Page 3 of Bringing Home A Cowboy
“Do you remember the way?”
“Yes, know it like the back of my hand,” she says, smiling.
“Then, I’ll follow. Wouldn’t feel right letting you wander up there alone after a snow,” I say, already heading for the truck. “Besides, it’s your place. You ought to see it with someone who knows how it’s been running.”
She heads toward her rental, shoulders squared against the wind, snow catching in her hair. I wait until her taillights flicker on before pulling out behind her.
The streets of Cady Springs are half-asleep under a blanket of snow, storefronts glowing soft in the blue dusk. Her little car moves careful, deliberate, tires crunching over drifts that still haven’t been cleared. I hang back a few car lengths, watching the way she checks the mirrors—nervous, trying not to show it.
Maybe she really does remember the road like the back of her hand, but it’s been years since city asphalt was her daily ground. Out here, black ice and blind turns don’t care who you are. I’m not about to let her spin out or take a wrong turn on my watch.
When we reach the edge of town, her headlights sweep across the welcome sign, and something about the sight hits me … like this place is holding its breath, waiting to see if she belongs here again.
She certainly didn’t lie. Miss Martin drove straight here, pulling in like she owns the place. She immediately jumps out of her vehicle and I exit the truck, rushing to catch up with her. Damn, she’s fast.
I hear her exhale softly, like she’s been on a long trip and just came home.
“Looks good,” she says.
“Been doing what I can,” I answer. “Your grandfather left good instructions before he passed. Guess I just kept following them.”
We walk to the barn. The chestnut mare nickers, tail flicking when I reach out to stroke her neck.
“She’s pretty,” Olivia says.
“Stormy,” I tell her. “Temperamental but loyal. Kind of like this ranch.”
She gives a tired laugh. “I don’t know how to fix any of this. I don’t even know where to start.”
“You start by not giving up.”
Her laugh this time is softer, almost disbelieving. “That’s the problem. I don’t have much of a choice. I can’t manufacture a husband out of thin air.”
I lean on the stall gate, watching her. Snowlight filters through the barn windows, laying pale streaks across her face. “Maybe not out of thin air,” I say slowly. “But maybe not as impossible as you think.”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
I meet her gaze. “Seems a shame to let the county take this place because of a technicality. I’ve been running this land long enough to know what it means to you—and what it meant to him.”
“James…” she starts, uncertain.
“I’m not saying anything rash.” I raise my hand slightly. “Just—if you needed someone to help keep the ranch, I’d be willing to stand in.”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’d marry me?”
“Paperwork’s paperwork,” I say quietly. “You’d keep what’s yours, and I’d keep the land running. Nobody loses.”
Her eyes search mine, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Snow drifts past the barn windows like feathers. The world feels still, suspended.
“You can’t be serious,” she whispers.
“I don’t make jokes about land or promises, Miss Martin.”
And by the look in her eyes, she knows I mean it.
Chapter 3
Olivia
