Книга - Their Ranch Reunion

Their Ranch Reunion
Mindy Obenhaus


The Rancher Next DoorSingle mom Carly Wagner is surprised to learn she’ll have to share ownership of the home she’s inherited with first love—and first heartbreak—Andrew Stephens. The man who fled their tiny western town is back and standing in the way of her dreams to expand her B and B. Now a successful businessman, Andrew has eight weeks to buy Carly out. But Carly's too stubborn to persuade—and too beautiful to ignore. When fire ravages her inn and she and her daughter move in to their shared property, Andrew's in over his head. Time is running out and Andrew must decide: leave and chase another deal…or stay and chase Carly's heart.Rocky Mountain Heroes: Brothers raised by faith, ready for love







The Rancher Next Door

Single mom Carly Wagner is surprised to learn she’ll have to share ownership of the home she’s inherited with her first love—and first heartbreak—Andrew Stephens. The man who fled their tiny Western town is back and standing in the way of her dreams to expand her B and B. Now a successful businessman, Andrew has eight weeks to buy Carly out. But Carly’s too stubborn to persuade—and too beautiful to ignore. When fire ravages her inn and she and her daughter move in to their shared property, Andrew’s in over his head. Time is running out and Andrew must decide: leave and chase another deal...or stay and chase Carly’s heart.


“What a difference twenty-four hours can make.”

He faced the woman who was now beside him.

“Last night at this time,” Carly explained, “I was slamming the door on you.”

“Oh, that. Well, this hasn’t been what I’d call an average day.”

“Me either. But I appreciate everything you did for us today, Andrew.”

He dared to meet her gaze. “I didn’t do much.”

“You were there for me when I needed you.” She went to him, rose up on her toes and hugged him. “Thank you.” Her words were a whisper on his ear, soft and warm. And he felt his world shift.

Then she turned for the door. “Good night.”

Stunned, he managed to eke out, “Night,” before she disappeaered into the house.

He stood there, waiting to breathe. Carly stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt...well, since they were a couple.

That was not good. Because despite today’s events, there was still the issue of his grandmother’s house. And that was a battle he intended to win.


Dear Reader (#u0984129a-2eed-5ebd-99e0-f244eef57272),

Life is littered with the unexpected. Yet sometimes, those events turn out to be unexpected blessings.

Andrew and Carly were a couple of misguided souls allowing their pasts to dictate their futures. They were content in their lives—they had dreams and aspirations—yet God had so much more in store for them. Things they never imagined.

I love how God works. We’re going along on our merry way, doing our own thing, and then He sends us on a little detour that can change our lives forever.

I hope you enjoyed Andrew and Carly’s story. I love reunion stories, and theirs was one steeped in past hurts, perceived failures and regret. Yet God used those things to draw them together and open their eyes to the truth.

And how about meeting the rest of the Stephens men? Definitely some heroes in the making.

Of course, I was thrilled to take you back to Ouray, albeit in a little different way. While the city of Ouray is nestled in a bowl, surrounded by thirteen-thousand-foot peaks, a short drive north of town and the mountains are pushed back, leaving beautiful rangeland dotted with ranches, all bordered by the majestic San Juan Mountains.

Until next time, I would love to hear from you. You can contact me via my website, mindyobenhaus.com (http://www.mindyobenhaus.com), or you can snail-mail me c/o Love Inspired Books, 195 Broadway, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10007.

See you next time,

Mindy


It took MINDY OBENHAUS forty years to figure out what she wanted to do when she grew up. But once God called her to write, she never looked back. She’s passionate about touching readers with biblical truths in an entertaining, and sometimes adventurous, manner. Mindy lives in Texas with her husband and kids. When she’s not writing, she enjoys cooking and spending time with her grandchildren. Find more at mindyobenhaus.com (http://www.mindyobenhaus.com).


Their Ranch Reunion

Mindy Obenhaus






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Forget the former things;

do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a

new thing! Now it springs up; do you not

perceive it? I am making a way in the

wilderness and streams in the wasteland.

—Isaiah 43:18–19


For Your glory, Lord.


Acknowledgments (#u0984129a-2eed-5ebd-99e0-f244eef57272)

A big thank-you to Captain Glen Vincent,

Village Fire Department, for your twenty-nine

years of service as a firefighter and for

your willingness to share your knowledge.

Thanks to Wendy Jilek at Colorado Kitchen and

Bath Design, Montrose, Colorado, for

your input on the kitchen-design process.

Much appreciation to Catrina at ServePro

of Montrose and Telluride.

And I couldn’t have done any of this without

the love and support of my incredible husband.

Thank you for being my rock.


Contents

Cover (#ud115db29-e716-5ca1-a145-ba4926233da4)

Back Cover Text (#ub5c80693-a7b6-5748-8ac2-8fba184215cb)

Introduction (#u1af8f9b3-44bc-57d8-aed9-0a75468441c6)

Dear Reader (#u35b7875a-ad01-5f0a-9e5c-5124c15dbdfb)

About the Author (#ud142870a-f901-580d-93c3-7b7a16a1b9ef)

Title Page (#u9c1db3fd-267c-5c50-918d-297836508409)

Bible Verse (#u768974d6-3905-5add-b9ab-6ff4c524ec12)

Dedication (#u8994babb-1657-5946-a1e5-bbd2d773182d)

Acknowledgments (#u009625ac-a371-509d-8990-ad6456ea9325)

Chapter One (#u36a6b01a-4fa4-5144-aae1-644b991fca43)

Chapter Two (#udc9215d8-3a44-5a2f-91f3-b5251fa52b32)

Chapter Three (#ua85b312d-91cb-5399-a719-c4f1f0a2f1ad)

Chapter Four (#ua1e01f9c-6b64-53d7-846f-5042f677869d)

Chapter Five (#uad98e8e4-98f1-5d74-a907-b97ba362b3d5)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u0984129a-2eed-5ebd-99e0-f244eef57272)

If she had to look at one more spreadsheet, she’d go batty.

Overdue for a break, Carly Wagner pushed away from her laptop at the oak kitchen table, poured another cup of tea and wandered into the parlor of her Victorian home. The late morning sun filtered through the windows, bathing the somewhat formal though still cozy room in warmth. Taking a sip of her Cream Earl Grey, she glimpsed the photo of her great-grandmother on the mantel and smiled. Granger House was more than just her home. The bed-and-breakfast was a way of life.

She let go a sigh. If only she didn’t have to keep taking in these bookkeeping jobs to help build up her savings. But if she hoped to send her daughter, Megan, to college one day...

She was just about to sit in the powder-blue accent chair when something outside caught her attention. Easing toward the side window, she noticed a vehicle in the driveway next door. She fingered the lace curtain aside and peered through the antique glass pane.

That truck did not belong there.

Her neighbor, Olivia Monroe, Livie to everyone who knew her, had been dead for six months. Since then, no one had set foot in that house without Carly’s knowledge. Until now.

Narrowing her gaze on the ginormous black F-350, curiosity mingled with concern. After all, Livie’s house now belonged to her. Well, maybe not completely, but Lord willing, it would, just as soon as she convinced Livie’s grandson, Andrew, to sell her his half. That is, once she finally mustered the courage to call her old high school boyfriend. Then she would finally be able to act on her dream of expanding Granger House Inn and kiss bookkeeping goodbye.

Allowing the curtain to fall back into place, she paced from the wooden floor to the large Persian rug in the center of the room and back again. What should she do? She hated to bother the police. Not that they had much to do in a quiet town like Ouray, Colorado. Then again, if it was nothing, she’d look like the nosy neighbor who worried over everything.

No, she needed to do a little investigation before calling the cops.

She headed back into the kitchen, depositing her cup on the butcher-block island before grabbing her trusty Louisville Slugger on her way out the back door. The cool air sent a shiver down her spine. At least, that’s what she told herself. Realistically, it was rather mild for the second day of March. Perhaps the sun would help rid them of what remained of their most recent snowfall.

Making herself as small as possible, she crept across the drive and around the back of Livie’s folk Victorian. Banging echoed from inside. Or was it her own heart slamming against her rib cage?

With Livie’s house key clenched in her sweaty palm, Carly drew in a bolstering breath and continued a few more feet. She soundlessly eased the metal storm door open just enough to insert her key into the lock of the old wooden door. Then, thanks to the ongoing hammering sound, she slipped inside undetected.

The seventies-era kitchen, complete with avocado-green appliances and gold countertops, looked the same as it had every other time she’d been there in recent weeks. Pathetic. She still couldn’t understand why Livie would do such a horrendous thing to this charming house. Carly could hardly wait to get rid of that ugly old stuff and replace it with a look that was truer to the home’s original character.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Carly jumped, sending her renovation ideas flying out the window. At least until she took care of whoever was in the parlor.

Raising the bat, she tiptoed into the short hallway, past the closet, until she could see who was making that racket.

She peered around the corner, nearly coming unglued when she spotted the male figure crouched beside the wall on the other side of the kitchen, using a hammer and a crowbar to remove the original trim moldings.

She slammed the tip of the bat onto the worn wooden floor with a crash. “What are you doing to my house?”

The man jumped. Jerking his head in her direction, he hustled to his feet until he towered over her.

Carly gasped. What is he doing here?

Eyes wide, she simply gaped. The perpetrator wasn’t just any man. Instead, Andrew Stephens, Livie’s grandson, stood before her, looking none too pleased.

Heat started in her belly, quickly rising to her cheeks. Though it had been nearly twenty years since they’d dated and she’d seen him a few times since, her mind failed to recall that the boy she once knew so well was now a man. A very tall, muscular man with thick, dark brown hair, penetrating brown eyes and a stubble beard that gave him a slightly dangerous, albeit very appealing, look.

His surprise morphed into irritation. “Your house?”

She struggled for composure, jutting her chin in the air while trying to ignore the scent of raw masculinity. “You heard me.” Aware she wasn’t acknowledging the complete truth, her courage suddenly waned. “Well, half of it anyway.”

Andrew eyed her bat. “I’m not sure where you’re getting your information, Carly, but this house belongs to me.” Shifting his tools from one hand to the other, he moved closer. “And I have a copy of my grandmother’s will that proves it.”

Oh, so he thought he could intimidate her, did he? Not to mention call her a liar?

She laid one hand over the other atop the bat. “That’s odd. Because I received a letter from Livie’s lawyer, along with a copy of her will, and it stated that the house passes equally to both you and me.” And while her plan was to offer to buy out his half, this probably wasn’t the best time to bring that up.

He cocked his head, his expression softening a notch. “Are you okay? You haven’t hit your head or something, have you?”

She sucked in a breath, indignation twisting her gut. Wasn’t it enough that he’d broken her young heart? Now he thought she was crazy. Well, she’d show him.

Resting the bat on her shoulder, she whirled and started for the back door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back.” She stormed out the door and marched over to her house, kicking at a dwindling pile of snow along the way. Did he really think she was going to let him plead ignorance when she had proof? That house was half hers and she refused to be bullied.

Once inside Granger House, Carly went straight to her bedroom, opened the small safe she kept tucked in the corner and pulled out the large manila envelope. Let Andrew argue with this.

Leaving her bat in her kitchen for fear she might actually be tempted to use it, she again made her way next door, irritation nipping at her heels. She would not let Andrew stand between her and her dream.

When she entered this time, he was in the kitchen, arms crossed, leaning against the peninsula that separated the eating space from the food-prep space, looking better than an ex-boyfriend should.

She removed the papers from the envelope and handed them to him. “Page three, last paragraph.”

She watched as he read, noting the lines carved deeply into his brow. So serious. Intense. And while he had never been the carefree type, it appeared the big city might have robbed him of whatever joy remained.

When he glanced her way, she quickly lowered her gaze. Just because she hadn’t seen him in forever didn’t give her the right to stare. No matter how intriguing the sight.

“I don’t get it.” He flipped back to the front page. “This will was drawn up only a year and a half ago.” He looked at her now. “The one I have is at least five years old. Meaning this—” he wiggled the papers—“supersedes that.”

Carly rested her backside against the wood veneer table, her fingers gripping the edge. “So, are you saying you didn’t receive a letter from your grandmother’s lawyer?”

He shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

This was her chance to make her move. Before she chickened out. “I’m sorry to hear that. However—” she shoved away from the table “—we can take care of this quite easily.” She lifted her chin. “I’d like to buy out your half. I’ve been looking for a way to expand my bed-and-breakfast, and this house is the perfect solution. Besides, you’re never in Ouray—”

“I love this house. Always have. You know that.”

While she knew that Andrew the boy had loved the house, she could count the times Andrew the man had set foot in Ouray since moving to Denver right after graduation. A move that was supposed to be the beginning of their future together. Instead, it had torn them apart.

Refusing to let the painful memories get the best of her, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Until today, when was the last time you were in this house?”

“After my grandmother’s funeral.”

“And the time before that?” She awaited a response.

After a long moment, he shoved the papers back at her. “This house has been in my family for four generations. And I’m not about to let that change anytime soon. Even for you.”

* * *

Andrew hadn’t been this bowled over since Crawford Construction, one of Denver’s largest commercial builders, offered to buy out his company, Pinnacle Construction. Even then, he hadn’t been totally unaware. He’d heard rumors. But this revelation about his grandmother’s house took him completely by surprise.

There was no way he was going to sell Carly half of the house that rightfully belonged to him. There had to be some mistake. He hadn’t even been notified of the change to Grandma’s will.

Watching out the kitchen window as Carly made her way back to Granger House, her blond curls bouncing with each determined step, he could think of only two explanations. His grandmother was crazy, or Carly had somehow coerced her into changing her will, giving his high school sweetheart half of the house that had been promised to him from the time he was a boy.

He continued his scrutiny, chuckling at the memory of Carly holding that baseball bat. Coming into the house, not knowing who was inside, took a lot of guts. Apparently the shy girl he’d once known no longer existed. Then again, that was a long time ago. She’d since become a wife, a mother, a widow... Not to mention one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

Shaking off the unwanted observation, he waited for her to disappear inside her house before digging the keys out of his jeans pocket and heading out the door. He had to get to the bottom of this and fast. For months, he’d been looking forward to updating this old home to use as a rental property. Now, as he awaited the closing on his next business venture, he had eight weeks to do just that.

He climbed into his truck and fired up the diesel engine, daring a glance toward Granger House. With its sea foam green paint, intricate millwork and expansive front porch, the historic Victorian home looked much the way it would have when it was first built nearly one hundred twenty years ago. Today’s guests must feel as though they’re stepping back in time.

His gaze drifted to the swing at the far end of the porch. Back when he and Carly were dating, they spent many an evening there, holding hands, talking about their plans for the future. Plans he once thought would include her.

But that was then. This was now.

He threw the truck into gear and set off for his grandmother’s lawyer’s office, only to discover the man was out of town for the week. Frustration burrowed deeper. He didn’t know what to do. Perhaps his father would have some insight.

Andrew’s shoulders slumped. Seeing his father meant a trip to the ranch. Something he hadn’t planned to do just yet.

If he wanted answers, though, it was his only option.

He maneuvered his truck onto Main Street, past the rows of colorful historic buildings, to continue north of town, beyond the walls of red sandstone, on to the open range. A few minutes later, he passed under the arched metal sign that read Abundant Blessings Ranch. Why his parents had named the place that, he’d never understand. Their lives were far from blessed, working their fingers to the bone with little to nothing to show for it.

He’d never live like that again.

Bumping up the gravel drive, he eyed the snow-capped mountains that stretched across the far edge of the property, beyond the river where they used to fish and swim.

A couple of horses watched him from the corral as he passed the stable. Red with white trim, it was the newest building on Stephens’ land. Apparently the trail rides his father and oldest brother Noah offered during the summer months had been successful. That, in addition to the riding lessons Noah taught, had likely funded the structure.

The old barn, however, was another story. Closer to the house, the rustic wooden outbuilding had seen better days. The roof sagged, the pens on the outside were missing most of their slats and the ancient shingles were in sore need of replacing. Better yet, someone should just bulldoze the thing and start fresh.

A task he could easily take care of once they were well into spring. But he’d be back in Denver by then, the proud owner of Magnum Custom Home Builders.

He pulled alongside his father’s beat-up dually, killed the engine and stepped outside to survey the single-story ranch house.

Though the sun was warm, a chill sifted through him. He wouldn’t have believed it possible, but the place looked even worse than it had six months ago when he was here for his grandmother’s funeral. The cedar siding was the darkest he’d ever seen it. The house, along with the large wooden deck that swept across one side, could use a good power-washing. Not that Dad, Noah or his younger brother, Jude, had the time. Before the cancer took its toll, the house had always been Mama’s domain. And with five sons eager to please her, she was never at a loss for help.

The back door opened then, and Clint Stephens stepped outside, clad in his usual Wrangler jeans and chambray work shirt. “I thought I heard an engine out here.” Smiling, his father started toward the three short steps separating him from Andrew, the heels of his well-worn cowboy boots thudding against the wood.

“How’s it going, Dad?”

“It goes.” His father cocked his graying head and peered down at him. “You no longer feel the need to tell your old man when you’re coming back to Ouray?”

Andrew pushed the mounting guilt aside. “Maybe I wanted to surprise you.” Hands shoved in his pockets, he perched his own booted foot on the bottom step. “I was planning to do some work on Grandma’s house, but it seems she changed her will. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“I do. I’m kinda surprised you don’t, though.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t you get a copy of the new one?”

“No, sir.”

“Hmm...” His father rubbed the gray stubble lining his jaw. “Guess we’d better have a talk, then.” He turned back toward the house. “I just put on a fresh pot of coffee. Care to join me?”

After toeing out of their boots in the mudroom, they continued into the family room. Though the mottled brown carpet Andrew remembered from his childhood had been replaced with wood laminate flooring, the room still looked much the same with its oversize furniture and wood-burning stove.

He eyed the large Oriental rug in the middle of the room. Mama had been so tickled when he’d given it to her the Christmas after the new flooring had been put in. Said the rich colors made her simple house feel more grand.

While his father moved into the kitchen that was more like an extension of the family room, or vice versa, Andrew stood frozen, held captive by the wall of framed photos at the end of the room. Baby pictures of him and his brothers. Graduation photos. Milestones and achievements. There had never been a prouder mama than Mona Stephens.

Guilt nearly strangled him. He hadn’t even had the respect to be here when she died.

“You still take it black?”

Turning, Andrew cleared his throat before addressing his father. “Just like you taught me.”

The corners of Dad’s mouth twitched. “There’s some roast beef in the fridge.” He motioned with a nod. “Help yourself if you’re hungry.”

Considering Andrew hadn’t eaten anything since he pulled out of Denver well before sunup...

He spread mayonnaise on a slice of white bread, recalling his last visit before his mother’s death. Despite chemo treatments, she still had his favorite foods waiting for him. From homemade apple pie to beef stroganoff, the most incredible aromas filled the house.

He glanced around the dated L-shaped kitchen. This old ranch house would never again smell so good.

“If you didn’t get a copy of the new will, how’d you find out about the change?” Dad eased into one of the high-backed chairs at the old wooden table near the wall.

“Carly paid me an unexpected visit.” He picked up his sandwich and joined the old man. “So, what gives? Grandma promised her house to me. I have a copy of her will that proves it. Why’d she make the change?”

Dad set his stained mug inscribed with #1 Dad atop the table. “Carly meant a lot to Livie. She was a friend, a caretaker and the granddaughter she never had.”

“Okay, but Carly isn’t family.”

“Not by blood. But like I said, Livie thought of her as family. They were very good friends, you know.”

“No. I didn’t know.” Andrew took a bite. Sounded like Carly went to great lengths to worm her way into his grandmother’s life, all to expand her bed-and-breakfast.

“After Carly lost her husband, she and Livie grew even closer. Your grandmother understood what Carly was going through.”

Something Carly probably used to her advantage.

“No one can understand the pain of a young widow better than someone who was also a young widow.” Dad lifted his cup and took another sip of coffee. “That aside, your grandmother had her concerns that you might sell the place.” His gaze settled on Andrew. “Making Carly half owner might have been her way of ensuring that the house remained with someone she loved.”

“But I’ve always wanted that house. That’s why Grandma left it to me in the first place.” That and the fact that none of his brothers were interested. “I would never consider selling.”

“You were in Denver, hardly ever came home.”

Guilt wedged deeper. Even if he’d found the time to come back, he wasn’t sure he could face the judgmental looks he was bound to receive from his brothers. As though he’d betrayed them for not getting here before Mama died.

“What are you planning to do with the house, anyway, son?”

His appetite waning, Andrew wrapped his suddenly cold fingers around the hot cup his father had given him. “Open up the bottom floor, add an extra bath, update the kitchen... I was hoping to have it ready by the high season to use as a rental.”

“Sounds like quite an undertaking.”

Andrew shrugged, still suspicious of the relationship between his grandmother and Carly. “You know, Carly mentioned something about wanting to expand Granger House Inn. You don’t suppose she shared those plans with Grandma in hopes of getting her hands on that house, do you? I mean, it is right next door.”

His father’s brow furrowed. “It’s possible she made mention of it. But Carly’s not the scheming type. You know that.”

Did he?

“Apparently she’s pretty determined,” Andrew said, “because she offered to buy my half of Grandma’s house.”

Lips pursed, Dad nodded in a matter-of-fact manner. “You gonna take her up on it?”

“No.” Andrew shoved his sandwich aside. “What was Grandma thinking?”

Dad chuckled, lifting his cup. “Doesn’t really matter, son. You and Carly are just going to have to find a way to work it out.”


Chapter Two (#u0984129a-2eed-5ebd-99e0-f244eef57272)

“Yes, we do have an opening for Easter weekend.” Sitting at her kitchen table that afternoon, Carly settled the phone between her ear and shoulder, grateful for the distraction. Her mind had been reeling ever since her encounter with Andrew.

She brought up the reservations page on her laptop. “The Hayden Room is available. It has a queen-size bed, a private bathroom and a spectacular view of Hayden Mountain.”

“Oh, yes. I think I saw that one on your website.” Excitement laced the female caller’s tone. “It’s beautiful.”

Carly couldn’t help smiling. Actually, all of their guest rooms were on the website. Something that had garnered Granger House many a booking. The problem she most often encountered, though, was when a group of people or a family required more space or multiple rooms she didn’t have available. That was exactly where Livie’s house would benefit her. Not only could she book the three rooms there individually but also market the entire house to those larger parties. Whatever the case, the addition of Livie’s house would virtually double her income.

“I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.” She took hold of the phone. “Would you like to reserve it?”

“Yes, please. For Friday and Saturday night.”

Ah, yes. There was nothing Carly loved more than a fully booked weekend. Especially this time of year when things tended to be a little sparse. Looked like she’d better get her breakfast menus planned. Though it was still a few weeks away, Easter weekend was extra special. There’d be ham to prepare, biscuits, scones...

She took the caller’s information, hanging up as the kitchen timer went off.

Standing, she grabbed a pot holder and moved to the commercial-style range to retrieve a large baking sheet from the oven. Within seconds, her kitchen was filled with the aromas of cinnamon and vanilla.

She crossed the wide expanse of original hardwood and deposited the pan on the island. Until learning she’d inherited half of Livie’s house, Carly had been saving to remodel the kitchen at Granger House. While the room was large, it had one of the worst layouts ever, with the stove by itself at one end of the room and the refrigerator clear over on the other. Not to mention the lack of counter space. But since she’d be using that money to buy out Andrew’s half of Livie’s house, she’d just have to live with it a while longer.

Too bad Andrew had to be so difficult. Okay, so the house had been in his family for generations. She’d give him that. But unless he was planning to move back to Ouray, what possible use could he have for it? The place would just sit there empty.

Nope, no matter how she looked at it, there was no way this co-owning thing was going to work, and she couldn’t help wondering why Livie had set things up that way. Unless...

She picked up her spatula to remove the cookies, then stopped. Oh, say it wasn’t so. Livie had never tried to play matchmaker for Andrew and her while she was alive. Why would she do it in death?

No, no. Carly refused to believe it.

Still shaking her head, she shoveled the cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling rack. Regardless of Livie’s intentions, no matter what they might have been, Carly would simply have to figure out how to convince Andrew to sell her his half. She would not let him rob her of another dream. Not when this one was so close.

Back when she first took over Granger House from her parents seven years ago, she had grand ideas and had expressed an interest in expanding when the house on the opposite side of them came on the market. Her late husband, Dennis, had never been fond of the idea, though, so she’d tucked those dreams away. After his death two years later, she was too busy caring for Megan and simply trying to keep up to even think about anything other than what was absolutely necessary. But as Megan got older, Carly would occasionally revisit her daydreams. Still, with the other house no longer available, that’s all they were.

Until Livie’s death. Suddenly it was as though God had granted the desires of her heart in a way she never would have imagined. After all, just like Granger House, Livie’s house was only a block off Main Street, affording guests easy access to just about everything in town. And the fact that a narrow drive was all that separated the two houses made it the perfect candidate for her expansion.

At least until Andrew showed up, thinking he was going to claim his inheritance.

She let go a sigh. How was she, a simple small-town girl who’d spent her entire life in Ouray, going to convince some bigwig businessman like Andrew? It wasn’t as if their romantic history would score her any brownie points.

Her gaze drifted to the cookies. And plying him with food wasn’t likely to do the job, either.

Lord, show me what I should do. Because right now, it looks as though Andrew and I are at an impasse.

The back door opened then, bringing a surge of cool air as nine-year-old Megan bounded inside.

“Mmm...cookies.” Her daughter dropped her backpack on the wooden floor.

“You’re just in time. They’re fresh out of the oven.”

Without bothering to take off her coat, Megan rushed over and grabbed one. “Yay, snickerdoodles!” She took a big bite.

Carly snagged her own cookie, pleased that her daughter appreciated her culinary skills. And running a bed-and-breakfast, she was almost always cooking something. If not directly for her guests, then she was trying out new recipes. Something her friends benefited from, making it a win-win for Carly. They gave her feedback and she didn’t have to worry about her waistline. Well, not as much, anyway.

“How was school?”

With the cinnamon-coated treat sticking out of her mouth, Megan shrugged out of her coat. “Good.” She dropped the puffy thing on a hook near the door before plopping into one of the Windsor-style chairs at the table to finish her snack. “Who’s at Ms. Livie’s house?”

Carly glanced out the window to see Andrew’s big black truck once again in the driveway. With all the noise that thing made, she was surprised she hadn’t heard him pull in.

Why was he back, anyway? After watching him leave this morning, she’d hoped he’d decided to stay away until they reached an agreement.

“That would be her grandson, Andrew.” She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and continued on to the refrigerator for the milk.

“Do I know him?” Megan’s blue eyes followed Carly as she moved toward her daughter.

She set the glass, along with another cookie, in front of her. “He’s the one who played cards with you, me and Livie a couple of years ago.”

“When Ms. Livie’s daughter died, right?”

“That’s him.” She ruffled Megan’s straighter-than-straight strawberry blond hair, a trait she definitely didn’t inherit from her mother. But after decades of fighting her natural curls, Carly had finally learned to embrace them. “You have a good memory.”

“Why is he at Ms. Livie’s house now, though?” Megan picked up the second cookie. “I thought she gave it to you.”

Carly cringed. She’d had no business mentioning that to Megan until the estate had been settled. Yet in her excitement over the news all those months back, she’d blurted it out without thinking.

“She gave me half of it. And she gave Andrew the other half.”

“Which half is yours?”

Carly puffed out a laugh. She could only imagine what was going through her daughter’s nine-year-old mind. As if Carly and Andrew could just slap a piece of tape down the middle.

“Unfortunately, it’s not quite that simple.” And if she couldn’t get Andrew to sell her his half, she’d be stuck taking in people’s accounting books until Megan graduated college.

Megan stood, dusting the crumbs from her hands. “Can I go over there?”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea right now.” If ever. At least, not with Andrew there. Mr. Serious likely wouldn’t tolerate kids.

Still, she couldn’t help wondering what he was up to. Not after catching him removing baseboards this morning. Baseboards he’d better plan on putting back, because she wasn’t about to stand by and let him strip the home of its character.

“On second thought, maybe we should go over there and say hi.” And if their presence happened to remind him that she was keeping tabs on him, so be it.

Megan paused at the island, looking very serious. “We should take him some cookies.”

Hand perched on her hip as she watched her daughter, Carly wasn’t sure how she felt about the suggestion. However, it was Livie who’d always said you caught more flies with honey than with vinegar. And right about now, there was one big fly Carly was interested in catching.

“I think that’s a terrific idea.”

* * *

“Well, that’s just great.”

Andrew dropped his phone on the counter in his grandmother’s kitchen. He’d been calling his attorney’s cell all afternoon. When he finally decided to try the office, he learned that the man was in court and wouldn’t be available until tomorrow.

He blew out a frustrated breath. This was not how he’d envisioned this day playing out.

Pushing away from the cabinet, he paced the ugly gold-and-brown vinyl floor while he waited for a pot of coffee to brew. He knew it was a long shot, but perhaps Ned could find a way to get Grandma’s will overturned and the original reinstated. Then all of his problems would be solved.

You and Carly are just going to have to find a way to work it out.

Hmph. Dad always did look at things simplistically. The only thing simple about the dispute between him and Carly was the fact that they both wanted this house.

As the coffeemaker spewed out its last efforts, Andrew grabbed a mug from the cupboard. If it hadn’t been for Carly, he could have had at least one wall taken down by now. Enough to give him an idea of how the house was going to look with an open concept. Instead, he was left with a whole lot of nothing to do.

Leaning against the counter, he took a sip. He’d loved his grandmother dearly, but leaving her house to both him and Carly had to be the craziest idea she’d had since she went white-water rafting down the Uncompahgre River at the age of eighty-three. Except for sharing a game of cards after his mother’s funeral, he and Carly had barely spoken in seventeen years. Not since the day she turned down his marriage proposal and walked out of his life forever.

Relegating the unwanted memories to the darkest corner of his mind, he scanned the sorry-looking kitchen. While he wasn’t about to give up on getting his grandmother’s old will reinstated, he could still be proactive, just in case things didn’t work out the way he hoped. Near as he could tell, there were only two ways out of this predicament. And since selling his half to Carly was out of the question, that left him with only one option—he’d have to buy out Carly’s half of the house. Something that chafed him more than he cared to admit.

Aside from paying for something that was rightfully his to begin with, he’d have to come up with an offer better than hers. Sweeten the deal, so to speak, making it too good to refuse. Much like the company who’d just bought him out. And left him with a tidy chunk of change. Carly would be able to do whatever she liked with Granger House and leave this house—and him—alone.

“Hello, hello.” As though he’d willed her to appear, Carly pushed open the back door, knocking as she came.

Try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she was still one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen. The kind that could take your breath away with her natural beauty.

Her blond curls brushed across her shoulders as she held the door, allowing a young girl to enter first.

Her daughter had grown quite a bit since the last time he’d seen her. What was her name? Maggie? No, Megan.

“Hi.” The girl smiled up at him with blue eyes reminiscent of her mother’s and waved. In her other hand she held a small plate covered with plastic wrap. “We brought you cookies.” She handed them to him.

So these were Carly’s weapons of choice. Children and food. Ranked right up there with little old ladies.

His conscience mentally kicked his backside. Dad was right. Carly wasn’t the type to try to steal his grandmother’s house. However, that didn’t mean he was simply going to hand it over.

While Megan wandered off as though she lived there, he set the plate on the counter and helped himself to a cookie. “Snickerdoodles. How did you know I was in need of a snack?” He took a bite.

The feisty blonde watched him suspiciously. “What brings you back here?”

He chased the first homemade treat he’d had in a long time with a swig of coffee. “I’m—”

“Uh-oh.” Megan’s voice echoed from the next room. “Somebody made a mess.”

After a moment, Carly tore her gaze away from him and started into the front room.

Andrew set his cup on the counter and followed.

Rounding the corner into the home’s only living space, he saw Megan pointing at the small stack of baseboards he’d begun to remove this morning. Before his plans were rerouted by Carly.

“I was doing a little work.”

Carly lifted a brow. “I’m not sure what kind of work it was, but you need to put those back.”

Irritation sparked. Who was she to start giving him orders?

“Whose is this?” Now on the other side of the room, Megan rocked back and forth in his grandmother’s glider, pointing to the duffel he’d left by the front door. He wouldn’t go so far as to call the kid nosy, but she was definitely curious. Not to mention observant.

“That would be mine.” He turned to find Carly watching him.

Both brows were up in the air this time. “Planning to stay a while?”

This was ridiculous. He should not be interrogated in his own house. “As a matter of fact, I am. For several weeks. Which reminds me—” he crossed his arms over chest “—I think we need to set up a time to talk.” Glancing at Megan, he lowered his voice. “Privately.”

Mirroring his stance, Carly said, “I was thinking the same thing.”

“At least we’re in agreement about something.”

“I’m going upstairs.” A sigh accompanied Megan’s announcement, quickly followed by the clomping of boots on the wooden steps.

Andrew knew just how she felt.

With Megan gone, Carly addressed him. “I’m curious. Before you learned that you were not the sole owner of this house, what were your intentions for it? I mean, were you planning to move in?”

“Temporarily, yes. I’m going to update the place and use it for rental income.”

Seemingly confused, she said, “Where will you be?”

“Denver, of course.”

Lines appeared on her forehead. “Let me get this straight.” She perched both hands on her hips. “You don’t want me to use Livie’s house for my bed-and-breakfast, yet you want to turn it into rental property?”

“In a nutshell, yes.”

“Why not just rent your half to me?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Carly. He wasn’t purposely trying to thwart her plans. But this house was supposed to be his and his alone.

He dared a step closer. “Because, should I come back to Ouray, I want to be able to stay here. Without having to share it with someone else.”

She shook her head. “So you’d rather pay me half of the rent money you get? That makes no sense.”

“Pay you? Why would I—?”

“Mommy?” Megan hopped down the stairs, one loud thud at a time.

Carly seemed to compose herself before shifting her attention to her daughter. “What is it, sweetie?”

The girl tugged on Carly’s sleeve, urging her closer, then cupped a hand over her mother’s ear. “We should invite him for dinner.” For all her implied secrecy, Megan had failed to lower her voice.

A look that could only be described as sheer horror flitted across Carly’s face. Her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sure Andrew already has plans for—”

“Nope. No plans at all.” Fully aware of her discomfort, he simply shook his head, awaiting her response.

Clearing her throat, Carly straightened, looking none too happy. “In that case, would you care to join us for dinner?” She practically ground out the words.

He couldn’t help smiling. “Sure. Why not?”

Watching them leave a short time later, he knew good and well that Carly was no more excited about having him for dinner than he was about sharing his grandmother’s house. But as Grandma was fond of saying, it is what it is.

Who knew? Maybe they’d have an opportunity to talk. And if all went well, by the time this evening was over, Grandma’s house would belong to him and him alone.


Chapter Three (#u0984129a-2eed-5ebd-99e0-f244eef57272)

Carly removed the meat loaf from the oven and put in the apple pie she’d tossed together at the last minute. Throw in some mashed potatoes and green beans and it was comfort food all the way. She’d need all the comfort she could get if she hoped to make it through an evening with the man who had once been able to read her every thought.

Using a pot holder, she picked up the pan of meat and headed for the island. Nope. No plans at all. She all but flung the pan on the counter, sending spatters of tomato sauce across the butcher-block top.

She grabbed a rag and wiped up the mess, knowing good and well that Andrew was simply trying to get her goat. And enjoying every minute of it, no doubt. Just like he did back in high school. Only she was no longer the timid girl who was afraid to stand up for herself.

After throwing the rag into the sink, she returned to the stove to check the potatoes. Fork in hand, she lifted the lid on the large pot.

It irked her that Andrew was planning to use Livie’s house as a rental. Why wouldn’t he just let—Wait a minute.

Steam billowed in front of her.

She was half owner. That meant she had a say in what went on next door. He couldn’t use it as a rental without her permission.

Smiling, she poked at the vegetables. Yep, they were done.

She replaced the lid and carried the pot to the sink. This whole dispute would be over if Andrew would simply agree to sell. Unfortunately, for as eager as she was to discuss purchasing his half of the house so she could move forward with her expansion plans, she wasn’t at liberty to talk business with Megan in the room. Which meant this whole evening was a waste of time.

That is, unless her idea of plying Andrew with food actually worked.

Holding the lid slightly off-center so as not to lose any of the potatoes, she drained the water from the pot. Maybe he’d be in such a state of gastronomic euphoria by the end of this evening that it would be impossible for him to say no when she again extended her offer.

Dream on, girl.

“Can I help?” Megan emerged from the adjoining family room at the back of the house, directly off the kitchen. Carly’s parents had built the addition when she was young as a private space for the family. Now Carly appreciated it more than ever, because it allowed her to keep an eye on her daughter while she worked in the kitchen.

“Of course you can. Care to set the table?”

“Okay.”

Carly opened the cupboard to grab the plates.

“Not those plates, Mommy.”

“What?” She glanced down at her daughter.

“We need the guest plates.” Meaning the china she used for the bed-and-breakfast. And this time of year, guests were predominantly limited to weekends.

“Sweetie, we don’t use those for regular meals.”

“This isn’t a regular meal. Mr. Andrew is company, so we need to eat in the dining room with the pretty dishes.”

Oh, to be a child again, when everything was so simple.

Lord, help me make it through tonight.

“Okay. Let me get them for you.”

They moved around the corner into the dining room, and Carly retrieved the dishes from atop her grandmother’s antique sideboard. Meat loaf on china. That’d be a first.

Leaving Megan in charge of the table, Carly returned to the kitchen to mash the potatoes. She pulled the butter and cream from the large stainless steel refrigerator.

“Which side do the forks go on?”

Closing the refrigerator door, Carly grinned, recalling how she used to help her mother and wondering if Megan would one day take over Granger House Inn. If so, she’d be the third generation to run the B and B. Not that she was in any hurry for her daughter to grow up. Carly was already lamenting Megan’s occasional usage of Mom instead of Mommy.

“On the left.”

A knock on the back door nearly had Carly dropping the dairy products she still held.

Megan must have heard it, too, because she raced past Carly and threw open the door.

Carly deposited the butter and cream on the counter and hurried behind her daughter. “Young lady, what have I told you about looking to see who it is before you open the door?” Not that there was much to worry about in Ouray. Still, a mother could never be too cautious in this day and age.

“Sorry.”

“Evening, ladies.” A smiling Andrew stepped inside, looking far too appealing. His hair was damp, and he smelled freshly showered.

Closing the door behind him, Carly eyed her flour-speckled jeans. Clearly he’d done more primping than she had. An observation that had her as curious as it did bothered.

“Welcome to our home.” Megan swept her arm through the air in a flourish.

“Thank you for inviting me.” He stooped to her daughter’s level. “This is for you.” He handed her a small brown paper gift bag with white tissue sticking out the top.

Megan’s eyes were wide. “For me?”

“Yep. And this one—” straightening, he turned his attention to Carly “—is for your mother.”

Carly’s heart tripped as she accepted the package. A hostess gift had been unexpected, but the fact that he’d thought of both of them had her reevaluating their guest. At least momentarily.

“Th-thank you.”

“Can I open it?” Megan looked as if she was about to explode with anticipation.

“Of course. What are you waiting for?” Andrew looked like a kid himself as he watched Megan pull out the tissue, followed by a small rectangular box. “My own cards!”

“Did my grandmother ever teach you how to play Hearts?”

“I don’t think so.” Megan eyed him seriously.

“Looks like I’ll have to carry on the tradition, then. Perhaps we can play a game after dinner.”

“Okay.” Megan excitedly removed the plastic wrapping. “I can practice shuffling now, though, can’t I?”

“You sure can.” Andrew looked at Carly again. “You can open yours, too.”

Her stomach did a little flip-flop as she removed the tissue and pulled out a small box from Mouse’s Chocolates. “Ooo...”

“I hope you like truffles.”

She lifted a shoulder. “No, not really.”

His smile evaporated and, for just a moment, she felt bad for messing with him. Then again, after the way he’d coerced her into this dinner invitation, why should she care?

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought most women—”

“I love them.”

The corners of his mouth slowly lifted as he wagged a finger her way. “You had me going for a second.”

Looking up, she sent him a mischievous grin. “Good.”

She moved back toward the island, glad she had potatoes to keep her busy for a few minutes. Was it her imagination or did Andrew’s brown eyes seem a touch lighter tonight? Like coffee with a splash of cream. Maybe it was the blue-gray mix in his flannel shirt. Whatever the case, it might be best if Megan kept him occupied for a while.

When they sat down to dinner a short time later, Andrew surveyed the table. “This is quite the spread.” His gaze settled on Carly. “I wasn’t expecting you to go to all this trouble.”

Again, her insides betrayed her, quivering at his praise. “No trouble.”

“Yeah. My mommy cooks like this all the time.”

Suspecting her daughter was attempting a little matchmaking, Carly added, “Not all the time. And we rarely eat in the dining room.”

He glanced about. “That’s a shame. This is a nice room.”

“Oh, it gets plenty of use with the bed-and-breakfast.” She eyed her daughter across the table. “Shall we pray?”

After dinner, Andrew followed through with his promise and taught Megan Livie’s favorite card game while Carly cleaned up the kitchen. Not only was she surprised by his patience with Megan and the gentle way he encouraged her, she greatly appreciated it. While Dennis had been a good father, he always seemed to have more time for his work than he did for his family. A fact that had Carly practicing the art of overcompensation long before his death.

With the dishes done, Carly joined them in the dining room.

She smoothed a hand across her daughter’s back. “I hate to put the kibosh on your fun, but tomorrow is a school day.”

“But I’m beating him. Please, can we finish this game?”

As much as Carly wanted to resist, to tell Megan it was time for Andrew to leave, she didn’t have the heart. “Go ahead.”

Fifteen minutes later, with her first win under her belt and promises of a rematch, a happy Megan scurried off to get ready for bed.

Andrew pushed his chair in as he stood. “Think we could talk for a minute?”

“Um...” Carly’s body tensed. While she had planned to reissue her offer to purchase his half of Livie’s house, she wasn’t sure she had the energy tonight. Then again, maybe he’d had a change of heart and was willing to accept her offer. “Okay. Let’s go out front.”

He followed her through the living room, past the carved wooden staircase and Victorian-era parlor chairs. “You’ve got a bright kid there. She’s a fast learner.”

Carly tugged open the heavy oak and leaded glass door. “I’ve always thought so.”

Outside, the chilly evening air had her drawing her bulky beige cardigan around her. Moving to the porch swing, she sat down and stared out over the street. Once upon a time, she used to dream of finding someone who would sit with her and hold her hand while they talked about their day, the way her parents always had. Like she and Andrew used to do. And Dennis was too busy to do.

Now she knew better than to dream.

To her surprise, though, Andrew joined her on the swing. Close enough that she could feel the warmth emanating from his body.

“This has been a full day,” he said.

If she thought her mind was muddled before he sat down... “Yes, it has.” And she could hardly wait for it to be over.

He stretched his arm across the back of the swing, his long legs setting them into motion as he surveyed the neighborhood without saying a word.

For a split second, she wondered what he would do if she were to lean into him and rest her head on his shoulder. Would he wrap his arm around her and hold her close, the way he used to? Or would he push her away?

Feeling the cold seep into her bones, she pushed to her feet. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

He hesitated a moment before joining her. Took in a deep breath. “I’m willing to pay you the full value of the house for your half.”

Her jaw dropped. “Do you have any idea how much property values have risen around here?”

He shrugged. “I can afford it.”

His words sparked a fire in her belly. He hadn’t changed a bit. With Andrew, everything was about money. Making it, having it... Just like her late husband had been.

Well, he’d sorely underestimated her.

“I don’t care if you offer me a million dollars. There are some things that just can’t be bought. Including me.”

Refusing to listen to another word, she stormed into the house and slammed the door behind her.

* * *

By noon the next day, Andrew was at his wit’s end. Carly’s adamant refusal last night, coupled with his former admin assistant’s acknowledgment that a certified letter from Ouray had indeed come for him a few months back and was left on his desk, had him more confused than ever.

Tucked in a corner booth at Granny’s Kitchen, a local diner he remembered as The Miner’s Cafe, he listened to the din of the early lunch crowd and pondered what remained of his burger and fries. One would think he’d be used to Carly’s rejection by now. At least last night’s dismissal hadn’t stung as much as when she’d refused to marry him.

He sighed, dipped a french fry into some ketchup and popped it in his mouth. Seventeen years later, he still wasn’t sure what had gone wrong. But last night revealed something he hadn’t expected. Despite everything, Carly still held a very special place in his heart. Simply being near her stirred up what-ifs and could-have-beens.

Rather absurd, if you asked him. They didn’t even know each other anymore. Besides, he was headed back to Denver just as soon as he finished Grandma’s house. And he knew all too well how Carly felt about the big city.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He wiped his hands and slid out the device, happy to see his attorney’s name on the screen.

He pressed the phone against his ear. “Hey, Ned.”

“Judging from all the missed calls I have from you, I’m guessing you’re eager to talk to me.”

“Yes.” He straightened in the wooden bench. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Ned laughed. “Sorry, buddy. I didn’t think you’d be in need of my services so soon. Don’t tell me you’re bored with Ouray already.”

Surprisingly, Ouray had been anything but boring this time around.

“No, but I do have a problem.” He pushed his plate aside and proceeded to explain the change to his grandmother’s will. “Is there any way I can get this will revoked and the original reinstated?” He reached for another fry, awaiting his lawyer’s response.

“Was your grandmother of sound mind? Did she have dementia or anything?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Though given her decision to split the ownership of the house, he was beginning to wonder. If it had been one of his brothers, he could understand it. But Carly wasn’t family.

“Then it’s highly unlikely you’d be able to get it overturned.”

Andrew wadded his napkin, tossed it on the high-gloss wooden tabletop and raked a hand through his hair. He’d anticipated as much. Still...

“Can I get you anything else?” Beside him, the waitress smiled down at him.

“One minute, Ned.” He eyed the unquestionably pregnant blonde. “I’m good, thank you.”

She slid him his check. “My name is Celeste if you need anything else. Otherwise, you can pay at the register on your way out.”

“Good deal. Thank you.” He again set the phone to his ear. “Sorry about that.” He grabbed the ticket as he slipped out of the booth. “So, what are my options?”

“You could—”

The town’s emergency siren shrieked to life just then, making it impossible for Andrew to hear anything. “Hold on again, Ned.” He stepped up to the register and paid his tab as the high-pitched wail of fire trucks added to the discord.

When the madness finally settled, he stepped outside and resumed his call. “Okay, let’s try this again.” The cool midday air had him zipping up his jacket.

“And here I thought Ouray was just a sleepy little town.”

Andrew looked up and down the historic Main Street. “Apparently not today.”

Ned chuckled. “As far as options, you could offer to buy out the other person’s half.”

Crossing the street, Andrew let go a sigh. “Already did.”

“And?”

“She slammed the door in my face.” A quick glance heavenward had him noticing the plumes of thick, black smoke billowing into the air a few blocks away. Pretty significant fire, if you asked him. And fairly close to his grandmother’s house.

A wave of unease rolled through him. “Uh, Ned, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He shoved the phone in his pocket, quickening his pace until he reached the corner. When he did, he peered to his right.

Dread pulsed through his veins as every nerve ending went on high alert. The fire trucks were in front of his grandmother’s house.

He broke into a run. One block. Adrenaline urged him forward. Two blocks.

“Oh, no.” Heart sinking, he came to a halt.

Across the street, smoke rolled from the back of Granger House Inn. Flames danced from the kitchen’s side window, lapping at the sea foam paint, threatening the historic dentil moldings and clapboard siding.

One of the firemen barked orders, orchestrating the chaos, while others flanked the corner of the house, their hoses aimed inside.

But where was Carly?

“Andrew!”

He jerked his head in the direction of his brother Jude’s voice.

A police officer for the city of Ouray, his younger brother vehemently motioned him across the street.

Andrew hurried toward him.

“We need you to move your truck out of Grandma’s drive.”

“Sure thing.” He tugged the keys from his pocket and threw himself into the vehicle, the smell of smoke nearly choking him.

As he backed into the street, he spotted Carly’s SUV in front of her house. Where was she? Was she safe? Could she have been trapped inside? Oh, God. Please, no.

He quickly parked on the next block before rushing back.

People had gathered on the opposite side of the street, watching the horror unfold.

He scanned the faces, looking for Carly. She had to be here somewhere.

He again eyed the flames, feeling helpless. Sweat beaded his brow as panic surged through his body. God, she has to be all right.

Spotting Jude in the middle of the street, Andrew jogged toward him. “Where’s Carly?”

“In the ambulance.”

Ambulance?

He ran past the cluster of onlookers to the emergency vehicle parked a few houses down.

Drawing closer, he finally saw her, standing near the rear bumper, attempting to pull off the oxygen mask while the female EMT fought to keep it over her face.

Andrew had never been so glad to see someone.

He slowed his pace as Carly ultimately ripped the mask from her face. “I don’t need this.” She coughed. “That’s my house.” More coughing. “I need to—”

Andrew stepped in front of her then. “You need to let the firemen do their job. And you need to get some good air into your lungs.” He pulled the mask from her hand, noting the resignation in her blue eyes as she looked up at him, her bottom lip quivering. “At least for a little bit.”

The fact that she didn’t resist when he slipped the respirator over her head still surprised him. But when he reached for her hand, she quickly yanked it away.

He groaned. Stupid move. Who was he to try to comfort her?

Only then did he notice the way she cradled her hand, holding it against her torso. The redness. She’d been burned.

“I think we’d better get you into the ambulance.”

She shook her head. “I want to see what’s happening.” The words were muffled through the plastic mask.

Andrew eyed the male and female EMTs. “Can she sit here while you look her over?” He gestured to the rear bumper.

They nodded.

He looked at Carly. “You promise to let them do what they need to do?”

A cough-filled moment ticked by before she finally agreed.

The female EMT checked Carly’s vital signs as the man went to work on her hand. All the while, Carly’s tearful gaze remained riveted on Granger House.

Andrew could only imagine the flurry of emotions threatening to swallow her at any moment. The uncertainty, the grief... He wished he could make it all go away.

He sat down beside her as the man wrapped her hand in gauze. “What happened there?” Andrew pointed to the injury.

“I had gone to the bank.” She coughed. “When I got back—” looking up, she blinked repeatedly “—I opened the back door and the...flames were everywhere.”

His eyes momentarily drifted closed. Thank God she was okay.

Unable to stop himself, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Despite wearing a jacket, her whole body shook.

Returning his attention to the house, he saw that the smoke had started to turn white, a sign that the fire was almost out. However, there was no telling what kind of damage it had left in its wake. Granger House was more than Carly’s home. It was her livelihood. Without it—

As if she’d read his thoughts, Carly lifted her head, her eyes swimming with tears. “What am I going to do?”


Chapter Four (#u0984129a-2eed-5ebd-99e0-f244eef57272)

How could this have happened?

Carly stood beside the towering conifer in front of Livie’s house a couple of hours later, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. Staring at Granger House, she felt as though she were fighting to keep herself together. In only a short time, the fire had ravaged her majestic old home, leaving it scarred and disheveled.

At the back of the house, where the kitchen was located, soot trailed up the once beautiful sea foam green siding, leaving it blackened and ugly. Windows were missing and, as she strained to look inside, all she could see was black.

She breathed in deeply through her nose, trying to quell the nausea that refused to go away. If only they would let her go inside. Perhaps she’d find out things weren’t as bad as they seemed.

The loud rumble of the fire engine filled her ears as firemen traipsed back and forth, returning hoses to their trucks. Carly eyed her gauze-wrapped hand. At least it didn’t sting anymore. The smell of smoke would be forever seared into her memory, though. Not to mention the heat of those flames.

Tilting her head toward the cloud-dotted sky, she blinked back tears. Save for a few years, she’d spent her entire life at Granger House. It was more than her home...it was family. An integral part of her heritage. Now she could only pray that the whole thing wasn’t a loss. Even insurance couldn’t replace that.

But what if it was a total loss? What would she do then?

“Can I get you anything? Are you warm enough?” The feel of Andrew’s hand against the small of her back was a comfort she hadn’t known in a long time. From the moment he appeared on the scene, Andrew had yet to leave her side. For once, she was grateful for his take-charge attitude. His presence was an unlikely calm in the midst of her storm.

“No, thank y—”

“Oh, my!”

Carly turned to see Rose Daniels, a family friend and owner of The Alps motel. Hand pressed against her chest, the white-haired woman studied the carnage. Beside her, Hillary Ward-Thompson, a former resident who’d recently returned, appeared every bit as aghast.

Carly knew exactly how they felt.

The dismay in Rose’s blue eyes morphed into compassion as she shifted her attention to Carly, her arms held wide. “I came as soon as I heard.” She hugged Carly with a strength that belied her eighty years. “You poor dear. Are you all right?”

She nodded against the older woman’s shoulder, tears threatening again, but she refused to give in. She needed to stay strong.

After a long moment, Rose released her into Hillary’s waiting embrace.

“I hate that this happened to you.” Hillary stepped back, looking the epitome of chic with her perfectly styled short blond hair and silky tunic. Then again, Carly wouldn’t expect anything less from the former globe-trotting exec.

“How can we help, dear?” Rose shoved her wrinkled hands into the pockets of her aqua Windbreaker. “Just tell us what you need.”

“Besides food, that is,” Hillary was quick to add. “Celeste has already talked to Blakely and Taryn. They’re planning to bring you dinner.” Her daughter, Celeste Purcell, owned Granny’s Kitchen.

Carly hated that she’d added to their already hectic lives. “They don’t have to—”

“Nonsense, darling.” Hillary waved a hand through the air. “That’s what people do in Ouray. You know that.”

All too well. She’d been on the receiving end when Dennis died. Since then, she was usually the one to spearhead donations. A role she was much more comfortable with.

“There’s also a room for you at The Alps should you and Megan need a place to stay,” said Rose.

Carly felt her knees go weak. In the chaos, she’d forgotten all about Megan. What kind of mother did that? How would her daughter react? Would she be scared? Sad?

Andrew moved behind her then. Placed his warm, strong hands on her shoulders. “Thank you, Rose, but that won’t be necessary. Carly and Megan can stay in my grandmother’s house if need be.”

Hillary’s gaze zeroed in on Andrew. “Do I know you?”

Andrew shook his head. “I don’t believe so.” He extended his hand. “Andrew Stephens.”

The woman Carly suspected to be somewhere around sixty cautiously accepted the offer. “Hillary Ward-Thompson.” She let go, still scrutinizing Andrew. “You wouldn’t be related to Clint Stephens, by any chance?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s my father.”

Hillary’s espresso eyes widened for a split second. “You favor him a great deal.”

“So I’ve been told.” Seemingly distracted, Andrew shot a glance toward the house before peering down at Carly. “It looks like the chief might be ready to talk with you.”

“We won’t keep you, dear.” Rose’s smile was a sad one as she moved forward for another hug. “I’ll touch base with you later. Until then—” she let go “—you’re in my prayers.” Turning to leave, she patted Andrew on the arm. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thanks, Rose. So am I.”

Carly was glad, too. Without him, she’d be curled up in a corner somewhere, bawling like a baby, clueless about what to do or where to turn. But why was he glad?

As the two women continued down the sidewalk, Ouray’s fire chief, Mike Christianson, approached. “Good to see you again, Andrew.” The two men briefly shook hands.

“You, too, Mike. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

Carly swallowed hard as her former schoolmate turned his attention to her. Now married with three kids, Mike was a good guy. She knew he wouldn’t sugarcoat anything. Though the harsh reality was what she feared the most.

His features softened as his weary green eyes met hers. “The good news is that the fire never made it to the second floor.”

Her shoulders relaxed. That meant her guest rooms were okay. But what about her and Megan’s rooms on the first floor? The kitchen, parlor and family room?

“Most of the damage was confined to the kitchen and family room.”

“How bad?” She absently rubbed her arms.

He hesitated, his gaze momentarily falling to the ground before bouncing back to hers. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to stay here for a while, let alone host any guests. Kitchen is a complete loss.”

So far, Carly had managed to keep her nausea in check. Right about now, though, she was quickly losing that battle. She didn’t know which was worse—not being able to stay at Granger House or not hosting any guests. No guests meant no income, but to have her home taken from her...

Where was that oxygen mask?

As though sensing she needed help, Andrew slipped his arm around her while he addressed Mike. “Do you know what caused the fire?”

Mike nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. “As most often happens, it was a cooking fire.”

Confused, Carly shook her head. “Cooking? But I wasn’t—Oh, no.” She felt her eyes widen. Stumbled backward, but Andrew held her tight. Her hand flew to her mouth, horror flooding her veins. “The chicken.” The earth swirled beneath her. Sweat gathered on her upper lip. “I forgot.” She looked at Mike without really seeing him. “And I went to the bank.”

A churning vortex of emotions whirled inside her. A feeling she’d experienced only one other time in her life. The night she learned that Dennis had died. And just like that time, this was all her fault, and poor Megan would be the one paying the price for Carly’s mistake.

* * *

Andrew recognized the self-reproach that settled over Carly the moment she learned the cause of the fire. He was all too familiar with the hefty weight of guilt. He’d carried it for the last two years, since the day he’d given work a higher priority than his dying mother. When he’d finally made it to her bedside, it was too late. He never got to say goodbye or tell her how much he loved her.

He shook off the shame as the fire trucks pulled away. He had to do everything he could to help Carly. He could never turn his back on her. Especially now.

Still standing in his grandmother’s front yard, he eyed his watch. School would be letting out soon. And if Megan came walking up here, unaware of what had happened, Carly would blame herself even more.

He wasn’t about to let that happen. “What do you say we go meet Megan?”

Carly’s deep breath sent a shudder through her. “I guess that would be best. Give me an opportunity to prepare her before she sees the house.”

As they walked in the direction of the school, the extent of Carly’s nervousness became clearer. The constant zip, zip, zip sound as she fiddled with the zipper on her jacket was enough to drive anyone crazy.

Still a block away from the school, he touched a hand to her elbow to stop her. “Anything you care to discuss?”

Her blue eyes were swimming with unshed tears as she peered up at him, her bottom lip quivering. “What am I going to say to her? I mean, what if she hates me?”

Seeing her pain made him long to pull her into his arms. “Hates you? Why would Megan hate you?”

“Because the fire was my fault.” She crossed her arms over her chest and held on tightly. “Because of me, my daughter won’t be able to sleep in her own bed tonight. Won’t be able—”

“Now hold on a minute.” Using their height difference to his advantage, he glared down at her. “It’s not like you meant to start that fire. Being absentminded one time does not make you a bad mom.” Softening his tone, he reached for her good hand. “Instead of focusing on the bad, play up the good. She’s nine years old. Kids that age love sleepovers, don’t they? Tell her she gets to have an extended sleepover at my grandmother’s.”

Lifting only her eyes, she sent him a skeptical look. “That’s the only good thing you could come up with?”

It did sound kind of lame. “Well, I haven’t seen the extent of the damage yet, but it sounds like you might be getting a new kitchen, too.”

“Like Megan’s going to be impressed with that.” She started walking again, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I’m just going to have to trust God to give me the words.”

When they met Megan at the school, she was her typical exuberant self. Obviously no one had mentioned anything to her about the fire. In a town as small as Ouray, that was unusual. Good, but unusual nonetheless.

The kid walked between them, her purple backpack bouncing with each step. “Did you make cookies today?”

He glanced at Carly to find her looking at him, her expression teetering somewhere between nervous and petrified. Did she really believe her daughter would hate her?

Hoping to reassure her, he offered a slight smile and nodded, as if to say, You can do this.

She nodded back. “No, sweetie. There was a little problem at home today.” Stopping, she looked into her daughter’s eyes. “A big problem, actually. There was a fire. In the kitchen.”

Confusion marred Megan’s freckled face.

“The fire chief said we’re going to have to stay somewhere else for a while.”

Megan looked up at her mother through sad eyes. “Where?”

“At Livie’s.”

The girl turned to Andrew then. “But where will you stay?”

“At the ranch.”

Her eyes went wide. “You have a ranch?”

“No. It’s my dad’s.”

“Oh.” Her gaze drifted away, then quickly shot back to him. “Can I see it sometime?”

He couldn’t help laughing. Whoever said kids were resilient was right. “Sure.”

Several minutes later, with gray clouds moving in from the west, hinting at snow, the three of them stood at the back of his grandmother’s drive, staring at Granger House. The charred back door stood slightly ajar, windows in both the kitchen and family room were gone, and soot marked the window frames where the flames and smoke had attempted to reach the second floor.

Carly rested her hands upon Megan’s small shoulders. The girl’s blue eyes were wide, swimming with a mixture of disbelief and fear, her bottom lip showing the slightest hint of a tremor.

Poor kid. The fire hadn’t just robbed her of her home. It had robbed her of her security, as well. He had to find a way to make her feel safe again. To protect both her and her mother from any more pain. And standing here staring at the ruins of their beloved home wasn’t going to do that.

He rubbed his hands together. “It’s getting chilly out.” He stepped between the two females and Granger House. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you two go on inside my grandmother’s house and make yourselves at home while I survey things at your place?”

Both sent him an incredulous look.

“The fire chief said it was fine. I’ll just see what kind of damage we’re talking about.”

“I want to go with you.” Carly looked at him very matter-of-factly. “I’m going to have to see it eventually. Might as well get it over with so I know what I’m up against.”

“Okay.” He still didn’t think it was a good idea, but... “What about Megan?”

“I want to go, too.”

Carly smoothed a hand over her daughter’s strawberry blond hair. “Are you sure, sweetie?”

The girl nodded, not looking at all sure of anything.

“All right, then.” Still skeptical, he went to his truck to retrieve some flashlights from the toolbox in the bed. With the electricity out, it was likely to be pretty dark in there. “We’ll go through the front door. Perhaps you’ll each want to gather up a few things.”

“Such as?” Carly watched him as he pulled out the flashlights.

“Whatever you can think of. Clothes. Toiletries.” Assuming they hadn’t been consumed in the fire. “Things you use day to day.” He closed the lid on the large metal box. “Okay, let’s go before it gets dark.”

The trio climbed the wooden steps onto the front porch.

As soon as Andrew pushed the antique door open, they were met with the strong odor of smoke.

“Eww...” Megan held her nose. “It stinks.”

Carly put an arm around her. “I know, sweetie.”

Inside, the parlor looked unscathed for the most part, save for the slight tinge of soot on the walls. He turned on his flashlight and aimed the beam around the room for a better look.

“Don’t worry.” He glanced at Megan now. “They have people who can take care of that and make everything smell like new.”

“Really?”

Killing the light, he gave her his full attention. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

That earned him a smile.

They moved collectively into the dining room, where all the antique furniture appeared to be intact. But as they neared the door to the kitchen—

“Can I check my bedroom?” Megan’s room sat off one end of the dining room, while Carly’s was on the opposite end.

Carly glanced his way. “Would you mind going with her while I grab some things from my room?”

The fact that she trusted him with her daughter meant a lot. “Not at all.”

Megan turned on her own flashlight and slowly moved into her room.

Andrew followed, relieved to see that, like the parlor and dining room, the mostly purple bedroom remained intact, though perhaps a little damp from all the water the firemen had used.

“Go ahead and take some clothes. I know they’re probably wet or smell like smoke, but we can toss them in the wash.”

While she opened drawers and pulled out items, all of which seemed to be purple or pink, with one random blue piece, he tugged the case from her pillow to hold the clothes.

“Oh, no.”

He stopped what he was doing. “What is it?”

Head hung low, the girl frowned. “My cards. I left them in the family room.”

If cards were her greatest loss, he’d count himself blessed. Still, they were important to her. “No worries. I’ll pick you up a new deck tomorrow.”

Her gaze shot to his. “Really?”

“Cross my heart—” he fingered an X across his chest “—and hope to die.”

She threw her arms around his waist. “You’re the best, Andrew.”

The gesture stunned him. Or maybe it was the intense emotions her hug evoked in him. He’d never had much interaction with kids. But this one was definitely special.

A few minutes later, when he and Megan returned to the dining room with a pillowcase full of clothes and shoes, he dared what he hoped was a stealthy peek into the kitchen. And while it was too dark to see everything, what little he did glimpse didn’t look good. Or even salvageable.

“Ah, good. You got some clothes.” He jumped at the sound of Carly’s voice. Turning, he saw her standing beside the table, holding a large tote bag.

“We did, so it looks like we’re ready to go.” He did not want to allow Carly in the kitchen. At least, not now. Maybe tomorrow, after the shock had a chance to wear off.

“Not yet.” Carly set her bag atop the dining room table. “I’d like to see the kitchen.”

“Let’s do that tomorrow. It’s getting dark outside anyway, so you won’t be able to see much.”

Leaving her bag behind, she took several determined steps toward him and stopped. “I want to see it. Now.”


Chapter Five (#u0984129a-2eed-5ebd-99e0-f244eef57272)

Talking tough was one thing. Putting words into action was another. And try as she might, Carly couldn’t persuade her feet to move across the wooden floorboards of her dining room. Still, she had to do this, had to see her kitchen, because not knowing left far too much to the imagination.

She drew in a bolstering breath, the sickening smell of smoke turning her stomach. At least her great-grandmother’s dining room set and sideboard had been spared, as had the antique pieces in the parlor and her bedroom. Her gaze traveled to the opening that separated the dining room from the kitchen. Based on the charred swinging door, she doubted things on the other side of the wall had fared so well.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” The uncertainty in Andrew’s voice only solidified her determination.

“Yes.” She eyed her daughter. “Megan, you stay with Andrew.”

Willing one foot in front of the other, she eased toward the kitchen door, her mouth dry. Her heart thudded against her chest as though it were looking for escape.

The closer she drew to the kitchen, the more bleak things became. She reached out a steadying hand, only to have her fingers brush across the scorched casing that surrounded the door. Trim that was original to the house, now burned and blackened. And she had yet to see the worst of it.

Two more steps and she rounded into the kitchen. She clicked on the flashlight Andrew had given her.

Her heart, which had been beating wildly only seconds ago, skidded to a stop. The space was almost unrecognizable. Soot-covered paint peeled away from the walls, dangling in pathetic strips. Floors and countertops were littered with water-soaked ash and all kinds of matter she couldn’t begin to identify or explain. She always kept a clean kitchen, so how could—?

Looking up, she realized the ceiling was gone. Over a hundred years of drywall, plaster and who knew what else now strewn across the room, exposing the still-intact floor joists of the bedroom above.

How could she have been so careless? This would take forever to fix. Where would she even begin?

The once dark stained cabinets that Carly had painted white shortly after taking over the house were blistered and burned. The butcher-block island top, salvaged from the original kitchen, had met a similar fate.

Noting her commercial range at the far end of the room, she tiptoed across the wet floor, tears welling as she ran her hand over the soot-covered stainless steel. It had been only two months since she’d paid it off.

“Mommy?”

She blinked hard and fast. She couldn’t let Megan see her like this.

Turning, she saw her daughter standing in the doorway, lip quivering, holding up a blackened, half-melted blob of blue-and-white fur.

A sob caught in Carly’s throat. Boo Bunny, Megan’s favorite stuffed animal. The one her father had given her, the one she still slept with every night.





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