enough guy. Steph had mentioned after she hired him that he was a good worker. Rufus said he kept his area of the bunkhouse clean and in order. Maybe Jim was hoping to settle down, find himself a suitable woman and ask her to be his wife. If so, he’d be a lot better match for Steph than Grant ever would.
But Steph wasn’t looking at the hired hand. Steph was looking at him. And every time she looked at him, he wanted to jump up and grab her and carry her off someplace nice and private, someplace where he could peel off that red shirt and those snug jeans and have another long look at what he’d seen down by the creek.
He covered pretty well, he thought. Except for Rufus’s sly remarks and the occasional shining glance from Steph, they all kind of carried on as usual.
There was pie and ice cream after the meal. Grant dutifully packed it away. And then, at last, Marie started clearing off.
“It was great, Marie. Thanks.” He slid his napkin in at the side of his plate and pushed back his chair. “And it’s an hour’s ride back to the resort. I think I’d better get moving.”
Rufus grunted. “Your horse is ready to go. Tacked him up before I came in to eat.”
“’Preciate that.” He pushed his chair under the table, and turned for the entry hall. The hat he’d borrowed waited on the peg by the front door. He grabbed it, yanked the door back and fled.
Too bad Steph was right behind him.
She caught up with him out on the porch. He didn’t know what the hell to say to her. So he said nothing. She didn’t seem to mind, just strolled along at his side across the yard to the post beside the barn where Rufus had hitched Titan.
As they reached the big gelding, she spoke. “Nice out now. Cooling off a little…”
The sun was just sliding behind the mountains, but it would be a while yet till dark. “Yeah,” he said, without actually looking at her. “Nice.” He took the reins and mounted. Then he made the mistake of glancing down at her.
She smiled. That wide, glowing, happy smile. Something tightened in his chest.
“How about a picnic?” she asked. “I can’t tomorrow. We’ve got too many fences that need fixing around here—not to mention a couple of ditches that have to be burned out so those fat yearlings I’ve been bragging on won’t die of thirst. But I could get away Tuesday. Say, noon? I’ll meet you out by that big, dead cottonwood over in the Danvers pasture.” He’d ridden by that tree earlier on his way to the ranch. Once, it had been on Triple J land. She asked, “You know where I mean?”
Tell her how you just can’t make it. “Yeah. I know.”
“It’s about midway between here and the resort, so it won’t take you all that long to get there. Over the fence from that pasture is Parks Service land and some nice shade trees. I’ll bring the blanket and Mom’s cold chicken. And the beer.”
Tell her no, you can’t make it. Tell her it’s just not possible. Tell her now.
“All right. Noon on Tuesday,” he heard himself say.
“Good night, Grant.” She stepped back.
He tipped his hat and turned his horse to go.
The whole ride back, he called himself a hundred kinds of damn fool. Now, he’d have to call her. Tell her how something had come up and he just couldn’t make it on Tuesday, no way.
He was so busy stewing over how he shouldn’t have kissed her, shouldn’t have agreed to any damn picnic, that he didn’t even think about what he’d forgotten to do until he was back in his suite at the resort, changing his clothes. He stopped with one leg out of his Wranglers and gaped at his image in the wall-to-wall mirror of his dressing area.
He’d never told them he was selling the ranch.
“Mom?” Steph leaned in the archway from the front hall.
Marie looked up from her mending and smiled a tired smile. She took off the dimestore glasses she wore for close work and rubbed the bridge of her nose. In the pool of light cast by the lamp, her round face looked shadowed and lined, older than her forty-nine years. “Off to bed?”
“Mmm-hmm.” It wasn’t quite nine yet, but Steph—and her mother, too—would be up and working long before first light. “Just wanted to say good-night.”
Marie set her mending in her lap and reached to pat the arm of the sofa a few feet from her favorite chair. “Sit a minute.”
Something in her mother’s tone alerted Steph. “What’s wrong?”
“Come on. Just sit with me. Not for long…”
Reluctantly, sensing she wasn’t going to like what her mother had to say, Steph left the archway. She took the spot at the end of the sofa. “What is it?”
Suddenly Marie just had to take a couple more stitches in the sock she was mending. Steph stared at her bent head, feeling fondness mixed with apprehension. She loved and respected her mother. Most of the time, the two of them saw eye to eye.
But tonight, Steph had a feeling they were about to disagree.
At last, Marie looked up again. “You and Grant got something going on between you?”
Steph couldn’t hide her trembling smile. “Oh, I hope so.”
Marie stitched some more. Then, abruptly, she lowered her work to her lap again. “He’s far from ready to settle down.”
“I know, Mom.”
“You two want different things from life.”
“True. But…you never know how things might turn out.”
Her mother shook her head. “You should see yourself. Pink cheeks and stars in your eyes…”
“Is that so bad?”
“You watch your heart, honey.”
“Oh, Mom. There’s nothing to watch. My heart belongs to him and it always has.”
Grant had meetings all day Monday. From concierge to housekeeping to the AspenGlow Spa to food service to sales to public relations—and more—Grant was responsible for overseeing it all.
The longest meeting was first thing. From nine until eleven-thirty, he pored over plans for the projected 18-hole, par seventy-two championship golf course, which was still in the early stages of development, with construction scheduled to begin next summer.
At eleven forty-five, he met with his assistant to go over the calendar for the week. After that, he could have stolen a few minutes to call the ranch and tell them about the sale.
But no. It really wasn’t the kind of news he wanted to deliver in a phone call. He felt he owed it to the hands and Steph and her mom to give it to them face-to-face. And there was just no opportunity for that, not that day.
True, he had no appointments that evening. He could make the time to drive out there after six. And
