The Cowboy's Perfect Match Read online

He mentally berated himself as he filled the barrel with water from Nora’s garden hose. The out-of-the-blue offer to buy the property had been too good to believe. Yet, he’d rushed ahead without exercising caution because selling the property made him more husband-worthy in Bridget’s opinion.

  Not that he blamed himself. Wanting her, wanting what they could have, was understandable. But if he’d waited just a little longer, he might not have pinned all his hopes and dreams on a nearly impossible outcome.

  * * *

  BRIDGET SLIPPED HER hand into her apron pocket. Angling her body, she pulled out her phone and discreetly checked the display while her client, Gregory’s sister, had her nose buried in the binder of hors d’oeuvre and appetizer selections.

  A quick glance confirmed what Bridget already knew. Ryan hadn’t called. The phone dropped from her fingers, bumping against her hip as it landed in the pocket.

  There were no carriage or trail rides scheduled today. After feeding the horses and completing an assortment of chores around the stables, Ryan had gone home to await the two different plumbers coming out to review the work and provide him with quotes.

  He and Bridget had talked for a mere five minutes when he’d come inside that morning for breakfast and his regular meeting with Grandma Em. He’d informed Bridget about the two plumbers and that he’d yet to hear from the buyer regarding the sale. As of this moment, it was still pending. Bridget prayed that status didn’t change.

  Yesterday, Ryan had taken her up on her offer to print out the inspection reports on the ranch computer. Most of what the dozens of pages contained made no sense to her.

  But Ryan had deciphered them and given her the Reader’s Digest version. He’d left the house after that with his shoulders slumped and a dejected look on his face.

  As much as she longed to help, there was little she could do for him other than be a sounding board and a cheering section.

  “Do the wontons have crab in them?”

  Bridget was yanked from her reverie by Kinsey, Gregory’s sister. “They do,” she answered, infusing a smile in her voice.

  “What if people have a shellfish allergy?”

  “I can substitute whitefish.”

  “Will it taste the same?”

  “To anyone without a discriminating palate, yes. But whether we use crab or a substitute, I guarantee you, the wontons will be delicious.” Bridget turned a page in the binder, revealing a striking color photo of a fluted crystal bowl filled with dip and wreathed by crackers. “You can always go with smoked salmon.”

  “I’m not sure what to do.” Kinsey cradled her cheek in her palm. “Can I think about it?”

  “Take your time.”

  She’d flown in from Vermont for a long weekend of second-wedding organizing—the first one would take place in Vermont for her fiancé’s family. She’d already met with Molly and Grandma Em. All that remained was selecting food items for the reception.

  She was very nice if a bit particular. Bridget cut her some slack. She had only a small window of time in which to finalize a huge number of details for a big event. And it was her special day, after all. Neither was it her fault that Bridget couldn’t stop thinking about Ryan and his house problems.

  Poor guy. She hadn’t raised the subject of how this recent setback might impact their future, though she’d been considering the ramifications for hours on end. How could she not? She’d been the one to make the conditions. No dating unless he was further along in his life plan.

  She could tell herself she’d expressed her concerns repeatedly and given him every chance to say no. That didn’t relieve her guilt or sense of responsibility. If not for her, he wouldn’t have listed the house for sale or had the inspections conducted.

  Bridget held on to the hope that things could change for the better with the plumbing quotes. The problems may not be as bad as they first appeared or as costly to fix. She just had to be patient and think positive. At least the general inspection had gone reasonably well. Ryan’s concerns about possible roof leaks and the air-conditioning unit needing replacing hadn’t materialized.

  “Let’s go with the pepperoni caprese bites,” Kinsey said.

  “Good choice.”

  Fifteen minutes later the menu was finalized. Choosing the cake was a whole separate matter and required an additional forty-five minutes. When they were at last done, Bridget walked Kinsey to the foyer, where they met Molly.

  “Thanks so much for all your help,” Kinsey gushed.

  “Thank you for choosing Sweetheart Ranch,” Molly said. “Don’t hesitate to call, whatever the reason.”

  “It still seems a little unreal to me,” Kinsey gushed. “My family was starting to believe I’d never get married. And here I am having two ceremonies, two weeks and two thousand miles apart.”

  Bridget was surprised to learn that Kinsey hadn’t been previously wed. She pegged the other woman to be several years her senior, late thirties at least. It was wrong, she supposed, to assume that just because she herself didn’t want to wait for a husband and children, neither did anyone else.

  Were Kinsey and her fiancé planning on having a family? She hadn’t mentioned stepchildren. Bridget was curious but refrained from asking. That would be rude and none of her business.

  As her biological clock liked to remind her, should she wait to marry and then experience difficulties getting pregnant, she’d have less child-bearing years ahead to explore various options.

  While it wasn’t romantic or spontaneous to consider the mechanics of having a family, Bridget was a realist.

  “He was worth holding out for,” Kinsey continued, her attractive features aglow. “Everything I ever could want in a husband. Handsome. Great job. Financially secure. Established. Owns a beautiful home in the hills.”

  It sounded as if Kinsey had a dating list, too.

  Molly asked about where they’d met. Bridget only half listened as Kinsey relayed the story of a wine-tasting party at a mutual friend’s house.

  “I’m so glad I didn’t say yes to the first few men who proposed,” Kinsey said. “If I’d married one of them, we’d probably still be scraping by, up to our ears in debt, driving clunkers and working at menial jobs. I don’t regret for one second putting my career first and waiting for my soul mate.”

  Technically, Ryan’s pickup could be called a clunker. And, in its present condition, his house was far from beautiful. It may even qualify as a disaster site. Neither was he what one could call established.

  Bridget found herself wondering if Kinsey’s fiancé knew how to square dance or if he appreciated the beauty of a sunset. Did he make the world disappear when he kissed her and cause her heart to leap with excitement when he entered the room?

  “You know when you’ve met the right one.” Molly smiled at Kinsey as if they shared the secret to happiness—which, in a way, they did. They’d both found their soul mates.

  Was Ryan Bridget’s soul mate? Sometimes, she thought yes. Other times, she was less sure.

  “I’m so glad my brother told me about this place.” Kinsey glanced around. “It’s exactly what I was looking for.”

  “We’re glad, too. He was here recently and went on the hayride with his children and friend. What was her name?” Molly swiveled to face Bridget, her expression expectant.

  “Celeste,” Bridget answered drily.

  “That’s right.” Molly returned her attention to Kinsey. “She seemed very sweet. We chatted a bit during the square dancing.”

  “Not sweet at all.” Kinsey leaned in, her tone changing to a conspiratorial one. “They aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

  “Really?”

  “She has a boyfriend. They were apparently on the outs briefly. Long enough for her to make a play for my brother and then drop him cold when the boyfriend suggested a reconciliation. Poor Gregory. He feels like a fool.�
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  “That’s a shame,” Molly sympathized.

  Bridget did, too. Gregory had seemed quite taken with Celeste. He’d deserved better treatment than what he’d gotten.

  The three women exchanged polite hugs, after which Kinsey left to meet her mother and matron of honor for lunch and dress shopping.

  Closing the front door, Molly wiped pretend sweat from her forehead. “I hate to say it, but I’m glad that’s over. She had a lot of requests.”

  “She did.” As a result, Bridget was behind on work. “There’s leftover pasta for lunch if you want some.”

  Molly blocked her escape. “Wow, can you believe it? Gregory’s girlfriend dumped him.”

  “Is there some reason you want to talk about this?”

  “I’m just shocked. Aren’t you?”

  “Doesn’t sound like they were together very long,” Bridget said. “Calling her his girlfriend might be a stretch.”

  “Still, he’s taking the breakup hard according to his sister.”

  “I’m sure he’ll bounce back.”

  The town doctor had a flock of female fans. He wouldn’t be alone for very long, or if he was, it would be by choice.

  “Are you going to pursue him now that he’s available?”

  Bridget grimaced. “Why would I do that?”

  Molly burst out laughing. “You should see yourself.”

  “Very funny.”

  Bridget tamped down her irritation. She and her sister had teased each other mercilessly when they were young. It was a practice that occasionally continued as adults.

  “I just wanted to see how much you like Ryan.” Molly grinned. “And now I have my answer.”

  “Of course I like him. We’re dating, for crying out loud.”

  “Does that mean you’ve decided to wait for him?”

  “I may not have to wait long if the sale of his house goes through.” Please, please, please.

  “And if it doesn’t?” Molly asked.

  He was worth holding out for.

  Kinsey’s words came back to Bridget. The bride-to-be did seem deliriously happy. And wouldn’t it be better to wait and spend the rest of one’s life with a wonderful and loving spouse than to marry the wrong person in haste only to be miserable?

  Yes. Emphatically. Unequivocally.

  Bridget’s entire list of dating nonnegotiables had been created because she’d seen firsthand a marriage made in heaven. Her parents’. Why quit wanting the same for herself just because it was taking longer to achieve that for herself than expected?

  She was about to say that no matter what happened with Ryan’s house, she would wait until he was ready and for however long it took. But in the next moment she bit her tongue. She hadn’t yet told Ryan how she felt and wanted him to be the first to know.

  She shouldered past her sister, suddenly in a hurry to call Ryan. “One day at a time.”

  Breezing into the kitchen, she came to an abrupt halt. Ryan stood with his back against the counter and his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans.

  “Hi.” The word stuck in her suddenly dry throat.

  He looked good. Amazingly so. He must have been going hatless, for the slight breeze cutting through the valley today had left his dark hair in an attractive state of dishevelment. His somber expression lent him a sexy, brooding appearance that made her think of Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights. She found herself falling a little harder for him and was eager to share her recent revelation.

  “Did the plumbers show?” she asked when her voice returned.

  He ignored her question. “When I first got here, I went into the parlor looking for you.”

  “Okay.”

  “You were with Molly and the doctor’s sister.”

  “Yeah. She was making arrangements for her wedding. Second wedding, technically. They’re getting married in Vermont, then—”

  “I heard her say that her brother and his girlfriend broke up.”

  “Apparently so.”

  “I also heard Molly ask if you were going after him.”

  Ah. That explained the Heathcliff impersonation. “Then you must have heard my response.”

  “Actually no. I didn’t want to and left.”

  She started walking toward him, her steps slow and deliberate. “Then let me repeat myself, and I believe this is an exact quote.” She cleared her throat. “No. Why would I do that?”

  He watched her every move as she advanced, his gaze intense and his mouth set in an implacable line. “You’re not interested in him?” It was less a question and more a statement.

  When she reached him, she looped her arms around his neck. Every synapse in her body fired at the same moment, triggering a response like a dozen fireworks launched in succession. She saw the same sparks igniting in his blue-grey eyes. Standing on her tiptoes, she brought her lips to within a hairbreadth of his and waited, loving the anticipation almost as much as she knew she would love his kiss.

  “The only man I’m interested in is standing right in front of me.” She pressed herself against him.

  He groaned, the sound emanating from deep in his chest.

  “I couldn’t care less about Dr. What’s-His-Name.”

  She expected him to devour her mouth and her bones to turn to liquid.

  He didn’t. He just stood there motionless with his big, rough hands that she liked so much resting on her waist and his chest rising and falling.

  “Ryan?”

  Something was obviously wrong. She knew it for certain when he removed his hands from her waist and unclasped her arms from around his neck, placing them at her sides.

  “We have to talk,” he said.

  “About the house?”

  “About us.”

  He stepped away from her then, leaving an ever-widening gap between them.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  FOR THE LAST two hours, Ryan had been struggling with what to tell Bridget. Actually, that wasn’t entirely accurate. He’d been struggling with what to tell her ever since reading the plumbing inspector’s report and the pipe behind his house bursting. He just hadn’t been ready to address the future of their relationship until this morning, when he’d received the phone call from Cheryl-Anne, his real-estate agent, shortly after the second plumber left.

  Ryan’s stomach churned at the thought of the two quotes he’d received and all the numbers on them. So many big numbers. They swam around on the pages in a murky blur each time he looked at them.

  He’d tentatively scheduled a third plumber to come out on Monday but was reconsidering. He doubted that man’s estimate would be significantly different or his price any lower. And if it was, that raised the possibility that the man could have missed something important or cut corners. Two dangerous possibilities Ryan couldn’t risk. His property simply had to pass any future plumbing inspection, regardless of when he finally sold it. Neither could he afford a recurrence of the problem at a later date.

  Cheryl-Anne hadn’t been much help. Not that Ryan had expected any. She wasn’t a miracle worker any more than he was, or the two plumbers who’d provided quotes today.

  “What about us?” Bridget asked, her features knit with worry.

  Like that, Ryan returned to the present and the dreaded conversation they needed to have. How he wished he could reassure her that everything would be okay, but the news wasn’t good, and she deserved to be told.

  Cutting to the chase, he said, “The buyer backed out of the sale.”

  “Oh, no!” Her hands flew to her mouth.

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Did you just find out?”

  “He apparently gave the real-estate agent a heads-up yesterday. She waited to tell me until this morning after she received the official paperwork.”

  “I’m sorry.” Bridget h
ugged him tightly but unlike earlier, there was no move to kiss him.

  Ryan’s arms were slow to go around her. This was the kind of heartfelt response he’d wanted from her almost from the moment they’d met. The kind of response he’d expect from someone who cared deeply for him and whom he cared deeply for in return.

  It made what he had to tell her all the more gut-wrenching. For that, he couldn’t cut to the chase, so he chose his words carefully.

  “I’ve gotten quotes from two plumbers so far,” he said and named the amounts.

  She stared at him in shock. “I figured the repairs would be expensive, but not that expensive.”

  “Yeah, well, the first price doesn’t include repairing the broken pipe in back. The second guy told me if I went with him, he’d throw that work in for free. Then again, his price is marginally higher than the first guy, so there’s really no difference when you get right down to it.”

  “Have you made a decision?”

  “Yes and no. The plumbing overhaul has to be done. I have no choice. And by overhaul, we’re talking the entire plumbing system inside and outside.” He expelled a weary breath. “It’s going to take a huge chunk of my remodeling funds.”

  Huge chunk was no understatement. The work would cost roughly half of what Ryan had sitting in his bank account. Money he’d designated for other renovations, like the master bathroom and kitchen cabinets and landscaping.

  “With luck,” he said, “I’ll make the money back and more when I sell the property. A whole new plumbing system is a big selling point, especially with a house as old as mine. The downside is that I won’t be selling for a while.”

  “How long?” Bridget asked.

  “A year or two.”

  “That’s not bad.”

  “In addition to the year or two I was already planning.” He shut his eyes rather than see the disappointment reflected in hers. “It’s a big setback.”

  She nodded. Swallowed. Tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “What if you were to sell now at a lower price? You were talking about that, anyway.”

  “That was before I’d have to reduce the price by substantially more. With what I could get for the property in its as-is condition, I wouldn’t realize any profit and would likely lose money once all the commissions and fees were paid.”