Myra Johnson - The Rancher's Redemption

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What was it about this woman? Clenching his teeth, Kent tucked two of the security light kits under his arm and strode toward the cash register. Good thing ol’ Ben Zipp, the store’s penny-pinching owner, wasn’t in this morning. Kent hadn’t lied about a newer model coming out—this manufacturer typically updated the line every year—but there’d been no catalog info as yet.

As for the discounted price? Kent would have to ring it up as quoted and then make the correction after Erin left the store. He’d make up the difference out of his own pocket. And maybe settle for PB&J for lunch at home instead of stopping for a sub sandwich at the supermarket deli.

He keyed in the purchase and stated the total. “Cash, check or charge?”

“Check.” Erin tugged out her wallet. “I know hardly anybody writes checks anymore, but it helps me keep to my budget.”

He understood about tight finances. “No problem, as long as you have some ID.”

“Yes, of course.” She handed him a check along with her driver’s license.

Frowning, Kent compared the information. The driver’s license showed a Dallas address, but the check indicated she lived in San Antonio. “Uh, which is it?”

“Oh. Neither.” A blush brightened the dusting of freckles across her cheeks. “I used to live in Dallas, but then I moved in with my brother in San Antonio for a short time, and now I live in Juniper Bluff. With my daughter. We just moved here last weekend actually. We’re still getting settled.”

“I get it. All this changeover stuff takes time.” Kent had strict instructions from his boss about check acceptance, though, and conflicting addresses definitely put this one on the questionable list. “Do you have any other form of ID? Something showing your current place of residence would be best.”

Erin plopped her purse on the counter and began rummaging through it. “How about this?” She pulled out a creased and crumpled paper, smoothed out the page and turned it to face Kent. “I just got this from the post office confirming my change of address.”

“That’ll work.” Kent entered the payment in the register. While the receipt printed out, he slid the light kits into a large plastic shopping bag. “All set.”

“Thanks.” Scooping up her purse and the bag, Erin mumbled, “Now I just have to figure out how to install them.”

Kent figured he’d regret this, but the look on her pretty elfin face was quickly banishing all reason. “If you need some help, I moonlight as a handyman.”

“I’m sure I can manage.” Her shaky smile said otherwise. “These come with directions, right? How hard can it be?”

“How much do you know about electric wiring?”

Her shrug said, Not much .

“Seriously, I work cheap.” Not really. He was saving for that bull after all. So why was he going off the rails to help a complete stranger? “My shift ends at noon. Why don’t I come by and at least walk you through it? I don’t want you getting electrocuted or anything.”

At the word electrocuted , Erin’s face paled. She set the bag back on the counter. “The thing is, a handyman currently isn’t in my budget. If these are that complicated to install, then I should probably—”

“How are you at making sandwiches?”

“What?”

“Sandwiches. Bread, mayo, a slice or two of cold cuts?” He’d kick himself later, but the thought of this tiny woman playing with live electric wires while standing on a wobbly stepladder... Not happening on his watch. “What I’m saying is, I’ll trade you an hour or so of security light installation for whatever you’ve got on hand for lunch.”

Lips pressed together, Erin eyed him doubtfully. “You’d actually do that, after I already inconvenienced you by trespassing on your property and requiring a horseback ride to my car?”

“Consider it my way of welcoming a Juniper Bluff newcomer.” People had certainly been helpful to Kent when he’d first moved here ten years ago with little more than a dream and his VA loan. Almost everything he knew about cattle ranching he’d learned through the kindness of strangers—a few who had quickly become friends. Thankfully, most didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t much of a socializer.

One of the best of them was walking in the door right now. Kent nodded to Seth Austin, part owner and manager of Serenity Hills Guest Ranch. “Be right with you, Seth.”

The lanky cowboy tugged off his Stetson and ran a hand through his hair. “No hurry. I’ll be over here in Plumbing.”

Kent turned back to Erin. “So are we on for lunch?” Yikes, that sounded way too much like a date.

“Only if you’re sure.” She fingered the plastic bag.

“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have offered.” Truth be told, he wasn’t all that sure, but he wouldn’t back out now. “Let me see your post office form again so I can get the address.”

Once he’d copied the information into his phone, Erin gathered up her purchase. On her way to the door, she thanked him several times and promised to have lunch ready a few minutes after twelve.

Before he forgot, Kent made the adjustments to the sales record and chipped in the difference for the second security light. Pushover , his inner voice taunted. He’d have to make up some excuse to explain why part of the purchase was made with a check and the rest in cash.

Ambling down the plumbing aisle, he met up with Seth in front of a bathroom faucet display. “Looking to replace something?”

“Yeah, we’re continuing to update cabins.” Seth tried the handle of one of the faucets. “So who’s your pretty new customer?” he asked with a grin. “And did I actually overhear confirmed bachelor Kent Ritter making a date ?”

A nervous chuckle rumbled in Kent’s throat. “It’s not like that. She’s just somebody new in town. I’m going to help her install security lights.”

“She wouldn’t be Greg O’Grady’s sister, would she? I heard he bought Diana Matthews’s house for her—well, Diana Willoughby now, since she and Tripp got married.”

“Wouldn’t know. Her name’s Erin Dearborn.”

“That sounds right. She’s had a pretty rough time. Greg’s helping her get a new start.”

Kent had heard about Greg O’Grady and the San Antonio charitable organization that hosted the camps at Seth’s guest ranch. If Erin was Greg’s sister, Kent worried a whole lot less about the risks of accepting her check.

“What kind of a rough time?” he asked.

“Bad marriage, complicated divorce—that’s all I know.” Seth examined another faucet. “Would you have three of these in stock?”

Kent found two boxes on a lower shelf, then had to run to the back for the third. Seth met him up front at the checkout and added a couple of pipe fittings and a roll of plumber’s tape to his purchase. Kent ran Seth’s credit card and bagged the items.

Seth slapped on his Stetson. “Pretty clear what I’ll be doing the rest of the day.”

Guilt niggled at Kent’s nape. If he weren’t so stubbornly single-minded, he’d be doing some fixing up of his own. “Say,” he began, “know anything about this Juniper Bluff sesquicentennial thing?”

“Yeah, they’re planning some big doings for next year. My grandparents are on the committee.”

“Is your ranch one of the historical sites?”

Chuckling, Seth shook his head. “Serenity Hills has been around awhile, but not a hundred and fifty years. Which is too bad, because being declared a historical site means a sizable discount on property taxes.” He cocked his head. “Hey, you own the old Gilliam place. Have you checked to see if it qualifies?”

“I, uh...heard it might.” Tax savings? Yep, this definitely bore looking into. “Any problems with those faucets, let me know.”