The Rancher's Rescue

Grace chastised herself. Her heart wasn’t going to be part of any conversation with Ethan. Ever. She hadn’t earned the title of most levelheaded Gardner sister on a whim.

“Is there someplace we can talk in private?” Ethan asked.

“Take Ethan to your office.” Her mother guided Ethan around the counter to the employees-only side. “When the two of you finish, Ethan, we can talk about the feed inventory and the reorder.”

“Sarah Ashley handles the inventory now, Mom.” Grace searched the storefront for her older sister.

“Your sister had a thing,” her mother said evasively.

Sarah Ashley was just like her younger sister, Nicole Marie. The two always had a thing when work was to be done.

“I have a thing too,” Grace said. “A call that starts in fifteen minutes.”

“A call? Oh, Grace.” Her mom waved her hand toward the front door. “We deal with our customers in person like we’ve always done. Whoever needs to call you can easily come on down to the store to talk to you and then buy some impulse merchandise.” The hand wave shot toward a display of marked-down Easter chocolate.

Grace pulled out a peppermint candy from her pocket to keep her mouth from spilling secrets she wasn’t ready to share. Her caller wasn’t a Brewster customer, so there was no reason to encourage Isaac James Sr. to visit the store.

Mr. James owned IJ Farms on the way to Billings and needed tax advice. Grace intended for her advice to transition into Isaac hiring her as his new accountant. Grace crunched the candy into pieces and glanced at Ethan. “My office is over here.”

Grace dropped her purse on the small desk in her makeshift office. She shared the crammed retail space with pig feed, goat kid milk replacer and alfalfa pellets. At least, she had a door that closed and locked. Not that she’d had a reason to lock herself in yet.

But having Ethan in here with her made the already minimal breathing space shrink until Grace swore they were both holding their breath to conserve oxygen. It wasn’t long before she inhaled, deep and long, to prove to herself that she could handle the hurdles of the big wide world, including Ethan Blackwell.

Ethan shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, rocked back on his boot heels and rushed to speak. “Grace, I know I shouldn’t ask for your help, but I need it. Big E’s motor home has hit the road, the heifers are going into heat, Helen and Pete Rivers retired and the books are total chaos.”

Grace popped another peppermint in her mouth and tried to translate Ethan’s fragments. Nothing she’d heard hinted that he was there to resume where they’d left off three months prior. Not that she wanted that. She just wanted him to know about the baby.

Now was her chance. Her turn to talk. Her turn to confess.

Grandma Brewster had always told Grace that the fork in the road had to stab her to get her to move. Or, in this case, speak. She’d swear the sharp twinge in her chest felt eerily close to the jab of a fork’s tines. And she could swear she heard her late grandma Brewster’s boisterous laugh. If only she could find her voice instead of her inner mouse. “How exactly can I help you?” And how exactly do you want to learn about your child?

“I can’t figure out the ranch books.” Ethan stepped forward. “I was hoping for your expertise.”

Her expertise. Not her heart. “You want me to work on the Blackwell Ranch’s accounting.”

“We’ll pay you for your time and discretion.”

Discretion should be her middle name. No one, other than her doctor in the next town over, knew about her pregnancy. Grace took off her glasses and ran her fingers across her eyebrows.

“I can bring everything here if it’s more convenient. Or drive you up to the ranch.” Ethan moved to the edge of her desk within kissing distance. “I remember you mentioned preferring not to drive at night.”

She could touch Ethan without any real effort now. Instead, she sank her hand into the peppermint candy bowl on her desk and wondered what else he remembered from their night together. Did he remember how they shared things no one else knew? Or recall how much they’d laughed about their childhoods? Did he treasure those moments? Or was she just as foolishly sentimental as Sarah Ashley? “That’s fine.”

“Then you’ll help?” Surprise softened his voice and relief relaxed his mouth into a smile that made even the peppermint swirl churn through her insides.

Her phone chimed, alerting her of her upcoming call with Isaac and reminding her to focus.

Ethan twisted the door handle. “I’ll get out of your way and let you work.”

Grace looked at him and willed her mouth to open and the truth to come out. But it didn’t happen.

“I’ll bring the books by tomorrow morning and then we can put together a strategy to stabilize the ranch’s finances?”

Grace nodded, clinging to her plan. A baby plan. One that did not include Ethan as more than an absentee parent. And one that definitely did not involve her heart.

CHAPTER TWO

ETHAN STOPPED HIS truck and stared at the white house with forest green shutters until his gaze blurred and all he saw was the land and home from his childhood. The house had so many good memories for him prior to his parents’ fatal accident. The twin rocking chairs on the wide front porch and banging screen door. The lawn scattered with sticks from his brothers’ sword fights, plastic army men and laughter.

He’d never wanted his home to change and wanted it back even more after he’d left his childhood at his parents’ gravesite.

Too many potholes since, they littered memory lane and tripping in those craters now solved nothing. That home was gone and had been for quite a while. A two-winged, thirty-bedroom log cabin, more manor estate than quaint lodge, squatted nearby, surrounded by barns and outbuildings painted red as if cheerful about the massive guesthouse intrusion.

Like it or not, the Blackwell Ranch had expanded to also become a dude ranch and there was no turning back the clock. In Ethan’s mind that left one option: sell the ranch that was no longer his home. No longer anything he wanted. What he wanted was the money from its sale to pay off his debts and buy his entry into a veterinarian clinic in Kentucky or Colorado, but definitely not in Falcon Creek.

First, he had to fix the accounts with Grace’s help.

Ethan cut the truck engine, but not his guilt. That kept running like a high-speed train making up time for a late departure.

He shouldn’t have asked for Grace’s help in the first place. He should’ve apologized.

He shouldn’t have searched for those familiar copper flecks in Grace’s green eyes when she’d removed her glasses. It was futile to try to prove the vivid memory wasn’t his imagination. Those same copper flecks had sparked under the chandelier lights on the dance floor at her sister’s reception and continued to burn through him whenever he thought of her. He should’ve never agreed to Jon’s suggestion to approach his accountant or stepped inside Brewster’s.

Ethan shouldn’t have come home.

He gripped the steering wheel, imprinting the leather into his palms. He should’ve called Grace the morning after their night together and every day after that until she’d answered. But instead he’d excused his behavior because she’d walked out on him first. How pathetic that he cared who’d left first, as if she’d dinged more than his pride. Yet Big E hadn’t raised his grandsons to be weakhearted fools.

And yet, his mother had raised him to be a gentleman, not callous and selfish. She would not be proud of him today.

That settled it. Tomorrow he’d say sorry to Grace and then find another accountant. Or straighten out the books himself.

What had Grace been thinking when she’d agreed to help him? And she had agreed. He hadn’t missed that part. He might’ve missed hearing that she was glad to see him. Or that she’d thought about their night together. Or that she’d wanted to call him. But he really hadn’t wanted to hear any of that, did he?

A fist rapped against the closed window of the truck cab. He glimpsed Katie’s frown a second before she smacked a piece of paper against the glass.

Not just any piece of paper, but a delivery notice for one rabbit and four sheep. In bold print: no returns or refunds. The words mocked him. The notice also explained the invoice for twin sets of long-wool providers he’d found in Big E’s desk. Zoe hadn’t ordered wool bales, but purchased sheep for her new petting zoo. Clearly, he needed to look through the recent purchase invoices and translate Zoe’s handwritten notes on those as well.

Before he could respond, Katie smacked a second piece of paper against the window. Thankfully, not another delivery notice. But, the title, “How to Set Up a Petting Zoo Business,” drilled a hole in his stomach. As did the phrase liability insurance required, which she’d carefully highlighted in yellow.

Big E’s checking account dipped further into the red. They were out of time. They needed professional advice and they needed it last week. There was no time to find a substitute. Help would have to come from Grace.

He climbed out of his truck, yanking the delivery notice from Katie. Curse words banged around inside his mouth like popcorn kernels chipping his teeth, but he located his inner gentleman before he spewed any into the air. “We don’t have a place for these sheep.” He needed to chase down spare cash, not sheep, across forty acres.

Katie checked her watch. “You have two hours to figure something out.”

Ethan crumpled the delivery notice in his fist and lashed out. Each word pinged like a burned popcorn kernel. “What are you doing in the next two hours?”

“Locating a battery for the ATV and making sure all the linens are clean and accounted for.” Katie shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and tipped her chin toward the stalls. “The horses still need to be ridden. Butterscotch could use another walk or even some more attention.”

The mare had been a birthday present from the family to Ethan’s mother. After his mom had passed, Ethan had become the mare’s guardian, protecting the paint from Big E’s temperamental wives. Butterscotch hadn’t judged Ethan when he’d curled up in her stall more than once to give in to his grief. But he’d left for college and abandoned Butterscotch to Zoe’s whims. The mare deserved better. Ethan wouldn’t fail her now.

He dug his boot into the dirt, grinding the last of his temper into dust. “Sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”

Katie punched him on the shoulder and grinned. “I didn’t know we had a thing.”

He laughed, but sobered quickly. “It just seems every day there’s something else. Something we aren’t aware of. Something we aren’t prepared for.”

“That’s the nature of ranch life.” She reached down and rubbed Hip behind her ears. Hippolyta was the Australian shepherd dog’s full name and she was Katie’s sidekick and one constant.

Lately, Ethan’s one constant seemed to be bankruptcy-induced worry. “No, that’s the nature of Big E’s current wife.” He frowned at the main house. Zoe’s extreme overspending had dismantled the past. The enormous guest lodge was the latest in a series of renovations to turn a working ranch into something from a movie set. There’d been nothing wrong with the Blackwell Ranch when his grandmother and parents had lived on the land. The original Blackwells had respected heritage. Bitterness replaced his frustration.

“We still have sheep arriving and nowhere to put them,” Katie said.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“And the insurance,” she prodded.

“That too.” Ethan stuffed the delivery notice into his back pocket, stuffing the pain and memories from the past away too. “Grace agreed to help us. If we can get the books straightened out, we can get people hired.”

“I hope she works fast.” Katie whistled to her dog and strode off toward the supply shed.

He did too. But not for the same reasons.

Ethan didn’t want to be around Grace for too long. What if he was tempted to have another thing with her? She was his ex-girlfriend’s little sister. There were rules about that and he’d already broken them once. That was more than enough.

He strode toward the barn. He’d walk Butterscotch and then hammer together a pen for the arriving sheep.

He needed to find a full-time job that paid, unlike the Blackwell Ranch, and was preferably in the equestrian world. If he wanted to rebuild his credit, he couldn’t default on his student loans too. He had yet to find a veterinarian that would look past his poor financial history and consider his skills. But he wasn’t deterred. He’d prove to his grandfather he could make it on his own. And if selling the Blackwell Ranch aided Ethan, all the better.

An hour later, Ethan ran water from the hose over his head. He had to cool off. Jamming his baseball cap back on his head, he went to meet the delivery truck rattling to a stop in the driveway. All too soon, Ethan understood why the truck arrived ahead of schedule.

Ethan greeted the driver and peered inside at the sheep. Behind them, he saw the Angora rabbit huddling against the back of its wire cage. The lack of wool across the rabbit’s back alarmed Ethan. There were many causes of alopecia, but until he knew the exact reason for the hair loss, he wasn’t putting the rabbit with the other petting zoo animals.

Animals had been Ethan’s companions since he’d been a toddler. He’d only required his mother’s Maine coon cat curled up next to him to fall asleep as a kid. As he grew, he’d spend hours outside, searching the creek for frogs, catching fireflies and climbing trees to peer at the baby birds in the nests. After his parents had died, his bond only deepened. Animals, he discovered, were simple to figure out: they loved without conditions. Never had hidden agendas. Only ever seemed to want his love and attention. The wounded, the scared and the rejected always tugged at those invisible heartstrings he didn’t want to admit to having. The pathetic rabbit tugged at those heartstrings now.

He sighed and signed off on the paperwork, bid the driver goodbye and frowned into the cage at the pure white rabbit. “Looks like we’re going to be sharing a cabin for a while, Coconut.”

Water bowl full, bath towels on the floor and an empty toilet paper roll stuffed with grass for Coconut’s entertainment, Ethan returned to the petting zoo. He had to add a steel gate to the pen for the sheep. With the last nail drilled into place, Ethan gripped the new part of the enclosure and tested its strength to make sure there wouldn’t be any escapees.

Katie approached, her boots kicking dirt and stones around her. “You can’t spend all your time on these animal pens. There were calves born last month that still need vaccinations and branding.”

“It’s hardly a waste since this is the new petting zoo.” Besides, he never considered protecting animals a waste of time. “We need a plumber and an electrician to finish. And last time I checked, I wasn’t certified in either.” The last time he’d tinkered with electricity had been in middle school and he’d blown more than the fuses that night. Big E had made him clean every stall three times a day all by himself for two months after that particular stunt. “The ranch is better off with me building things.”

Katie seemed hesitant. “But a petting zoo implies, well, petting. These pens are shoulder height and hardly inviting.”

“Letting guests traipse around the stalls is an unnecessary health risk.” Ethan bent over and stuck his arm through the pen posts. If only everything was as simple and effective. Besides, he questioned how much the animals wanted to be petted. His pens offered enough room for the animals to watch the ranch guests from a distance. “See, the guests can reach through the fence posts like this.”

“That’s not on Zoe’s sketch,” Katie said.

“Neither are hand-washing stations, but we need two of those with running water and soap.” Minimizing health risks to the humans and the animals was essential to ensure the ranch didn’t spread disease. “Hand sanitizer isn’t enough.”

“It’s supposed to be a petting zoo with a large pen where animals wander around and guests pet them.” Katie unlatched the gate and swung the steel door open, her gaze trained on the hinges as if she didn’t trust Ethan’s craftsmanship. “Don’t you ever remember visiting one at the fair when we were little?”

No, he didn’t recall and Big E had had no time for fairs and frivolous games. And when Ethan was old enough to go to the fair alone, he’d been more interested in touching Sarah Ashley’s silky shoulder-length curls than petting miniature donkeys in the zoo. Ethan set his hands on his hips and stared at Katie. “You’re only getting a petting zoo if it’s safe and done right.”

“I don’t know what I want anymore.” Katie threw up her hands. “But we’ve got a website that promised the Zigler party of thirty arriving at the end of this month a real petting zoo.”

Tension knotted through Ethan’s shoulders as if he were carrying all the Zigler family’s overstuffed suitcases himself. He stretched his muscles, but the reminder of the Zigler family’s arrival in three weeks only made his shoulders spasm more. “They’ll have a petting zoo. An actual one. But without the Angora rabbit.”

“I never got a delivery cancellation notice for the rabbit.” Katie let the gate shut and eyed him. “There’s a picture of that rabbit on the guest ranch’s website. Has it already arrived? Can I see it?”

“Update the website to put the rabbit on medical leave.” Ethan carried his tools toward the work shed. “No, you can’t see it.”

“The website is locked down and I haven’t found the password yet.” Katie blocked him from opening the shed door. “Why can’t I see the rabbit?”

“Website photo or not, no one is petting the rabbit.” Ethan tried to nudge Katie out of his way.

She refused to budge, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because it carries a disease that can’t be washed off with soap and water?”

“Because it’s traumatized.” Ethan stabbed the shovel into the ground and leaned against the handle. “And stressed out.” Like him.

“That’s why you won’t let me see it?” Her twitching fingers stilled against her arms.

“Not you.” Ethan pointed at her Australian shepherd sprawled in the middle of the dirt path like the main attraction of the petting zoo. “Your sidekick.”

Noticing his regard, Hip wagged her tail, stirring the dirt into mini dust clouds.

“She’s gentle with all animals.” Katie tapped her leg, calling the dog to her, and placed her hand on Hip’s neck as if she needed to protect her.

“I know that,” Ethan said. “But Coconut doesn’t.”

“You’ve already named it?” Katie gaped at him as if he’d adopted a pet without the family’s permission. “Can’t we trade it in for another one that isn’t a stress case?”

“This isn’t like a pair of faulty pliers you return to Brewster’s.” These were live animals that needed proper shelters, beds and food. Ethan would ensure their safety before he left. “Coconut will settle in with time. Her stress should be temporary.” Otherwise they’ll have enough angora wool for new sweaters for the entire Blackwell family before Christmas.

“Speaking of stress, you’ve had six calls this afternoon from pet owners in town.” Katie bent down to pet Hip as if to assure herself the dog was fine.

Ethan released the shovel and looked at Katie. “Who’s calling here?”

Katie lifted her hands and began counting on her fingers. “Mrs. Hatfield. Her twelve-year-old cat, Sparky, is so lethargic he can’t make it into the litter box. Mr. Jacobson. His one-year-old German shepherd puppy ate brownies and his granddaughter’s socks, or so he thinks. The Kramer family says their chinchilla has strange spots on its—”

Ethan held up his hand and stopped her. “I meant why are they calling here?”

“They want your help.” Katie scowled at him as if that should’ve been obvious.

“I’m not licensed in this state.” He’d been trained in domestic animals and livestock and, later, specialized in equestrian rehabilitation.

“They don’t seem to care.” Hip rolled over onto her back, not seeming to care either. Katie rubbed the dog’s stomach until Hip’s leg scratched the air and her mouth opened in a toothy smile. “They want you over Dr. Terry, who, and I’m quoting here, ‘if he worked any slower, he’d have to speed up to stop.’”

“I didn’t tell anyone I was home,” Ethan said.

“You’re kidding, right?” Katie straightened and swiped a strand of hair off her face. The disbelief in her tone was as fiery as her red locks. “You walked into Brewster’s this morning, didn’t you?”

He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping away the urge to curse. He didn’t need the reminder. His mind quickly recalled the image of Grace in her tissue box for an office, looking both sweet and tempting, capable and vulnerable. As if he could’ve opened his arms and she would’ve willingly stepped into his embrace. He scowled at that. In Grace’s embrace, he’d discovered an overwhelming inner peace. For one night, the emptiness inside him had receded.

But he understood the danger of wanting to be with Grace. Understood the threat Grace posed to his equilibrium. Becoming used to Grace’s embrace would only make him want more. Make him feel more. And feeling too much always led to heartache.

“This is the last time I’m passing along any messages for you.” Katie slapped her hand on his chest, and trapped between her palm and his shirt were several notes. “Tell your patients to call your cell phone and stop clogging up the ranch phone line. We need that line to stay open for new bookings.”

“I don’t have patients,” Ethan said.

“Looks like you do now.” Katie smiled. “Just make sure those house pets don’t interfere with the ranch. You’re here to help save Blackwell, not the town.”

As Katie turned away, Ethan scrambled to catch the scraps of paper floating to the dirt. He glanced over the notes, recognized the names, most he’d known all his life. He’d call them back because his mother had taught him manners and he’d suggest they consult with a licensed vet in the area.

But shortly after an exchange of greetings with Mrs. Hatfield, who invited him over for dinner and explained she only wanted advice from a trusted family friend, the conversation derailed. Four more calls later and four more “appeals for advice from a friend,” Ethan had dinner, lunch meet-ups and one pie date arranged, along with one early-morning coffee meeting. The good news: he’d be too busy visiting friends and neighbors, and could leave Grace alone to untangle the ranch accounts.

* * *

GRACE UNWRAPPED ANOTHER mint to quiet her stomach. Three hours past lunch and her buttered toast hadn’t settled. She left her dad sorting a shipment of cat food in the warehouse and walked to the storefront, passing her office. She wanted to sit down and prop her feet on her desk. Five minutes. Ten at the most. She needed that much after Ethan’s unexpected arrival earlier.

His confident presence had filled the space even though he’d remained near her door as if he’d been in a hurry to leave. As if he believed sleeping with her had been a mistake. Still, she’d forgotten how reliable his shoulders looked. But would Ethan be a reliable dad? Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a moment, she could find her balance. Surely, she’d be a reliable mother and that was all that mattered.

Fortunately, Trina Matthews, one of their employees, called out her name from the feed section with a question about the difference between alfalfa varieties. En route to Trina, Grace paused to assist Mrs. Timmerman with her sheet selection in housewares. Grace pulled a set of jersey sheets from a high shelf and explained she had the very same ones on her own bed. She didn’t mention it was her twin bed from high school. Leaving Mrs. Timmerman to decide between the heather-gray or navy sheet sets, Grace decided she really needed to upgrade her bed to at least a full. After all she was going to be a mom soon enough.

Finished sorting the Timothy-Alfalfa from the Orchard-Alfalfa, Grace turned toward her office, but her mother’s shout redirected her to the cash register.