Fall to Pieces (11 page)

Sadie chuckled. "All we heard was that you
two spent the night alone in a hotel room."

"I would have brought her home, but she
didn't want her parents to find out. And I couldn't leave her
alone. She passed out and I spent the rest of the night watching a
Cops
marathon."

The truth was a lot of guys would have left
her, or worse. "That was awfully chivalrous of you. And you didn't
even tell anyone what really happened."

He shrugged. "She was embarrassed. And at the
time it was better for everyone to think we'd spent the night
fooling around than for her to get busted for drinking. If that got
out, she would have been kicked off the cheerleading squad."

He leaned his butt against the counter and
took another sip of his coffee. "Besides," he said with a grin and
a glimmer in his eyes that made her stomach feel a little wobbly,
"I had my own ulterior motive. I was hoping if I acted like a
gentleman and kept her secret she'd let me get in her pants
later."

Sadie cocked an eyebrow as she drained her
mug. "And."

"Never happened," he said with a shrug. "I
think the memory of me covered in her barf scarred us both too
much."

Sadie laughed and went to the coffee pot for
a refill. "Seems like enough time has passed for you to get over
it. Maybe now you'll finally get your chance." There, if she just
talked enough about him sleeping with other women, acknowledged it
out loud, she would stop feeling like she was getting punched in
the chest every time the thought crossed her mind.

Once again, those broad shoulders rose and
fell. "Colleen's great," he said. His grin faded a little. "But
what I wanted in high school isn't what I want now."

Her gaze locked with his, and the warmth she
imagined she saw there sent a wave of answering heat rippling
through her.

Which she immediately followed with a mental
bitch slap.
Just because he doesn't want Colleen, doesn't mean
he wants you, dummy.

She drained her cup and walked over to the
sink to rinse it. "Thanks again for helping out this morning." She
turned to him and smiled. "One less thing for me to take care of
before I get to work on my other job."

"Speaking of." Dylan stepped up beside her
and placed his own mug in the sink. He was so close she could feel
the warmth radiating from his body, smell the soap he'd used
mingling with the earthy scent of his skin.

She fixed her gaze out the window over the
sink, afraid if she turned she wouldn't be able to keep from
burying her nose in that too tempting spot where his neck and
shoulder met.

"You need more help around here."

"Understatement of the year."

"I was thinking I could put in some
hours."

He would be around more than he already was?
It sounded simultaneously like the best and worst thing ever. "What
about your dad? The shop?"

He turned and leaned his hip against the
sink. "He doesn't need me full time, not even close. He's just
throwing me stuff to keep me busy. I figure I can be a lot more
help here, especially working with Pete on the haying."

"Have you ever done work like that
before?"

His thick brows pulled into a mock frown.
"It's not rocket science. Besides, I figure if I can learn to
operate a Bradley armored vehicle I can figure my way around
farming equipment.”

"You really want to spend your last few weeks
here working as a ranch hand?"

His lips quirked into a half smile that had
her toes curling against the insoles of her sneakers. "As long as
I'm stuck killing time here in Big Timber, the least I can do is
help out a friend."

Sadie left the barn that morning feeling like
a thousand pound weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Which
was silly, when she considered that even with Dylan working full
time, it was going to take a miracle to get all the mowing and
baling done in the next week to make it in time to ship down
south.

But she couldn't help thinking about the way
Dylan had been, almost sweet, a word she never would have applied
to him in the past. Funny, yes. Sexy, hell yes. But as long as
she'd known him, he'd always been the type to follow his own
program, look out for number one, namely him.

Not in an asshole way, just a typical guy
way.

Maybe he was looking to pay her back for all
the free tutoring she'd given him in high school. Maybe he wanted a
change of scenery from his father's garage. Though he was obviously
skilled, she remembered all the way back in high school how he'd
chafed whenever he'd had to help.

Whatever the reason, she was grateful.

As long as I'm stuck here in Big Timber, the
least I can do is help out a friend.

She ignored the pinch in her chest. Despite
the heat that had crackled between them on the dance floor the
other night, Dylan seemed determined to keep her locked firmly in
the friend zone.

It was for the best, she reminded herself as
she settled down in front of her computer to work on a proposal for
a new client. No matter how often she fantasized about having a
hot, steamy fling with her high school crush—and she didn't kid
herself that it would be anything more—logically she knew that
sleeping together was bound to complicate things. At least in her
own head.

As amazing as the sex promise to be, she had
enough going on in her life right now without adding any drama on
the personal side.

She settled into work, easily today now that
some of the distractions and stress had been eased.

For several hours she worked, engrossed, not
looking up from her screen until she heard a tap on her office
door.

It was June. She held the handset to the
house phone in her hand, and a deep frown creased her forehead.
"Sadie, it's someone from the bank."

Fifteen minutes later, Sadie hung up the
phone, her stomach twisted in knots, every feeling of well being
drained right out of her.

"Dad, what did you do?" She found her father
in the living room, reclined in the worn brown corduroy La-Z-Boy
her mother had spent years of their marriage trying to get rid of.
With his newspaper in front of his face and a mug of coffee
steaming on the table beside him, he acted like a man who didn't
have a care in the world.

Like a man who hadn't jeopardized the future
of this entire operation.

After a lot of hemming and hawing, she
finally got her father to admit that late last year he'd taken out
a loan using the ranch as collateral. The money from the loan had
been used to pay off Denise, his second wife, a marriage so brief
Sadie had only met the woman once.

Sadie clenched her teeth against a scream of
frustration. "What about the prenup?" When her father had announced
he was marrying again, Sadie had convinced her father to draw up a
prenup this time, seeing as how he'd had to pay her mother a hefty
sum in their settlement.

At least she thought she'd convinced him.

"Denise wouldn't hear of it," he said
gruffly. "And how could I blame her? What woman wants to marry a
man who's already planning the divorce?"

Maybe a woman who's twenty-five years
younger than you and sees a quick route to a meal ticket.

"I don't know why you should care," he
barked. "It's my money. I should be able to give it to whoever I
want."

"I care," Sadie ground out, "because I've
been working my ass off to help keep this place running while you
recover, and now because of this you're this close"—she held up her
thumb and forefinger—"to losing it all."

"What?" He snapped down the footrest of the
recliner so quickly he nearly launched himself out of the
chair..

Sadie immediately regretted storming in here
with a head full of steam as her father's ruddy complexion went ash
gray. While well on his way to recovery, Jim was still in shaky
condition health wise.

She took a deep breath and settled onto the
couch. As clearly and calmly as possible, she explained the
situation. "You've missed the last three payments on the loan," she
explained. "If we miss another one, the bank will be within their
rights to start foreclosure proceedings."

"That's not possible." His voice was hoarse,
and in that moment he looked every second of his sixty-four years.
"I worked with the bank to have everything withdrawn automatically
every month, to pay the loan, the property taxes, everything. There
should be plenty to cover the payments."

"I still need to do more digging to find out
exactly what's going on, but according to the bank there haven't
been sufficient funds to make the payments. They said they sent out
notices."

"I must have missed them," her dad said,
sounding shell-shocked.

Sadie gave herself a mental kick for not
looking into the ranch's books sooner. But when she'd come home
after the heart attack, both Pete and June had assured her that the
business side was running smoothly. Other than writing the
occasional check to a vendor or making a deposit, there was nothing
she needed to do but focus on helping Jim get healthy.

"I have plenty of cash in my savings to cover
the payments we've missed," she said with a sigh. "But I can't keep
paying indefinitely."

Not unless she wanted to pour all of her hard
earned income into the ranch.

She left her father with a pat on the knee,
offering as much reassurance as she could. Then she went up to his
office to gather up all the paperwork and documentation she could
to try to figure out where the ranch finances had gotten so off
track.

And if there was any possible way to fix
it.

Several hours later, after sifting through
piles of bank records, tax bills, and invoices that may or may not
have been paid to the ranch, she was forced to admit defeat.

She called Molly, the only person she could
think of who might be able to untangle this mess of accounting. She
wrote down all of the additional forms and documentation Molly told
her to request from the banks and the vendors, emailed what she
could, and boxed up the rest to drop off in the morning.

By the time June called her down to supper,
she had a headache building at the base of her skull and the knot
in her stomach diminished her appetite for June's cooking even more
than usual.

She was surprised but oddly relieved to run
into Dylan on the way to the dining room.

"June cornered me," he said at Sadie's
expression. "Wouldn't let me say no."

Sadie offered a feeble smile.

"Everything okay?" He caught her arm. The
warm touch, combined with the warm concern in his eyes made her
want to fall against his chest and not let go.

"Not really," she said and turned and walked
into the dining room.

Once everyone was seated, Sadie said, "I'm
afraid we have some serious business matters to discuss."

Her father immediately protested. "I don't
see why we need to air the dirty laundry in front of the help."

"Help?" Sadie said recoiling. "Pete is your
best friend and has been your partner since the beginning, and June
has been here so long she's outlasted two wives. That makes her
family in my book. And Dylan," she said, her gaze drifting over
him.

His expression was wary, his shoulders stiff,
as if he was wondering if he shouldn't bolt while he had the
chance.

Oddly, just looking at him made her relax a
bit. "Dylan has offered to help us out for no other reason than
that he wants to. And right now, we need all the help we can
get."

She proceeded to explain the financial mess
they now found themselves in.

"That makes no sense," Pete protested. "We
got twice as much for the yearlings as last year. And with our
projected stud fees there's no way we could be in the red."

"I don't know either," Sadie replied. "I'm
sending everything over to Molly Tanner—she's got an accounting
degree and does all the bookkeeping for the restaurant and Damon's
other businesses. It's going to take her a while to pull everything
together. In the meantime, June, I'm going to need you to watch all
of the household expenses. Pete, I haven't kept up on the horses. I
know we have our regular buyers, but unless they step up and
commit, we'll have to start taking some calls from new
clients."

Jim and Pete grumbled while Sadie bit her
tongue. She understood that a lot of their business was built on
relationships. There were folks who'd been buying stock from
Thorntons’ for generations. Based on handshake deals and the faith
that the sales would go through eventually. Until now, they'd been
able to operate exclusively that way, keeping their circle small
and not having to deal with too many so-called outsiders.

"And on that same vein, Pete, you're going to
have to tell Belkin that the Bar 12 has dibs on our hay."

"I don't know who you think you are, missy,
coming in here, telling us how we're going to run things," Pete
spat out.

Sadie slammed her hand down on the table.
"I'm the girl who just spent twenty thousand dollars to cover the
missed loan payments, the one who totally uprooted her life so I
could come help out while Dad recovered."

Pete's lips clamped closed. He didn't say
anything, but at least he had the decency to look ashamed.

"When do we need it done?" Dylan spoke for
the first time.

"Three weeks," Sadie said.

"We'll get it done."

For the first time since this whole mess had
blown up her face, she felt a slight tingle of hope.

She, Pete, and Dylan sketched out a game plan
and division of responsibilities.

"What am I, chopped liver?" Jim protested as
they talked around him.

"Your doctor said you shouldn't have any more
stress," June said gently.

"To hell with what my doctor says. You think
I'm going to have any less stress, sitting on my duff all day,
doing nothing to help clean up the mess I made?"