Kathleen O'Brien - The Rancher's Dream

He smiled, popping the last piece of bread into his mouth with gusto. He worked hard, and he could eat all day without putting an ounce of fat onto that lean, muscular frame, lucky devil. “Besides, what kind of egotist thinks I’m going to name my horse for him? Talk to Kevin about that, would you?”

Crimson laughed, but something about Grant’s easy assumption that she was the one who could make Kevin see reason left her uncomfortable.

She’d known Kevin almost two months now, ever since he’d shown up at Campbell Ranch, his four-month-old motherless baby in tow, asking Grant, his old college buddy, if he could crash there temporarily. Because Crimson and Grant were friends, Crimson had of course met Kevin, too.

They’d begun to date maybe a month ago—if dating was even the right word for this oddly platonic relationship they seemed to have forged.

She, at least, knew full well that the friendship would never be more than that. She’d known it almost from the start. She was half in love with Kevin’s baby, but she’d never be in love with Kevin himself.

She’d always assumed Kevin understood that. After all, he’d clearly just embarked on single parenthood. Though he never seemed to want to discuss the details of Molly’s mother, she deduced that the two had never married, and somehow he’d ended up with custody.

A daunting prospect, and a situation in which you wouldn’t want to take any new risks with lovers lightly. Crimson had assumed he couldn’t possibly be ready to start something serious.

Lately, though, she’d seen a look on his face...heard a tone in his voice...

She wondered whether Grant had seen and heard those things, too.

Well, bottom line, it was time to break it off before Kevin got the wrong idea. And if she was moving away from Silverdell, which she obviously should, that would be the easiest out, wouldn’t it?

She bent over the baby again, first taking care to tuck her gold necklace into her shirt. Molly had recently become fascinated with anything shiny, and consequently Crimson had stopped wearing most jewelry. Except the necklace, a small shamrock. That, she never removed.

“Where is Kevin, anyhow?” She glanced briefly at Grant and then returned her attention to Molly, who was starting to get fussy again. “Molly needs feeding. You dropped him at the law firm, right? I thought the meeting was supposed to be over by now.”

“Guess it ran late.” Grant leaned back in his chair and stretched. His impatience was palpable, which Crimson understood. Horse breeding was a demanding job, and he couldn’t afford to cool his heels in town all day just because his houseguest’s car was on the fritz and the man had hitched a ride into town.

“I certainly hope this law firm is paying him enough to buy a house, and a new car...and hire a nanny.” Grant raised one eyebrow. “I know you and I would both like to see the man move into a place of his own.”

Again, that tone—as if Crimson must be dying for some privacy with Kevin, so they could take their relationship to the next level.

If Grant only knew! The fact that Kevin lived in Grant’s spare bedroom was probably his most attractive quality. She lived in a tiny efficiency apartment with paper-thin walls and never, ever brought anyone home. So if Kevin didn’t have privacy, either...well, that settled the whole “will we or won’t we” debate before it could even get started.

She smiled neutrally. “I take it the charm of having a boarder is fading?”

“The charm of having a boarder is nonexistent.” Grant scooped up the check, waving off her protest. “It’s killing my love life. Correction—it’s already killed my love life. Ginny broke up with me last night, after about three hours of listening to Molly cry.”

Crimson wouldn’t have thought the woman was that foolish. She frowned. “Molly cried all night? Why? What was wrong?”

“Beats me. My guess is Molly’s an undercover operative with the morality police. Her assignment, and she’s definitely chosen to accept it, is to ensure I never have sex again.”

Crimson shook her head. “Seriously. Was she sick?”

“ Seriously . She’s the president of the Abstinence Vigilantes.”

“Grant.”

He grinned. “She’s probably just teething. As I recall, this is about when the first ones start coming in. I told Kevin to buy one of those nasty plastic rings you can put in the freezer, but he hasn’t done it yet. Apparently, he’s the vice president of the abstinence club.”

As he recalled?

For a minute, she couldn’t move past that comment. What did he mean? Grant didn’t have children...

Or did he? Crimson hesitated, her curiosity warring with her vow to always, always stay out of it. Still, it was strange. If Grant had children, he’d certainly never mentioned it before. In her experience, people who had kids couldn’t stop talking about them—how good they were, how bad they were, how underfoot they were or how much they missed them.

Her mind sifted through the possible scenarios. She had the impression he was divorced—though she couldn’t pinpoint what made her think so. Perhaps she just couldn’t believe a man like him could have reached his thirties without getting scooped up by some lucky lady. But he’d never hinted anything about children.

Maybe he had siblings, and those siblings had kids. Or maybe he was divorced, and he’d lost custody for some reason. Or maybe, like Kevin’s runaway ex, he’d left his family behind to pursue his dream of a horse ranch in Colorado.

Or maybe...

She shook herself irritably. Maybe it was none of her business. She knew all too well that when a person imposed total silence on a subject, those wishes should be respected.

For instance...heaven help anyone who brought up Clover’s death with her .

Molly had begun to strain at the strap that held her in the baby seat. As she squirmed, she grew red-faced, and the whimpering escalated into full-blown crying.

“Sweetheart.” Crimson stroked the baby’s cheek. “Poor little thing.”

Grant glanced at his watch. “Maybe I should go see what’s keeping Kevin. I’ve got to get back to the ranch. With all this rain, I’m worried about the stable roof. Any chance you could...”

She was already unfastening Molly’s strap. She lifted the warm, damp baby out and folded her up against her shoulder.

“Of course,” she said, patting Molly’s back. She was well aware he hadn’t been asking if she’d pick up Kevin. “How about if I take your truck because you’ve got the car seat, and you take my car? I’ll stop by the pharmacy and grab a teething ring and then meet you back at the ranch. If I get there first, I’ll feed her, change her and put her down for a nap.”

“Perfect.” He nodded. “Mine’s right out front, so you won’t have to get wet.” He frowned, glancing at the front windows. “You drive carefully, though, okay?”

“I will. The truck’s four-wheel drive will be safer in this weather, anyhow.”

And wow, what weather, even for late May! The rain had grown steadily more intense while they were in the café. She’d heard about these wet Silverdell springs. The gully-washers were mostly short-lived and profoundly welcomed by the ranchers, who appreciated the free irrigation—as long as none of their own gullies got washed out.

Plus, the storms apparently were a boon for the wildflowers. She’d been hearing for weeks about how, if the drought continued, the annual wildflower festival might have to be canceled. Apparently, that would be a historic failure for Silverdell, and everyone had been eying the skies glumly, calculating the chances of rain.

“I’ll be careful,” she promised again, holding out her key ring. “You do the same, even if Kevin keeps you waiting and you’re ticked off.” She held his gaze sternly, daring him to deny he could get impatient behind the wheel, especially when he wanted to get home to check on the horses. “Deal?”