The Cowboy's Girl Next Door: A BWWM Cowboy Romance Page 2

  “You’ll know soon enough, baby. You know exactly what you want and what you’re doing. If this place doesn’t pan out...” her mother paused.

  “There will be others. I know, Mom.” She smoothed her hand over the rough wood of the sign. It was warm from the April sun, and her fingers instinctively began tracing the carved wooden heart below the ranch’s name. A fresh coat of paint was all it really needed. “I just have a really good feeling about this.”

  “Then that’s all you need to know. Remember what your daddy always said about trusting your deepest instincts. Your heart knows what to do.”

  Claire could hear the soft break in her mother’s voice at the mention of her father. She leaned against the sign, eyes cast down at her feet. The grass needed mowing here. Long green shoots tickled the skin of her ankles. She wondered how long it would take for the grass over her father’s grave to get this long. “I miss him, Mom. Especially right now.”

  She sniffled, her eyes watering with tears that had been coming all too frequently of late.

  “I know you do. I miss him too, miss him every minute of every day, but we’ve got to move on.” There was a creak in the background and then the sound of water running, and Claire could almost see her mother rising from the chair at the kitchen table and refilling her glass. She was thankful for the sign to lean against. It was giving her strength.

  “I don’t have to do this. I don’t need to buy a ranch. We can use the money another way, a way that I don’t have to be so far from you.”

  Carmen’s voice was soft and stern. “Hush now. None of that. This was his dream for you, for you to have whatever your heart desired. I had him for such a long beautiful time, and I’m well provided for. That money was always meant for you to live your dream. Don’t take that away from him.”

  Claire shook her head furiously. “No, no, Mom, I wouldn’t ever.” She leaned her head back to rest on the sign, her eyes closed but looking heavenward. “I’ve gotta go,” she lied, needing some space to think. “I’ll call you after I see the place.”

  “That’s fine, baby. You do that, and I’ll talk with you soon.”

  Claire nodded as she hung up the phone, her mouth tight as she fought back a sob. She swallowed hard, suppressing the instinct to cry. She’d been through so much lately. Being here, in this place, on the edge of her dream, seemed too fragile, too good to be true.

  It had been six months since Riley Robinson had died, but he’d been struggling for years with the effects of some very hard living in his youth. “I just did too much, sugar, too much of too many things. Your mama saved me from that life, but in the end, it’s gonna get me no matter what she does.” He’d had such a rough beginning, but his wife, Carmen had smoothed a new way forward, and between the two of them they’d established a healthy, strong foundation on which Claire could build.

  She was their only child, their pride and joy, but she was never spoiled; she earned everything she got in life, including the riding lessons that were her one pleasure outside of her studies.

  She’d worked at whatever task they’d set to her, even mucking out the stables when that was what needed doing, all to have a precious afternoon on one of the sweet strong mares.

  When her school friends were heading to beaches on breaks, she was either riding horses or dreaming of riding them. She chose finance as her college major, because she knew she’d need to earn a lot of money quickly if she wanted to have her ranch before she was too old to really enjoy it, and Atlanta’s booming economy seemed a good place to get rich.

  She was on her way, moving quickly up the ranks at her investment firm, one of Atlanta’s best. Compliance was her specialty, ensuring that the firm’s investment portfolio met regulatory standards, and she approached her work with the single-minded determination that had developed throughout her youth. When she was promoted to Senior Compliance Officer, it felt like everything was going her way. Then she met Kyle Freeman.

  Kyle was perfect in every way: well educated, financially secure, and movie star handsome. He ran a locally based recording company, and they met in the lobby when he came for his first meeting with the investors at her firm. Their connection was electric, and when she’d discovered he was a new client, she was torn about her ethical obligations.

  Kyle was a force, though, and his relentless courting finally broke down her defenses. She notified her bosses about the relationship, concerned that it may bring her trouble down the road, but feeling secure enough in both the quality of her work and the respect of the firm, that she pushed aside any lingering misgivings.

  For a while, things were fantastic. Her life was neat, orderly and focused until now, suddenly it was a whirl of vibrant life: parties, concerts, and dinners. She found herself imagining other futures, ones based in Kyle’s world of beautiful people and bright lights.

  Still, she always found time for her first love, and her Friday evenings and Saturday mornings were always reserved for Calliope and Thalia, the thoroughbred mares she’d bought with her first big bonus from the firm. They were boarded at a farm about 20 miles out of town, and as soon as she could leave on Friday afternoon, she was off to see her girls.

  At first she’d worried that Kyle, with his endless evening activities, would object to this part of her schedule, but he had been remarkably understanding and supportive of her dreams.

  It all came crashing down because of an error on a spreadsheet. Not an error, exactly: more of a number that just wasn’t right, which led to the discovery of a pattern of errors and before she knew it, the building was swarming with auditors combing through hundreds of transactions, including a large number of the ones handled by Kyle’s broker.

  That was bad enough, but one Friday, as she was heading toward Calliope and Thalia, and the peace they provided, a colleague called to tell her that Kyle knew about the suspicious deals and had fully participated in them. She returned to Atlanta immediately to confront him, a plan that evaporated when she let herself into his apartment and found him in bed with one of his singers.

  That was the end for them, and for Claire’s position at the firm. The partners were kind and generous with the severance, but even a whiff of a connection to the scandal from the Compliance Division was too much to countenance. Kyle begged for forgiveness, but Claire was unmovable, spending her days with her ailing father and her horses while she tried to figure out her next move.

  “And here I am,” she whispered, to the sign, to the heavens. “It’s time to move on.”

  The realtor arrived, breathless and apologetic for making Claire wait. Claire assured her that it was ok, and the two took a quick tour of the house before climbing into Margy’s jeep to see the ranch.

  The tour revealed a number of expected problems. The property had been vacant for over a decade, and while the owners had kept up with basic maintenance, it was clear that the stables would need refurbishing and the barn would have to be torn down and entirely replaced.

  There was new damage, too, from a recent hailstorm, and Claire could see a new roof for the house in the very near future. She was already thinking of it as hers, though, imagining herself sipping tea on the deep wide porch on summer nights. As they walked along part of the property perimeter, she mentally calculated the adjustments she would need to make to her offer to offset the cost of repairs.

  “Watch your step here, honey,” Margy said, pointing to a patch of broken fencing and fallen branches. “Strange that it hasn’t been cleared up on this side. The Hardy’s have always been so good about taking care of their neighbors.”

  Claire looked across the fence to the neighboring ranch. “Whoa,” she exclaimed, overwhelmed by what seemed to be an endless, fenceless expanse. “How big is that place?”

  Margy was carefully moving the branches to clear a better path. “About a thousand acres,” she said. “The Hardys have been there for generations, and they bought up neighboring farms as the families either died off or moved away.” She stood, brushing her hands o
ff on her jeans. “Don’t know why they didn’t ever think to buy this place, though. Maybe they think they finally made their spread big enough.”

  “I suppose when you’ve got that much, sixty-five acres seems kind of insignificant.” Claire and Margy continued their walk, Margy talking about the Hardys and what great neighbors they were.

  “Now that old man Hardy’s gone, though, his son’s been a bit of a recluse,” she concluded, then thoughtfully adding, “not that he was a real partying type to begin with, I suppose.” She pointed to a fresh stump. “Storm took out that tree. Beautiful old oak. The branches extended over the creek. Wayne told me that a lightning strike split it in two.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, Claire wondering why they’d left the stump behind. “Deep roots here,” she sighed, and Margy smiled and nodded her agreement before turning to return to the jeep.

  “Anything else you want to see here, or should we head into town now?” Margy drove slowly down the gravel path from the stable to the main house, and Claire felt a tinge of disappointment as they got further from the stables and pastures and small ponds that dotted the fields. She felt the urge to send for her girls and her belongings and never ever leave this place.

  “Let’s go to town. I need to check in at the hotel, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some lunch before we take our tour,” Claire said with a sweet smile.

  “Sure thing! I hope you’re hungry. Victor has red beans and rice on the menu today. You don’t want to leave a bit on the plate; he gets upset, like you’ve insulted his grandma or something.”

  Margy stopped at Claire’s car and waited as she unlocked the black sedan. It was more gray than black now, the dust of Claire’s travels on back gravel roads masking its usual sleek form.

  “Let’s talk about what you’re willing to offer over lunch.” Margy nodded toward the car. “I think this place has left its mark on you.” She winked and drove off, leaving Claire in stunned and amused silence.

  Claire pulled out her phone and messaged a few great photos to her mother, then pulled up directions to the local hotel where she’d made reservations. As she pulled out of the driveway, she realized she would be driving right past the neighboring ranch and decided to take the drive a bit more slowly than usual, so that she could scope out her neighbors.

  At first, there was nothing but picket fence lined fields, scattered trees, and shrubs along the roadside. She pulled over when she got to the main gate and stepped out of the car.

  “Bar None,” she said. “Humph. Just because you’re bigger, doesn’t mean you’ve got a better name.” She laughed a bit, and then stood in stunned silence as she looked past the gate toward the main house.

  It was something out of a movie. Two stories, perfectly painted white with dark green shutters. Two porches, one on each floor, wrapped around the house, and each was outfitted as though as much time was spent living outside the home as inside. Beautiful azalea and hydrangea bushes were blooming, soft bright pastels providing splashes of color against the stark white of the house. She took a picture and wondered about her potential new neighbors.

  “Can I help you?”

  Claire turned sharply toward the voice, embarrassed to be so openly staring at this home on the isolated road. The first thing she saw was the horse, a tall sleek beauty with chocolate brown coat and deep honey colored mane. The rider, a young woman, looked more curious than angry at the sight of a stranger. “I’m sorry to bother you. Just heard a lot about this place from my realtor, and I thought I’d take a look.”

  The rider leaped from her mount. “You looking at Heart’s Home?” She extended her hand. “My name’s Cella, Cella Price. My Mom and my uncle own this place.”

  Claire shook her hand, surprised at how excited and eager this young woman seemed. “Nice to meet you. I’m Claire Robinson. Yes, I just finished looking at Heart’s Home. Margy showed it me.”

  “I’ll bet she was real thrilled to show it to you; she’s been trying to sell it for the Thompsons forever! Oh!” Cella covered her mouth, embarrassed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Claire laughed. “It’s OK. I know it’s been vacant for a long time, and while it’s going to need some work, it’s a beautiful place.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” Claire gushed. “My favorite place is the little pond out on the west corner. We used to have the best picnics there.” She stopped suddenly and looked down toward the ground. Her straight brown hair fell almost like a curtain around her face, and Claire wondered why she suddenly felt so sad.

  Cella took a deep breath and looked back up. “Sorry. Just had a memory. Well, I’d better get inside and tend to my chores.” She stroked the horse’s mane. “C’mon, Cupcake. Let’s get you home.” She turned back to Claire. “It was nice to meet you. I hope we get to see you again real soon.”

  They shook hands, and Claire replied, “I hope so, too.”

  Claire watched Cella ride off toward what she could only assume were the stables, then got into her car and drove to town. She checked in at the hotel, finding her room small but well appointed.

  She then went in search of Victor’s Café, which her map showed to be a couple of blocks away. She couldn’t help but appreciate the charm of the town center. It was well laid out and offered a healthy number of restaurants, clothing stores and services like beauty salons, banks, and insurance agents, among others. There was a new, modern community center. The area was noted for beautiful scenery and she looked forward to exploring that in the near future.

  She found Margy seated at a table on the sidewalk outside the café, already enjoying a glass of iced tea. Once she was seated, a waiter came to take their order, and while they waited for their food, the conversation turned to the town. As they ate, Margy told her a bit about Kerrville history, the scenic beauty around it, its founding, its growth through industrial means.

  She didn’t shy away from the less pleasant parts of the town’s history, but instead told it all in an unvarnished way that Claire found refreshing. This was her greatest fear about finding a ranch in the south: to feel herself surrounded by unwelcome people.

  Margy did not give her such a feeling, but she was not naive. Still, she’d survived any number of slights and difficulties in Atlanta; Kerrville felt comfortable to her in a way that was affirming.

  “So,” Margy said as she sipped a bit of tea, “what does a city girl like you want with a horse ranch?”

  Claire swallowed her last bit of the delicious red beans and rice, and gently wiped her mouth before speaking. “I need a change; I need to get out of the city.” She took a drink of the cold sweet tea. “I’ve been there all my life, and it’s only gotten bigger and louder. I want to start fresh.”

  Margy’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Starting up a horse ranch is a pretty big change, I’d say.” She reached into the weather-beaten leather bag she toted and pulled out a folder. “Let’s have a talk about this offer, and then I’ll take you on the tour.”

  Claire grinned and pulled out her own notes and a calculator. It was definitely time to get to business.

  Chapter Three

  Supper at Bar None was a quiet affair that evening, as it was most nights. Jess grilled steaks, Lacey made a potato salad, Cella put the finishing touches on a small layer cake, and Jasper did the only household tasks Lacey trusted him with – setting the table and opening a bottle of wine.

  “Guess what I heard today?” Lacey asked as she dished out the salad. Jess shrugged; he wasn’t very interested in gossip, but Lacey had to have her Moment, so he usually just let her roll with it. “Someone has made an offer on Heart’s Home!”

  “I met her!” Cella exclaimed, and then grew a bit quiet when all eyes at the table turned to her. “Well, at least, I think I met her,” she stammered. “When I was out with Cupcake, I met a woman, I think her name was Claire, and she was at our gate looking at the ranch. She said she’d been at Heart’s Home.” Claire paused and grinned. “Guess we’re g
etting a new neighbor!”

  Lacey’s ears perked up as Cella told her story. “A woman? What was she like? Was she alone?”

  “She was alone. She was nice. Drives a black car.”

  “And?” Lacey’s tone stretched out the word and hung it over the table.

  “And that’s it. She seemed OK. Oh, and she’s black.”

  There was a brief and slightly awkward silence at the table as each of them considered Cella’s words. Jess picked up his wineglass and proposed a toast. “To our potential new neighbor.”

  Smiles and the clinking of glassware followed, and the conversation resumed as Lacey shared what she’d learned about the new neighbor: that she was from Atlanta, owned a couple of thoroughbred mares, around which she was hoping to build her business, and that she’d had some high powered financial career that she was leaving. She paused in her narrative, looking directly at Jess until she was sure she had his full attention. “I also hear that she’s single.”