Griff’s dander rose. Duped? Was that how she saw him? As a man easily swayed by a pretty face? Did he have it written on his forehead, or was it just part of a woman’s natural mystique to be able to read a man like an open book?
It wasn’t that long ago that he’d made the mistake of taking the word of a manipulative woman at face value. He’d believed himself to be less trusting now. Wiser. And yet apparently he hadn’t learned his lesson at all. Though he still had no idea what her motive for all of this was, he couldn’t deny that he’d stepped right into Vivian’s scheming trap with eyes wide open. Now her beautiful twin considered him a chump.
If the shoe fit…
He’d already gone down that road and was the not-so-proud owner of the T-shirt. Color him a slow learner.
“No, I don’t think so.” He wasn’t answering her so much as reprimanding himself, and didn’t immediately realize he’d spoken aloud—not until Alexis lifted a high-arching blond brow in response.
“No? What do you mean, no?”
“Look, I don’t mean to be difficult, but I really need to stay in Serendipity, to do this one thing for myself. I can’t even begin to describe how important this is for me.” It wasn’t as if he could head back to Houston with his tail between his legs. He couldn’t, and he wouldn’t. It wasn’t even an option for him. He’d put his apartment on the market and had his things placed in storage until he could move them out to whatever property he purchased. Decisive action had always been his trademark. Once he’d made the decision to leave Houston behind, he’d shut down his life there in record time.
He hadn’t ever wanted to be a part of the wealthy, high-society scene to begin with, and now? Well, never again. His ex-girlfriend Caro had singlehandedly shredded everything he’d worked for his entire life, everything that mattered to him both personally and professionally. And the reactions of those around him had just twisted the knife. The gossip had been painfully humiliating and had just gone to prove to him how little he could count on the people he had thought were his friends. Half the point of moving here was the anonymity the new surroundings afforded.
“All I can say is that, for reasons too complicated to explain, it’s the perfect time for me to start over. Move forward, rather. Horse ranching has been a lifelong dream of mine, and I’m finally in a position where I can pursue it. But I’m floundering, here. I’d really like your help to find a viable solution to my problem.”
If there was no hotel, no availability at the only
B and B and no room for him at Redemption Ranch, then he wasn’t sure what that viable solution might be. The only thing he could think of was to find someone willing to rent him a spare bedroom or garage apartment. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He had more than enough money to make it worth someone’s time to rent him the space, but the last thing he wanted to do was to start flinging his money all over town. That was why he’d been so quick to snap up Vivian’s offer to borrow her house. He could lay low at the Grainger’s, not have to bump heads with any more people than strictly necessary. The less folks knew about him, the better.
People changed when they started figuring out his net worth. He’d seen it over and over again—their eyes filled with dollar signs and any hope he had of establishing a real, personal connection went straight by the wayside. Back in Houston, everybody wanted something from him, and all he wanted was for everyone to leave him alone. He could think of nothing better than to hole up on his own little spread of land on the outskirts of Serendipity, where he could fend for himself and not have to deal with cruel and two-faced individuals ever again.
He focused his gaze on her, determination pressing his breath into his throat. “There must be something. Please, Alexis. You’re all I’ve got right now.”
Alexis’s gorgeous electric-blue eyes widened and her full lips dropped into a pretty little frown that made Griff’s gut do a backflip. Alexis was nothing if not gorgeous and he was painfully aware of his own weakness—he was particularly vulnerable to the ladies, beautiful women in particular.
How twisted was that?
In his experience, women were insincere and manipulative. The whole lot of them, bar none. What had he been thinking to have trusted Vivian to be honest with him? He should have known better.
And despite the fact that Alexis had done nothing to make him suspect she might be playing him, he figured it would be smarter to be wary. Better to be safe than to expose a vein. Compassion flooded her gaze and he felt a momentary twinge of guilt that he was pressing her buttons. For a second he was tempted to blurt out the whole sorry truth.
Instead he clenched his jaw until the urge passed. Honesty was overrated. No matter how kind Alexis appeared to be, he knew better than to trust her. Look what had happened when he’d given Vivian a little bit of leeway.
He’d been scammed. Just as with his ex, Caro.
Let Alexis interpret his words any way she wanted. He was here in Serendipity and he wasn’t leaving. He shouldn’t be penalized because of Vivian—and he wasn’t about to let this awkward situation with Alexis force him to tip his hand.
“I understand what you’re going through.” She was softening toward him—her gaze, her posture, her expression. His expectations rose with the smile on her lips. “Sometimes life changes are—” she paused and gave a little sigh “—seriously complicated.”
He wanted to pump his fist in the air. Not that he was necessarily proud of his ability to manipulate people, but he was good at it. And he was winning.
“I’ll tell you what. You can stay here at Redemption Ranch as long as you have the need to do so.”
Score.
“In the wrangler’s bunkhouse, where my ranch hands live.”
Or not.
“The wrangler’s bunkhouse?” he repeated lamely. Surely she was joking.
She nodded.
His lip curled. He’d slept in worse than a bunkhouse—much worse. But that was exactly the point. He was above that kind of lifestyle now. He’d paid his dues and had risen to the top of society. Surely she could see he was too refined to share sleeping space with the hired help. Why, the scarf he was wearing cost more than a rancher made in—
Whoa. How stupid could he be?
His designer clothes were a dead giveaway, suggesting he might be more than a burnt-out shell of a man ready to invest his whole life savings on a ranch. Of course, he’d thought he was going to be alone in the house, so he hadn’t given much thought to his choice of attire at the time. But he was thinking about it now—and it mattered, if he was planning to continue in the manner in which he’d originally presented himself: a man of limited means determined to make himself into a rancher. He wondered if she’d noticed his get-up, or even if she’d be able to identify the names that accompanied the fancy apparel.
He scoffed inwardly at his own thoughts. What a snob he’d become. The man he’d never wanted to be. At the first available opportunity, he’d visit the general store in town and pick up some plain Western-style clothing so he wouldn’t stand out among the natives. If he wanted to be a rancher, his attire would be a good place to start. And if it meant that people wouldn’t be able to accurately guess his bank balance from his brand names, then all the better.
