I actually paid for a five-acre tract on the other side of the river with a custom-made pool and big-screen projection TV. Old Mrs. Witherspoon, whose husband was one of your grandma Rose’s favorite customers, said she didn’t feel right taking money for something that she didn’t rightly pay for—Rose gave it to her husband in appreciation for forty years of loyal patronage.”
“If she’s got that much of a conscience, I would think she would have just given it back to you.”
“She’s a good woman, not a stupid one. Besides, she loves Wheel of Fortune and her eyesight is fading. That’s why she’s living in town with her daughter’s family. She has trouble getting around by herself and so she spends most of her time sitting around. She needed a big screen she could actually see and she sure-as-shootin’ can’t afford one on Social Security.”
“What about the swimming pool?”
“She’s got grandkids and it gets awful hot here in the high heat of summer.” For emphasis, he pulled off his hat and wiped a hand over his brow. “It’s only May right now and we’re already up into the nineties. And this is nothing compared to how hot it’s going to get in the next few months.”
“I’ve lived in Houston for five years. I know how hot it gets in Texas. That’s why I’ve ordered two extra window units for the downstairs alone. As for a big screen, I don’t have time to watch TV.” She had not only her business to keep her busy, but her new life, as well. She needed to really settle in and turn the Farraday Inn into a real home. “I’ve got curtains to buy and a garden to plant.”
“You garden?”
“Not yet, actually, but I’m going to start.”
“There are a lot of nice places closer to town.”
“I’m sure there are, but I’m not interested.”
“Because I haven’t hit on the right price. Just tell me what it would take.”
She thought for a moment and a smile tugged at her lips. “If you’ve got one hundred pounds of flour on you, I might be willing to make a deal.”
“A hundred pounds?”
“I’ve got orders to fill and I’m crunched for time.” She glanced at her watch. “I really have to go. So unless you’re packing several bags of the white stuff, this conversation is over.”
She could tell that he wanted to smile. But something held him back. “That’s your final answer?”
“Yes.” She watched him shrug as if giving in. Yeah, right. If she’d learned anything over the past two days, it was that Josh McGraw was a man who went after what he wanted. She’d heard almost as many rumors about him as she had her grandmother. About how he and his two brothers—he was the oldest of triplets—had practically ruled the town back in the day before they’d all gone off their separate ways. She’d heard about his parents’ untimely deaths within twenty-four hours of each other and his grandfather’s diagnosis with prostate cancer five years ago and the old man’s death just six months ago. All three boys had come back for their grandfather’s funeral, but Josh had been the only one to come sooner. He’d spent time with his grandfather during his last days, and he’d stayed on to run the ranch and buy back the fragmented pieces.
Yes, she’d heard about him, all right.
After she’d asked.
“I realize you’re set on living here, but it’s not going to be the same as the city,” he went on. His gaze fell to the pink strappy sandals she’d pulled on that morning, along with a pink miniskirt and a white T-shirt that read Princess in pink glitter. A perfect ensemble for the mall. Not so perfect for a house out in the middle of nowhere. “You might not like it.”
“If you’re trying to discourage me, it won’t work.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’ve already given myself the same speech. I know why I shouldn’t be here. The thing is, I want to be here.” Which was why she’d bought herself a pair of cowboy boots with a tastefully low heel and several pairs of jeans. She just hadn’t been able to find them amid all of the other boxes cluttering up the house.
He stared her up and down, a sweeping gaze that seemed to pause at all of her hot spots, before he finally shrugged. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Why do I have a feeling this isn’t your final offer?” she asked him.
He smiled and tipped his hat. “Because it’s not, cupcake. I’ll definitely be seeing you around.”
“Not if I see you first,” she breathed as she closed the door behind her and leaned back for a long, heart-pounding moment.
Josh McGraw was not conducive to her peace of mind. He distracted her. Worse, he attracted her. Enough to make her think twice about what he’d said.
You might not like it.
Ridiculous. She would like it. She would love it because this was her dream—a real home where she could plant a garden and make friends and finally fit in for the first time in her life. It was the lust that made her blow out a deep breath and notice the dampness of her T-shirt and the sweat that trickled down her temple.
She’d lived in Texas for several years. She was used to the heat. Of course, it was quite a bit hotter here than it had been in Houston. And her apartment building had been fairly new, with central-air units in each apartment. Unlike the old farmhouse and its one ancient window unit.
That’s just temporary. Like Josh.
Holly was through with fast and furious when it came to relationships. She wanted lasting relationships from here on out. From friendships to that special someone.
For the first time in her life, she wanted a special someone. A man to laugh with, grow old with, love.
She licked her lips and tried to ignore the tingling of her own bottom lip as she headed back to her kitchen.
JOSH CLIMBED into his truck and headed down the long stretch of driveway toward the small farm road that connected the Farraday Inn with the Iron Horse Ranch, and tried to catch his breath.
She’d turned him down. At the same time, just seeing her had turned him on. And hearing her say the word orgasm… That hadn’t helped the situation even if she had been talking about a dessert.
When he pictured a woman who baked for a living, the first image that came to mind was his great-aunt Lurline. She’d made the best peanut butter cookies this side of the Rio Grande. She was also eighty-two with a soft, plump body and a steel-gray perm.
Holly Farraday, on the other hand, had a body made for hot, sweaty bumping and grinding. Long legs that wrapped around his waist and refused to let go. A soft, round ass that fit his hands just perfect. A smooth belly that felt whisper soft against his lips. Perky breasts that plumped in his hands and red nipples that ripened at the flick of his tongue.
His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. Restlessness clawed at his insides as he turned the truck onto the main road and pressed down on the accelerator. The engine roared to life, eating up gravel and dust at a frantic pace that matched his heartbeat.
He’d
