Нора Робертс - Hideaway

“This morning, I was just standing outside for a few minutes. Just looking, and feeling. I’m never going to be that happy being somewhere else, doing something else. I know what I want. I’ll stick, and I’ll get my degree because it’ll only help me be a good steward. That’s what I’m working toward because that’s what I want.”

Julia sat back. “Your dad loved this ranch, and he would’ve given it all he could. But it never had his full heart like it had mine. And like it has yours. So okay.”

When she rose, walked out of the room, Dillon frowned after her. “Is that it?”

“No.” Maggie studied him. “That was some smart talking, my boy. She knows, and so do I, that came from the heart. When you left for college, your ‘I want the ranch’ talk was more a knee-jerk thing, more a stubborn thing.”

“I want it more now than I wanted it then.”

“That’s right.” She poked a finger into his shoulder. “Because a couple women bullied you into college.” She smiled as Julia came back in. “Now here’s a reward for not being too much of an asshole about it.”

Sitting, Julia laid a roll of paper on the table. “When you graduate, you’ll be over twenty, and a man of that age shouldn’t live in the house with his mother and grandmother. He should have some privacy, some independence.”

“And he shouldn’t have to tell the girl he hopes to get in his bed he lives with his mom,” Maggie put in.

“So, what, you’re kicking me out?”

“In a manner of speaking. We all work the ranch, we all live on the ranch, but…” Julia unrolled the paper. “We talked options to death and back again, and this is what we think is the best.”

Dillon studied the sketches—obviously professionally done, as he could see the architect’s stamp on the corner. He recognized the stables, but the drawing showed an addition on the far side.

“It’s a nice little house,” she explained. “Far enough away from the main house for privacy, but close enough to, well, come home. You can see from the potential floor plan, it’s got two bedrooms, two baths, a living room, a kitchen, a laundry.”

“Bachelor pad,” Maggie said with a wink.

“Good windows, a little front porch. This is preliminary, so we can make changes.”

“It’s great. It’s … I never expected— You don’t have to—”

“We do. You need your own place, Dillon. I’m glad it’ll be here, I’m glad you want it to be, but you need your own. And when you start a family, when in the far, far distant future, you make me a grandmother, we’ll switch. Gram and I take the little house, you take this one. You want the ranch. I believe you. This is what Gram and I want, for all of us.”

He felt what he’d felt standing outside before breakfast. Completely happy. “Do I still get to come to breakfast?”

Marking this as the best Christmas ever, Dillon headed out with the intention of saddling Comet, riding fence. He’d head into town later, meet his friends for pizza, catch up.

He pulled out his phone as he walked, read the incoming text. Imogene.

Crap, crap, he’d forgotten to text her, and tried to think of a good response while the dogs worked hard to herd him back to the house.

Miss you 2. Sorry my mom called a family meeting & I just got out. What else? he wondered. He had to think of something else. Bet it’s warm in San Diego. If ur hanging at the pool, send me a picture. Don’t have too much fun w/o me.

He sent it, hoped it was enough. Seconds later, his phone signaled again. With a selfie of Imogene, all that California blond hair, those big brown eyes, and that … Jesus, that body in a really, really tiny bikini.

Don’t u wish u were here?

Man.

Sorry, did u say something? I think I passed out for a second. Guess u know who and what I’ll b thinking about all day. Talk soon gotta work.

He studied the photo again, let out a little groan. She’d put on that pouty look on purpose because she knew it killed him.

But when he tried to picture her there, right there with him, even with the amazing visual aid, he couldn’t.

The dogs went on alert seconds before he heard the sound of a car coming up the ranch road.

He stuffed the phone back in his pocket, tipped back his hat, and waited.

He recognized one of the cars Hugh kept at Sullivan’s Rest, the fancy SUV, and grinning, delighted, whistled the dogs back. To keep them occupied, he tossed the ball high and long in the opposite direction.

But when he turned back, it wasn’t Hugh or Lily getting out of the car.

She carried an armload of red lilies. The wind caught at her hair, raven black, and tossed it back from her face. He’d never really understood what they meant when they said stuff like classic beauty, or good bones.

But he knew it when he saw it. Especially when she pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and those blue eyes—like laser fire—met his. Then her lips curved—really, really, really pretty lips—and she started forward.

The dogs charged, crazed, barking.

“They don’t—”

Before he could add bite , she’d crouched down, angling the lilies away to try to pet both of them one-handed.

“I know who you are.” She laughed, rubbed bellies. “I’ve heard all about you. Gambit and Jubilee.”

She looked up at Dillon, still laughing. “I’m Cate.”

He knew, sure he knew, even though she didn’t look much like the funny weirdo she’d played in the movie he’d seen the month before. Or like the pictures all over the internet.

She looked, well, happy and, well, hot. Really hot.

“I’m Dillon.”

“My hero,” she said in a way that made his heart jitter around in his chest like his drunken roommate.

She straightened up, apparently not worried about how the dogs got mud all over her really sexy boots—the kind that went straight up to the thighs of long legs in tight jeans.

“It’s been awhile,” she continued because apparently he could no longer form a coherent sentence. “I haven’t been back until now.”

She pushed at her hair, looked around. “Oh, it’s so beautiful. I never actually saw it … then. How do you get anything done?”

“It’s … it’s all right there when you finish.”

“I’d half forgotten the views from my grandfather’s house, and how they pull. I spent a lot of yesterday just looking again. But today the house is full of people, and I just wanted to get out. And I wanted to come by and thank you all again, in person. I email with your mother now and then.”

“Yeah, she said.”

“I— Is she home?”

“What? Yeah. Sorry. Come on in.” He dug around for rational conversation on the way. “You lost the blue. In your hair,” he added when she gave him a blank look.

“Right. Back to normal.”

“I liked the movie. You don’t sound like you did in it.”

“Well, that was Jute. I’m Cate.”

“Right.” He pulled a blue bandanna out of his back pocket when they reached the porch. “Let me get that. The dogs messed up your boots.”

She said nothing as he hunkered down, swiped the mud off the tops of her boots. It gave him a moment to gather himself.

“So you’re here for Christmas?”

“Yes. All of us. A horde of Sullivans.”

She stepped in when he opened the door.

Their tree stood in the front window, presents piled beneath, a star on top. The air smelled of pine and woodsmoke, of dogs and cookies.

“Why don’t you sit down? I’ll find the rest of us.”

The dogs went with him, as if attached by invisible leashes. And she had a moment to breathe out.