hard way that I tend to vomit at the sight of blood, guts and bones.” Not a very professional reaction, and her instructors agreed. “I see you’ve become what you’ve always said you’d be—a rancher. But you’re also a business owner. Granger Western.”
Or Cowboy Mart as most folks called it since it sold Western supplies in bulk and at a discount.
Nicky guessed that the business was making the Granger clan even richer than they already were. Especially now that they’d worked through the kinks of a recent setback and investigation.
“My sister, Sophie, runs the business,” he provided.
She listened for any hint of his disapproval about that. There wasn’t any. Interesting because she’d read an article about a codicil to his father’s will that had ousted Garrett and turned the reins of Granger Western over to Sophie. Things like that could tear a family apart, but it appeared there’d been no tearing involved in their case.
Apparently his idea of “small talk” was over because Garrett took the lease back from her and pointed to the bottom line. “My mother doesn’t have permission to sign this. The ranch belongs to my brother.”
“Roman.” She nodded. “Yes, he owns the ranch, but he doesn’t own this house. I researched it, and according to your great-grandfather’s will, he left the house itself to his wife who then left it to your grandfather. He left it to your father, and since your father didn’t stipulate in his will who was to inherit the house, ownership passed to your mother.”
The look he gave her could have flash melted sand, and it had no sexual components to it whatsoever. Not that she’d expected anything sexual from Garrett. After all, he’d rid her of her virginity and promptly dumped her. Still, it was impossible for him to be completely nonsexual since he was still physically hot.
“I’ll have my lawyers look into the will, too,” Garrett added, “because I can’t believe my father didn’t spell that out.”
Neither could she, especially since his father had apparently spelled out everything else. It was possible he’d simply not cared enough about the place to bother with it. In fact, judging from the state of disrepair, none of the current Grangers had cared much about it.
Unlike her.
Just like that, the bad stuff came. Memories that Nicky wished would die the death they deserved. But at the end of that memory tunnel was this place.
This house.
She’d escaped to this place too many times to count.
That was something the Grangers didn’t know. But she’d used it to recoup and in some cases to heal, mentally and physically. No way, though, did she want to share all of that with Garrett. It was one of her many secrets, but if she was labeling them, that was secret number one.
Apparently, Garrett had no plans to share anything else with her, either. He took out his phone, no doubt to call his lawyers, but he mumbled something she didn’t catch when he saw that he had no cell reception.
“Why would you care if we’re here or not?” Nicky asked. “Other than the current dead bug population, the place has been empty for decades.”
“I care because tomorrow there’ll be workers here to expand the pond. I care because I plan to use every inch of this pasture for cattle. And I care because this is Granger land.” He’d gotten a little louder with each word, and by the time he made it to the last one, he wasn’t shouting exactly, but it was close.
“Well, I care, too,” Nicky argued. “And our being here won’t interfere with your workers or the pasture.”
She hoped. Though the place would be a beehive of activity. Temporarily, since she didn’t need any literal or metaphorical beehives in her life. Neither did the other women.
“Dolly-baby,” Kaylee pointed out, leading him farther into the room. “And boogs.”
She meant bugs. And, yes, there were some dead ones on the floor. Yet something else that needed to be cleaned. Nicky had decided to start with the highest points in the room and work her way down.
“Aydee.” That was Kaylee’s attempt at lady, and she pointed to the painting over the bed. Nicky had no idea who the woman was, but she was coated with dust, too.
Garrett glanced at the other things Kaylee was showing him—the bed, the lamp, the cobweb Nicky had missed when she’d cleaned the window. Even the trunk of old clothes that Kaylee had discovered. Then he snapped back toward Nicky.
“Who are those women downstairs and in the yard, and why are you here?” he demanded.
“Widows. We’re all widows.”
His gaze drifted to Kaylee.
“Well, with the exception of her,” Nicky clarified. “No child-bride arrangements in Texas. And you know Loretta Cunningham. She said she used to change your diaper.”
His nostrils flared a bit, and they flared even more when she glanced at the front of his jeans. An unintentional glance, but Loretta wasn’t the only woman in the house who’d seen that part of Garrett’s anatomy.
“As I’ve already told you, the other women are the Ellery sisters,” Nicky went on. “Drowning. All three husbands went when their fishing boat capsized.” Mentioning the cause of the widowhood was something that she and the others had gotten accustomed to doing when they made introductions to new members in the support group. “Then, there’s Mrs. Batson. Heart attack. But you might not have seen her. She’ll probably be skittish around you.”
A term that described every woman currently in the house but Loretta and her. Perhaps because she and Loretta were the only ones who’d seen Garrett without his underpants.
“Lady Romero is taking a walk,” she added. “But she’ll be back soon to help clean. Ginger Carson, respiratory failure, is in town getting some supplies.”
His jaw tightened even more. “Why? Are? You? All? Here?”
Apparently, he was getting impatient for more answers, but he probably wasn’t going to like anything she had to say.
“Because we’re all in a support group for widows and divorcées, and we thought it would be a good idea for us to have an actual retreat for those who need it.”
Retreat was such a tidy little word, but Nicky thought Garrett might not like to hear that it could turn into a place where women could fall apart. Women like her. A place where no one would be around to see them if they went bat-shit crazy.
No one except for Garrett, that is.
“Widows?” he repeated. That seemed to be a prompt for her to provide more. More as in personal stuff, but Nicky had no intention of getting into that with him. Not in front of Kaylee. Maybe not ever.
“Most of us are young widows,” Nicky emphasized. “With the exception of Loretta, we lost our spouses or significant others while in our twenties, thirties and forties. The women need this house,” she added, hoping it would help. It obviously didn’t. Since Kaylee was volleying glances between them and hanging on every word, Nicky tried to make those words sound as pleasant as possible. “Some have rented out or sold their homes to come here.
