Accidental Cowgirl (24 page)

“Ah. Home of Jose Cuervo.”

Kyla laughed softly as she swished her hands in the soapy water. “That’s the place. God, I loved it there.”

“What was the best part?”

That was a tough question. The whole two weeks was the best part. The swimming, the endless Monopoly games on the porch, the apple picking, the fresh syrup on Sunday-morning pancakes … There was no way to pick the best part.

Then she thought of one of her favorite parts of her stay. “This is going to sound stupid.”

“I doubt it.”

“Well, every summer before we went north, my mom would take me to Macy’s and get me a huge pile of new clothes she thought would be perfect for my visit to Gramma and Gramps’—sundresses, jumpsuits, strappy little girlie sandals—the works. She’d wash and iron everything and pack my fancy suitcase, and off we’d go.

“The minute my parents pulled back out of Gramma’s driveway, we’d run upstairs and shove that ridiculous suitcase in a closet, and I’d pull open all the drawers in the little white bureau in my room. Gramma would have it stuffed full of Tshirts and old jeans and sweatshirts and flip-flops she found at garage sales and the Salvation Army. I used to rip my city clothes off and live in all that soft clothing for two weeks, and it was heavenly. I got dirty every day.”

Kyla laughed at the memory of Gramma standing in the doorway examining her clothes one afternoon and pointing her back toward the barn. “Actually, that was Gramma’s rule. If Gramps brought me home clean, we had to go back out and get dirty.”

“She sounds like a dream.”

Kyla nodded sadly. “She was. She really was. I’m pretty sure my mother was switched at birth.”

“Sounds like an idyllic little getaway.”

“I’m sure as an adult I might see it differently and realize how much dawn-to-dusk hard work went into running the place, but as a kid, it was better than Disney World.” Kyla stacked dry plates back into the chuck box. “Y’know, this place actually reminds me of their farm. Little things keep striking me. The smells, the colors. I haven’t seen this much green in years.”

“Better than the parks in Boston?”

Kyla shuddered. “There’s just something icky about grass that thousands of people have tromped across. Everything’s just, I don’t know, fresher out here.” She turned to Decker, afraid
to ask the question that was at the forefront of her mind. She had to hear his answer, though. “What about you? Don’t you miss it here?”

Decker was silent for a long moment, just staring out toward the twilight meadow. When he spoke, it was almost reluctant. “I loved this ranch when I was a kid. Grew up on horses, thought I’d live here forever.” He shook his head, eyes clouding over. “But things happen.”

“So you left.”

“Yeah. I did. When I was seventeen.” Decker turned to hang the dish towel on a branch, and Kyla tried to imagine him as a seventeen-year-old man-boy, striking out to find his fortune out west. It sounded so … sad. “And now look at it. Ma’s working her fingers to the bone, she’s turned over her beloved home to tourists, and still we’re barely making ends meet.”

Kyla was silent. Would this be the right time to tell him what she’d been noodling on since Sunday night? She realized she didn’t know him well enough to figure out whether he’d be receptive to her ideas, and knew it might backfire and send him running again, but when
would
be the right time? Never, probably.

“I’m sorry, Kyla. You
are
one of those guests. Ma would have my head if she knew I was talking to you like this.”

Kyla put her fingers to her lips and made a twisting motion. “Secret’s safe with me. I haven’t told anyone anything you’ve told me. I’m sure no one suspects this ranch is anything but a thriving family business.”

“Well, I guess we’re better actors than we thought, then.”

Kyla took a deep breath. “Decker, I’ve been thinking …”

He looked at her, amused. “Should I be frightened?”

“Maybe.”

“Yep, I’m frightened.” He turned back toward the wagon, fastening the metal slats.

“Decker, I think …” Kyla rubbed her hands together nervously. “I think I might have an idea that could help.”

* * *

Decker had no idea what she was about to say, but he damn well knew it made him nervous. “Ma and I have already discussed putting Cole up for adoption, but it won’t solve anything. He’s too
old to fetch good money.”

“Come here for a second. Humor me.” She motioned him toward the tree where she’d left her backpack. With a wary pace, he followed her, but kept his distance when they sat down at the base of it.

“Okay, what’s your idea?” He sat back against the tree, feigning nonchalance.

“Take a look at this and tell me what you think.” Kyla pulled a sketch pad out of her backpack and flipped through a few pages before handing it to him. “And try to forgive the elementary school–style drawing. I’m not the architect here.”

He took the pad and rested it against his knees, cocking his head to view it at a better angle. Squares and triangles and circles covered the page, along with some crudely-drawn stick figures. He picked up the pad and turned it a different direction. “Um, you’re … working on a picture book for kids?”

Kyla elbowed him, flipping the page another direction. “Look again.”

Suddenly, from this angle, all of the squiggles and hen scratches made sense. Sort of. At the top of the page was a series of shapes that looked like the existing ranch house and stables. He could see a path and the guest cabins as a dotted line and little squares. But up where the east meadow would be, there were some larger shapes and stick figures.

“Are you designing us a new ranch, Kyla?” He put the book down, taking a deep breath, trying to tamp down the anger catching fire inside his stomach. The nerve. She had no right. No right to be trying to solve a problem that was
his
to fix. No right to come up with a plan after one goddamn week here, when he’d had the last three months to come up with one. And had failed.

She picked up the pad, and her cheeks looked pink with excitement. With her pencil, she pointed at the shapes. “See, this is the main lodge. I’m thinking it needs an addition on the back so Ma has her own space to get away from the hubbub.”

She tapped farther down the page. “Here’s the north and south barns. Those would stay as is. Up here, though—” Tap, tap, tap. “Up here is the new section. Hoity Toity Village, if you will.” She smiled, but he locked his lips together. “Here’s the executive lodge. Suites, personal concierges, masseuses on-site, free babysitting.” He looked away from the pad, locked his fists together on his knees. “Here’s the children’s barn. You’d need some cute lambs and chickens and ponies … Decker?”

He forced a pained breath out his mouth, trying to unclench his fists. “Great plan,
Einstein.” He saw her back away, saw the sting in her cheeks as if he’d physically slapped her. “Too bad there’s no way in hell it would ever, ever work.”

“Look at the next page,” she whispered, then sat back against the tree, looking the other direction.

As much as he didn’t want to, as much as he wanted to throw her damn sketches in the fire, he picked up the pad and flipped to the next page. Where her first page had been practically indecipherable, this one was filled with columns of figures, lined up as if she’d had a ruler in her backpack. He scanned the numbers, let his eyes travel back and forth across the page, cocked his head when he saw things add up in a way he’d never imagined they could.

Jesus. She thought she had it all figured out here. Figures for building, figures for rental income, operating expenses, food and supplies, vet bills, new animals. Everything. And in her little perfect-world sketch pad, Whisper Creek would be turning a tidy profit in two years flat. Impossible. He looked at the figures again, practically tied his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t run his fingers down the page checking her math.

But it all added up. It added up to success. And she’d thought of it. Not him. “You get an A-plus for arithmetic.” He handed her back the pad, pushing off the ground and brushing dirt off from his jeans. “You only forgot one part, Kyla.”

She shook her head, eyes sparking in the twilight. “No, I didn’t, Decker.”

“It’s a lovely little pipe-dream plan. Really, it is. But it has no basis in reality. Apparently I wasn’t all that clear about the financial situation here. We have not one red cent to invest in growing this business right now. Not a penny.” He put on his hat. “So thank you. Really. This was a lovely exercise. But I need to get back to work now.
That’s
the only way we’re going to survive.”

Kyla braced herself on the tree as she got up to face him, and he tried not to notice her grimace as she rubbed her thigh almost unconsciously. “You need an investor.”

“Oh! Is that how it works? Well, Christ, I’ll just get on the phone when we get back to the ranch. I’m sure I can find somebody with an extra half-million hanging around.”

“I might know someone.”

She said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. He shook his head like cobwebs were taking up residence. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I said I might know someone who would be willing to invest in Whisper Creek.”

He shook his head again. “I’m trying here, Kyla, but really, I don’t understand. You’ve only known we exist for a little over a week. How in the world would you have enough information to convince an investor to dump that kind of money into a place like this?”

“I have all the information I need, Decker.”

“What does that mean?”

“Decker, you’re too fired up to hear me out logically, but for some reason I can’t make myself stop talking. I’m the investor. Me.”

“You.”

“Me.”

He took his hat off and started pacing. “Why, Kyla? Why in the
hell
would you do this? You don’t even
know
us. You don’t know Big Sky country. You don’t know this town, this family. For Christ’s sake, you don’t even like goddamn horses!”

“That was true … a week ago.”

“Before we had sex?”

Kyla turned her head like he’d slapped her cold, then faced him with furious eyes. “That has nothing to do with this, Decker. This isn’t about you. It isn’t about some convoluted notion that I can guilt you into being with me. I’m too exhausted for idiocy like that. I know you don’t want any more than a trail fling. I know you’re not in it for the long haul. Hell, maybe you think you’re not in
anything
for the long haul.”

“Well, there’s the
first
thing you’ve gotten right.” Even to his own ears, his words tasted acrid.

She went quiet until he gave in and met her eyes. “I don’t believe you, Decker. I don’t believe you want to head back to L.A. I don’t believe you don’t want to be here, live here, die here. I don’t. And maybe my people-reading skills are complete shit. Hell, I know they are. I proved it with a fiancé who’s now in jail. But you love it here, Decker. You love the horses, you love the land, you love Cole and Ma so much it hurts. How can you not?”

“You need to stop talking. You have no idea what you’re saying.” He turned away,
desperate to get away from her before any more of her bullets found their mark. And
jail
? What the hell was she talking about?

“Bullshit, Decker. You can pretend all you want to, but you belong here. Whisper Creek belongs here.
Ma
belongs here. If you don’t do something as drastic as this, the ranch isn’t going to survive. I overheard the guy in the barn the other night.” She put her hand up when he turned toward her. “I know it was none of my business, and I left as soon as I realized what was going on. But you need help. And I’m offering it.”

“I don’t need your help, Kyla. We’re doing just fine.”

“Bullshit. You’re going to lose this ranch.”

“We are
not
going to lose this ranch.”

“Not if you let me help you, you’re right.” Kyla slid back down the tree, put her head in her hands for a moment, then looked up at him. “Decker, I didn’t tell you everything about Wes.”

“What the hell does Wes have to do with this conversation?”

“Everything.” She shoved the sketch pad into her backpack. “Not only did Wes lose every penny I had. He also bankrupted my grandparents. I introduced him to Gramps and Gramma. Told them they could trust him. And he had us all convinced he was going to make us millions. But he lost it all. Every cent. They lost the farm.” She shoved away from the tree, limping as she stood. “So that’s why I want to help, Decker. I couldn’t help them in time. I couldn’t save my grandparents.”

“Let me get this straight. You lost everything. Your grandparents lost everything. So what exactly are you planning to invest here?”

“I have a trust fund.”

“Of course you do.”

“Yes,
of course I do
. Because yes, Decker, I’m just another spoiled little rich girl from the city. And when I run out of money, more just magically appears.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t even know about the trust fund until they died. They’d set it up for me when I was an infant. They never touched it, not when they were down to their last penny. If I’d known about it, I’d have insisted they use it. But I didn’t. It’s big, and it’s mine. And it’s too late to help my grandparents, but I
can
help you.”

Decker stared at her, and suddenly it was all clear.

“I’m sorry about your grandparents. Really, I am. But Kyla, you can’t clear your conscience here by throwing your money around to strangers. I get it. I do. You screwed up big-time, and you want to fix something, anything, to prove you’re still a good person. But this isn’t it, Kyla.

“You can’t just step in here and use your money to buy a new family. We don’t need your money.
I
don’t need your money.

“I don’t need
you
, Kyla.”

* * *

“And here, my friends, is the prettiest spot on earth, hands-down.” Cole pulled his horse to a halt and waited for the line of riders to catch up to him. It was Thursday morning and Kyla was in the middle of the pack, with Jess, Cheryl, and Theresa behind her. Decker, who hadn’t even looked her way all morning, brought up the rear.