Debbi Rawlins - The Swinging R Ranch

Shaking two white tablets out of the bottle into his palm, he contemplated trying to down them without water. A nasty thought. But so was rolling out of bed and trudging all the way across his room to the bathroom.

“You’ve inherited a ranch.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He sank back against the pillows. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks to get me some water.”

“Did you know it’s located in Nevada?”

“Yeah, I even know that’s a state. I checked.”

“Hope you didn’t strain yourself,” she said as she walked toward the bathroom. She returned with a crystal goblet of water and handed it to him. “This is only because I want you alert and concentrating. Now, who in the world is this Lily McIntyre who left you the ranch? Surely not one of the Bennetts. I doubt they’ve ventured west of Boston. Too uncivilized for them.”

He wasn’t offended by her remark. It was true. “Lily’s my great-aunt on my mother’s side.”

“Have I met her?”

“Nope. Neither have I.”

Taylor frowned. “I always thought you had a pretty close family.”

“Ah, but we like to leave the skeletons in the closet.”

Curiosity sparkled in her eyes as she sat at the edge of his bed. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

He grinned, then grimaced. His head still hurt like hell. “Okay, I confess…I don’t know anything about Aunt Lily. But she’s gotta be the family skeleton because everyone has suddenly developed acute hearing and speech losses. Then there’s the fact she was stuck out on some small ranch in the desert.”

“Think again. This ‘small’ ranch sits on over three hundred acres.”

Max sat up, alert suddenly. “You think it’s income producing?”

“Don’t get too excited. Nevada is still the desert.” She frowned and shook her head. “There’s something strange about this letter. Did you even bother to read it?”

“Yeah, most of it.” Taylor could be so damn annoying at times. Who wouldn’t have been interested in an inheritance? Even if it was a ranch. Cash would be better, especially when he had three more years before he’d be solvent again. “But it doesn’t make sense. A ranch is supposed to have cows and horses and chickens…stuff like that, right?”

She shrugged. “That’s what I thought. I don’t know about chickens though. Aren’t they raised on farms with pigs?”

One side of Max’s mouth lifted in wry amusement. They’d both lived their entire lives in Boston, he on Beacon Hill, Taylor in Roxburry.

She frowned thoughtfully as her gaze scanned the letter. “It’s near a town called Bingo. All that acreage should be worth something.”

He snorted. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

Her cell phone rang. “So you’re just going to roll over and play dead?”

Max smiled. “No, I’m going to let you look into it for me.”

She glanced up before taking the call. “God, you’re so predictable.”

He was about to make a crack when she answered the phone, her tone crisp and businesslike. If he knew Taylor, he wouldn’t be getting rid of her soon, so he thought about hopping into the shower. And then he heard her mention Nevada.

He shook his head with a half smile. Of course she was already on the case. Probably had had her calls forwarded. She was efficient, if nothing else.

“Isn’t there anyone besides Mr. Southby who can help me regarding a letter he sent out on the fifth?” she asked into the receiver. “When do you expect him?”

After a brief pause, she said, “It’s the middle of the week. He can’t just go fishing and not say what day he’ll be back.” Taylor’s expression tightened. “That’s not good enough. I need someone to help me now.”

Max checked a grin. It was really too bad about Taylor and him. There was so much to like about her. Yet the lack of chemistry was the least of their problems. As an attorney she could be a pit bull, which was good. But as a life partner, he needed someone who wasn’t so ambitious, someone more fun-loving and adventurous, like himself. And if she had her own trust fund, all the better.

“Yes, regarding the Swinging R Ranch. I’m Mr. Bennett’s attorney, and we’re somewhat confused about the lack of inventory outlined in Mr. Southby’s letter, or maybe livestock is a better word. Anyway—”

Her sudden silence drew his wary attention. He looked up at her stunned face.

“Would you please repeat that?” Color slowly tinted her cheeks. She visibly swallowed. “I see.” Then she cleared her throat, and he could tell she wanted to laugh. “I’ll be sure and tell him. Uh-huh. Yes, I will. Oh, I suspect he’ll be arriving in Bingo within a few days.”

He frowned as their gazes met. She couldn’t mean him.

Her sudden grin told him otherwise. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Crabtree.” She hung up the phone, not even trying to hide her amusement.

Whatever foolishness she was up to, he wasn’t in the mood. Only one thing interested him. “Is the ranch profitable?”

“Oh, I suspect it might be.”

“And?”

“Congratulations, Mr. Bennett.” Taylor struggled to stifle a laugh. “You’re the proud owner of an honest-to-goodness, legal-as-a-copper-penny brothel.”

“GOOD EVENING, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Abby Cunningham for Mayor dinner. Of course, as you all know, I’m Cabby Anningham.” Letting out a shriek of disgust, Abby made a face at her tired reflection in the bathroom mirror.

She’d known most of the people who’d be at the dinner since she’d started toddling around Bingo twenty-five years ago. How she could still get so nervous and tongue-tied was beyond her comprehension.

Her stomach in knots, she padded out of the bathroom, into her bedroom and headed straight for the dish of peanut M&M’s sitting on her dresser. Chocolate wouldn’t cure her nerves. In fact, she’d probably end up with a face full of zits for the dinner tomorrow night, but right now, those little suckers were the only things that would get her through this rehearsal.

She still had to decide whether to wear her hair up in a more sophisticated style, like maybe a French twist, or leave it long and loose to her shoulders the way she always wore it. The people of Bingo tended to favor familiarity, but Abby wasn’t sure how much her age was a deterrent. Twenty-six was awfully young to be mayor. Even if her father had held the office for three terms, as did his father before him.

After carefully sorting four red candies from the rest of the colors, she sank to her bed, leaned back against the pillows and started popping the M&M’s into her mouth. She’d eat the green ones next, and then the rest in no particular order. It wasn’t that she was superstitious exactly, but she saw no point in changing her habits now.

“Abby…yoo-hoo. Abby, I’m home.”

At the sound of her grandmother’s voice, Abby bolted upright and slid the dish of candy into her underwear drawer. She swallowed the last M&M whole, then cleared her throat. “I’m in my room, Gramms.”

Estelle Cunningham instantly appeared in the doorway. Her smile faded, her gaze narrowed, and she sniffed the air. “I smell chocolate.”

“In here?” Abby laughed. “You’re imagining things. Do you think I should wear my hair up or down tomorrow night?” She twisted it up and sent her grandmother a questioning look.

Gramms brushed past her, sniffing, and went unerringly to the dresser drawer. Abby’s only hope now was that the ill-favored peanut variety she’d purposely bought would discourage Gramms.

“Really, Abby, you shouldn’t mix these with your unmentionables.” Estelle sat on the bed with the dish on her lap, scooped out an orange-colored one and carefully nibbled the coating and chocolate off the nut. “You know, maybe that’s how someone thought to invent those edible panties. Do you suppose? I think they’re called Candies, or some such thing.”