Sherryl Woods - Courting the Enemy

“Calling a truce with you is a risk,” she said candidly. “You tend to take advantage every chance you get.”

“I’m highly motivated. Is there anything wrong with that?”

“I suppose that depends on your motivation and your goal.”

“You know mine. I’ve laid all my cards on the table. What about you? What motivates you?” He noticed that the travel brochures had been gathered up and tossed into a basket on the counter. “Dreams of faraway places?”

“Dreams can be a motivation,” she conceded, though it wasn’t a direct answer to his question. Her gaze met his. “Or merely a fantasy.”

“Which are they for you?”

“Fantasy at the moment, nothing more.”

She was fibbing, he decided, noting that the brochure for London was already dog-eared from handling.

“If you could go anywhere in the world you wanted, where would you choose?”

“ London,” she said at once, then seemed to regret it. “Any particular reason?”

“Lots of them, but I’m sure you’d find then all boring.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

She hesitated, then shrugged as if to concede his point. “I studied literature the one year I went away to college. I love Jane Austen and Charles Dickens and Thackery. I love Shakespeare’s sonnets. And for me, London is permeated with the spirit of all the great British authors. Some of them are even buried in Westminster Abbey.”

“You’re a romantic,” Grady concluded.

“You say that as if it’s a crime.”

“No, just a surprise. Romantics don’t always do well in the real world. Ranching can be a hard life. There’s very little romantic about it.”

She gave him a pitying look. “Then you’ve been doing it with the wrong person. I found my share of romance right here.”

“Is that why you don’t want to leave? Nostalgia?”

“You already know why I won’t sell this ranch-at least not to you.”

Rather than heading down that particular dead-end road again right now, Grady concentrated on his meal for a moment. “You’re a fine cook,” he said as he ate the last bite of meat loaf on his plate.

“Thank you.”

“You’ll have to let me return the favor sometime. Not that I’ll cook, but I’d be happy to take you out for supper.”

“I don’t think so, but thank you for offering.”

That stiff, polite tone was back in her voice. Grady couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to see her defenses slip, to hear her laugh.

Whether that ever happened or not wasn’t important, he chided himself. He only needed her to trust him just a little, to persuade her that she wasn’t cut out for the life of a rancher. And then to coax her into selling this land to him and not someone else.

He shoved his chair back and stood up. “Thanks for the meal. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She seemed startled. “No angling for dessert?”

“Not tonight,” he said, then hesitated. “Unless you’ve got an apple pie warming in the oven.”

She shook her head, amusement brightening her eyes. “No, just more oatmeal cookies.”

He considered that but concluded, good as they were, he didn’t dare risk staying. Sitting here with lovely Karen Hanson in her kitchen was entirely too cozy.

“I wouldn’t mind taking one or two along for the drive,” he said.

“After my cookies, then, and not my company? Should I be insulted?” she asked, but she put a few into a bag for him.

“I’ll leave that to you,” he said, giving her a wink that clearly disconcerted her. “See you in the morning.”

“Yes,” she said with what sounded like resignation. “I imagine you will.”

Grady closed the door quietly, then stood on the other side feeling a bit disconcerted himself. He was already looking forward to morning, and that wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all, because he knew that this time it had less to do with the land and more to do with the woman who was keeping it from him. And that hadn’t been part of his plan at all.

Karen woke before dawn, did the necessary chores, left a note in the barn for Pete and Dooley and hightailed it away from the ranch. She headed straight for Winding River, though she didn’t have a specific destination in mind.

Okay, so what if she was running away? She had a right to, didn’t she? Her home wasn’t her own anymore, not with Grady evidently intending to pop up like a stubborn weed every time she turned around.

Sitting across the kitchen table from him the night before had rattled her more than she liked. Other than inflicting his presence on her in the sneakiest way possible, he hadn’t been the least bit pushy. The subject of the ranch had hardly arisen at all.

Instead, he had been attentive and lighthearted. The conversation had been intelligent. All in all, he had been very good company. He’d flattered her some, reminding her that it was nice to receive a compliment from a man every now and again.

Just not from this man, she scolded herself. Nothing out of Grady’s mouth could be trusted. It was all a means to an end, and that end was taking the Hanson ranch away from her, whether he actually mentioned his desire to buy the place or not.

Funny, that was how she thought of the ranch, not so much as her own but as still belonging to the Hansons, with her merely its guardian. These days the duty was weighing heavily on her shoulders.

A pale, shimmery sun was trying to sneak over the horizon as she drove onto Main Street in Winding River and headed straight for Stella’s. Not only would the coffee be hot, but Cassie was likely to be working. Cole had chafed at her decision to stay on after the wedding, but Cassie had been insistent. In Karen’s opinion, even now, with things between Cassie and Cole improving and Jake thrilled to be living with his long-lost dad, her old friend didn’t trust that the marriage was going to last. Cassie wanted the security of her own money and a familiar job. Since Cole worked at home, he was there when nine-year-old Jake got home each day, but even if he hadn’t been, Cassie would have found a way to remain independent.

“My gracious, you must have been up with the birds,” Stella greeted her when Karen walked through the door.

“Before most of them,” Karen said.

“Something on your mind?” the woman asked as she poured coffee and set the cup in front of her. “Won’t be anybody else in here for a few minutes yet. I could listen.”

Karen hesitated, then nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Stella sat down across from her. She had known all five of the Calamity Janes since they were in grade school, which was when she’d first opened the restaurant. With her ready smile, huge heart and nonjudgmental demeanor, Stella had been mother and friend and mentor to all of them at one time or another. She was playing the same role for another generation now.

“Okay, what is it?” Stella probed. “You still grieving over Caleb?”

“Yes, of course,” Karen said a little too hastily, as if she had something to prove. “He’s only been gone a little over half a year.”

Stella’s gaze narrowed. “The way you said that, all defensive when I just asked a simple question…it’s another man, isn’t it? You’re attracted to someone and you’re feeling guilty?”

“No,” Karen denied heatedly, then flinched under Stella’s steady gaze. “Okay, maybe. It’s just that there’s this man who wants the ranch. He’s been pestering me.”

“Grady Blackhawk,” Stella said at once. “I’ve heard all about it.”

“From Cassie, I imagine.”

“From her and from Grady himself. He comes in here from time to time.”

Karen thought of their conversation the night before. “For the meat loaf?”