Patricia Johns - Her Stubborn Cowboy

But this was better than her life in the city had been. What with all of her friends having left for other more exciting opportunities and working a job she truly loathed, even if it did pay moderately well, being responsible for something of this magnitude woke her up in a way she’d never experienced before, not even when visiting here. This was going to be hard—really hard—and somehow she knew it could also be worth it.

“So what happened between Andy and his fiancée?” Mackenzie asked. She’d been wondering what the details were ever since Chet had mentioned it when he arrived.

Chet shrugged. “I don’t know too much, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was Andy’s fault.”

Mackenzie chuckled at his bluntness. “What makes you so sure?”

“Ida’s great.” Chet glanced in her direction, one arm out the open window, drumming an absent rhythm on the side of the truck. “She’s good for him. She settles him down and makes him think. Ida isn’t the difficult type. And I know my brother. If there’s friction, it’s not because of Ida.”

The difficult type. Was that what Chet thought of her? And she absolutely could be, especially if he tried to manipulate her out of her ranch. Still, Mackenzie found herself feeling a tiny bit envious. Maybe Andy hadn’t been the right guy for her, but Ida had managed to earn Chet’s respect, and Chet wasn’t easily charmed. Granny had been the same way. She’d been hard to impress, but when she liked someone, that meant something. Perhaps Ida was just a better fit for the family in Chet’s eyes than Mack had been.

Difficult. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

Chet looked grim as he drove, the tall, lanky bulk of him filling up that side of the truck. He smelled like hay and hard work, and she realized there were some issues between the brothers that Chet wasn’t eager to talk about.

“You and Andy always were pitted against each other,” Mackenzie said. She’d meant it as a joke, wanting to defuse the tension, but Chet didn’t even crack a smile.

“We’re just different.” He said the words low enough that she wasn’t entirely sure that they were meant for her. “Look, I should probably warn you. There’s a developer sniffing around, looking for land to buy up.”

“Oh.” Mackenzie raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden declaration. “Granny would have hated that.”

“Yeah.” The tension in his shoulders eased. “It’s not good for Hope. I just wanted you to know so that you could think it through before someone starts trying to sweet-talk you into a sale.”

How much were they offering, exactly? She had to admit she was curious. But the old guilt welled up inside her again. This was Granny’s ranch, and Granny hadn’t left it to her to sell it—of that, she was absolutely certain. Granny had loved this land. She would have known that if she’d left it to Mack’s father, he would have sold it without once setting foot on it again. Maybe that was part of why Granny had willed it to Mackenzie, in a hope that someone would love this place as she had.

Chet brought the truck to a stop in front of the house and put it into Park. “I care about this place. If that developer is successful and manages to buy up land around here, it would change Hope...take away some of the heart here. We’ve got to keep them out.”

“I can see that,” she agreed. She noticed that he hadn’t mentioned her selling to him yet. Maybe he was timing this, gauging her willingness to sell before he made his offer. “Thanks for letting me know.”

They were silent for a couple of beats, and she could tell he was still brooding about something.

“And if you could just be careful around Andy—”

“Careful?” She laughed. “Why?”

“Because he dropped himself on my doorstep last night, whining about the woman who was two months away from marrying him, and I don’t want to give him any ideas. I have every intention of sending him back home to Ida ASAP.”

Mackenzie frowned. What was Chet more worried about—the big developers or his brother’s broken engagement?

“What ideas, exactly?”

“Ideas about you.” The statement was loaded, and after he’d said it, silence and implication stretched between them. Andy was barely single again, and Chet thought she’d swoop in and scoop him up? It was insulting.

“Is that what you think of me?” she demanded.

“Excuse me?”

“You think I’m back here looking for romance?” Anger bubbled up within her. A woman inherited four hundred acres of Montana ranch land, and he thought she’d wander off after Andy Granger? “I’m here to run a ranch, and you and Andy can work out your family issues on your own. You and Ida can rest easy, Chet. I have no intention of selling out to some faceless corporation, and I have no intention of starting up with Andy again, either.”

“That’s good.”

Mackenzie wanted to reach out and smack this man, but instead she shook her head and smiled coldly.

“I think I’ll take care of my own blisters,” she said, hopping out of the truck.

“Wait—you’re mad?” Chet asked incredulously, leaning down and looking out the open truck window at her. “What just happened here?”

Just like a man, Chet had missed everything between the lines, and Mack turned back toward him in anger.

“I’m a grown woman, Chet. I’m college educated, and I’m the sole owner of four hundred acres. I’m no longer seventeen, and while this might shock you, I don’t need a man. I’m also not stupid. So you can stop standing guard and—”

Chet opened the truck door and slammed it shut harder than necessary. He leaned back into the open window and pinned her with an annoyed glare. “I’m not standing guard.”

He stalked around the vehicle and up the back stairs to her house.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

“I’m helping you with those blisters,” he retorted, turning flashing gray eyes onto her. “This is ranching lesson number one—you need people. You can never do this on your own. You’re going to need neighbors and you’re going to need to pitch in to help them, too, because one of these days, you’re going to get the flu, or you’re going to get your tractor stuck in the mud, or you’re going to lose cows through a broken fence... The potential emergencies are pretty much countless. So get off your high horse, get into that house and let me help you sort out your blisters, or tomorrow you’re going to be bleeding through your gloves!”

Mack stared at him, stunned. Without another word, he disappeared into the house, leaving Mackenzie outside. She had two choices—go in there and let him help her, or stomp off to the barn or somewhere and make some elaborate point about her independence. She looked down at her hands—they hurt. A little bit of nursing would be nice, she had to admit, so she blew out a sigh and headed into the house.

Chet seemed to know his way around well enough, his boots thunking against the kitchen floor as he paced about, gathering his supplies. He wrenched open a cupboard above the fridge and pulled out a first-aid kit. So that was where Granny had kept it. Good to know.

“Wash up,” he said and marched down the hall, his footsteps echoing from the bathroom. She did as he told her—not that she wouldn’t have washed her hands, she mentally noted with an eye roll. Then he came back, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in hand. He deposited everything onto the table and pulled out a chair.

“Sit.”

“You’re a bossy one,” she said with a slight smile.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He pointed to the chair. “I said sit.”

Mackenzie gave him an arch look, then complied. He sat in the chair next to her and took her closer hand in his. He pressed his knees together and laid her open hand against the warm valley between them.