Her Man On Three Rivers Ranch. Stella Bagwell

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      Another long pause and then he said, “The dates I’ve had in the past couple of years can be counted on one hand. So you see, I’m just as rusty about this as you are. As for being boring, my family’s nickname for me is Judge.”

      Katherine could hardly imagine a man of Blake’s status going without dates. Besides being handsome and wealthy, he was warm and personable and a far cry from boring. He could have any woman he set eyes on. Had he stayed away from the dating scene because his engagement hadn’t worked out? She wondered. If so, he must have been crazy in love with his ex-fiancée. The thought was more than off-putting.

      “I have my son to consider,” she hedged. “He’d have to go to a sitter.”

      “My mother or sister would be happy to take on that chore.”

      She absently rubbed her fingertips across her forehead. “Thank you, but I have a neighbor who watches Nick whenever I have to be out at night.”

      “Then I don’t see a problem. What about Friday evening? Say about six? We’ll have a nice dinner in Prescott.”

      The mere idea of sitting at a candlelit dinner table with Blake was enough to make her tremble all over. “I’d rather keep it casual...if you don’t mind,” she added, then realized she’d just given in without really meaning to.

      “I don’t mind at all. We can make it as casual as you want,” he assured her. “So where do you live? Your father’s place?”

      When she’d returned to Wickenburg to care for her father, she’d not been surprised by the dilapidated condition of the home where she and her brother had grown up. The roof had leaked in several places and in most of the rooms the linoleum had worn down to the subflooring. The air-conditioning had gone kaput, and with no window screens, it was impossible to open the house for any kind of relief from the heat. Her father had refused to move anywhere, so she’d been forced to make enough repairs to make the house livable for her and Nick.

      Blake had thought she was still living there and yet that hadn’t stopped him from asking her for a date. The whole notion amazed her.

      “Uh, no. After Dad died, I sold the property. I’ve moved to the west side of town in a white brick house with green shutters.” She gave him the address. “My little car is red and you’ll see it parked beneath a carport on the right side of the house. It’s easy to find.”

      “No problem. I’ll find it.”

      A few awkward moments of silence passed and then she asked, “Are you really sure you want to do this, Blake? If you’re having second thoughts, don’t worry about it. I’ll understand.”

      “Would you understand? Because I wouldn’t,” he said bluntly. “Listen, Katherine, I’ve asked you out on a date because I want to spend time with you. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

      Her spine stiffened to a straight line. There was no point in skirting around the issue, she thought. “Surely you can’t be that blind. You’re a Hollister. You have no business going out with someone like me.”

      “Someone like you? Since when is it wrong for a Hollister man to want to spend time with a lovely, intelligent young woman?”

      Did he honestly see her in that way? “We hardly travel in the same social circle, Blake.”

      “I don’t travel in any social circle. And from what you tell me, you don’t, either.”

      He was making sense. Or did she simply want to believe the two of them could meet on common ground.

      “I apologize, Blake. I’m insulting both of us, aren’t I?”

      “Yes. You are.”

      She bit down on her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I really do want to see you again.”

      “Good. That’s all I needed to hear. So I’ll see you Friday evening.”

      She could hear a smile in his voice and the sound warmed her far more than it should have. “Friday. Yes. See you then.”

      He ended the call with a quick goodbye, and with a shaky hand, Katherine placed her phone on the table.

      Right or wrong, she was going on a date with Blake Hollister.

       Chapter Three

      Friday afternoon Blake called Katherine to confirm their date, and before their brief conversation ended, she asked if he’d mind dropping off Nick at the sitter’s on their way out of town. Blake had readily agreed and had even felt a bit flattered that she wanted him to meet her son.

      But now as Blake walked to the front door of Katherine’s brick house, he wondered how Nick was going to react to his mother going on an outing with a strange man. Blake loved children, but that didn’t mean Katherine’s son would like him. It would make for an awkward start with Katherine if the boy took an instant dislike to him.

      Trying not to dwell on that possibility, Blake punched the doorbell and after a moment he could hear footsteps racing through the house. When the door partially opened, he found himself staring at a tall, thin boy with dark hair and clear gray eyes. There was no doubt he was Katherine’s child. Her features were stamped all over his face.

      “Hello,” he said as he warily eyed Blake. “Are you Mr. Hollister?”

      “Hello,” Blake said, returning the greeting. “And I am Mr. Hollister.”

      Continuing to study Blake with open curiosity, he opened the door wide and thrust out his hand.

      “I’m Nick,” he said, introducing himself. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

      Blake gave the boy’s hand a firm shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Nick. And it’s fine with me if you call me Blake.”

      “Mom says I have to be respectful of my elders. But you don’t look all that old to me,” he said. “You want to come in, Blake?”

      Blake smiled to himself. At least the boy wasn’t sulking. “That would be nice.”

      Nick stepped to one side and Blake entered a short foyer.

      “Mom is still getting dressed,” Nick announced as he closed the front door behind them. “She’s always slow.”

      “That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting.”

      The boy motioned for Blake to follow him out of the foyer. “Come into the living room. I’ll go tell Mom you’re here.”

      With Nick leading the way, Blake entered a cozy room furnished with a dark red couch and matching stuffed armchair. A glass coffee table was covered with books and DVDs, while a television spanned a far corner of the room. Beyond a picture window framed with cream-colored drapes, a view of the desert almost made him forget the house was situated on the edge of a residential area.

      “You can sit anywhere you want,” Nick instructed before he disappeared through an open doorway.

      After

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