“How much did he suffer in the process?”
“He’s happy now.”
She turned and put her hands on his biceps, stopping him. “You belong on the land, but does it have to be that land?”
“My great-great-grandfather homesteaded that place. Miranda’s great-great-grandfather did not. Why should she get what my family worked so hard for? Why should she be rewarded for psycho behavior?”
“Why should you suffer when you don’t have to?”
Cole brought his hands up to thread through her hair. “Because I want my ranch. I don’t want her or anyone else to have it.”
“What if that’s not possible?”
“What if you can’t get a job you want in Seattle?”
“I will. It’ll take time, but I will.”
He gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s my answer, too.”
* * *
AFTER TWO WEEKS of nothing, Taylor received a small rush of interest. She booked three interviews, and two headhunters contacted her with promising leads in Portland and Sacramento—both areas where she’d feel comfortable living. She was an urban girl, born and bred.
An urban girl who got a kick out of driving farm equipment. The day before she’d swathed hay for Cole while he baled in an adjoining field. Jancey drove the retriever, and the three of them put in a full day’s work before eating dinner together. Her stay at the farm, which had started as a desperate survival move, had become more of an idyll. A temporary idyll, because she was not going to winter in the bunkhouse. The job market was picking up, and several of the people who’d been laid off with her had landed new positions.
As to Cole…things were perfect because they weren’t dealing with real-life stresses a real couple would face. There was no jockeying for position. No compromises. Their paths were clearly laid out. They had the moment, as Cole had put it.
Still, there was no getting around the fact that separating was going to sting.
So she didn’t think about it.
And if she did, she told herself that perhaps they could continue long distance…but she didn’t really believe that was a possibility. Distance made feelings fade. Different worlds exacerbated the process. They had the here and now, and she was enjoying every second of it.
That night, when they walked the property after dinner, she told Cole about her job leads, then wondered if she was imagining the tension in the silence that followed.
“That’s good,” he finally said, giving her fingers a squeeze.
“I’m feeling encouraged. Two of my fellow Stratfordites have gotten jobs over the past two weeks. Things are turning around.”
“Good.”
And then…nothing.
Taylor let the matter drop. She didn’t want to ruin the time they had left together.
“Jancey’s loving her job at Culver Ranch and Feed,” Cole said as they headed back toward the house. “The old guys there have adopted her, and Jolie is giving her advice on how to battle Miranda. I’d appreciate it if you told her not to battle Miranda.”
Taylor smiled a little. “I will.” She and Jancey did well together. She’d miss Cole’s little sister almost as much as she’d miss him.
“Speaking of doing battle, I’m going to the ranch this weekend—probably on Saturday. Want to come?”
“To keep you out of trouble?”
He gave her a look. “Or maybe because I want your company?”
She pulled in a breath and told herself there was no need to feel the small twinge of anxiety at his words. Or rather at her reaction to his words. Her heart shouldn’t jump at things like that. “Sure.”
“Good.”
Taylor didn’t sleep well that night and told herself it was because her critters were unusually quiet. She put on the coffee, dragged herself to the shower hoping hot water would revive her and had just got undressed when the phone rang.
Her heart jumped when she saw the number.
She cleared her throat, nervously pushing her hair back over one shoulder as she answered. “Hello, Paul.”
“Evans. How are you?”
“All things considered, I’m doing well.”
“Have you nailed something down yet?”
“Three interviews next week.”
“Market’s picking up.”
“I noticed.”
“So you may not be interested in this.” From the way her stomach flipped, Taylor knew that she would be interested. “My assistant here at Whitcote is going on sabbatical. I have a six-month position that could well work into full time if things continue as they are. There’s talk of staffing up this fall.”
Seattle.
“No guarantees. I don’t have the final say. It’s a committee decision…but you’re good, Taylor, and I’d love to have you on board.”
“Do I interview in person?”
“Skype.”
“When?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Not to appear easy, but interviewing within the next fifteen minutes wouldn’t be too soon.”
* * *
THE DRIVE TO the ranch was quiet, and even though he and Taylor were comfortable with their mutual silences, this was different. Bad different.
Taylor was distancing herself, getting ready for the move back to the city. He felt the chasm between them widening and didn’t know what to do about it. Or if there was anything he could do. The bitch of it was that the farm—make that his life—was better when she was in it.
She wasn’t staying.
They bumped over the cattle guard, then both sat up straighter at the sight of the two ATVs next to his corrals.
“Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dummer,” he said as he parked. He glanced over at Taylor. “Let’s see what’s happening.” They walked together to where the two model employees, Wyatt and Ashley, stood shoulder to shoulder, pointing out across the fields.
“Big plans?” Cole asked.
“Spring branding,” Wyatt said. Cole had never much liked the guy—primarily because (a) he was a pompous jerk, and (b) he was a kiss-ass. “We’re going
