Mindy Obenhaus - Their Ranch Reunion

“I’m going upstairs.” A sigh accompanied Megan’s announcement, quickly followed by the clomping of boots on the wooden steps.

Andrew knew just how she felt.

With Megan gone, Carly addressed him. “I’m curious. Before you learned that you were not the sole owner of this house, what were your intentions for it? I mean, were you planning to move in?”

“Temporarily, yes. I’m going to update the place and use it for rental income.”

Seemingly confused, she said, “Where will you be?”

“Denver, of course.”

Lines appeared on her forehead. “Let me get this straight.” She perched both hands on her hips. “You don’t want me to use Livie’s house for my bed-and-breakfast, yet you want to turn it into rental property?”

“In a nutshell, yes.”

“Why not just rent your half to me?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Carly. He wasn’t purposely trying to thwart her plans. But this house was supposed to be his and his alone.

He dared a step closer. “Because, should I come back to Ouray, I want to be able to stay here. Without having to share it with someone else.”

She shook her head. “So you’d rather pay me half of the rent money you get? That makes no sense.”

“Pay you? Why would I—?”

“Mommy?” Megan hopped down the stairs, one loud thud at a time.

Carly seemed to compose herself before shifting her attention to her daughter. “What is it, sweetie?”

The girl tugged on Carly’s sleeve, urging her closer, then cupped a hand over her mother’s ear. “We should invite him for dinner.” For all her implied secrecy, Megan had failed to lower her voice.

A look that could only be described as sheer horror flitted across Carly’s face. Her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sure Andrew already has plans for—”

“Nope. No plans at all.” Fully aware of her discomfort, he simply shook his head, awaiting her response.

Clearing her throat, Carly straightened, looking none too happy. “In that case, would you care to join us for dinner?” She practically ground out the words.

He couldn’t help smiling. “Sure. Why not?”

Watching them leave a short time later, he knew good and well that Carly was no more excited about having him for dinner than he was about sharing his grandmother’s house. But as Grandma was fond of saying, it is what it is.

Who knew? Maybe they’d have an opportunity to talk. And if all went well, by the time this evening was over, Grandma’s house would belong to him and him alone.

Chapter Three

Carly removed the meat loaf from the oven and put in the apple pie she’d tossed together at the last minute. Throw in some mashed potatoes and green beans and it was comfort food all the way. She’d need all the comfort she could get if she hoped to make it through an evening with the man who had once been able to read her every thought.

Using a pot holder, she picked up the pan of meat and headed for the island. Nope. No plans at all. She all but flung the pan on the counter, sending spatters of tomato sauce across the butcher-block top.

She grabbed a rag and wiped up the mess, knowing good and well that Andrew was simply trying to get her goat. And enjoying every minute of it, no doubt. Just like he did back in high school. Only she was no longer the timid girl who was afraid to stand up for herself.

After throwing the rag into the sink, she returned to the stove to check the potatoes. Fork in hand, she lifted the lid on the large pot.

It irked her that Andrew was planning to use Livie’s house as a rental. Why wouldn’t he just let—Wait a minute.

Steam billowed in front of her.

She was half owner. That meant she had a say in what went on next door. He couldn’t use it as a rental without her permission.

Smiling, she poked at the vegetables. Yep, they were done.

She replaced the lid and carried the pot to the sink. This whole dispute would be over if Andrew would simply agree to sell. Unfortunately, for as eager as she was to discuss purchasing his half of the house so she could move forward with her expansion plans, she wasn’t at liberty to talk business with Megan in the room. Which meant this whole evening was a waste of time.

That is, unless her idea of plying Andrew with food actually worked.

Holding the lid slightly off-center so as not to lose any of the potatoes, she drained the water from the pot. Maybe he’d be in such a state of gastronomic euphoria by the end of this evening that it would be impossible for him to say no when she again extended her offer.

Dream on, girl.

“Can I help?” Megan emerged from the adjoining family room at the back of the house, directly off the kitchen. Carly’s parents had built the addition when she was young as a private space for the family. Now Carly appreciated it more than ever, because it allowed her to keep an eye on her daughter while she worked in the kitchen.

“Of course you can. Care to set the table?”

“Okay.”

Carly opened the cupboard to grab the plates.

“Not those plates, Mommy.”

“What?” She glanced down at her daughter.

“We need the guest plates.” Meaning the china she used for the bed-and-breakfast. And this time of year, guests were predominantly limited to weekends.

“Sweetie, we don’t use those for regular meals.”

“This isn’t a regular meal. Mr. Andrew is company, so we need to eat in the dining room with the pretty dishes.”

Oh, to be a child again, when everything was so simple.

Lord, help me make it through tonight.

“Okay. Let me get them for you.”

They moved around the corner into the dining room, and Carly retrieved the dishes from atop her grandmother’s antique sideboard. Meat loaf on china. That’d be a first.

Leaving Megan in charge of the table, Carly returned to the kitchen to mash the potatoes. She pulled the butter and cream from the large stainless steel refrigerator.

“Which side do the forks go on?”

Closing the refrigerator door, Carly grinned, recalling how she used to help her mother and wondering if Megan would one day take over Granger House Inn. If so, she’d be the third generation to run the B and B. Not that she was in any hurry for her daughter to grow up. Carly was already lamenting Megan’s occasional usage of Mom instead of Mommy.

“On the left.”

A knock on the back door nearly had Carly dropping the dairy products she still held.

Megan must have heard it, too, because she raced past Carly and threw open the door.

Carly deposited the butter and cream on the counter and hurried behind her daughter. “Young lady, what have I told you about looking to see who it is before you open the door?” Not that there was much to worry about in Ouray. Still, a mother could never be too cautious in this day and age.

“Sorry.”

“Evening, ladies.” A smiling Andrew stepped inside, looking far too appealing. His hair was damp, and he smelled freshly showered.

Closing the door behind him, Carly eyed her flour-speckled jeans. Clearly he’d done more primping than she had. An observation that had her as curious as it did bothered.

“Welcome to our home.” Megan swept her arm through the air in a flourish.

“Thank you for inviting me.” He stooped to her daughter’s level. “This is for you.” He handed her a small brown paper gift bag with white tissue sticking out the top.

Megan’s eyes were wide. “For me?”

“Yep. And this one—” straightening, he turned his attention to Carly “—is for your mother.”

Carly’s heart tripped as she accepted the package. A hostess gift had been unexpected, but the fact that he’d thought of both of them had her reevaluating their guest. At least momentarily.