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The stairs creaked loudly, or perhaps that was his own uncertainty.
Katie glanced back at him. “Plus, Butterscotch needs your attention, Ethan.”
“What was Big E thinking breeding her?” Ethan asked, entering the kitchen, where Katie already had her coffee refilled and a toasted bagel slathered with cream cheese. The new kitchen decor stopped Ethan in his tracks. It always did. Never mind the pink-feathered chandelier or bubble gum–colored paint, what he resented were the extravagant prices Zoe had paid for her superficial changes that had destroyed what used to be the heart of the house.
“I know. It’s a bit scary. But you can blame Zoe for that one too.” Katie tipped her coffee mug at Ethan. “She arranged the whole thing as a surprise for Big E. Something about bringing new life to the ranch.”
“You aren’t serious? She can’t be that...” Ethan failed to find a suitable word, probably because his mind was overwhelmed with calculating the cost of the custom-made pink-trimmed cabinets and hand-cut sparkly backsplash.
“Insensitive?” Katie finished for him.
“Don’t forget clueless about how a working ranch runs.” Jon swiped the bagel from Katie’s hand and took a large bite before she could claim it back.
Katie was five years younger than Ethan and practically one of the family.
“Butterscotch is twenty-three.” And a dependable, calm paint, Ethan thought, since the very first moment Big E had guided her off the trailer as a birthday present for Ethan’s mother. Butterscotch hadn’t spooked ever when one of Big E’s new wives had wanted to ride her, despite each spouse being less suited for ranch life than the last. The white-and-chestnut-colored mare had earned her peace, not a risky pregnancy.
“Zoe wanted her mare and Butterscotch to birth at the same time because two foals in the pasture make for better pictures.” Katie frowned at the empty cream cheese container as if searching for something to explain Zoe’s reasoning. “For the guests.”
If the older mare survived. If the foal survived. “Butterscotch needs to be under veterinary care.” Ethan stepped out of Katie’s way.
“And she’ll have it now that you’re home.” Katie toasted Ethan with her second bagel.
Ethan wasn’t home to stay though. He was as temporary on the ranch as his step-grandmothers. He was six days into the one-month visit he’d promised Jon. Surely that was long enough to straighten out the accounts, stabilize the ranch and, if Big E failed to return, sell the place. He’d pocket his share from the sale and move on with his life. “I’ll check on Butterscotch and then take a look at the faucet.” Because Jon had enough on his plate with his twin five-year-old girls and his own ranch to take care of. Never mind that Jon was also recently engaged to his former nanny, Lydia.
“First guests arrive at the end of the month. The faucet in the bunk house can wait.” Katie pulled out her phone and swiped across the screen. “We need that fence fixed before I can release the cattle into the pasture.”
“I have to be at Dr. Ross’s office for the twins’ appointments in an hour, but I can come back this afternoon and help with the fence.” Jon put his hat on and strode to the back door. Trout followed, the click of his nails on the hardwood floor in rhythm with the thump of Jon’s boots. “And I might have an extra ATV battery at my place.”
Ethan appreciated the offer. “After I check on Butterscotch, I’ll head over to Brewster Ranch Supply. The heifers need vaccines and the mares could do with supplements.”
“When you’re at Brewster’s, ask Grace if she’ll help with Big E’s books,” Jon said.
“Why would I do that?” Ethan rubbed his neck to remove the edge from his tone.
“Because you’ve been staring at the accounting stuff since you arrived.” Jon waved toward the office and the stairs. “Because we weren’t up in the bedroom looking for Christmas presents. And because we need a professional opinion on the financials.”
“Grace and her family will also have leads on possible new ranch hand hires.” Katie tossed the cream cheese container in the trash and the knife in the sink. “They always hear before I do.”
Ethan massaged his chest as if the knife had lodged there instead of clattering in the sink. Certainly, his heart hadn’t staled and stuttered at the mention of Grace Gardner. More like embarrassment kicked his pride, wedging regret between his ribs.
Grace and Ethan had spent one night together, but she had sneaked out the next morning without a goodbye. Whether too many champagne bubbles had blurred the signals and he’d misread the entire evening, or Grace’s experience had been less than remarkable. Either way, he owed Grace an overdue apology. “But she can’t be the only accountant in town,” he insisted.
“Grace is certified with a real degree and she’s quiet, so she won’t be talking all over Falcon Creek about Blackwell business.” Katie crossed her arms over her chest and studied him. “Don’t tell me you still aren’t over Sarah Ashley?”
Ethan blinked. Sarah Ashley was Grace’s older sister and Ethan’s long-ago, on-and-off-again girlfriend. The snag in his voice had nothing to do with his ex and everything to do with her younger sister. How was he supposed to apologize to Grace for crossing the friend barrier and then ask her for help as if nothing had ever happened?
“From what I’ve heard, Sarah Ashley married the man she rightly deserved.” Katie shrugged. “What? Mabel keeps me up-to-date.”
Mabel being the postmaster and beacon of all gossip in Falcon Creek.
“Well, some folks didn’t get home until all hours from that wedding reception, so things must have started off okay,” Jon said.
His brother was referring to Ethan not returning to Jon’s house until the next morning, long after Sarah Ashley’s reception. Ethan hadn’t confessed to his brother where he’d spent the night or with whom he’d spent it.
Jon punched his brother’s shoulder as he was leaving. “Talk to Grace.”
“Listen to your brother.” Katie let the back door slam shut behind her.
Ethan flattened his palms over his face and speared his fingers into his hair. He’d attended Sarah Ashley’s Valentine’s Day wedding after he’d received a series of manic texts from the bride saying she was having doubts. He’d tried to ignore her, but what if she was the one for him? When he’d arrived at the church, after another flurry of anxious texts from Sarah Ashley, Grace had blocked him from seeing the bride and told him it was past time to let Sarah Ashley go. That her sister was well and truly in love. That the match was perfect. Suddenly, Ethan had begun to think there was something perfect about Grace.
With one question, he interrupted Grace’s extensive list of reasons that Sarah Ashley and her fiancé were meant to be together: Did Sarah Ashley’s fiancé treat her well? Grace had blinked and answered: very well. And that had been enough. Ethan had sat in the back row for the ceremony. His gaze hadn’t lingered on the bride and what he’d lost, but rather, it strayed too many times to a certain maid of honor, making him wonder what he’d missed.
It was only during the reception, when the champagne corks had popped, that Ethan approached Grace. And yes, maybe Grace had given a sweet, funny toast to her sister and new husband that won over the guests. And yes, maybe Grace had looked like a goddess in her sleek formal gown. And yes, he’d danced her into a dark corner and...
The next thing he knew it was the following morning and he was on his own. He’d been trying to forget that moment ever since.
* * *
WITH HER BABY’S heartbeat echoing in her heart, a picture of her ultrasound resting in her pocket and her due date entered on her calendar, Grace Gardner drove toward her family’s store, Brewster Ranch Supply, determined to get through the workday without vomiting. She was equally determined this would be the week she called Ethan Blackwell to tell him about the baby. One phone call couldn’t be that hard, could it?
She rolled to a stop at the only light in town. It seemed the light spent more time on red than green, as if daring the locals to spot the seven differences between the downtown of today and that of a decade ago. Grace could find only one.
The morning after her night with Ethan she’d sat at this red light smiling and feeling slightly delirious.
The delirium had passed, along with the stutter in her heart, when the positive pink stripes had appeared on the pregnancy test. Somehow, she’d kept her smile in place, even though Grandma Brewster had warned her in high school that being pregnant was nothing to celebrate. But Grace wasn’t a teenager with hormones and a crush. She was an adult with an accounting degree and soon she’d have her own business. More important, she had a baby plan.
Pushing her glasses up on her nose, Grace blurted out, “Ethan, I’m your baby.” She tapped her forehead on the steering wheel and muttered, “Having your baby. Your kid. Child. Baby.” Her sigh was loud and long and she shook out her arms, lifted her chin. “Ethan, I’m having your baby so—”
A horn blared behind her. And then another. Her practice conversation concluded, Grace accelerated through the light and parked in a stall behind her family’s store. She weaved through the storage area to her makeshift office. Her father’s burst of laughter from the front had her changing directions.
Perhaps a hug from her dad would bolster her confidence to finally contact Ethan.
Grace pushed through the swinging door that connected the storage area to the store proper and gripped the nearest shelf to keep her knees from buckling. She could forget the phone call. It hadn’t been her father’s laughter calling to her after all. It’d been Ethan Blackwell’s.
A flush swept over her skin. She would’ve blamed it on morning sickness if not for the familiar blue eyes zeroing in on her over her mother’s head.
The same blue eyes that had never wavered when she’d talked about herself and her dreams that night in the hotel bar while her sister’s reception continued down the hall. The same blue eyes that had cataloged every detail about her while she’d been wrapped in his strong embrace. The same blue eyes she wished for her baby.
“Perfect timing, Gracie.” Her father smacked the counter. “Look who wandered in and asked to see you.”
Grace squeezed the shelf, the way her heart seemed to be squeezing inside her chest. Ethan might’ve asked to see her, but she wasn’t starring in one of her sister’s romantic fantasies. “Is there something you needed, Ethan?” Like my heart.
Grace chastised herself. Her heart wasn’t going to be part of any conversation with Ethan. Ever. She hadn’t earned the title of most levelheaded Gardner sister on a whim.
“Is there someplace we can talk in private?” Ethan asked.
“Take Ethan to your office.” Her mother guided Ethan around the counter to the employees-only side. “When the two of you finish, Ethan, we can talk about the feed inventory and the reorder.”
“Sarah Ashley handles the inventory now, Mom.” Grace searched the storefront for her older sister.
“Your sister had a thing,” her mother said evasively.
Sarah Ashley was just like her younger sister, Nicole Marie. The two always had a thing when work was to be done.
“I have a thing too,” Grace said. “A call that starts in fifteen minutes.”
“A call? Oh, Grace.” Her mom waved her hand toward the front door. “We deal with our customers in person like we’ve always done. Whoever needs to call you can easily come on down to the store to talk to you and then buy some impulse merchandise.” The hand wave shot toward a display of marked-down Easter chocolate.
Grace pulled out a peppermint candy from her pocket to keep her mouth from spilling secrets she wasn’t ready to share. Her caller wasn’t a Brewster customer, so there was no reason to encourage Isaac James Sr. to visit the store.
Mr. James owned IJ Farms on the way to Billings and needed tax advice. Grace intended for her advice to transition into Isaac hiring her as his new accountant. Grace crunched the candy into pieces and glanced at Ethan. “My office is over here.”
Grace dropped her purse on the small desk in her makeshift office. She shared the crammed retail space with pig feed, goat kid milk replacer and alfalfa pellets. At least, she had a door that closed and locked. Not that she’d had a reason to lock herself in yet.
But having Ethan in here with her made the already minimal breathing space shrink until Grace swore they were both holding their breath to conserve oxygen. It wasn’t long before she inhaled, deep and long, to prove to herself that she could handle the hurdles of the big wide world, including Ethan Blackwell.
Ethan shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, rocked back on his boot heels and rushed to speak. “Grace, I know I shouldn’t ask for your help, but I need it. Big E’s motor home has hit the road, the heifers are going into heat, Helen and Pete Rivers retired and the books are total chaos.”
Grace popped another peppermint in her mouth and tried to translate Ethan’s fragments. Nothing she’d heard hinted that he was there to resume where they’d left off three months prior. Not that she wanted that. She just wanted him to know about the baby.
Now was her chance. Her turn to talk. Her turn to confess.
Grandma Brewster had always told Grace that the fork in the road had to stab her to get her to move. Or, in this case, speak. She’d swear the sharp twinge in her chest felt eerily close to the jab of a fork’s tines. And she could swear she heard her late grandma Brewster’s boisterous laugh. If only she could find her voice instead of her inner mouse. “How exactly can I help you?” And how exactly do you want to learn about your child?
“I can’t figure out the ranch books.” Ethan stepped forward. “I was hoping for your expertise.”
Her expertise. Not her heart. “You want me to work on the Blackwell Ranch’s accounting.”
“We’ll pay you for your time and discretion.”
Discretion should be her middle name. No one, other than her doctor in the next town over, knew about her pregnancy. Grace took off her glasses and ran her fingers across her eyebrows.
“I can bring everything here if it’s more convenient. Or drive you up to the ranch.” Ethan moved to the edge of her desk within kissing distance. “I remember you mentioned preferring not to drive at night.”
She could touch Ethan without any real effort now. Instead, she sank her hand into the peppermint candy bowl on her desk and wondered what else he remembered from their night together. Did he remember how they shared things no one else knew? Or recall how much they’d laughed about their childhoods? Did he treasure those moments? Or was she just as foolishly sentimental as Sarah Ashley? “That’s fine.”
“Then you’ll help?” Surprise softened his voice and relief relaxed his mouth into a smile that made even the peppermint swirl churn through her insides.
Her phone chimed, alerting her of her upcoming call with Isaac and reminding her to focus.
Ethan twisted the door handle. “I’ll get out of your way and let you work.”
Grace looked at him and willed her mouth to open and the truth to come out. But it didn’t happen.
“I’ll bring the books by tomorrow morning and then we can put together a strategy to stabilize the ranch’s finances?”
Grace nodded, clinging to her plan. A baby plan. One that did not include Ethan as more than an absentee parent. And one that definitely did not involve her heart.
CHAPTER TWO (#u3d93a91c-32c9-5ce0-803c-f0d195523a1b)
ETHAN STOPPED HIS truck and stared at the white house with forest green shutters until his gaze blurred and all he saw was the land and home from his childhood. The house had so many good memories for him prior to his parents’ fatal accident. The twin rocking chairs on the wide front porch and banging screen door. The lawn scattered with sticks from his brothers’ sword fights, plastic army men and laughter.
He’d never wanted his home to change and wanted it back even more after he’d left his childhood at his parents’ gravesite.
Too many potholes since, they littered memory lane and tripping in those craters now solved nothing. That home was gone and had been for quite a while. A two-winged, thirty-bedroom log cabin, more manor estate than quaint lodge, squatted nearby, surrounded by barns and outbuildings painted red as if cheerful about the massive guesthouse intrusion.
Like it or not, the Blackwell Ranch had expanded to also become a dude ranch and there was no turning back the clock. In Ethan’s mind that left one option: sell the ranch that was no longer his home. No longer anything he wanted. What he wanted was the money from its sale to pay off his debts and buy his entry into a veterinarian clinic in Kentucky or Colorado, but definitely not in Falcon Creek.
First, he had to fix the accounts with Grace’s help.
Ethan cut the truck engine, but not his guilt. That kept running like a high-speed train making up time for a late departure.
He shouldn’t have asked for Grace’s help in the first place. He should’ve apologized.
He shouldn’t have searched for those familiar copper flecks in Grace’s green eyes when she’d removed her glasses. It was futile to try to prove the vivid memory wasn’t his imagination. Those same copper flecks had sparked under the chandelier lights on the dance floor at her sister’s reception and continued to burn through him whenever he thought of her. He should’ve never agreed to Jon’s suggestion to approach his accountant or stepped inside Brewster’s.
Ethan shouldn’t have come home.
He gripped the steering wheel, imprinting the leather into his palms. He should’ve called Grace the morning after their night together and every day after that until she’d answered. But instead he’d excused his behavior because she’d walked out on him first. How pathetic that he cared who’d left first, as if she’d dinged more than his pride. Yet Big E hadn’t raised his grandsons to be weakhearted fools.
And yet, his mother had raised him to be a gentleman, not callous and selfish. She would not be proud of him today.
That settled it. Tomorrow he’d say sorry to Grace and then find another accountant. Or straighten out the books himself.
What had Grace been thinking when she’d agreed to help him? And she had agreed. He hadn’t missed that part. He might’ve missed hearing that she was glad to see him. Or that she’d thought about their night together. Or that she’d wanted to call him. But he really hadn’t wanted to hear any of that, did he?
A fist rapped against the closed window of the truck cab. He glimpsed Katie’s frown a second before she smacked a piece of paper against the glass.
Not just any piece of paper, but a delivery notice for one rabbit and four sheep. In bold print: no returns or refunds. The words mocked him. The notice also explained the invoice for twin sets of long-wool providers he’d found in Big E’s desk. Zoe hadn’t ordered wool bales, but purchased sheep for her new petting zoo. Clearly, he needed to look through the recent purchase invoices and translate Zoe’s handwritten notes on those as well.
Before he could respond, Katie smacked a second piece of paper against the window. Thankfully, not another delivery notice. But, the title, “How to Set Up a Petting Zoo Business,” drilled a hole in his stomach. As did the phrase liability insurance required, which she’d carefully highlighted in yellow.
Big E’s checking account dipped further into the red. They were out of time. They needed professional advice and they needed it last week. There was no time to find a substitute. Help would have to come from Grace.
He climbed out of his truck, yanking the delivery notice from Katie. Curse words banged around inside his mouth like popcorn kernels chipping his teeth, but he located his inner gentleman before he spewed any into the air. “We don’t have a place for these sheep.” He needed to chase down spare cash, not sheep, across forty acres.
Katie checked her watch. “You have two hours to figure something out.”
Ethan crumpled the delivery notice in his fist and lashed out. Each word pinged like a burned popcorn kernel. “What are you doing in the next two hours?”
“Locating a battery for the ATV and making sure all the linens are clean and accounted for.” Katie shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and tipped her chin toward the stalls. “The horses still need to be ridden. Butterscotch could use another walk or even some more attention.”
The mare had been a birthday present from the family to Ethan’s mother. After his mom had passed, Ethan had become the mare’s guardian, protecting the paint from Big E’s temperamental wives. Butterscotch hadn’t judged Ethan when he’d curled up in her stall more than once to give in to his grief. But he’d left for college and abandoned Butterscotch to Zoe’s whims. The mare deserved better. Ethan wouldn’t fail her now.
He dug his boot into the dirt, grinding the last of his temper into dust. “Sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”
Katie punched him on the shoulder and grinned. “I didn’t know we had a thing.”
