The Gentleman Rancher

Jeremy stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers. Taking her hand, he drew her out of the heat and into the shade. “The original owner built the four rooms in the center. He primarily used the place as a fishing and hunting retreat. It’s pretty rustic. He wasn’t much on upkeep and he sold it to a couple who dabbled in amateur architecture. The husband loved the South Beach area of Florida. The wife adored historic Charleston, South Carolina. They wanted to expand the house. They couldn’t agree how. So they compromised by building his-and-her wings in the stucco-over-brick-style of historic Charleston and painted them the vivid tropical colors of South Beach.”

“Wow.”

He let go of her hand as casually as he had clasped it. “The previous owners ended up getting divorced, and the property had to be sold as part of the settlement. Naturally, given the air of neglect there weren’t many prospective buyers even willing to consider taking on such a big project. I came along,” he announced proudly, “and got it for a song.”

Taylor stepped onto the V-shaped patio located between the two wings. There was no doubt the property could be turned into something, but it would take one hell of a lot of work. “How long have you had it?” she asked.

“Two years.”

She noted the pile of construction debris located next to the back door. It certainly appeared to be a work-in-progress. “And you’ve never lived here?”

“Once I show you the inside, you’ll understand why.” Jeremy unlocked the patio doors. The air inside was stifling. It felt like the heat of an oven rushing out at them. Inside the main room, the floor had been stripped down to the cement slab. There was no kitchen to speak of, just a cooler where a refrigerator should have been and a freestanding metal sink more suited to a laundry room, with an old-fashioned spigot. The remaining drywall had big gouges in it.

“You tore out all the cabinets?”

“They were rainbow-painted aluminum,” he explained.

“Oh.”

“The refrigerator had been shut off, still filled with food, in the summer heat. There was so much mold and bacteria in it, it had to go, too. Not that it would have been worth much—it was in pretty bad shape. There’s no central heat or air.”

“Then…?” she asked.

“The fireplace is it, when it comes to heat.”

Taylor blinked. “For the whole house?”

“Wings and all, yep.”

He led her toward the front of the house. “Initially, these two rooms were bedrooms, the Realtor said.” Jeremy indicated the two closed-off rooms on either side of the front door. “I think they should be formal rooms, living and dining, so I plan to take out the center part of each wall here to open them up.”

Taylor got the picture. “Which is where the sledgehammers come in.”

“Right.”

She looked around. “There’s no guest bathroom, I gather?”

“No. The original owner went with the outhouse for that. I tore that down and put in a port-a-potty.”

Taylor took a moment to consider that as she walked back toward the main living area. Although still stifling-hot, the fresh air flowing in from outside was cooling the space slightly. “How did they bathe, if they didn’t have a bathroom?”

“Lake?” Jeremy guessed. “I don’t know. Fortunately, the second owners—the couple who ended up getting divorced—had a full bath put in each wing.”

“So you have plumbing out here?”

“I will—when I get a new septic tank put in.”

Taylor nodded, thinking, “No wonder you got it for a steal.”

“Let me show you the rest.” Jeremy led the way into one wing. It was a large bedroom, painted a hideous color of purple, with matching carpet and walls. The theme continued into the adjacent bath. Taylor couldn’t help but stare. “I didn’t know they made counters and bathtubs that color.”

“Apparently you can paint them. Or get them recovered. I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do. I’d like to tear it all out and put in marble. Or maybe ceramic tile. I’m not sure.”

They ventured across to the opposite wing. It was done all in hot pink. Taylor was so busy looking around, she ran into him. He reached out a hand to steady her.

“I keep saying this,” she shook her head, “but wow.”

“I know.” He grimaced.

Taylor focused on the bright side. “Both bedrooms have a good layout. They’re spacious. They each have a bath. Big windows. Plenty of light.”

“So you think it has potential?” Jeremy asked cautiously.

Taylor walked back out into the main room. “Absolutely, I do. The only thing I don’t understand is why you aren’t living here right now.”

JEREMY STARED at Taylor, stunned. “Well that’s the first time anyone’s ever expressed any kind of enthusiasm for this place.”

A comfortable silence settled between them. “What do they usually say?” she asked.

He winced, recalling. “Everything from bulldoze the house and start over, to sell and find something habitable.”

She eyed him consideringly from beneath her thick black lashes. “They don’t get you want to turn this property around yourself?”

If only she’d been here all along…he could have used her innate understanding. “Not just turn it around,” he confided. “Make it into my dream home.”

Taylor shot him a quick, reproving glance. “Well, you’re never going to get there if you keep going at the rate you’ve been! You’re going to have to live here.”

She wasn’t kidding. “Without working plumbing or central air?”

Her frown softened and faded behind a slow smile. “I’m guessing you have the means to take care of both pretty promptly if you want to. I saw the electric wires running onto the ranch, so I know it wouldn’t be that big a deal to get the power going. I’m serious, Jeremy. If you want to make this dream come true, you’re going to have to work on it every single day, not just when the mood strikes.”

“Not so easy. I’m a doctor with a full medical practice.”

She shrugged. “Then hire it done, bit by bit.”

He dug in stubbornly. “I want to do it myself.”

She scoffed. “Sounds like procrastination to me.”

Procrastination was exactly what it was. The thing was, the way he was taking his time wasn’t bothering him near as much as it was everyone else in his life. His hands still thrust in the pockets of his trousers, he strode closer. “Suppose I’m content to bide my time? What then?”

She stepped nearer and taunted softly, “Then I would think you are afraid.”

Like hell he was. He met her challenge. “Of what?”

Complacency echoed in her low tone. “Failure.”

He shook his head at her. “I’m not a failure.”

“Maybe not as a physician,” she allowed, coming closer yet. She tipped her head back to better see into his face. She tapped a teasing finger against the center of his chest. “I can’t say the same about your nesting skills.”

He caught her hand before she could steal it away again, held it there. “Nesting is for women.”

He felt her resistance, even though she made no move to pull away. “Everyone needs a home, Jeremy.”

He mocked her. “Says the person without a place to go right now.”

This time, she did withdraw her hand from his easy grip. “I don’t have a permanent residence because I gave up the house I was renting in Virginia, to move to Los Angeles. I was thinking I might like to buy a place there, but I changed my mind after living there.”

Okay, maybe that was half the story.… “Too expensive?” he guessed.

“Too superficial. At least the part of Los Angeles I was in.”

He saw the vulnerability in her expression he knew she wanted to hide, and wished he had some way to protect her, without overstepping his bounds. “Was that the only reason you left in a hurry?”

She lifted the hair from the back of her neck and stepped outside. “Back to that again.”

He joined her on the patio, glad the heat of the sun was finally starting to lessen. He watched her take an elastic band from her wrist and use it to secure her glossy mane in a ponytail high on the back of her head. “I still think you’re running from something,” he said.

Taylor made a face at him. “Says the person who is afraid to put in a working septic system and central AC.”

“Okay,” Jeremy countered, before he could think. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll get that done. I’ll get this place move-in-ready. If you will agree to go out with me.”

TAYLOR FELT LIKE ONE of those bottom-weighted plastic clowns that took a punch and swung right back up. “Go out with you?” she echoed, before she could stop herself.

“As in date me. And don’t look so surprised. You can’t tell me you haven’t felt some serious vibes between us, too.”

Okay, so she had. But that did not mean she had to abandon all common sense and behave recklessly. The practical side of her was saying she was not signing up to get her heart crushed by him again. It had been bad enough, feeling like they had disappointed each other when they had just been pals.

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