back here.”
“I can see you’ve got this all worked out.” She sank back in the hard wooden chair.
“Pretty much.” He dug out his phone and started swiping. “I’ll book the flights right now and—”
“Hold on.” Grace frowned. “I didn’t say I would help you. And there’s no way Emmett is going to finish his painting with you standing over him.”
Sam’s finger paused mid-swipe.
“And you haven’t asked if I’m available to fly to Wyoming.”
“Aren’t you?” His brow creased.
“No. I’m in the middle of negotiations to buy the bookshop in Spring River Bend. I can’t just drop everything and fly off to Wyoming with you.”
“I’ll pay you five thousand dollars.”
She stared at him.
“I don’t expect you to work for free. Parker was a fool to let you quit. If I’d been at the gallery, there was no way you’d have been able to resign so easily.”
“But you weren’t there,” she murmured.
“No.” Regret chased across his face.
The silence was broken by the tick-tock of the old kitchen clock.
“I can’t take your money,” Grace said eventually. “Talking to Emmett isn’t work. I’m happy to talk to him on the phone, but I don’t know if I have time to fly to Wyoming to see him.”
“The money would come in handy for buying the bookshop,” Sam suggested.
“I know.” Although Tess had married well – more than well – and was totally in love with her billionaire husband, five thousand dollars was a lot of money to Grace. Especially since the price of the bookstore was six times that amount. She didn’t have anywhere near thirty thousand in her savings account. In fact, she had less than five thousand in there.
She and her sisters had worked hard to make the ranch a going concern over the last year, and they had succeeded to an extent, but it had taken most of the money they had to build the first bed and breakfast cabin. When that had proved successful, they’d built a second. Since there were three of them, they split the profits from the guest accommodation three ways.
Grace put that money away in her savings account, and relied on her part-time job at the bookstore for her expenses. But she was still a long way from thirty thousand dollars.
“There are two first class seats left.” He tapped his phone. “I can make the booking right now.”
“I don’t want your money. I’m not mercenary.” Tess’s husband had offered to give her the money to buy the bookshop, but she’d refused. She’d also turned down his offer of a no-interest loan.
“I know.” He looked surprised at her statement.
“Let me think about it.” She needed to mull it over.
He frowned. “We haven’t got much time. I need that painting finished as soon as possible.”
The front door banged open and Harriet burst into the kitchen. “The café was slammed today, Grace. I—” she stopped when she saw Sam sitting at the table.
“This is Sam,” Grace said.
“Your boss – ex-boss Sam?” Harriet crinkled her brow.
“Uh-huh.”
“Hi.” Sam rose and held out his hand across the kitchen table. “Sam Hartwell.”
“Hi.” Harriet shook his hand. “I’m Harriet, Grace’s sister.”
“Grace says you work at the local coffee shop,” he remarked.
“Yes.” Harriet nodded. “But she didn’t mention you were going to visit her.” She looked at him curiously.
“She didn’t know,” he replied smoothly.
“I am here in this room,” Grace said.
“Sorry.” A hint of crimson stained his cheekbones. “Something’s come up with one of our artists. I was asking Grace for her help.”
“Like what?” Harriet asked, ignoring her sister’s frown.
“He doesn’t want to talk to anyone except Grace.”
“Then you should talk to this artist.” Harriet looked at her sister.
“He lives in Wyoming.” Grace swung her gaze between Harriet and Sam, hoping her sister would pick up on her silent dilemma. She hadn’t spoken much about Sam to her sisters, even when she’d worked at the gallery, but surely Harriet would be able to sense she wasn’t exactly jumping for joy at Sam’s proposal?
“Oh.”
“I told Grace we could fly there tonight,” Sam put in.
“Tonight?” Harriet stared at him. “What if she has stuff she has to do?” Her gaze flickered back to Grace. “Does Tess know about this?”
“No,” Grace replied.
“The quickest flight will take three hours and six minutes,” Sam continued. “I can book it right now.”
“And it takes fifty minutes to drive to the airport from here,” Harriet pointed out. “How long will it take you to get to this artist’s house? Can you get a flight back tonight? Or will you have to stay in Wyoming overnight?”
For once, Grace was grateful for Harriet’s inquisitiveness.
“If we miss the last flight from Jackson Hole, we can stay in a motel for the night,” Sam replied.
“Emmett lives an hour from the airport,” Grace spoke up. When both of them looked at her, she added, “Emmett told me once. Said that was one of the reasons he didn’t like flying much – it took too long to get anywhere.”
Harriet looked at her watch. “I don’t see how you’re going to get that all done tonight.”
“What about tomorrow?” Sam caught Grace’s gaze. “Are you free?”
Somehow, she couldn’t lie to him. “Yes.” Her voice was reluctant.
He swiped his phone. “We could leave on the nine a.m. flight, get there at lunchtime, and catch the five p.m. flight back here.”
“So Grace will be home around nine p.m.,” Harriet said.
“Yes.” Sam nodded.
Harriet looked at Grace, her brow raised in enquiry.
“Okay.” Grace let out a breath. “I’ll do it. It will be nice to see Emmett again.” She got up and opened the pantry, scanning the contents. “It looks like I’ve got all the ingredients to make him a batch of brownies.”
“That would be great.” Relief edged Sam’s voice.
“I’ll help you,” Harriet offered. “Maybe we can make a double batch and I can take some over to Coop.”
“And we can give some to Tess and Garth,” Grace added.
“Thanks for agreeing to do this, Grace.” Sam scraped back his chair. “Is there somewhere in Spring River Bend I can stay tonight?”
The sisters looked at each other, Harriet stifling a giggle.
“No,” Grace eventually said. “That was one of the reasons we started up the B & B.”
“Both cabins are vacant tonight,” Harriet said. “You could stay in one of them.”
Grace bit her lip, waiting for Sam’s reaction.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his gaze scanning their expressions.
He’s not staying in the house, Grace told herself. You can handle it.
“Sure.” She pinned a smile on her face.
“Well, it would be efficient,” he conceded. “We can leave for the airport at six-thirty tomorrow morning.”
