start.
Dakota respected substance over flattery, so after Andy broke about a dozen hearts around town after Mack’s, and then up and sold his land to the developer, her sympathy—and everyone else’s for that matter—was spent. Andy Granger was a flirt and an idiot. As for the scrambled eggs—whatever they’d done to them, he’d had it coming.
Andy walked half a step ahead of her across the ranch yard. A tractor hooked up to a trailer was parked along the western fence, a few bales of hay and some tools on the trailer bed. Several goats were in the field beyond it, and they bleated in greeting as they passed. A chicken coop sat at the far end of the yard by the big, red barn and a rooster perched on a fence post nearby fluffed his feathers against the chill. A few hens scratched in the dirt outside the coop, but it looked like most had gone inside for some cozy comfort.
Andy angled his steps around the coop and Dakota noted how broad and strong he was still. City life hadn’t softened him physically. It had been almost five years since she’d last clapped eyes on him, and she’d forgotten how attractive he was up close... Not that it mattered.
A breeze picked up, swirling some leaves across their path, and she hitched her shoulders against the probing wind.
Word had spread about Andy, even when he was away. He’d spent a decade in the city, where he’d gotten engaged and then got cold feet, from what she’d heard through the grapevine. Then he’d sold the Granger pasture and left town again. It would have taken some courage to show his face after all that, but here he was, and he was doing this for his brother, which was the only reason she was being helpful at all—well, that and the money.
Dakota had known Andy quite well back in the day. He’d even asked her out once, leaning against the hood of his pickup and casting her a boyish grin. Truthfully, she’d been tempted to say yes—what girl hadn’t? But she’d just started dating Dwight and she wasn’t the two-timing kind of person. And what kind of a guy moved in on his best friend’s girlfriend? She’d turned him down flat, which was just as well because a few weeks later Mackenzie Granger came to town and soon they were a smoldering item. That just went to show that the boyish grin wasn’t to be trusted.
Ironically enough, Andy turned out to be less of a threat to her peace of mind than Dwight had been. The minute Dwight turned twenty-one, he did two things: propose and start drinking. She accepted his proposal, but the wedding never happened. With the booze, Dwight got violent, and she couldn’t stay in a relationship like that. Still, canceling her wedding had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. And Andy had been Dwight’s best friend—it said something about the kind of man Andy was, in her estimation. Birds of a feather and all that.
“So your eggs tasted funny, did they?” she asked, casting him a wry smile.
Andy shook his head. “You know, in a place this small you get to know everybody, but you also get to tick everybody off in one fell swoop, too.”
“So why come back?” she countered. “I’ve heard that you’re set up pretty well in Billings, and while I get helping out your brother, Elliot could have led this drive easily enough.”
In fact, she’d heard that Andy was rich, if she had to be entirely honest. Apparently he was making money hand over fist in the city, which was one more reason for people around here to resent him. It was easier to feel sorry for a guy who ended up down on his luck after pulling a stunt like that, but to have him actually prosper...
“I am set up pretty well.” His tone became more guarded and he looked away for a moment. “Let’s just say that some sentimental nonsense got the better of me.”
“Is that code for a woman?” she asked dryly. With Andy it usually came down to a woman.
“No.” He barked out a laugh. “Is that what you think of me, that I’m some kind of womanizer?”
Dakota shrugged. She couldn’t see any reason to lie. He had to know his own reputation. “Yes.”
He eyed her for a moment as if not sure how to take her frankness, then he shrugged.
“Well, this particular sentimental nonsense has nothing to do with a woman. This is about my dad, rest his soul, and my brother. I guess I missed...them. This. Fitting in. Like I said, nonsense. There is no turning back that clock.”
She didn’t miss the fact that he hadn’t exactly denied being a womanizer, but she did feel a little pang of pity at the mention of his father. Mr. Granger had died about four years earlier in a tractor accident. The whole town had showed up for the funeral. Even the truck stop closed down for a couple of hours so that everyone could attend; that’s how loved Andy’s father had been. She inwardly grimaced.
“I didn’t send the horses out to pasture today,” Andy went on, saving her from finding an appropriate reply.
He led the way around the side of the newly painted barn toward the corral. As they stepped into its shadow, the December day felt distinctly colder. This winter would make up for lost time; there was no doubt about it.
Andy glanced over his shoulder and his green eyes met hers. “Thanks for this, by the way.”
Her pulse sped up at the directness of that look and the very fact that he was working his blasted Granger charm on her was irritating.
“This isn’t for you, Granger. It’s for Chet.”
She wasn’t falling for any of Andy’s charms, but she could certainly understand why some women did. He was tall, muscular, with rugged good looks and scruff on his face that suggested he’d missed a couple of days of shaving. But Andy also represented something that hit her a little closer to home—the kind of guy who could walk away without too much trouble. Her brother had fallen for the female version of Andy Granger in the form of Nina Harpe, and she wasn’t about to repeat Brody’s mistakes. She had a lot of reasons to be wary of Andy Granger.
The corral was attached to the back of the barn, bathed in midmorning sunlight. At this time of year the sunlight was watery, but the air was surprisingly warm—about four or five degrees above freezing. Beyond the corral was a dirt road that lead toward different enclosed pastures, rolling hills of rich, golden cinnamon grass glowing in late autumn splendor. And beyond the fields were the mountains, rising in jagged peaks, hemming them in like majestic guards.
Several horses perked up at the sight of them, ears twitching in interest. Andy reached into a white bucket that sat in the shade and pulled out a fistful of carrots. He rolled them over in his hands, rubbing off the last of the dirt, and headed for the fence. Two of the horses came right over when Andy walked up—a dun stallion named Romeo and a piebald mare. Chet’s horse, a chestnut gelding named Barney, stood resolutely on the far side of the coral, ignoring them.
“Have you ridden any of them yet?” Dakota asked, stopping at Andy’s side. He held a carrot out to the mare.
“I’ve ridden Romeo, here,” he said, reaching out to pet the stallion’s nose. Romeo leaned closer, nosing for a carrot, and Andy obliged.
“How about Barney?” she asked, nodding toward the gelding that was inching closer around the side of the corral, wanting his own share of the treats.
“He bit me,” Andy retorted.
Dakota choked back a laugh. “Not sweet old Barney.”
“Sweet?” Andy shook his head. “That horse hates me. Every chance
