job had been such a huge part of her life, her identity—it was impossible not to take the layoff personally…especially when they’d kept Kent McCoy on staff. The guy did half the work she did…
Stop.
Taylor did her best, although stop was not a well-used word in her vocabulary. If anything, she pressed on, but for the last eight weeks she’d been pressing against…nothing. It was exhausting having no goals other than getting a job. Not that she hadn’t thrown herself into it—
Stop.
Think about something else…like where you’re going to live once you give up your apartment.
Arrow to the heart, that. Her lease, which was up in three weeks, didn’t allow subletting, and she certainly couldn’t afford her rent without a job. The rock and the hard place were squeezing her hard, and the thing that most angered her was that for her entire life she’d plotted and planned so that these kinds of things would never happen.
Argh.
Taylor slapped a hand on the steering wheel. What she needed was someone to talk to. Most of her Seattle friends were work acquaintances who now seemed to feel totally awkward around her. Her real friends—Roselyn and Katherine—lived on the other side of the country, working in fields unrelated to her own. She hadn’t talked to them since the layoff. It wasn’t solely a case of not wanting to share her misery—Taylor didn’t know how to share misery.
As she approached the Eagle Valley, nestled in the hollow of three mountain ranges, she felt a growing sense of relief. She was entering a world where no one knew that she’d failed, that her careful life plans had gone askew.
Sweet anonymity.
Even the guy she was stopping to see shouldn’t know what was going on, since she’d only recently—as in nine short hours ago—confessed to her grandfather that for the past eight weeks she’d been unemployed and had no real prospects.
She needed to temporarily lower her standards, find a job—any job—so that she didn’t have a big hole in her résumé. She could deal with a short-term cut in pay and fewer benefits, but if she did that, she had to come up with a way to cover expenses until she once again landed a job in her field. That was where Karl came in. She was going to have to ask her grandfather for a helping hand—no easy task when she’d been incommunicado for months. She’d been bad. And karma had bitten her on the ass.
* * *
COLE WAS DRINKING coffee when he heard the sound of an engine. He glanced at the clock and frowned. Five thirty seemed too early for a social call…maybe the granddaughter had once again called law enforcement?
He set down his cup and went to the door. The car that pulled up was low slung and sexy. A thin coat of dust covered the silver finish, but it was obviously a car that had been well cared for. The woman climbing out of the driver’s side wasn’t that tall, but she was fit and sexy, with long blond hair pulled into a low ponytail. She perfectly matched the vehicle. She shaded her eyes when she caught sight of him standing on the porch watching her, then squared her shoulders and marched toward him.
The granddaughter. This should prove interesting.
Cole leaned against the newel post and waited. A guy didn’t spend eight years working on a guest ranch without learning to both read people and deal with them effectively. His read on this woman—simmering anger. Frustration. In need of a scapegoat for…something. No question as to whom that scapegoat might be.
“Hi,” he said when she hit the end of the broken-up walkway. “Want some coffee?”
Her brisk steps slowed. “You don’t know who I am.”
“I’m guessing that you’re Karl’s granddaughter.” He jerked his head toward the house. “I just made a fresh pot.” He ran his gaze over her. “You look like you could use a cup.”
Her bemused expression changed to something approaching a smirk. “Thanks.”
With a casual shrug, he opened the door. The woman hesitated, then preceded him into the house.
“It hasn’t changed much,” she said.
“Why would I change it?”
She shot him a look. “I guess that depends on why you’re here.”
He went into the kitchen and pulled a second mug down from the cupboard near the sink. “I’m here to farm. Why are you here?”
“I’m here to check on the welfare of my grandfather.”
“Then,” he asked in a reasonable voice before handing her the steaming cup, “why aren’t you in Dillon, where your grandfather is?”
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. A woman used to playing her hand carefully. “That is where I’m going.”
“Just thought you’d stop by? Introduce yourself?” He set down his own coffee and held out a hand. “Cole Bryan.”
She returned his handshake. “Taylor Evans.”
“Nice to meet you, Taylor. And thanks for calling the deputies on me.”
“I didn’t have a lot of choice. My aunt wouldn’t answer her phone, you answered my grandfather’s phone and I was concerned.”
“Yet not concerned enough to keep closer tabs on your grandfather over the past several months.”
Her expression iced over. “There were circumstances at play there.” He lifted his eyebrows politely. “Private circumstances,” she said in a tone indicating that if he had any manners at all, he would stop the questions now.
He took a sip of coffee. If she thought cool superiority was going to make him remember his place, she had another think coming. Having worked with a master of the freeze strategy—his step-aunt and former boss, Miranda Bryan—she was going to have to do better than this.
“Are you satisfied now that all is well?”
He could tell the word no teetered on the edge of her lips, but she caught it before it fell. “I guess I don’t understand why you’re here in the house. My grandfather said he doesn’t think he’ll be in Dillon for all that long.”
“Maybe your grandfather is lonely and would like a roommate.”
“My grandfather is not the roommate kind.”
“You sound certain.”
“I know him.”
“Yet you didn’t know he moved.”
Irritation flashed across her features. “Would you stop bringing that up?”
“Sorry.” He set down his cup and gripped the counter on each side of his hips. “Maybe if you told me why you’re here, I can help you out, and then you can continue on to Dillon.”
She smiled tightly. “Yes. What a great idea. I wanted to meet you.”
“Make
