Emma showered, dressed and got downstairs by seven the following morning, eager to eat breakfast and try to persuade Dylan to hear her proposal one last time before her conference call. She had glanced out the window earlier but only saw a sea of white through the darkness. That was all she saw last night before she went to bed, too. It was still snowing. She’d only been on the ranch for one day and she was already homesick. It was one thing to travel and have places to go and see. The prospect of being confined on the ranch for the next few days was less exciting than watching water drip from a faucet.
Her stomach grumbled and the scent of fresh baked muffins beckoned her to the dining area. She knew the ranch had a breakfast buffet, but she hadn’t expected one this large. And there they were...a basket of glorious golden blueberry muffins. She snatched one before she even picked up a plate. Unable to wait until she sat down, she bit into the streusel-covered top. Heaven couldn’t have created a better muffin.
“Oh, my God, French toast!” Carbs! Her body craved them like no tomorrow. She piled four slices on her plate and doused them in real maple syrup. Not the artificial stuff. She would kill for a cup of regular coffee, but settled for a small carton of orange juice, instead. Sugar! Her body craved that, too. Her mother would die if she saw what she had eaten over the past twenty-four hours. Emma didn’t care. She knew pregnancy wasn’t a free pass to eat whatever she wanted, but sometimes you just had to make an exception. She just hoped they didn’t bring out pancakes because then somebody would have to roll her out the door.
“Good morning.” Sandy greeted her at the table. “I didn’t expect to see you up this early. I saw you drooling over the coffee. Would you like a cup of decaf? I brewed a pot a few minutes ago.”
“No thank you. It gives me cotton mouth and just makes me crave the real thing that much more.” Emma unwrapped her silverware from her napkin and began cutting into her French toast. “Please give my compliments to the chef on those muffins. They are amazing. I haven’t tried anything else yet, but I’m sure it will be as good, if not better than it smells.”
“You really like the muffins?” Sandy beamed. “I made them. And Melinda made the French toast. I don’t know if you met her or not last night. She’s another server here.” Sandy looked around the room. “She’s the tall blonde over by the kitchen door. The one that looks like she should be modeling for Sports Illustrated instead of working on a ranch. Rhonda’s also on kitchen duty this morning because the staff still couldn’t make it in due to the road closures. She’s the one with the reddish-purple updo next to Melinda. The chefs don’t live on the ranch like we do.”
“You made this?” Emma waved her fork. “Did you also make last night’s dinner?”
“We sure did. We’re all cross-trained here. I love cooking so it’s always a treat for me to cook for everyone.” Sandy grabbed a heated syrup pitcher from the buffet and set it in front of her. “Here, in case you want some more.”
“This is incredible. You should move into the kitchen instead of serving.”
“I had planned to, but then Jax said he was selling the ranch.” Sandy grimaced. “But now that it’s not for sale, I’ll have that chance again. Unless you changed Dylan’s mind last night.”
“No chance of that.” Guilt crept into Emma’s heart. The woman had dreams and aspirations and she was there to take them away. Wonderful. “Any word on how much snow we had overnight?”
“Eight inches. Not quite the foot they had expected. Normally we don’t see this type of accumulation until late January or early February. But it has been known to happen.”
“So I guess you’re still stuck with me.” Emma tried to smile. The snow worked in her favor at the moment, but unless she could change Dylan’s mind, she’d go stir-crazy on the ranch.
“We’re all in this together. Don’t worry. We have plenty of provisions and the lodge has generators in case we lose power. Dylan’s brother Harlan is a deputy sheriff in town so he’ll keep us updated on the roads.” Sandy pulled out a chair next to her and sat down. “You and Dylan looked awfully cozy in the cab of the snowcat when you pulled out of here last night.”
Emma wiped at her mouth, no longer hungry. “As cozy as two people can get when the driver has both of his hands full steering a multi-ton vehicle across the snow. Believe me when I tell you, Dylan has no plans to sell this place. He won’t even discuss it.”
“I already knew that. I thought maybe there was a romance brewing between you two.”
She pushed her plate aside. “You are out of your mind. Don’t take this the wrong way, but this lifestyle isn’t for me. I’m used to having every amenity available at a moment’s notice. We have road closures, but never like this. At least not where I live in Chicago. I’m blocks away from the hospital so they clear those roads first. This is very—”
“Calming, if you allow it to be.”
Emma covered her mouth for fear she might burst out laughing. The Montana wilderness was not calming to her. It was terrifying in more than one way.
“Maybe he’ll take you out for a private sleigh ride today.” Sandy nibbled her bottom lip. “Can you just imagine?”
Emma had never been the hopeless-romantic type. Even romantic was questionable. She’d read the fairy tales and had hoped her Prince Charming would sweep her off her feet one day. Then she had gotten knocked up and her boyfriend walked out on her. So much for romance. And hopeless? Yeah, she was feeling pretty hopeless right now, considering she couldn’t even convince Dylan to listen to her.
“I think you’re super excited about your wedding and you’re trying to play matchmaker. You’re conveniently forgetting I’m carrying another man’s baby.”
“But I overheard you tell Dylan that he wasn’t in your life.”
“That’s right, he’s not.”
“Then what’s the problem? Dylan loves kids. He still misses the ones he lost when Lauren divorced him. And you challenge each other.”
“How do you know that?” Emma jabbed her fork into a piece of French toast. It would be a shame to let it go to waste. “I’ve only been here for a day.”
“I see the way you look at each other. And the way he sang to you last night.” Sandy fanned herself with her hand. “Now that was hot.”
“It was a Christmas song, not a love song,” Emma protested.
“But you were standing under the mistletoe.”
“An unfortunate misstep on my part. It’s not like he came over and kissed me afterward.”
“And what if I had?” Dylan said from behind her.
Emma froze. Mouth-open, fork-in-hand, syrup-dripping froze. Now, she was going to die.
Dylan knew he wasn’t playing fair. Then again, Emma hadn’t played fair since the day they had met.
“I’ll give you two a little privacy.” Sandy stood and held out her chair for him.
Before he even had a chance to sit, Emma rose. “I should be going, too.”
“Going where? The ranch is snowed in.”
Emma’s pinky grazed his. It was innocent and intimate in the same breath. And dammit if it hadn’t left him wanting more. He moved his chair a few inches farther away from hers before he sat down.
“Did you change your mind about hearing my proposal?”
“No.” He shook his head. “But I would like to pick your brain.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “About the ranch? Dylan, I have a conference call this afternoon and I have to explain how I can’t convince you to give me a few hours of your time. Yet, you want to pick my brain, as you put it, over the ranch. Yeah, um, I’m sorry. That’s not going to happen.”
“You seem to be awfully stressed over one phone call. Stay and have breakfast with me. I insist.” Dylan picked up her dish. “Let me get you a hot plate of food. You can meet some of my people and relax for an hour.”
“No offense, but being near you is anything but relaxing. Especially when you’re pushing your own agenda.”
“I haven’t asked much of you, but you’re asking me to give up my entire life. Honestly, I didn’t think having breakfast with me and my employees was that big of a deal.” Dylan forced himself to remain polite. “Don’t worry, they won’t tell you their life stories. I just thought it would be nice if you met some of Silver Bells’ extended family. The ranch wasn’t just my uncle. It’s all of us together.”
“Okay.” Emma sat down. “I’ll stay.”
“Oh-kay.” The way she agreed with him seemed off. He half-expected her to bolt before he returned to the table. “I’ll be right back.”
By the time he reached the buffet, many of the guests were in line ahead of him. When the ranch had been fully operational, they’d had a separate employee buffet two hours earlier. They had combined them when there wasn’t enough of either group for a full buffet. At least it made the massive dining room appear much less empty.
He checked the table a few times to make sure Emma was still there. She had her head buried in that phone of hers. A part of him wished the snowstorm would take out the internet, but then he wouldn’t be able to make his own inquiries to save the ranch. He’d spent half the night online researching potential investors. He’d even sent out a few feeler emails, but this wasn’t his forte.
With Christmas less than a week away, he figured most people wouldn’t want to be bothered discussing a business deal this size. He wondered if one partner would even be enough. He might need to form his own investment group. But who would want to finance a sinking ship?
Dylan stopped a few of his ranch hands’ wives in line and directed them to the large round table where Emma sat. By the time he arrived, it was almost full and she was happily chatting about babies. Perfect. She was forming a connection with them. That was exactly what he had hoped for.
“The women want to teach me how to knit.” Emma frowned as he placed a fresh plate in front of her and took a seat.
“What’s wrong with knitting?” Most of the women he knew did it. Wasn’t that the in thing? Not that he was up-to-date on women’s hobbies but, based on bits of conversations he’d overheard around the ranch, many of his female employees were involved in some sort of crafting.
“I can barely sew a button on a shirt, let alone intricately weave yarn into clothing.”
“So make a simple blanket. Create something special for your daughter that she’ll hand down to her own daughter someday.”
“I hadn’t expected you to be the sentimental type.”
“I’m sentimental about a lot of things.” Dylan forked a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
“I know, I know. This ranch being one of them.”
“I’m attached to this ranch because I live on it and my employees depend on it. But I wouldn’t say it’s a sentimental attachment. The homestead my family lost after my father died...that was a sentimental attachment. I hope to one day buy it back if the current owner ever decides to sell.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“No need to apologize. It’s no secret around here. My brother Ryder killed my father. He was sentenced to ten years in prison, half of which he’s already served. I’m the oldest of five. I’ve always looked after everyone else. I feel the responsibility to have a place where people can work and make an honest living. I wanted Ryder to have that option once he got out of jail—if there’s anything left to salvage of our relationship—but now that may not be possible if the ranch continues on a downward spiral.”
“And you want me to help you?”
Dylan nodded. “You’ve met some of these people. This isn’t just my home. It’s theirs, too. I don’t want them to have to start over. I could handle it. Many of them can’t.”
Emma looked down at her hands. “I didn’t realize how difficult this has been for you.”
Her eyes met his and for the first time, he believed her. “No, you didn’t.”
Emma tensed. “At least we have that much in common. I don’t think you understand how difficult this has been for me, either.”
As much as he could use Emma’s expertise on how to entice potential investors, asking her to do so would violate her ethics. It was a shame they had such opposite goals. Their combined determination would have made them a great team.
It was nine o’clock before Emma waddled away from the table. Somewhere during that time, she had amassed the phone numbers of ranch women willing to share all the secrets of child-rearing, or so they said. Melinda had a six-month-old of her own and had generously offered to teach her the basics of bathing and changing an infant. Emma wasn’t sure she was ready for the hands-on approach just yet. She still had the child-care class to take at the hospital back home. She had thought she would have two more months to prepare for actual infant holding. The thought terrified her more and more each day. Especially since she had never held a baby...ever.
When noon rolled around—one o’clock Chicago time—Emma’s stomach began to churn. Either the baby was pressing her nausea button or her nerves about the conference call were getting the best of her. She was halfway to her room when her phone rang.
Crap! It was a video call. Not what she had expected.
“Hello.”
“Emma.” Charlie’s face appeared on the screen. “I’m here with Rob and Don. We need an update on the Silver Bells acquisition.”
“I haven’t made any progress yet. I—”
“You’ve been there for a day and you’ve done nothing?” Charlie scowled.
“The ranch is snowed in and Dylan’s had his hands full dealing with that. I’ve barely seen him,” she fibbed. “I’m sure I’ll have a chance once things calm down around here.”
Emma sat on a bench in the hallway, dreading Charlie’s response.
“Okay, getting snowed in may be a good thing.” Don’s face popped into the screen. “That will give you some time to work on...” He shuffled some papers. “Dylan, is it?”
“Yes.” She’d just said his name two seconds ago. So much for her home team being on top of things.
Charlie’s brows furrowed. “Emma, are you sure you can handle this?”
“You need to find something to use against this Dylan person,” Rob said before she had a chance to respond to Charlie. “Convince him to sell at any cost.”
Emma fought the retort that was on the tip of her tongue. She refused to play dirty.
“I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake, do I?” Charlie leaned in, his face filled the entire screen like an ominous presence. “If you can’t close this deal then I’m afraid you’re not ready for the acquisitions director promotion. Why don’t I send Don up to assist you?”
Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She didn’t need Don’s help. “The roads are closed. You can’t get here. Nobody can get here.”
“I’m sure somebody around there must rent snowmobiles,” Don snipped.
Snowmobiles. Of course, he would think of that. “I’m sure they do. But thanks, anyway. I’m fine on my own.”
“Emma, close this deal before you leave there. We have too many long-standing investors counting on this.”
Emma stood and felt lightheaded. She gripped the corner of the wall and sat down. “I’m trying, Charlie. Believe me, I’m evaluating every available option.”
“Okay, then. We’ll talk more later. Take care of that baby of yours.” And then the screen went blank.
“Merry Christmas to you, as—Dylan! How long have you been standing there?”
Mr. Pick-Your-Brain leaned languidly against the wall opposite her.
“Long enough to see that conversation made your blood boil.”
“You know it’s not nice to eavesdrop.”
“You’re having a conference call in the middle of the hallway in my lodge. It’s kind of impossible not to overhear.”
Yeah, okay that was true. For some reason, face-to-face conference calls with men in her hotel room creeped her out. “Now you understand my pressure?”
“Let me ask you something.” Dylan settled next to her on the bench, the length of his thigh touching hers. “Why do you put up with it? Can’t you find another job where they appreciate your talents? That was a whole lot of ridicule for a short conversation.”
“Then I would be admitting defeat.” Emma wouldn’t dream of quitting her job. Not after the six years of her life she’d devoted to the commercial real estate acquisitions firm. “It was the first place I worked for when I got out of college. I literally started at the bottom as an intern and worked my way up. I’ve accomplished quite a bit for someone who’s only twenty-eight. My goal was to make acquisitions director before I turned thirty. The problem is, that position rarely opens. The last acquisitions director had been there for twenty years. It’s available because he retired. This is my chance. Probably my only chance to advance.”
“But I’m not willing to sell.”
“I know but—” Emma doubled forward. The pain below her ribs felt like someone had shoved an ice pick through her body. “Dylan, help me! Something’s wrong with my baby. Oh, God, please!”