I want to go home.
Of course, she didn’t have a home anymore. She had a house she shared with four strangers. She felt very much alone in her little room, but it was nothing like this. She wanted to call her mum, but she couldn’t deal with the rant that would surely follow the news about the contest. If she still had friends, she’d call them. Only a few months ago, they would’ve rallied around her and showered her with advice.
They’d probably tell her to flirt with the hockey boy until he was so besotted, he’d walk away from the competition. Then, she could sell the ranch and get on with it.
Never eat ramen noodles again! Ha ha!
But of course, they didn’t know she ate ramen now. They didn’t know anything about her life anymore.
And they hadn’t met Declan Cadell. Seriously, they didn’t make men like that in her world. He was big, tattooed, and rough-looking. If she’d run into him at the Tube station on her way home after a night of clubbing, she’d have been scared.
His dirty blond hair brushed the collar of his white dress shirt, and he’d rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, exposing the tattoos that covered his muscular arms.
He looked mean. He looked hard. He looked…
Delicious.
A shiver tripped down her spine. And just when she’d thought she’d read him all wrong, when he’d been sweet enough to hand over the ranch because it was the right thing to do, she’d talked about selling it and…whoo boy, he’d turned into the kind of man you don’t mess with.
And now here I am, stuck in this Cowtown for a month.
A month.
Pressure built behind her eyes, and she blinked back tears. Battling with more emotions than she could sort through, she wished she hadn’t checked out of the motel. She wanted nothing more than to hide under the covers and eat a packet of biscuits. But she had to stay here because Kurt had given her no choice, and now, she had to see this through.
She had to win, sell the ranch, and gain the kind of financial security that meant she would never again face the terrifying threat of not having enough money to eat or pay for a roof over her head.
Right, so let’s get going. Splashing around in fear would lead nowhere. She pressed the intercom button. Hitching her purse higher on her shoulder, she faced the gate, ready to stride on through. But it didn’t open. She pushed again, looking up at the security camera. “Hello?”
Nothing. A hawk soared overhead, and a cow mooed somewhere in the distance. All alone in a massive valley filled with hay bales, bison, and sage-covered meadows, she felt like a tiny speck of nothing. She pressed the buzzer again while checking out the area. On one side of the driveway sat a sturdy mailbox. On the other was a farm stand that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. With all the traffic on this road, she bet it had once done well.
Above the gate arched a heavy-gauge steel sign. Gongshow Ranch. A row of tiny wrought iron cattle meandered across the top.
That’s a weird name.
A humming sound drew her attention, and she found the gate slowly swinging open. Well, here goes. Grabbing the handle of her carry-on, she started the long trek to the house.
Fear poked at her, little jolts of electricity that made her pulse quicken. In the taxi, she’d quit her job—she’d had no choice. And while she had free room and board here, she still needed income. She’d only brought enough clothing and toiletries for a long weekend.
And what about my house? Did she pay for July or give up her room? She had just enough money in her account to cover rent and her share of utilities.
The biggest issue, though, was the auction. The foundation had already scheduled its first planning meeting, and Mrs. Lumley would be calling any day now, inviting her to run it again. It would just be a formality, though. They assumed she’d take the job—and they’d be correct. Only this year, Phinny needed a salary. That’ll go over well. But her circumstances had changed, and she had no choice.
She just dreaded Mrs. Lumley’s response.
Let’s not think about this right now. Jet lag combined with emotional exhaustion was a formidable force. It took every ounce of strength she had to keep walking.
After a bend in the road, the house appeared. Made of stone, wood, and gleaming tinted glass, it was an architectural feat of hip and valley roof and butted windows. A driveway cut through a large patch of emerald-green grass.
Heading up the stone pavers, she didn’t remember Kurt’s place being so…lush. For some reason, she’d had this image in her head of cactus and dirt, but the ranch was resplendent with healthy landscaping, well-tended outbuildings, and freshly painted barns and stables.
Lowering the handle of her carry-on, she lifted it up the stairs and stood in the shade of the porch. She didn’t know why she dreaded knocking so much. It wasn’t like Kurt would answer the door.
Oh. Her hand flew to her heart. She hadn’t anticipated that pinch. Over the years, she’d learned to stuff her sorrow and hurt under bravado.
Emotions were messy in the Crutchley house. One didn’t revel in them, and so she’d done her best to suppress the hurt and anger. She’d tried very hard not to think about Kurt at all.
But it hadn’t worked. Nothing had. All these years, she’d still waited for his call.
It was the real reason she’d stayed with Cameron so long. It had taken her a few months of bawling her eyes out, alone in a strange bedroom in a smelly old house, to come to terms with the truth. She never wanted to yearn for anyone the way she had her biological father. So, she’d stuck with someone she’d liked an awful lot but would never fall so in love with that she’d experience the same sense of anxiety, the hopelessness. That leap of her heart every time her phone rang, the flurry of excitement when the mail was brought in.
Anything from Daddy?
If she were honest, she’d spent more than half her life waiting for Kurt to show up with tears in his eyes, confessing how much he’d missed her.
But he hadn’t missed her at all. And nothing drove it home better than making her compete against one of his hockey boys for a piece of land that had been in the Grevers’s family for generations—and had nothing whatsoever to do with Declan.
Chin up. She knocked on the door. It was time to put all that useless hope and yearning to rest along with his body. At least she had a roof over her head for the next month—and it’s free. Exhausted, defeated, she’d had enough. So, when no one answered, she grasped the doorknob, ready to breeze in.
But it was whisked right out of her hand. And Declan Cadell stood there, so tall and imposing he took up the doorway. “Yeah?” That gravelly voice was as thrilling as it was frightening.
She rocked back on her heels. Good lord, the man took her breath away. Blond hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it, deep hazel eyes—more green than brown—and a generous mouth that made a woman think of long, slow kisses. “What’re you doing in Kurt’s house?”
“I’m staying here.” Spoken with the confidence of a man whose size meant he didn’t take crap from anyone.
Hold my Dom Perignon. “Nice try, puck chaser. But this is my father’s house, and I’m staying here.”
“Oh, now he’s your father? Well, let’s see, you haven’t set foot in this house in twenty years, and I always stay here when I’m in town…so, I’d say that gives me priority over you. Besides, I got here first.”