The Rancher's Mistletoe Bride

“I will be your boss, but we’re going to have to be comfortable enough with each other that you can come to me with any problems. We’ll be meeting weekly on Thursday mornings to discuss the ranch. I might not be involved in the daily operations, but I am very invested in its future.”

“I’m glad to hear that. This is your ranch. You should be invested.”

“Exactly. Jerry has paperwork for you to fill out. I’ll meet you down there in half an hour to show you to your new home.” She held out her hand. “Thanks, Clint, for coming today. Welcome aboard.”

The warm strength in his callused hand assured her she’d chosen wisely. He dipped his head and left. As soon as the front door clicked shut, she went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Her hand trembled as she filled the cup. She kept forgetting to eat. Maybe a piece of toast to go with the tea...

How had her life changed so drastically? One minute she was on top of the world, succeeding at her dream job. The next, plunged into the abyss of her father’s death.

Six months. That’s how long it had been since she’d visited Daddy. He’d appeared to be in fine health in May. They’d ridden on horseback around the ranch the way they always did. She’d had no idea he had cancer.

Had he known?

Of course not.

If he had known, he would have told her. She would have come back, gone to the doctor with him, made sure he got chemotherapy and radiation and anything that would have saved him. But they hadn’t known. And now it was too late.

Why didn’t I make more of an effort to come home this summer? He must have been sick. Must have had some symptoms. And I wasn’t here to notice.

Her throat tightened the way it had repeatedly since she’d gotten the call from Jerry saying her father had died.

When she’d told Clint this ranch was the only thing left of her parents and her childhood, she’d meant it. And she wasn’t about to lose it, too.

* * *

As Lexi gave him the tour of the two-bedroom log cabin, Clint mentally tallied a to-do list. It was dusty, but the open area with the kitchen, dining and living room was larger than his current apartment’s, and the master bedroom had a nice view of the mountains. He planned to take his coffee first thing each day on the covered porch. Frankly, it was the nicest place he’d lived in and, even unfurnished, it felt like home.

Home. A sense of foreboding killed his good mood. Had he ever belonged anywhere? If he started identifying this place as home, he’d lose it, the way he’d been torn from every other place where he’d felt comfortable.

He needed to remain detached.

At least the main house was up the lane far enough for him to maintain a necessary distance from his boss. Other than weekly meetings, he saw no reason why they would need to see each other.

“The river’s great for fishing, and feel free to use the ATVs anytime. If you need help moving in, just holler. I’m sure one of the ranch hands would be happy to lend a hand.”

“Yes, ma’a—” He caught himself. “Thank you, Miss Lexi.”

She leaned against the kitchen counter and glared. “Clint, Jerry, who is seventy-five years old, calls me Miss Lexi. It’s Lexi. Just Lexi.”

He itched to smile, but she looked paler, more tired than she had earlier. He studied her more closely.

Thin. Too thin. Dark smudges under her eyes. Cheekbones jutting out. Her clothes hung on her. Was she eating enough? Or at all?

She had the look of someone who’d had to be strong for too long. It reminded him of moving into his first foster home after his grandfather died when Clint was six. Even though Grandpa had been mean as a rattler, when the man passed, Clint knew deep inside he was all alone in the world and his life would never be the same. Did Lexi feel alone, too? He wanted to tuck her under a blanket on the couch. Protect her.

He shook his head. Him protecting her? What a laugh. She didn’t need someone like him.

She stepped forward and wobbled.

“Have you eaten lately?” He moved closer, ready to catch her if she fainted.

“What?” She blinked, shaking her head, and swayed. He reached for her, steadied her.

“Come on, I’ll take you back. You need some food.”

“I’m fine.” Her protest sounded weak. “I had some toast a little bit ago.”

“It’s five thirty. You need a meal.” He kept a loose hold on her arm and led her to the door. The wind had picked up, and the temperature had dropped. “Zip up. You don’t want to catch cold.”

To his relief, she didn’t argue. She zipped her coat and fell in beside him. When they reached the house, he followed her inside. A napkin with a half-eaten piece of toast lay on the end table. Probably the only food she’d eaten today.

“Sit on the couch, and I’ll make you something to eat.”

“I couldn’t ask you—”

“I’m not driving back to Cheyenne on an empty stomach. I’ll make some supper and get out of here.”

She sat on the couch, looking lost. “Okay.”

He opened her fridge and pantry. Chicken broth, noodles, frozen carrots. “Are you saving the chicken in the freezer for anything?”

“There’s chicken in the freezer?”

He chuckled under his breath. “I’m using it.”

After opening cupboards and drawers, he had a good idea of where everything was stored. He chopped an onion, defrosted and diced the chicken, and heated oil in a frying pan. He filled a large pot with the chicken stock and set it on the stove to boil.

Lexi crept up and sat on one of the bar stools opposite him. “What are you making?”

“Chicken noodle soup.”

“Really, you can cook?”

He nodded, suddenly uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be here, in her house, going through her kitchen. It was too intimate.

She wiped her fingers across her forehead. “I never really learned.” Her cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” She hurried to stand by the patio door as she answered the phone.

After stirring the chicken frying in the pan, he tracked her moves. Voice bright and confident, hand reaching for the pen and paper on the coffee table. Phone tucked between her ear and shoulder as she scribbled something. When the call ended, she seemed to deflate, and he quickly turned away.

“I forgot to mention I’ll be out of town next Thursday through Sunday. It’s the final wedding I’m in charge of for the year. My other planners are organizing the rest.”

“Okay.” He slid the cooked chicken into the boiling pot along with the noodles, onions and carrots. A pinch of salt and pepper, and he dialed the burner down to simmer for a while. “If you don’t cook, what do you do for meals?”

“Well, in Denver, I order a lot of takeout. I’m usually working late, anyhow.”

“But you’re here. And there’s no takeout.”

“I manage.”

Not very well, from the looks of it. He doubted she’d eaten more than a bowl of cereal all week. “Why don’t you eat with the rest of the crew?”

She grimaced, shaking her head vehemently. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable, and neither would they.”

She had a point there. “You mentioned a cook—Sarah, right? She would probably fix you a plate.”

Lexi shrugged, a wistful expression in her eyes. “I’m sure you’re right.”

He could tell she had no intention of asking Sarah for a meal. He’d stop over at the manager’s house soon and have a quick chat with Logan and his wife. One of the hands could pick up a meal from them to drop off at the main house each night. Whether Lexi ate it or not wasn’t his concern.

Her phone rang again. She smiled an apology and answered it, walking away. He couldn’t imagine a job with constant phone calls. He stirred the soup, decided it was ready, and ladled out a bowl for her. She was sitting in a chair, saying something about bouquets and cost overages. He’d done his duty. Made her food. She wouldn’t even notice if he left without eating. Sharing a meal with her seemed a little too cozy at this point.

But as he sneaked out to his truck, his mind kept returning to her and the bowl of soup he’d left. He didn’t want her fainting. Didn’t like that her clothes were hanging from her.

She’s not my problem.

He’d been hired to manage the ranch, not the ranch owner. Sure, she was alone and grieving and not taking proper care of herself, but fixing it wasn’t within his realm.

As he drove past the paddocks, he barely noticed the property that had so mesmerized him earlier. He’d better get his focus back on the cattle and the land where it belonged. He’d finally gotten the nerve to try working on a ranch again. He couldn’t make another mistake and ruin this, too.

Chapter Two

Visions of weddings and twinkle lights and Clint filled Lexi’s head. Well, not all three together. She sprayed glass cleaner on the new desk she’d installed in the front den. Clint was only on her mind because he was on his way over for their first official ranch meeting. She hoped it wouldn’t be awkward. The weddings and twinkle lights were remnants from the weekend, when she’d organized her final wedding of the year.

Two weeks had passed since she’d hired Clint, and she hadn’t seen him much, except in passing. They’d nod and exchange pleasantries before going their separate ways. Strictly business.

Strictly business was good. She could pour her energy into weddings, where it belonged. Except she kept thinking back to the night she’d hired him. He’d cooked her soup. Soup! And it had been the best chicken noodle soup she’d ever tasted. She’d indulged in two bowls that night. She’d slept well, too, which was saying something, considering her sleep had been spotty and elusive for a long time.

After wiping the desk clean, she straightened the shelves and displayed the latest bridal magazines she’d brought back with her from Denver. She moved the floor lamp to the corner and studied it before picking it up once more.

“Can I help you with that?” Clint stood in the doorway. He wore a plaid navy-and-white Western shirt with jeans and boots, and a file was tucked under his arm.

“No, just finishing up.” She plastered on her brightest smile. “Come in. Sit down. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks.”

“Well, have a seat.” She sat in the swivel chair behind the desk and fired up her laptop. “How is your house? Are you settling in okay?”

“It’s fine.”

Didn’t exactly answer her question, but she wasn’t surprised. Something told her their weekly meetings weren’t going to be as conversational as the ones she led in Denver. She was used to chatting about the latest trends in weddings in her chic conference room with her team of creative professionals. Talking about the ranch with Clint would most likely be brief and to the point.

Clint was currently eyeing her new office. She almost laughed at the frightened look on his face when his gaze landed on her vision board. Swatches of silks, photos of various flowers and motivational quotes in gold calligraphy adorned it.

She took pity on him and clicked through to the checklist she’d created. “Before we get started, I think you should know I’ve never been involved in ranch operations. Growing up, I helped Daddy move cattle, of course, but...well, you know more about this than I do.” She scanned the notes she’d typed after asking Jerry what to expect on the ranch each month. “Let’s see... I’m assuming the calves have all been weaned?”

“Yes, they were actually weaned by the time I moved in. We’re keeping a close eye on them. Getting ready to sell. I looked over your winter feed program. We’ll continue your father’s plan this year.”

“As opposed to what plan?” She enjoyed watching him as he talked. Cattle seemed to loosen his tongue; animation lit his face.

“The calf sale date is on the books for the second week in December.” He brought his hand to the back of his neck. “But prices will rise after the new year, and if we spent the money to feed the calves longer, they’d weigh more, and we’d get a bigger return on investment.”

The words bigger return on investment were precisely what she loved to hear. “Do you have numbers?”

He opened his folder and handed her a sheet of paper. A spreadsheet held the number of cattle, the amount of feed needed through the winter and the estimated calf sale price for every month until March.

“But what about the drought? Will we have enough hay stored to feed them along with the rest of the cattle?”

“We would have to supplement with outside feed.” He sounded gruff.

“Which, I’m assuming, would be expensive.” She wasn’t sure how to read him, so she studied the spreadsheet more carefully. “What you’re suggesting—do you think it would be smarter to wait a few months to sell the calves?”

He didn’t make eye contact. “I think you should do what’s best for the ranch.”

“Which is?”

“There are pros and cons to both.”

Lexi tapped the desktop with her fingernails. He didn’t seem the wishy-washy type, so why was he dithering? Maybe he’d taken her declaration about having the final say in all decisions personally.

Or maybe he wasn’t the take-charge guy she needed for the ranch after all.

Jerry had assured her they had enough hay stored to feed the cattle this winter. But feeding additional calves? Not likely.

“We’ll stay on Daddy’s plan this year.” Tipping her chin up, she asked, “What else do I need to know?”

He shifted his jaw before filling her in on the state of the fences, the repairs he and the hands were working on, and other winter preparations.

“Are you having any trouble with the employees?” She folded her hands and leaned forward across the desk.

“I’m keeping an eye on Jake.”

“Jake?” She twisted her lips, trying to remember a Jake.

“The kid you recently hired. He’s part-time.”

“Has he done something?”

Clint shrugged. “A gut instinct. I have a zero-tolerance policy for breaking the rules.”

“No three strikes you’re out?” she teased.

“No.” He didn’t crack a smile.

Hmm... Hard to tell if he had a sense of humor hiding under all his toughness. She tried to picture a kid named Jake again. She made a point to interact with all the employees of Weddings by Alexandra, and she didn’t even know all the people working on her land. It was time to change that.

“Where will you be this afternoon?”

“South pasture. Riding the fence line.”

“I’ll join you. It’s been a while since I’ve ridden the property. You can introduce me to the crew when we saddle up.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, then nodded. “Meet me at the stables after dinner.”

She’d lived in Denver long enough to think of the midday meal as lunch, but around here, she’d better get used to thinking of it as dinner again. She rose to see him out. On his way past the living room, Clint stopped and looked around. The muscle in his cheek flickered.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” Then he tipped his hat to her and left.

What was the tension in him all about?

Was he mad she’d decided to stick with her father’s plan?

Her phone showed six missed calls and eight texts. She didn’t have time to worry about his feelings. Back in her office, she opened her email account to twenty-six fresh messages. Looking over her schedule, she exhaled in relief. The video conference call wasn’t until tomorrow. She’d squish everything in to take an hour or two off this afternoon. She hadn’t ridden Nugget, her favorite horse, since May.

A vision of her and Daddy riding together filled her mind, and she willed away the knot in her throat. Had he been thinner the last time she saw him? Shouldn’t there have been warning signs cancer was killing his body?

How many times had she thought she should call and check up on him? But she’d put it off. Too busy replying to texts and placing orders and calling clients.

And now it was too late.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Lord, I don’t know how to get through this. Every time I think of Daddy, I can’t breathe.

She curled her fingers into her palms. Her father hadn’t raised a coward. He’d always told her two things: “Keep your word good” and “Don’t forget to close the gate.”

She had a feeling she’d offended Clint earlier, and she couldn’t afford to lose him, not when he’d taken the weight of worrying about the ranch off her back. She hoped riding the land where she’d spent so many hours with her father wouldn’t be too difficult and the tears she’d suppressed for weeks stayed down under, where they belonged.

* * *

Clint ignored the harsh wind on his face and admired Nugget, the fifteen-hand palomino Lexi rode. A beauty of a horse. And the woman riding it? Could have been born in the saddle.

Lexi was intriguing. Sophisticated, yet completely at ease with all the ranch employees she’d shaken hands with before they’d ridden out. A shrewd businesswoman, yet utterly feminine. Sitting in her office earlier had felt like sitting in the center of a wedding bouquet. He’d never felt so out of place in his life. He preferred his ranch office with tools, rope, rags and the smells of earth and cattle.

Once again, the state of her house picked at his conscience. He’d noticed it all again when he’d left their meeting. The dripping faucet. The torn screen. The worn, neglected air of the place. The missing stones from the fireplace.

The fireplace flue probably hadn’t been cleaned out in years. What if she wanted to build a fire? It could be dangerous.

Not my problem. I’m her employee. And my place on this ranch will be secure as long as I keep my mouth shut and the operation running smoothly.

The longer he worked on the ranch, the more impressed he became. He hadn’t felt this alive in a long time. But as remarkable as the ranch was, its income and expenses were precarious this year.

Jerry had told him all about RJ Harrington’s plans to produce and store hay to sell throughout the country, but Clint didn’t see how they could afford to buy the farm equipment this winter.

The prices of cattle lately were low. Too low.

Should he have urged her to wait to sell the calves? When Lexi had asked his opinion earlier, he’d blanked. The decision had felt as important as pressing the button to launch a nuclear bomb. He’d mentally gone back to the day when he’d lost his land, the day he’d stopped trusting himself. And instead of telling her what he really thought, he’d backed down.

Lexi deserved better than that.

He glanced at her again. She didn’t trust him. He was used to it. As far as he could remember, no one had ever trusted him until they’d gotten to know him, and most never did. His grandfather had called him a worthless brat on a daily basis. Foster parents watched him with the eyes of a red-tailed hawk. Teachers referred to him as that Romine kid. Employers gave him the lowliest jobs before giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Trust had to be earned.

And Lexi was right not to trust him. He hadn’t told her about losing his land. But if he had, would she have hired him? Doubtful. And anyhow, he was doing everything in his power to manage Rock Step Ranch wisely.

They approached the fence line.

“I haven’t been to this pasture in a few years.” Her voice was muffled, and he strained to hear her. She faced him then, her light brown eyes wide and watery. Was the wind ripping the moisture from them, or was she about to cry?

He stilled. This was his boss, and he didn’t have much experience around tears.

She turned Nugget to the east. Ridges and gullies of windblown grass and sage surrounded them.

“Daddy and I used to ride out to check fences before I got so caught up in high school activities. I must have been eleven or twelve when we came out here on a day like this. Cold. But it hadn’t snowed yet. I’d missed a sleepover party at my friend’s house, so I was sulking. But coming out here with Daddy made my troubles disappear.”

Clint hung on every word. He almost wanted to raise his hand, to tell her to stop, to not say anything more, because sharing memories, no matter how small, would bind them. Even if he didn’t reply, he’d get more invested in Lexi as a person than he already was.

And he needed her to be Lexi, the nice lady he worked for, not Lexi, the woman he could care about.

She swept her arm across the land. “He noticed everything. An elk off in the distance, the remains of a snake near the fence where a hawk had made its meal. I remember thinking there was nothing better in the world than being out here with him. Daddy was smarter and kinder than anyone I knew. And we could just be quiet, be ourselves. You know what I mean?”

Clint did. It was how he felt about his best friends, three other foster kids from his days at Yearling Group Home. When he got together with Marshall, Wade and Nash, he didn’t have to force a conversation. He could just be himself.

She lifted her face to the sky. “Every time we’d end a ride, I’d give him the biggest hug and say, ‘I love you, Daddy.’ And he would always tug on my braid or ponytail and reply, ‘You, too, kiddo.’”

Clint’s heart was doing funny things. He’d never experienced what she described, but it moved him just the same.

“I would do about anything to be able to give him another hug and say those words again,” she said softly.

Clint moved his horse closer to her and reached over to take her hand. Her suede gloves didn’t dull the connection, and she stared at him, a tear dropping from her eye. Without thinking, he swung off his horse and held his hands out to help her down. When she’d dismounted, he drew her close, sliding a clean handkerchief out of his pocket to give her. Her slender frame shook with tears, but she didn’t wind her arms around him. She simply let him pat her back and murmur comfort.

How long they stood like that, Clint had no idea—could have been a minute or an hour—but at some point, Lexi wiped her eyes free of tears and blew her nose into the handkerchief.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I have to get back.” She set her foot in the stirrup and swung her leg over the saddle. “I won’t keep you. You stay and check the fence.”

He watched her urge Nugget into motion. Off to spend the rest of the day answering calls and doing whatever wedding planners did. And from what he could tell, she’d been doing it nonstop since she’d hired him. Which left no time for grieving...

It hit him then. No wonder she was as thin as a piece of licorice. She hadn’t grieved her father’s death.

There was no one here to look after her. No clients to meet with. No friends to force her to eat lunch. No father to ensure she lived in a safe, well-maintained house.

Nobody but him.

He slapped his thigh and mounted his horse. Miles of checking fence wouldn’t be enough to pretend something hadn’t shifted inside where Lexi Harrington was concerned, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

* * *

Lexi pulled her favorite velvety blanket up to her chin and pressed the mute button on the remote. Ever since leaving Clint in the pasture earlier, she’d been unable to work. Tears kept erupting.

Because everything here, in this house and on the ranch, reminded her of her father.

Things she hadn’t noticed for weeks—his favorite coffee mug, the faded hand towel with an embroidered cowboy boot she’d bought him for his birthday—unleashed her memories. Two hours ago she’d walked past the master bedroom’s closed door, the one she hadn’t opened since finding out he’d died, and her feet had backtracked until she stood face-to-face with the pine door. Without thought, she’d fallen to her knees, sobbing in front of it.

It was at that point she’d given up on getting anything done. She’d changed into sweatpants, brewed a pot of tea and flipped through the channels until she found one playing original romantic Christmas movies. They always made her feel better.

Not today, though.

Thanksgiving was a week away. She would be celebrating the holidays alone. Oh, she could drive to Denver, join friends with their families, but she wouldn’t. Her heart couldn’t take being surrounded by happy people, people who would want to cheer her up. She was in no state to fake pleasantries while choking on tears as she ate their turkey dinner.