Page 38 of Her Saltwater Cowboy

Bella exhaled. “The ranch once belonged to Rafael’s father, many, many years ago. It’s my understanding that Ace took it over to, a, help the family out.”

Lightbulbs began going off in Willow’s mind. This tension between Chance and Rafael obviously ran much deeper than she could have ever suspected. So many questions came to mind.

Bella put a hand firmly on Willow’s arm. “Promise me you won’t say anything. I’ve already said too much!”

“Of course, but it’s common knowledge, I’d think. It’s probably some history that I should know about, if nothing else but to tamp it down when it rears its head.” She paused. “Guess I hadn’t been paying close enough attention.”

“All I’m saying is I want to feel part of this family, and this land, without becoming a nuisance or stirring up bad blood. Does that make sense?”

Willow gave her a reassuring smile. “You could never be a nuisance. Just put that out of your head right now.” She forced herself to stand, realizing the time. “I guess I’d better get back because the meatballs aren’t going to form themselves. See you at supper?”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Bella stood, then scooped up Seabiscuit into her arms. “I’ll head over with you so I can talk your ear off some more about those olive trees.”

As they walked back, Bella did most of the talking—about recipes for olive oil infusions, about keeping the grove’s revival quiet, and also about what the ranch would look like after breathing life into an old dream.

But Willow’s mind kept rolling back to what Bella had let slip about the ranch—that Rafael’s father somehow lost the land that his son now works.

Chapter 7

Willow returned to the kitchen, her arms and mind full. She dumped the basket, iPad, and a small jar of soil she and Bella had collected from the grove onto the counter.

Meatballs were waiting to be shaped and baked, so she looped an apron over her head, and tied it around her waist. Skin flushed from the sun, she turned on the faucet and soaped up her hands. As the warm water sluiced over her fingers, she hummed “How Great Thou Art” again, grateful to put her focus on anything but lingering questions.

As she removed ten pounds of grassfed goodness from the fridge, her phone rang. Willow bit her lip. She’d dallied long enough. If she were going to get food in the oven, she had to hurry.

She dried her hands on the front of her apron. Maybe a message from Bella with a sudden idea, or perhaps a call about the dinner rotation.

Instead, Topa Mountain Care Home showed up on the screen.

Her heart dropped. Quickly, she answered.

“Ms. Mercer?”

“Yes?”

“This is Jeannie over at your mother’s care home.”

Willow tightened her grip on the phone and rolled a look up toward the vaulted ceiling.

“Ooh, it’s been a day!” Jeannie said.

Willow slid a cryptic look over her shoulder, making sure she was alone. “Is my mother okay?”

“Ruthie’s stable now, but, boy, what a disturbance we had today. Your poor mama was shouting and very confused. It took some time to bring her out of all of that.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Dr. Grace says it was an emotional trigger that caused it.”

Willow pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “What happened?”

“Well, see, a man came by asking for her?—”

“What man?”

“Said he was family. If you ask me, the two of them do look kind of similar. Anyway, he said he needed to check on her well-being, but my baloney radar went up. His eyes were shifty, you know?”

Willow closed her eyes. “Tall? Mid-fifties? Rough voice?”

“Yep. Like a washing machine full of pebbles.”

“Please tell me you didn’t admit him …”

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