The Cowboy's Perfect Match Page 21

  “Lose money? Really?”

  “That’s assuming I could even sell. There aren’t many buyers interested in a property needing the amount of work mine does. Not unless they can get it for a steal. My fault. That’s what I get for buying a fixer-upper.”

  “Buying fixer-uppers worked well for you in the past. You had every reason to think it would again.”

  It had worked well, though on a smaller scale. And as a result, he’d grown complacent and overconfident.

  “I’m in a catch-22.” He leaned his back against the counter and braced his palms at his sides. “I either get out now, hopefully walking away with an amount near what I’ve invested to date, and end up where I started before coming to Mustang Valley. Or, I keep the property and continue with the repairs and renovations as best I can with a new timetable.”

  “You don’t sound enthusiastic about either choice.”

  “Trust me, I’m not. I’m less enthusiastic about my third choice—minimizing my losses and getting out of the house-flipping business altogether. I could probably acquire a decent starter house with the money I’d have left over. A small ranch and running a herd of cattle one day is out of the question. For the foreseeable future, anyway.”

  Bridget nestled in the crook of his arm. “Would that be so terrible?”

  “I know you’re right—it shouldn’t be terrible. Except it feels like I’m quitting at the first sign of trouble, and that’s not how I operate. There’s also my parents and eventually bringing them out here. I can kiss that idea goodbye.”

  Sensibly, Ryan knew the care of his parents postretirement wasn’t entirely his burden to bear. He was simply in the best position to help. Or, he had been in the best position until this morning.

  “They’ve lived their whole lives with just enough money to scrape by. I wanted more for them in their so-called golden years.”

  “I understand.”

  She did. She sympathized, at least. Ryan could hear it in her voice.

  “Cheryl-Anne said she has a couple of clients she’s going to reach out to but not to get my hopes up.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Maybe I’ll win the lottery. I have better odds at that than finding a buyer willing to spend the kind of money I need to climb out of this hole I’m in.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  Bridget’s plea was delivered with such tenderness and compassion, it tore Ryan’s heart in two. Especially in light of what he’d come here to tell her.

  “I’m mad at myself most of all,” he admitted.

  “Why? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “I beg to differ. I’ve made a bunch of mistakes, starting with when I bought the property.”

  “You couldn’t have anticipated plumbing problems of this magnitude.”

  “Actually, I could have. I should have. There was an inspection done at the time. Granted, the report didn’t go into as much detail as this one, but issues with the plumbing were mentioned. I didn’t pay enough attention. I was so eager to acquire the property and beat out the other potential buyers, I glossed over the report.”

  “That’s a mistake anyone could have made.”

  “Not anyone. I’m no rookie. This is my fourth property. And what kind of construction contractor would I make if I can’t pay attention to an inspection report? A lousy one, that’s what kind.” He cut her off when she was going to respond. “I don’t know what made me think I could have my own construction company. I’m obviously underqualified.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “I’m not. You’re being too easy on me.”

  “This is my fault. Not yours.” Tears choked her voice. “If I hadn’t pressured you to sell, none of this would have happened.”

  “You didn’t pressure me. I chose to sell.”

  “Because of me.”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  She sniffed. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

  “Look, the plumbing was a disaster waiting to happen. Sooner or later I’d have woken up one day with the entire kitchen flooded or had a thousand-dollar water bill from an underground leak I wasn’t aware of.”

  “I suppose it’s better you found out now than later.”

  “Yeah.”

  Say, three months down the road when he and Bridget were further along in their relationship, wildly in love and had a lot more at stake. She still might sympathize with him then, but she’d also be angry at him for building her hopes only to dash them.

  Ryan took her hand in his, hoping the gesture would soften the blow he was about to deliver. “I can’t...” He tried again. “We can’t get involved right now. Not when I’m in over my head with the property. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

  She stared at their joined hands, and he imagined she was processing the information.

  “You must hate me,” he said.

  “I don’t.” Her answer was soft, barely above a whisper.

  “You should. I pursued you. Hard. And when you finally said yes, the first thing I do is let you down by making promises I can’t keep.”

  “The circumstances are out of your control.”

  “No, they’re not. That’s what I’ve been trying to say. I plowed ahead without doing proper due diligence. Never a good thing.”

  The sob she’d been visibly holding at bay broke free.

  Ryan waited until she’d quieted. “You’ve said all along you didn’t want to start something and then become angry or resentful when the other person wasn’t on the same timetable. Bridget, honey.” He drew her into the circle of his arms. “I can guarantee you from this day on, our timetables won’t match.”

  “Can’t we wait and see? For a little while?”

  She amazed him. Here she was, willing to put her wants and desires on hold for him. And what did he do in return? Rip the rug out from under her.

  Ryan wasn’t just a jerk. He was a heel.

  “I need to find a second job. That’s the only way I can fund the remaining renovations. Between that and my job at the ranch and working on the house, I won’t have any spare time to date.”

  She said nothing, merely sighed heavily.

  Ryan squeezed his eyes shut. For years, his goal had been to be in a better position financially than his parents when he found the love of his life. And here he was, in the exact same boat as them and pushing away Bridget. Could things get any worse?

  Better watch what he said. Things could get worse. He might find himself living out of his truck or going back to Texas and moving in with his parents like his sister. That’d be a laugh. Instead of helping his parents live a more comfortable life, Ryan would be relying on them for a roof over his head.

  “Are you sure you don’t blame me?” Bridget asked softly. “I couldn’t live with that.”

  “Never. Not in a million years.”

  “You said I was a distraction.”

  “No, you were a motivation.” He reached up and stroked her hair, marveling at the silky texture and saddened that this might well be the last time he touched it. “I need to concentrate on the house. If I don’t, I’ll go broke.”

  She must have started crying because he felt a damp spot on the front of his shirt.

  “The thing is,” he said, “you’re not the only one who refuses to settle.”

  She groaned. “I’m sorry I ever told you that.”

  “I’m not.” He waited until she looked up and met his gaze. “You’re an incredible catch. You deserve a man worthy of you. At the moment, I’m not him, and I won’t be for a few more years.”

  “Ryan...”

  “Shh.”

  They stood there for several minutes, neither of them speaking. Eventually, he released her. One of them had to take the first step and officially call whatever it was they had together quits.

 
“You can’t possibly know how much I wish things were different,” he said.

  “Oh, I think I do know.” She wiped at her damp cheeks.

  “I’d better go.”

  She didn’t call him back. Closing the kitchen door behind him felt like he was closing the door on his entire future.

  Ryan was doing the right thing. He didn’t have to convince himself of that. Bridget would be sad and hurt for a while, but she’d recover. It wasn’t as if they’d had more than a few mind-blowing kisses and a few semi-dates.

  Who was he kidding? They’d had way more than that. A chance at a lifetime of love and happiness. The spouse and family they’d always wanted. The world by the tail.

  Until he lost it for them.

  The invisible fist gripping Ryan’s chest squeezed until no air remained in his lungs and the ground beneath his feet disappeared. He eventually found himself at the stables without having any idea how he arrived there.

  * * *

  SWEAT DRIPPED DOWN the sides of Ryan’s face and neck and into his shirt, soaking it. He’d traded his usual cowboy hat for a baseball cap after the former kept sliding down his forehead and obscuring his vision.

  This was what he got for toiling away on a sweltering Monday morning. Morning, he reminded himself. Ten thirty-eight in the a.m. to be exact. Yet, it was already unbearable outside. Then again, Mustang Valley had yet to reach its renowned 115-degree days that would arrive come July. For now, May was content to be unseasonably warm and torture poor humans like Ryan, who were stupid enough to work intensely outdoors.

  He paused from digging in the dirt to take another long swig of ice water from the beverage jug he’d brought with him. Holding the jug high, he drank from the spout, letting the cold liquid bathe his throat. When he was finished, he removed his ball cap and, depressing the lever, moved the thermos back and forth over his head. Water splattered onto his hair and scalp. The relief was instantaneous—and vanished the moment he slipped his ball cap back on and adjusted the fit.

  Rather than return to digging, Ryan jammed the shovel into the loose dirt and then leaned an elbow on the handle, assessing the progress he’d made with the trench. Off to the right, his gelding snorted.

  “Yeah, partner. I agree. There’s a lot more work here than I anticipated.”

  The phrase was beginning to sound like a mantra to Ryan, starting from when he’d first bought the place. Every project he tackled was taking longer and costing more money than he had in his budget.

  “What was I thinking?”

  He could answer that; he hadn’t needed to ask the horse for advice. To begin with, he’d assumed flipping this property would go as easily as his previous three. Also that his prior successes had nothing to do with luck when, in fact, luck had everything to do with them. He’d also believed that just wanting something was enough to make it happen. Like, for instance, a relationship with Bridget. Lastly, he’d been thinking he was indestructible when, in reality, he was fallible.

  Confidence had never been one of Ryan’s problems. Overconfidence? Apparently yes. Big-time.

  Just look where it had landed him. On shaky financial ground, back to square one, working his you-know-what off and with zero romantic prospects with the only woman who interested him.

  That last thought gave him pause. Bridget was the only woman who’d seriously interested Ryan in...he couldn’t remember when. Ever? She was special, no question about it. And unattainable. Not because she was out of his reach but because he’d fallen so incredibly low.

  The mare wandered over to sniff at the exposed waterline leading to a spigot mounted between the stalls. Abruptly, she lifted her head and shook it, only to glance away, her nose raised in disdain.

  Ryan let out a groan. “Everyone’s a critic.”

  During the last week and a half, following what he now referred to as the plumbing fiasco, he’d hired the second plumber and had the broken pipe behind the house repaired. The bulk of the work was scheduled to start next month, giving Ryan time to find a second job and set aside some money.

  Speaking of money, in order to knock a few thousand dollars off the plumbing price, he’d opted to complete a portion of the plumbing repairs himself—that portion being replacing the sprinkler and bubbler systems for the landscaping in the front and backyards as well as the waterline leading to the horse stalls.

  The current warm spell had him reconsidering his decision.

  At least he was no longer making daily trips to Nora’s. For a while there, he’d filled and driven home five-gallon buckets of water, heating what he needed for bathing and washing dishes and cleaning. He’d put additional five-gallon buckets in the horses’ stalls, refilling them two to three times a day because of the warm weather. With Emily’s permission, he’d used the guest washer and dryer in the clubhouse for his laundry.

  Having running water again was a godsend. That would change intermittently while the plumbing system was overhauled, with periodic hours—or even days at a stretch—when the water would need shutting off.

  Hardly the best time of year for this, he thought while wiping his damp brow with the back of his hand. Perhaps fate had a dark sense of humor and was giving him what he deserved.

  Ryan didn’t dismiss that notion. In his opinion, he’d screwed up about as badly as one could, and there were few people he hadn’t disappointed, including himself, his parents and Bridget, most of all.

  He missed her and was desolate without her. Seeing her every day at the ranch was akin to torture. When they spoke, they were always friendly. Gone, however, was the easy banter and subtle flirting. The acute awareness remained, on his part, anyway. But instead of searching for signs that their attraction was mutual, he searched for signs she wasn’t hurting too badly from the pain he’d inflicted. Tears in her eyes. A catch in her voice. A dejected slump to her shoulders. Calculated efforts to steer clear of him.

  Saturday night at the campfire had been particularly difficult for him. She’d skipped the hayride and, as far as he knew, they’d both skipped the square dancing. Had it really been a whole month since their first kiss?

  Their last one was permanently etched into his memory. It was the day in the kitchen when he’d told her they couldn’t continue to see each other and he’d pressed his lips to her forehead. He hadn’t dared kiss her on the lips; his resolve would have crumbled.

  Thankfully, Emily hadn’t asked him and Bridget to demonstrate the square dancing Saturday night. Ryan assumed Bridget had told Emily about them and she’d recruited another couple. Molly and Owen, perhaps? At the end of the hayride, and after unharnessing the horses and returning the wagon to the carriage house, he’d gone directly home.

  Here he was, two days later, constantly bemoaning what might have been and what could never be.

  “Better get your act together,” he scolded himself and reached for the shovel. The trench wasn’t going to dig itself.

  At that moment, the horses whinnied and trotted off toward the fence separating the paddock from the backyard. Ryan squinted in the direction of the house, curious as to what had excited them. He saw a female figure approaching, her features shadowed by the bright sunlight.

  Bridget! She was here.

  Even as his heart raced at the unlikely possibility, his brain recognized the approaching woman as Emily. She stopped at the fence and called to him.

  “You busy?”

  “Perfect timing.” Leaving his tools, he headed toward the fence. “I was just taking a short break.”

  The horses crowded together in front of her, demanding equal attention, which she willingly gave by patting their noses and scratching them between the ears.

  “Scram, you troublemakers.” Ryan squeezed in between the unruly pair, and they grudgingly made room.

  “I don’t mind.” Emily smiled fondly and gave each horse an extra pat. “Been a critter person my
whole life. I missed having house pets, but a wedding ranch wasn’t the place. Now that I’m married to Homer, I get to share his little terrier. And I mean share. She’s very possessive of him. Plants herself between us whether on the couch or in bed.”

  “You don’t sound like you object.”

  “She’s a sweetie, and I understand.” Emily broke into a wide smile. “I’m possessive of him, too.”

  “What brings you by?” Ryan asked. “Did we forget to go over something this morning at breakfast?”

  There had been only one short trail ride scheduled that morning. Ryan and the honeymooners had left the ranch at seven thirty and returned before nine. He’d be heading back to the ranch at three o’clock this afternoon for a sunset trail ride and to attend his regular chores.

  “I was in the neighborhood,” Emily answered. “Figured I’d let you show me around the place. I haven’t been here since before the Chandlers moved.”

  In the neighborhood? Not visiting her best friend, Nora? That would seem the likely explanation. But Ryan had a clear view of Nora’s house from his paddock, and she hadn’t received any visitors today.

  “Bridget bragged about the work you’ve done.”

  “Not a whole lot to see now.” Ryan strode toward the gate, shutting it quickly behind him before his mare and gelding snuck out. “But you’re welcome to have a look around.”

  Before the plumbing fiasco, Ryan would have been pleased and proud to show off his accomplishments. Now, everything felt like a review of his failures.

  Emily was complimentary as they toured the grounds and house, making statements like “It looks a lot better than before,” and “You did this yourself? I’m impressed.” He experienced no pleasure, however, at her remarks.

  They ended the tour in the kitchen, which was in the same disastrous condition as when he’d first shown it to Bridget. Faded paint, bare concrete floor, old appliances propped against the wall like battle-scarred soldiers standing at attention, the rickety table and chairs literally on their last legs.