the Cades were forthright in nature. He was no more skilled at dishonesty than his brother. “I found a temporary gig on a spread in Bingham Pass.” Very temporary.
“Glad you landed on your feet. Word of advice?” Justin asked, mischief lacing his voice. “Be careful not to make any goo-goo eyes at the boss’s wife.”
“I’m hanging up on you now. Also, the boss isn’t married.”
“Well, there’s a relief.”
The polar opposite, actually. Colin couldn’t imagine anything less comfortable than working for an attractive single mom. Which was why, the second paint started drying on a newly secured porch, he was getting the hell out of Dodge.
* * *
WHEN SCARLETT WORKED herself into a frenzy by the front door, Hannah experienced an irrational burst of relief. He’s back. It wasn’t that she’d honestly believed Colin would steal her truck and never return. But he’d seemed so reluctant to be here that it would be good to see him with her own eyes, to have proof he was serious about staying for another day or two.
She got up from the kitchen table, where she’d been paying bills on her laptop, and went to quiet the dog. As usual, indulgent “Aunt Annette” had let Evan stay up too late, and Hannah had sent her increasingly fussy son to take a nap. He’d been asleep only a few minutes.
But when Hannah saw who was on the other side of the screen door, instead of shushing Scarlett, she wanted to snarl right along with her.
“Afternoon, Hannah.” Gideon Loomis tipped his gray felt cowboy hat, giving her a smile that would have been so much more handsome without the permanent smugness etched into his features.
Go away. “Gideon.” It was tricky to avoid someone in Bingham Pass, downright impossible when that someone owned the neighboring ranch, but why was he standing on her front porch? After their lone dinner date, she’d tried to make it clear she wasn’t interested in seeing him again. She’d stopped shy of blunt rudeness, because only an idiot would antagonize the Loomis family. “This is a surprise.”
“A pleasant one, I hope.” His self-assured tone made it clear he’d drawn his own erroneous conclusion. “Mama sent me over with an order for another one of her social events.”
His mother, Patricia Loomis, was Hannah’s biggest customer. There were decent restaurants in town that could cater, but no one in the area could bake or decorate desserts like Hannah. While she was thankful for Patricia’s business, it also held her hostage. She longed for the freedom to tell Gideon he was an arrogant ass who was no doubt rendering himself infertile with his obnoxiously tight jeans.
Tugging on Scarlett’s collar, she attempted to make the agitated dog sit. Scarlett had never liked Gideon, which proved the people at the shelter had known what they were talking about when they’d told Hannah the mutt was smart. She opened the door, grudgingly inviting her neighbor inside.
He inhaled deeply. “Always smells so delicious here. I just realized, I worked right through lunch. Don’t suppose I could trouble you for a slice of cake and some coffee?” He was already making his way to the kitchen.
She ground her teeth together. “I don’t have any coffee brewed.” Since there was half a cake sitting in a clear domed container on the counter, she saw no polite way to refuse him that. She got a clean plate from the dishwasher and sliced a much smaller piece than she would have offered Annette. “We have to keep our voices down. Evan is sleeping. I was actually thinking about stealing the opportunity for a quick nap myself,” she fibbed.
He ignored the hint that he should hurry on his way. “Sorry I missed the little guy. Be sure to tell him hi for me.”
Evan didn’t like Gideon any more than the dog did. For starters, the fiercely independent four-year-old, who couldn’t wait for kindergarten, hated the “little guy” nickname. He also disliked how Gideon chucked him on the chin as if they were in some cheesy made-for-TV movie. Who did that in real life? One of Hannah’s objections to the man was how he always seemed to be performing for an invisible audience.
She also objected to his barely concealed lust for her ranch.
Before she’d moved to Bingham Pass, she’d had ideas—and a budget—for guest-friendly investments. An outdoor hot tub, extra beds, more horses. But the six-bedroom ranch had fallen into disrepair since she’d seen it last, and she quickly realized she needed to prioritize roof improvements, furniture, updated plumbing and possibly even new wiring. Most of the outlets were only two-prong instead of the now-standard three. Alarmed by how inadequate her budget was, she’d let the Loomis family talk her into selling a strip of land that adjoined their property.
She’d regretted the hasty decision afterward, and not just because she’d realized they lowballed her on price. The Silver Linings Ranch was Michael’s legacy to their son. She would not sell it off piecemeal like a stolen car stripped for parts. Gideon and his family weren’t getting their hands on another acre of her land.
Aware of how easily her anger could grow—of the negative emotions that lurked like an undertow to consume her—she forced a smile. It was strained, but Gideon didn’t seem to mind. He grinned back, leaning against the island to eat instead of going to the table as she’d hoped.
She found an excuse to move away from him, stepping toward the refrigerator. “Can I get you some iced tea? Maybe a glass of milk to wash down the chocolate?”
“Tea’s fine.” He took a bite of cake, and unmistakable bliss lit his brown eyes. “Damn, that’s good. It’s a crying shame you have to expend so much energy into taking care of the horses, cows and goats.”
She didn’t have goats. She was the proud owner of horses, cows and one attack donkey.
“If you had a husband to worry about the livestock for you,” he continued, “think of all the extra time you could spend puttering in the kitchen and developing your recipes.”
She straightened abruptly from the fridge shelf, skewering him with a glare. “Yeah, careless of Michael to get killed in action and screw up my puttering schedule.”
“All I meant was—a woman like you? Deserves a man who can take care of her.”
She wanted to rail that not only was she capable of taking care of herself, she’d been doing a splendid job of taking care of Evan for the past four years. Still...being a good mom and a hard worker didn’t automatically translate to being able to maintain one hundred and eighty acres alone. Not alone, exactly. She had a four-year-old always looking for ways to “help.” She also had Henry, who’d worked this property for decades and refused to acknowledge limitations set by age or reality, and Colorado’s most unusual ranch dog.
Okay, she needed a man, but not in the romantic sense. Particularly if her options were limited to Gideon Loomis.
His expression earnest, he set down the plate and came toward her. “At the very least, let me talk to my folks about buying your cows from you. The herd would be one less thing for you to manage.”
The “herd” was fewer than two dozen heifers, a bull and the resulting calves. Her predecessor, Michael’s great-uncle, hadn’t used a formal breeding program. He kept the bull in with the heifers, sometimes separating out the younger cows, and let nature take its course. A vet was called in as necessary, but the cattle were actually the least of her problems—with the exception of hauling hay. Hay was a never-ending
