Montana Hearts: Her Weekend Wrangler (17 page)

And she was entranced.

Bree smiled again, relishing the sweeping emotions pouring over her, then noticed
her sister, who was waving at her and trying to get her attention.

“The sick horses are doing much better today,” Delaney said as she approached. “I cut back on their usual grain and they’ve calmed down to their normal selves. Thank goodness we had a few who didn’t touch the supplement so we could still give lessons.”

Bree nodded. “Yeah, I was afraid after Rebecca took a fall that all
our guests would pack up and go home, but . . . it worked out all right.”

“Dad is waiting for you outside the office by the picnic tables,” Del said, taking her arm. Then she leaned toward her and added, “He has another birthday present for you.”

“Oh, no,” Bree groaned. “Do you know what it is?”

Del shook her head. “You’ll have to come and see.”

A few minutes later, Meghan ran
up to take her hand and pulled her toward the blue tarp that obviously covered some sort of large peaked object. Grandma stood behind it, and her father on his crutches.

“No more wheelchair?” Bree asked.

Her father shook his head. “I’ve had enough of that crippling contraption. Now that I’m stronger I told your ma to toss it into the garbage. C’mon, take a look at your new present.”

“You didn’t have to get me another gift,” Bree said, edging closer to the tarp.

“Of course I did,” he argued. “I’m the one who gave your other one away.”

“All right.” She reached down, pulled off the tarp and realized . . . it was a doghouse.

“Luke and I made it together,” her father announced.

“The two of you are talking?” Bree asked, raising her brows.

“Of course we’re
talking
,” her father said, his voice gruff. “When you live on the same ranch together, two ­people are bound to talk to each other once in a while.”

Bree glanced at the cast on his leg. “But how did you—­”

Her father rolled his eyes. “Okay, so I had Luke do the actual hammering, but I sat next to him and gave him instructions.”

“Bossed him around is what you did,” Grandma corrected. “I gotta
give Luke credit for hanging in there and seeing the job through.”

“Yeah, I hope he can finish the other jobs he’s got going on around here,” her father agreed, not acknowledging Grandma had meant the problem had been with
him
and not Luke. “So, Bree, what do you think?”

Bree glanced at the four-­foot-­high, square wooden structure with the peaked roof. The opening in the front was big
enough to fit a full-­sized person. “Is this your way of saying you think I should sleep in the doghouse? You know it wasn’t my fault the Iridescent Beauty exec threatened to sue.”

Her father frowned. “Of course I know that. No, the doghouse is for
Boots
.”

“Of course.” She bit her lip as her mother opened the office door and let the puppy out. “So you don’t want Boots sleeping inside
our
house?”

“Boots can sleep wherever he pleases,” her father said in a huff. “Can’t I get you a present without it having a negative meaning attached to it?”

Bree smiled. “I’m just making sure we . . . understand each other.”

“What, am I talking like some kind of alien from outer space?” her father demanded. “I just wanted to get you another present because . . . well, I messed up
in the past and I don’t want you to hold it against me and take off again. I’m getting used to having you home.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Bree said, and walking over to him, she gave him a hug.

“Okay,” he said, his voice choked. “Get on now. I’m sure you have a million other things to do. And if Boots doesn’t use the thing, that’s all right, too. I just thought if he was outside he might want to
hole up in his own place.”

“C’mon, Boots,” Meghan said, and climbed into the doghouse with him.

“Oh, dear,” Delaney said, bending her head to look inside. “Meghan might think it’s a new playhouse for
her
.”

Bree laughed. “At least if she disappears you’ll know where to find her.”

“Bree!” Ma called, sticking her head out the front office door again. “You have a phone call from the
district manager of Silvain’s—­in New York.”

Her father’s pleasant expression disappeared and his mouth tightened into a straight line. “Well,” he said, and let out a small grunt. “You better go see what he wants.”

B
REE’S STOMACH GREW
queasier with every step. Why would Skip Silvain, great-­grandnephew of the prominent fashion retail chain’s founder, be calling her—­now—­after all these
weeks? What could he
possibly
have to say to her? If Ma hadn’t already answered the phone she would have hung up on him. She still could. But she didn’t.

“Hello, Skip?”

“Bree, honey, it’s so good to hear your voice. How are you?”

How am I?
“I’m fine, Skip. What do you want?”

“Listen, I need to apologize. I know I should have promoted you instead of Lisa. You were right. She was
a stupid bimbo and I let my personal . . . agenda get in the way.”

“I’ll say you did.”

“Okay, I get it that you’re still mad. And I understand. Believe me, I know how much of a jerk I was for letting you go.”

“Do you mean that on a personal or professional level?”

“Both.” He sighed. “Look, I’d do anything to erase the past and have you back here in my arms, but—­”

“But you
know that’s not gonna happen, right?” Bree demanded.

Another sigh. “Right. But I was hoping you could put that aside and come back to head the Manhattan store.”

“Come back to New York?” Bree gasped.

“I know you had your heart set on that job and it’s yours if you want it. No one is more qualified for the position than you.”

“Head director of Sylvain’s,” Bree mused. She
had
wanted
that job . . . so much. But now it all seemed so far away. “Sorry, Skip. I’ve had another offer. I’m now head manager of Collins Country Cabins, my family’s guest ranch.”

“I’ll double your pay.”

“What? That’s crazy!”

“The company has plenty of money and you can consider it my way of trying to make amends.”

Bree glanced out the window and spotted Meghan crawling out of the doghouse
with Boots. “There’s more to life than money, Skip.”

“I’ll throw in three weeks of vacation. Then you could visit your family several times a year.”

“No.”

“The marketing team’s willing to take on two of your designs.”

“You’ll sell my jewelry?” She hesitated. After submitting her own fashion designs for approval and only receiving rejections again and again, she’d considered her
creative efforts a lost cause. Of course, Skip knew that and would use her weakness to seal the deal. “The answer’s still no.”

“Bree, c’mon. Don’t let your feelings get in the way like mine did. Make the right choice.”

She frowned. “I
am
.”

“I’ll give you another week to think about it,” he finished, then hung up.

Bree stared at the phone in her hand. Then she thought of her father
. . . Ryan . . . Cody . . . and how she’d promised each of them she wouldn’t go . . . even if it
was
her dream to prove to herself and everyone else she
could
direct a division of the fashion retail giant. She
could
.

Chapter Eleven

R
YAN’S FAMILY DIDN’T
think the horse supplement had been planted to harm the Collinses’ business. In fact, they didn’t think it had anything to do with the Collinses at all. But they
did
think it had everything to do with
him
.

Ryan shoveled the last bit of manure shavings from the stable and dumped it into the wheelbarrow, while his father and brothers stood
around in a semicircle giving him grief.

“First someone salts one of our fields. Not all, but just one. Enough to keep us extra busy,” his father pointed out. “You shouldn’t have had time to still help Bree with her ranch, but you offered to work as her weekend wrangler, anyway. So then someone puts the supplement in her horses’ feed to make them dangerous
while you are in charge
. Makes you
look bad, doesn’t it? Maybe they hoped you would get fired.”

“You think the realtor would go that far to make us sell?” Ryan asked.

“What if it’s not the realtor or the Owenses who are out to get you?” Dean challenged. “What if it’s an old jealous girlfriend?”

“Sammy Jo?” Josh suggested.

Ryan shook his head. “Sammy Jo loves the Collinses. She’s practically a member of their family.
She’d never do anything to hurt them, even if it’s to get to me. And she’s not the jealous type. In fact, I think she has her sights set on Bree’s brother, Luke.”

“What about the women before Sammy Jo?” Zach asked. “Some of them were pretty obsessed. Or what about that woman who bought the horse from you earlier this month?”

Ryan shook his head. “Ms. Kincaid moved to Arizona.”

“What
if it was one of the Collinses’ CEOs? What company do they represent and how well do you know them?” their father continued, narrowing his gaze. “What if they are working with the realtor to get us to sell?”

Josh smirked. “Or to get a date.”

“Speaking of dates,” Ryan said, and gave Josh a direct look. “I promised the woman you danced with at the barn dance that you would—­”

“You
didn’t
.”

“She agreed not to sue Bree’s family if you take her out tonight.”

Ryan’s father clapped Dean and Zach on the shoulder. “Shouldn’t we get back to herding the cows into the other pasture?”

Both brothers readily agreed. Josh tried to escape with them, but Ryan blocked his path.

“C’mon, Josh.”

“No way!” Josh exclaimed, hands up in the air as he stepped back.

“All you have
to do is take her out on one date.”

“What’s the point of that? When I take a woman out I want to believe there’s at least the
potential
to take her out again. But Bree’s corporate ladies are supposed to leave this week.”

“Bree needs the corporate contract to get the guest ranch back on its feet.”

“What about
our
ranch? The cows are costing us double to feed this season now that we
have to buy hay instead of growing our own. We have double the work, too. There’s no time to be messing around with these ladies.”

“One night,” Ryan argued. “That’s all I’m asking. If you won’t do it for Bree, then do it for me.”

“Are we negotiating?” Josh asked, his tone hopeful.

Ryan grinned. “Of course.”

“Okay,” Josh said, coming back toward him. “What have you got?”

“Two
tickets to the rodeo in Bozeman on Saturday?”

Josh raised his brows, a sign he was considering. “You know I was thinking of entering that rodeo myself.”

“I’ll pay your entrance fee,” Ryan promised.

“Done!” A wide smile spread across Josh’s face. “What time do I pick her up?”

B
REE’S MIND WAS
still on the head retail director position Skip Silvain had offered over the phone as she
made her way to Cabin 12 to check in on Chelsea, Katelyn, and Rebecca. They’d been here nearly three weeks and still hadn’t discussed the possibility of booking the corporate retreat. Bree had been afraid to say anything, but now that Rebecca was scheduled to go out with Josh Tanner, she decided it was time.

She found the women on the front porch, leaning over the wood rail as they watched
Delaney hang something in a nearby tree.

Bree strained her eyes to see what it was. A camera?

She frowned. “Del, what are you doing?”

Her sister turned her head to look at her, then knotted a rope around the limb she’d climbed up on. “We’ve set this camera on a timer to film between six and eight o’clock.”

“We heard this ultraloud screeching outside our cabin last night,” Chelsea
said, covering her ears as she spoke.

“I was so scared,” added Katelyn.

“We had no idea what it was,” Rebecca exclaimed. “At first we thought it was an owl or a coyote.”

“Dad’s dog spooked it up that tree over there,” Delaney said, pointing. “I bet it’s a raccoon. I’ve seen them around here the last few days, and we discovered tracks outside the cabin this morning.”

“What will
you do with the video?” Bree asked.

“I’m putting together a nature series for our guests,” Delaney announced. “Luke is building an amphitheater with a screen so we can show the films every Friday night before the bonfire.”

“That’s a great idea,” Bree said, imagining the possibilities. “Everyone loves your wildlife photography.”

Her sister’s photo cards she’d placed in the office were
selling like crazy. So was Bree’s own boot bling and cowgirl jewelry, which reminded her she needed to make more.

“Well, I have to get a shower and wash my hair to get ready for my date tonight,” Rebecca said with a smile. “I hope Josh is more fun than his brother. Ryan’s gorgeous, and his family has money, but he’s not interested in me. Seems he has specific ideas for what he considers his
‘ideal woman.’ ”

Bree gave a double take. “What do you mean?”

The dark-­haired woman shrugged. “While we ate dinner he started asking me a bunch of questions, as if our date were an interview.”

“Maybe he was just trying to get to know you,” Chelsea suggested.

“Or just trying to be friendly,” Katelyn said, a sympathetic look on her face.

Rebecca sighed. “No, it was more than
that. He had this list of exact qualifications and I . . . failed.”

“What kind of qualifications?” Bree demanded.

“He wants someone who’s . . . perfect,” she said, and heaved another sigh. “Someone he can be proud of and show off.”

Bree doubted anyone could be perfect, but after Ryan’s first miserable marriage, she could understand why he’d want someone respectable.

Rebecca continued
to fret. “Don’t you think I can be someone’s ideal woman?”

“Of course you can!” Chelsea assured her. “You just haven’t met the right guy yet. You need someone who appreciates you for you.”

“You’ll be someone’s ideal woman someday,” Katelyn agreed. “You’re beautiful, smart, sexy, love to travel, and—­”

“CEO of a prominent corporation?” Bree supplied, remembering the reason she’d come.
“I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk about the corporate retreat?”

“Not now,” Rebecca said, turning away. “My hair comes first.”

“But you still have hours before—­” Bree watched her disappear into the cabin, the other two with her.

Del jumped down from the tree and they shared a commiserating look of their own. “Better luck next time.”

Bree nodded. “Yeah.”

On her
way back to the house, Bree thought about what Rebecca had said, and whipping out her cell phone, she texted Sammy Jo.
Does Ryan Tanner have an ideal woman qualifications list?

A few seconds later her cell phone buzzed back with an answer.
LOL. Yes.

Bree’s fingers furiously typed in the appropriate letters she needed to pursue the subject.
What’s up with that?

Exactly.

List!

(1) Confident (2) Caring (3) Playful (4) Talented (5) Sexy (6) Beautiful (7) Blue-­eyed (8) Brown hair (9) Loves horses (10) Loves children.

Bree bit her lip as she read each item. Many of them fit her own description. After all, she had honey-­brown hair, blue eyes, and loved horses and children. She wasn’t as sure about the rest. She also noticed he hadn’t included an additional item—­
Loves
me.

She typed back,
What about love?

Her friend responded,
I don’t know.

Bree put her phone away and scowled. Love was definitely on
her
list. Then she remembered she didn’t have a list. Maybe she would make one. Ryan Tanner didn’t have to be the only one with ideal specifications. She could list requirements of her own. Requirements for an ideal man. And love would be at the very
top. Because she was done with one-­sided relationships!

Luke intercepted her before she stormed into the ranch office. “Did you ask Ryan why his brother Dean was in the stable the night of the dance?”

“Not yet.”

“Too busy texting Sammy Jo?” he teased.

Bree gave him a brief smile. “Sammy Jo texted me first, earlier this morning, to tell me she’s on her way to the next rodeo.”

“Good riddance.”

“What’s the matter with you? Aren’t you interested in women anymore?”

“Not
her
.”

“
Any
woman?” she pressed, holding the office door open for him as they both went inside.

Her brother groaned. “Relationships are too complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Luke turned around to face her and said, “When a man gives a woman his number he’s expected to sell his soul
to his cell phone.”

As soon as he was gone, Bree sent one last message to Sammy Jo, one that was sure to crush her heart.

Luke’s Ideal Woman List: (1) No texting.

A
FTER
R
YAN FINISHED
his chores on his own ranch, he drove over to the Collins Country Cabins to meet with Bree. And this time he was determined not to screw anything up, so as soon as he got out of his truck he strode straight
toward her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her.

Yep, just as tender and sweet as he remembered. This was going to be a
great
day.

Bree glanced around at the guests milling around the grounds who had stopped to stare at them. Then her gaze shot back to him. “You shouldn’t do that.”

He dropped his hands down to her arms. “Why not?”

“I didn’t
ask
you to kiss me.”

Ryan
laughed. “I didn’t know I had to wait for that.”

She looked flustered. Didn’t want to admit she was attracted to him. Even though he could see that she was. “What?” she demanded. “I kiss you once and—­”

“It was more than once,” he teased, cutting her off.

“Okay, maybe it was more than once,” she admitted. “But do you think that gives you the right to kiss me whenever you want?”

He laughed again. “I sure hope so.”

“I still think you should wait to be asked,” she scolded, the corners of her mouth lifting, almost begging him to kiss her again.

He did.
Without waiting for her to ask him to.
And she didn’t push him away. “Be honest,” he coaxed. “Don’t you want to be kissed?”

Bree’s face turned all kinds of pink. Like the blush of the sun before it dipped from the
horizon. “Not now,” she insisted. “We have to meet with the realtor.”

“You’re right,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to his truck. “There will be time enough for kisses, after the work is done.”

“You sound like a Kenny Rogers song,” she told him, buckling her seat belt.

“You kiss like an angel,” he told her.

“Like the Angel in your stable?” Bree asked, arching her brow.

“That Angel doesn’t kiss,” Ryan said with a groan. “She
bites
.”

Bree was quiet a moment and then, while looking straight ahead, she said, “I got a call from New York this morning. I was offered the position of head director at the fashion retail store where I used to work.”

Ouch.
Okay, maybe Bree could bite, too. He swallowed hard and chose his words carefully. “Are you thinking about
taking it?”

She shook her head. “I said no.”

“Then why are you telling me about the offer?”

Bree looked at him then, her expression soft . . . and troubled. “I guess I just wanted to let you know.”

Or prepare him.
He could tell from the way she was fidgeting with the straps of her purse that deep in her heart she still hadn’t made a final decision. Was that the real reason she
didn’t want him to kiss her?

T
HE REALTOR’S OFFICE
was located in the strip of businesses across the street from both the general store and the Fox Creek Café. A small shop, the wood-­shingled building had a large window to the right of the door. Peering through, they could see Shane McGrath sitting behind his desk. He rose as they entered.

“I knew if I gave you time, you’d reconsider,”
McGrath said, reaching out to shake Bree’s hand.

Ryan kept his by his side. “She didn’t say that she had.”

Bree shot him a look of warning and turned toward the man. “How much do you think my ranch is worth?”

“That depends,” the realtor said, shuffling through some paperwork and sitting back behind his computer. “Let me check on a few stats.”

Bree didn’t know it but while they
were questioning the realtor, Dean and Zach were visiting the realtor’s house and checking out his plane. The thought that this weasel could be the guy who had salted their fields set him on edge almost as much as Bree’s announcement about New York.

Ryan’s phone rang and he stepped away to answer it. The caller ID said it was Dean.

“He’s our guy,” his brother told him. “We found several
empty salt bags in the back of the plane.”

Ryan clenched his jaw and glanced at Shane McGrath again, just a few feet away. “Any sign of the horse supplement?”

“No. Owens may still be the one responsible for that. We didn’t find anything else except for a few traps.”

“What kind of traps?”

“Large enough for a rabbit,” Dean replied. “There’s a few hides hanging from one of the inside
windows of the house so I’d wager he likes to hunt. How’s it going over there?”