Forever After (Montana Brides) (27 page)

Her breath caught when she saw the view Sam had been talking about. Wild flowers grew everywhere, dipping and diving between clumps of tall pine and aspen trees. In the distance, sunlight glittered off a river, winding its way across the ranch.
 

“This is amazing. I can’t believe someone hasn’t bought the property before now. How long has it been for sale?”

Sam stood beside her, breathing in fresh mountain air. “It only came on the market a few days ago.” He looked down at her. “The building isn’t worth much, so we’ll probably get a salvage crew in to strip the house bare. The bulldozer will demolish what’s left. There’s fifty acres in this parcel of land, with another thirty up for grabs at the right price.”

Nicky’s glare was as sharp as a laser beam. “Shame on you, Samuel Delaney. This house is part of our history. You can’t tear it down. It must have been built over a hundred years ago.”

“One hundred and five to be exact. And it looks like it. No one’s lived here for the past twenty years.”

Nicky headed toward the front of the house, determined to look inside before Sam called the demolition team.

“I’ve got a key,” he said. “But I wouldn’t suggest going inside. The whole thing will probably fall down around your head.”
 

Nicky carefully padded up the wooden steps, testing each plank before taking another step. The verandah creaked under her feet like old bones moving for the first time in years. “You should know me better than that. I’ve remodeled four houses so far. A leaky roof and a few rotten boards haven’t managed to scare me yet. Open up, maestro.”

Sam pulled the key out of his back pocket, trying to miss the worst of the rotten wood under his feet. He jiggled the lock and pushed the front door open. “After you,” he grinned.

“Chicken. You just want a soft place to fall when you go through a floorboard.”

“No.” He laughed. “I want to hear your first impressions of this rat infested barn.”

Nicky shook her head. For such a big hotshot in the construction industry, Sam had absolutely no appreciation of the unpolished jewel they were standing in. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw were the board and batten ceilings, then the nine foot high walls, and then the wooden floors. She nearly wept for joy.
 

Shuffling forward, she tried to gauge how bad the floors actually were. She bounced on the balls of her feet, happy not to end up on her bottom, staring at Sam’s I-told-you-so expression.
 

“What on earth are you doing?” Sam laughed. He hadn’t moved from the open doorway.
 

“I’m checking to see if the floor will take my weight.” Nicky wandered along the central hallway and stepped into the living room. A few rays of afternoon sun snuck past the dirt and mud caked windows, shooting darts of light across the room. Dust mites danced in the air, and Nicky fell in love. “How much do the owners want for the property?”

Sam’s shoes echoed on the wooden floor. “That would depend on why you want to know.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching her face very carefully.

The man could sniff a competitor a mile away. She’d have to play it cool, then try and outbid his company’s offer with the realtor. “Come on,” Nicky grinned. “It can’t be commercially sensitive information to ask what they want for it.” She drew the line at blatant sexual undertones to wheedle information out of him. But if he was determined to play hardball and keep the information to himself, then she could be just as devious.

Sam named a figure that started financial cogs spinning in her brain. She didn’t need to be devious. She needed to be careful.
 

If she could secure a whopping big mortgage from the bank, she could afford it. Just. Moving through the house, she ignored Sam’s warning about collapsing walls. She walked from room to room with the determination of a woman who had more on her mind than demolition.
 

Nicky started working out what needed to be done to make the house livable, then realized she’d be better off trying to find something that didn’t need to be done. There wasn’t much.

She’d already decided to convert one of the storage rooms into a second bathroom, and if she added a set of French doors off the master bedroom, she could have her breakfast under her new verandah.

“What do you think?” Sam followed her into the kitchen.
 

Someone had modernized the counters in the fifties. And they were still there. “I’m going to be honest with you, Sam.” She wasn’t going to be careful. She couldn’t be. Excitement zipped around her body, heating her cheeks and putting a huge smile on her face.
 

He raised his eyebrows. “Please do.”

“I’m really tempted to leave now and head straight to the realtor’s office. I want to put an offer on the property.”

The scowl on Sam’s face didn’t impress her. He stuck both hands in his trouser pockets and rocked on the soles of his shoes. He had his back to the only door out of the room, and he didn’t look as though he was going anywhere, anytime soon.
 

There was no way Nicky would let him build a retirement village on this piece of land. She didn’t care how beautiful the architects could make it, or how well the construction crew would bang it together. She was going to buy this ranch whether Sam wanted her to or not. “You can’t demolish the house. It’s a little bit tatty around the edges at the moment…” Okay, so that was the understatement of the year, but he didn’t need to look quite so stunned, “…and even if the bones of the house are infested with rodents, it’s got character by the bucket loads.”
 

When he didn’t say anything, she continued, “I want to live here, Sam. I know I’m going to be throwing a lot of money into the remodel. But I’ll never lose financially when I’m ready to sell.”

He stopped rocking. Moving half a step to the right, he leaned against the red Formica counter. His legs were still dangerously close to the door. “You’re preaching to the converted as far as resale goes. We’ve already looked into the capital growth and it’s bigger than most of the developments we’ve done.”

Nicky tapped her foot. He wasn’t getting the house, the land, or anything else, and that was all there was to it.
 

Sam moved toward her, hooking his arms over her shoulders. “You can’t have the house. I’ve got other plans for it.”

She ground her teeth together. Sam didn’t seem to have any aversion to using
his
body heat as a diversionary tactic. But she was determined. This would be her home. “I don’t care about your plans. It’s mine.”

“No it’s not.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pushing every scrap of seductiveness she could manage into a coy smile. “Want to wrestle for it?”

Sam laughed, pulling her close in a hug that left her gasping for breath. Maybe he was trying to eliminate the competition by suffocation? But hot damn, what a way to go.
 

She allowed herself a moment of snuggle time before she got her brain back on track. “This is a heritage home. It deserves more than a salvage team and a bulldozer. It needs a family to love and care for it.” She tried dredging up a misty tear or two, but nothing happened.

 
“You might want to carry an onion in your pocket next time.” Sam grinned. “They’ll make your baby blues stream in two seconds flat.”

Nicky scowled.

Sam laughed even harder. “What if we could work out some kind of compromise?”

“There is no compromise. The house would probably fall apart if you tried moving it somewhere else.”

“I wasn’t thinking about moving the house. I was thinking more in terms of going half each in the purchase price.”

“Are you mad?” Nicky gagged. “I will not pay half and then be hemmed in by a massive retirement village smack in the middle of my front window. It’s all or nothing, Sam.”

“Exactly.”

Nicky’s mouth dropped open. “Does that mean the house is mine?” She couldn’t believe it had been so easy. She’d expected him to put up more of a fight.
 

“No.”

Her heart sank. “You can’t seriously want to build around the house?” A nasty suspicion crept into her mind, “And you’re not adding an extension. This is my house!”

Sam winced. “You just stomped your heel on my foot, woman.” He stepped back, limping around the room. “I think you’ve amputated one of my toes with those torture racks you’ve got strapped to your feet.”

Nicky glared at him, suspicious of any moves he might make to gain her sympathy. “Don’t you torture rack me, Sam Delaney. Tell me what you meant by going halves, or so help me, your other foot will be on the chopping block.”

“I’ve got the plans in my truck. Come outside and I’ll show you.” He hobbled out the door, flicking cobwebs off the doorframe on his way through.

Nicky watched him leave, frowning at his back. “Hey, mister. I stomped on your right foot, not your left.”

Sam grinned back at her. “It’s called sympathy pain. And if you don’t hurry up I’m leaving without you. And guess who’ll get to town first.”

Nicky took another quick look around the kitchen, visualizing the white cabinets and black granite counter she’d have custom made. If she had to chain herself to the verandah to keep the demolition crew away, she would. By the time she made it outside, Sam was already standing beside his truck, staring at a pile of paper in his hands.
 

“About time you turned up,” he grumbled.

“I can’t wait to see what harebrained scheme you’ve been working on.”

Reaching into the cab, he pulled out a piece of wood painted a crisp shade of white. “You have to hold this first.”
 

Nicky waved it in the air. “I agree that the fence needs replacing, but you’re going to need more than one picket. And it’s going to be
my
fence to replace,” she scowled.

“Watch where you’re waving that thing.” He took a step back, handing her a stapled bunch of papers.

“What’s this?” she said sweetly. “A bill for your finder’s fee?”

“Better than that.”
 

Nicky glanced at Sam, and then looked down at the papers. “A sale and purchase agreement?” You mean you’ve already bought the house?” Nicky could have wept. In her imagination she’d already redecorated most of the house in chintz fabric, ornate mirrors and beautiful chandeliers.
 
The French country theme she’d chosen suited the house to perfection. Suited her home to perfection.
 

Sam had just put a bulldozer through France and any other design ideas she had. “You should have told me sooner,” she said quietly.

He cleared his throat. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
 

Nicky handed him back the papers and the picket fencepost. “I can’t see why you want to go halves in the property if you’ve already bought it.” She bit her bottom lip, chewing on another possibility whizzing around her head. “Unless you’re willing to sell it to me?”

Sam growled. “No. I’m not willing to sell it to you.” He threw the picket into the truck. “Too much loving makes your brain cells go numb.”

“Well, that’s just charming!” Nicky huffed. “You pull me out here to wander over my dream property, and then you tell me you’ve already bought it.” Nicky’s leg twitched. She had an almost overwhelming urge to stomp on Sam’s other foot. “To make matters worse, you’re going to demolish it and build a retirement village on this beautiful site.
And
you want me to pay half. You’re nuts! It’s not my brain cells that need defrosting, it’s yours.”

“You didn’t read the papers very well.”
 

“What are you talking about?”
 

Sam shoved the contract under her nose. “Read this…and before you throw yourself in my arms and promise me your everlasting love, I want to let you know that I refuse to have any shade of pink in our bedroom.”

Nicky grabbed the forms, frowning at the demented idiot standing in front of her. “What’s this?” She pointed at the owners names. “You’ve stuck my name on here without even asking me if I want to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on the property. That’s illegal!”

Sam smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead. “Someone better save me, otherwise I’m never going to last past our first wedding anniversary.”

Nicky’s hand started to shake and her knees felt like wobbly marshmallow. “Wedding anniversary?” She didn’t need the onions now. Her eyes misted over so darn fast that she had to blink a few times to see the hesitant grin sliding across Sam’s face.

“If you’ll have me,” he said gently.

Nicky dropped the contract. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking?”

Sam bent down on one knee, taking her hand in his. “Nicky Scotson, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Nicky stared down at him, a bubble of laughter fizzing through her body. “Does the offer come with this house, or a retirement village?” she teased.

Hauling himself to his feet, Sam wrapped her in his arms. “I never intended building a retirement village out here. I want this to be our home.”

Their home. A home for their friends and family to visit. A home where they could raise their children. She breathed in the spicy scent of Sam’s aftershave, rubbing her face against his shirt. “Very sneaky, Mr. Delaney. You mean you put me through all that stress for nothing?”

“Yep. Now answer my question.”

Nicky grinned into his shirt. “But what my business? It’s a long commute to Denver.”

“We can make it work. If you don’t want to move back to Bozeman right away, I’ll look for another job closer to Denver. In the meantime we can remodel the house and lease the pasture to a neighbor.”

Nicky hugged him tight.

“Well?” Sam’s voice rumbled against her cheek.
 

“Well what?”
 

He stepped back, holding her shoulders with his hands. “Is that a yes, no or maybe?”

“Yes, I want to marry you.” Nicky laughed. “And yes I want to remodel this house with you. But we’re going to have to negotiate the color. I really like the idea of pink rosebuds on the wallpaper in our bedroom.”