and Elise Clifton lived in Billings now. They’d signed over control of the ranch to him, though they still shared in any profits—including the big windfall that would come with the sale. His mom and sister seemed happy in Billings.
Marie and Steph, though.…
For them, losing the Triple J six years ago had been like losing a husband and a father all over again. They were ranch folk to the bone….
“I heard that resort of yours is full up for the Fourth of July.” Marie put the lid back on the cast-iron pot.
The Fourth was three days away, on Wednesday. Grant tipped his beer at Marie. “You bet we are.” Teasing her, he quoted from a recent brochure. “Treat yourself to magnificent mountain views, sumptuous luxury, and thrilling recreation at Thunder Canyon Resort.” He brought his beer to his heart and really hammed it up. “You’ve come to us for the best in winter sports and entertainment. Now, you’re invited to explore our winding mountain trails, weaving in and out of lush forests, dotted with cascading streams.” He paused, dramatically, then announced, “Thunder Canyon Resort. The ultimate vacation or conference spot—peaceful, refreshing, with an endless variety of activities. Come to relax. Come to party. We offer fun and excitement, rejuvenation of mind, body and soul in a majestic setting, year-round.”
Marie laughed and clapped her hands and joked, “Sign me up.”
He shrugged. “I admit, after Independence Day, things’ll slow down. But hey. We’re doing all right—and Marie, you’ve got to quit calling it my resort.” Grant did have shares in the partnership, but the resort had started out as the dream child of the most powerful family in the area, the Douglases.
“They’re lucky to have you working with them,” Marie declared, loyal as the second mom she’d always been to him.
He thought about the sale of the ranch again. And hated himself a little. But he’d made his decision. He was never coming back here and neither were his mom or Elise. For the old man’s sake, he’d given Clifton’s Pride his best shot, but he wasn’t a rancher and he never would be. Better to get out while a great offer was dangling right in front of his nose.
Marie added, “Everyone knows it was your idea to keep the resort open year-round.’ Nother beer?”
Grant thanked her, but decided to stroll on out to the barn and have a few words with Rufus instead.
The grizzled cowboy sat on a bale of hay, his hat beside him, rolling a cancer stick in those stiff, knobby hands of his.
“Try not to burn the barn down while you’re killin’ yourself with that thing,” Grant advised.
Rufus only grunted and stuck the rolled cigarette behind his ear. “You leavin’ already? I just took the saddle off your horse.” Stiffly, shaking his gray head, he started to rise.
Grant waved him back down. “I’m staying for dinner.”
“Smart thinkin’. That Marie, she can cook.” Rufus nodded sagely as he settled back on the bale. “Pot roast, I hear.”
“That is the rumor…”
The old cowboy took the cigarette from behind his ear, shook his head at it and stuck it back there without lighting it. “She’s doin’ just fine, in case you wanted to know.”
Grant knew exactly who she was. But for some reason he refused to examine too closely, he played it dumb. “Who? Marie?”
“No,” Rufus said with great patience. “Not Marie. I mean little Stephanie—who ain’t so little as she used to be, in case you didn’t notice.”
Grant ordered the image of her glorious bare backside to get the hell out of his mind and played it noncommittal with a deceptively easy shrug. “Yeah. Seems like only yesterday she was running around the yard in pigtails.”
“She’s a born rancher, that gal. Works hard. Loves every minute of it. And smart as a whip. You keep her on as top hand, I got a feeling she’ll shock us all and make this ranch a profitable operation.”
Clifton’s Pride turning a profit?
Now, that would be an accomplishment. Even John Clifton, who’d given it his all, hadn’t really managed to do that. Somehow, the Cliftons always got by. But a profit?
Not a chance. And for seven years after his dad’s tragic death, Grant had tried his damnedest to make a success of the place himself. Same old, same old. Somehow he stayed afloat. Barely. But that was the best he ever did.
It had been the same when Rufus took over. The ranch had yet to go under, but it was no moneymaker and Grant didn’t believe it ever would be.
He sent Rufus a narrow-eyed look and muttered darkly, “You weren’t thrilled in the least when I hired her on to take over for you. And now, all of a sudden, you’re her biggest booster?”
Rufus picked up his hat and hit it on his thigh. “It’s true. I had my doubts about her runnin’ things. But I’m a man who’s willing to give credit where credit is due. That girl has got gumption. She’s got stamina. She knows what she’s doin’. She also has ideas and they are good ones.”
“Damn, Rufus. You’re starting to scare me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so gung ho about anyone—or anything—in all the years you been working here.”
Rufus chortled and said something else.
But Grant didn’t hear a word of it. He just happened to glance toward the wide-open doors that led to the yard.
He saw Steph.
Steph. In clean Wranglers, fresh boots and a little red shirt that clung to those fine slender curves he’d only that very day realized she had. Her golden hair hung, dry now, sleek and shining as pure silk, to her shoulders.
And those slim hips of hers? They swayed easy.
She tempted him with every step and all she was doing was walking toward him.
Grant watched her coming, struck dumb all over again by how beautiful she was. His breath was all tangled up in his throat and his heart was doing something impossible inside his chest and all of a sudden his jeans were too damn tight.
Damn. He was making a total fool of himself.
All Rufus had to do was look down to see how sweet, innocent, smart-as-a-whip Stephanie affected the boss.
How in the hell, Grant wondered, could this be happening to him?
Chapter Two
Stephanie entered the barn, the bright sun outside lighting her gold hair from behind, creating a halo around her suddenly shadowed face. Grant, his senses spinning, somehow managed to get his boots under him and rise from the bale.
She came right for them. “Hey, you two. Mom said I’d find you out here.” She reached him, slid her warm, callused hand into his and flashed him a smile. “C’mon. Got some things I want to show you.”
Prickles of awareness seemed to shoot up his arm from the hand she was clutching. Her scent taunted him: shampoo,
