When Dreams Collide (4 page)

Forget about Dusty, she silently chastised herself while punching the button to summon the elevator. She’d find out what he had in mind at ten-thirty tomorrow morning.

Chapter 3

Susan leaned back in her executive chair, elbows parked on the arms, and fingers tented. The soothing earth-toned decor in her office usually kept her grounded, but the three inch heel on her strappy white sandal tapped a steady beat on the clear carpet protector underneath her chair. Her desk was littered with files, but she couldn’t concentrate on a single thing except her imminent appointment with Dusty MacFarland.

What possible reason would Dusty have to meet with me today, she asked herself for the hundredth time. Business meetings never rattled her, but for some reason she felt as nervous as a virgin bride on her wedding night. She was being ridiculous.

“Never mix business and friendships,” she chanted the mantra aloud. But she didn’t consider Dusty a close friend. She’d only met him two days ago.

She glanced at the wall clock hanging beside the coat tree. Twenty minutes after ten. She stood and peeked through the louvered blinds on her office window. Dusty sat cooling his heels in one of the chunky tweed-upholstered customer chairs out front.

“He’s prompt, if nothing else,” she observed.

Susan watched Dusty through the slatted window covering. Jeremy Branigan looked the typical Hollywood-handsome leading man, whereas Dusty appeared ruggedly handsome. She recalled the old Marlborough man magazine ads she’d seen as a teenager, before tobacco became a four-letter word and the ads were discontinued.

“Dusty, you would have made an excellent Marlborough man,” she declared aloud, smiling to herself.

The cowboy seemed to be a no-nonsense, get-the-job-done, reliable type of guy. He’d certainly taken matters into his own hands and rescued her on Saturday afternoon when her ring held her captive in the cloakroom.

Steeling herself for the worst, hoping for the best, she exited her office and strode out to the customer waiting area.

“Good morning, Mr. MacFarland.” Susan extended her hand.

Dusty leapt to his feet, whipped the now familiar pale gray Stetson off his head, and shook her hand. “Good morning, Ms. Sanders.”

“Would you like a cup of coffee while we talk?” Susan was surprised by his cheerful greeting, and his broad smile suggested the mysterious matter wasn’t troubling him in the least.

How bad could it be?

*

Dusty grimaced. He should have wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans before shaking Susan Sanders’ hand. He felt like a pubescent teenager, talking to the prettiest girl in school. Get a grip, MacFarland, he silently ordered himself. You’re here on time, you’re looking presentable in the new western duds, and you remembered to remove your hat before shaking her hand.

What could go wrong?

Plenty.

For starters, she could say no and toss him out on his ear.

Dusty smiled. “No thank you to the coffee, ma’am, but thank you very much for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”

The curvaceous body that drove him to distraction yesterday was dressed in a taupe pantsuit with a silky cream top peeking out from underneath. Good quality, professional, sensible clothes. Like the woman wearing them. He visualized the lacy panties hidden under those suit trousers. Cream? White? Pink again? He recalled her lustrous blond hair upswept in a stunning style for the wedding. Today, a single braid hung down her back.

“All right, follow me, please.” She smiled and headed down the hallway.

His thoughts wandered while he followed Susan into her office, admiring her south side heading north. What was the worst that could happen? She’d show him the door with an I-don’t-have-time-for-this-nonsense admonishment.

“Please have a seat.” Susan pointed to the two upholstered chairs across from her desk.

Dusty lowered himself into the closest chair, realizing he’d do damn near anything she asked of him. He really wanted this project to succeed, and he certainly wasn’t dealing with any bankers back in Texas where he’d grown up.

The summer he turned ten he was legally adopted by a son-of-a-bitch, shit-for-brains father and a lovely church-going mother. His new Pa saw him as free ranch labor; his Ma loved him with all her heart. He’d loosened the noose of abuse his father fastened around his neck years ago, but sadly, the last maternal apron string was severed only recently.

Susan picked up her phone when it rang and spoke briefly to the person on the other end. Once the call was finished, she picked up the receiver again and instructed her assistant to hold her calls.

Dusty shifted in his chair, set his Stetson on the seat of the other customer chair. When he’d first laid eyes on Susan with her skirt up around her waist in the hotel cloakroom, he hadn’t realized she was the talented banker he’d inquired about. Her internet picture didn’t do her justice. Mr. Stevens, the lawyer who’d handled his recently deceased ma’s investments, had assured him that Ms. Sanders was exceptionally competent at her job and would meet his requirements nicely. He smiled to himself. After meeting her in that cloakroom, he’d imagined her handling numerous requirements. Most of them had nothing to do with his project, and everything to do with his body.

Susan leaned her arms on the desktop. “So, what did you want to discuss with me?”

Dusty wondered if he looked as nervous as he felt. “I’m buying a ranch, and I’d like your help,” he stated.

Susan leaned back in her chair as if she’d gotten a whiff of something odorous.

“Perhaps I should have worked my way up to that. You appear shocked.” Dusty squirmed in his chair. Surely, he hadn’t blown his chance already. He hadn’t been in her office for five minutes. “What I meant to say...”

“Do you know what a ranch would cost?” blurted Susan. “Even a small ranch could run you a half million dollars. Is this a joke? Did Amanda put you up to this?”

“No, ma’am.” Dusty shifted in his chair again. “I’m fully aware of the price of land in Montana. I’ve been checking online, and I found a couple properties that might have worked, but they were located too far south of here.”

Susan gaped. “You’re serious!”

“Yes, ma’am. But I bet you assume I’ve only got a couple nickels to rub together the day before payday. You consider me nothing more than a ranch foreman with less ambition than a horny rooster in a henhouse.” He felt his face redden when he realized what he’d blurted out.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you...” began Susan.

Dusty held up his hand, stopping her mid-sentence. “I apologize for my off-color remark. Actually, if the adoption gods hadn’t chosen the parents for me that they did, or the lottery gods hadn’t shone on me with a two hundred thousand dollar win ten years ago, you would be absolutely right in your assumption.”

Susan’s mouth dropped open.

“I’ve shocked you again.” Dusty flopped against the chair back. “I’m not doing a very good job of explaining myself.”

“How much?” inquired Susan.

“How much explaining will I have to...?”

Susan shook her head. “How much money do you actually have available as a down payment on a ranch? I assume you’re here in hopes of arranging a mortgage on the balance of the purchase price.”

“Well, I won that lottery and promptly blew five grand in Vegas on a weekend runaway with Jeremy and David. But I’ve kept the remaining funds a secret and invested it wisely. It’s grown to a tidy sum over the years. Last time I checked the balance was approximately three hundred forty-five thousand.”

“That’s wonderful and it sounds about right, Dusty. Nice investment. And if you’re only considering a very small ranch, you wouldn’t require a mortgage. I’m not certain you would qualify anyway without a definite source of income.”

“Well, I’m also expecting an inheritance check from my mother any day now. But I’d like to start the paperwork to see if I qualify for a mortgage, just in case.”

“Sure I can take an application and go from there. You mentioned an inheritance check?”

“Dad died a few years ago, and Ma passed recently. The lawyers informed me that I’d be receiving a substantial inheritance, in cash. I haven’t a clue what ‘a substantial inheritance’ translates into moneywise, but I’m hoping for another hundred thousand, maybe two.”

“My sympathies to you. Losing your mother would be difficult, even for a grown son.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, not meeting her eyes.

“So you expect a hundred thousand dollars,” she said, all business again.

“Well, I don’t rightly know what to expect.” Dusty shrugged his shoulders, wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’m just waiting until I see the money in my hand.” He crossed his legs and grasped one of his well-used cowboy boots with his hand. Right now, those boots were the only comfortable thing in his world. “As I was her only child, she left me everything. I’m going to open an account at your branch and have all my money moved into it.  I’ll advise the lawyers of the account number in case they suggest depositing the money directly into my bank account. The attorney will be releasing the funds soon, but he’s already given me a hand-written note from Ma. She knew she didn’t have much time. The last sentence in that note read,
Follow your dreams and make your mark on the world, son
.”

Dusty leaned back in his chair, took a moment to wrangle his emotions back under control. “Anyway, my inheritance should arrive any day now, and I’ve liquidated my invested lottery win. I turned thirty-eight this year, and it is damn time I follow Ma’s advice and pursue my dream. I’ve got to admit, I’ve always been jealous of Jeremy and his bucking horse operation. I cannot ride herd over those smelly Branigan cattle one more year, or I’ll eat my saddle.”

“Cattle aren’t so bad, are they?” Susan frowned. “Lots of cattle ranches in the country.”

Dusty scoffed. “You probably think you milk a cow by pumping its tail up and down.”

“Of course, and everybody knows chocolate milk comes from the brown cows and white milk from the white cows, right?” She laughed, shook her head, and then met his eyes. “Okay, with cattle prices the way they are, you’re probably wise. No cattle, just horses. You should have sufficient down payment to buy you a nice ranch with the balance mortgaged. If you can qualify. So, other than arranging the mortgage, is there anything else I can do to help?”

“Actually, there is. You know the Helena area. I require a reputable and knowledgeable realtor to lead me to the ideal property.” Dusty scratched his head. “And then I need to find contractors and trades people for renovations, suppliers for feed and equipment, potential employees...”

Susan laughed. “Okay, one step at a time. Have you prepared a business plan?”

“Actually, I’m collaborating on one with a buddy I met online. He was a director of a multi-million dollar corporation. Recently retired, underfoot all day driving his wife nuts. She volunteers with a local horse rescue outfit, and she insisted he help me for free just to keep him out of her hair. I intend to offer my facility as a temporary shelter for her rescue horses if other facilities are maxed out for space.”

“The contacts people make on the internet these days boggles the mind.” Susan shook her head. “I admit I thought you were just a good-looking ranch foreman, probably with no particular ambition. But I’m convinced you know what you want, you know what’s required, and you’re willing to work hard to make it happen. So, let’s start the paperwork to qualify you for a mortgage.”

“Holy, hot, damn! Can you recommend an honest realtor? Someone who can locate the ideal property with a house, a couple of barns and corrals? Of course, I can build whatever is required. But I should reserve some of my money, a sufficient operating fund as a backup until the revenue starts flowing in.” Dusty slid forward in his chair, rested his arms on her desk. “I’ve got to let the Branigan clan in on my plans to give them time to hire a new foreman, but I’d like to have my own ranch up and running as soon as possible.”

“Don’t rush out and purchase any horses today. This whole process takes time.” Susan stood and extended her hand. “But I know the ideal realtor. If it’s for sale out there, Graham will have heard about it.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Dusty leapt to his feet, shook Susan’s hand with renewed enthusiasm, and grabbed his Stetson off the seat. “Why don’t you come along?”

“Dusty, I didn’t intend to accompany you to the realtor’s office or view properties. Once you find a property the bank will send an appraiser out if you qualify for a mortgage. I’ll call Graham’s office, set up a meeting for you, and give you his office address.”

“Oh.” Dusty felt as deflated as a party balloon the day after the shindig. “I’d hoped to spend more time with you, continue getting to know you. I really enjoyed our time together at the wedding.”

“Well, perhaps I could make an exception this once.” Susan dug her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk.

Dusty preceded her out of her office and they retraced the steps to the front entrance. Susan paused at the secretarial desk on their way down the hallway. “Marie, I’ll be out of the office for a few hours. Call or text if anything comes up that can’t wait.” She turned to Dusty. “Let me grab my jacket. I’ll meet you out in the parking lot.”

****

The meeting with the realtor lasted almost two hours, and Susan stayed the entire time. Dusty’s enthusiasm rubbed off on her. If the bank intended to approve a mortgage for Dusty, she should be familiar with the property, she rationalized. Yeah, right. Any excuse would do if it meant spending time with this hunky cowboy.

Graham Smith wrote enough notes to write a novel while interviewing Dusty. He asked dozens of questions about his requirements: the must-have items and the hope-for scenarios. Dusty requested her opinion on several matters, and she attempted to steer him in the right direction. A few times she almost fell out of her chair when Dusty argued about a particular item with the realtor, citing knowledgeable examples and giving informed opinions. She couldn’t have proven the point better herself. Susan realized Dusty had learned quite a lot while working for Arthur Branigan and any other mentors he might have had in his life.