The Cowboy's Perfect Match Read online

  An invisible knife abruptly stabbed him in between his shoulder blades. The motion caused Ryan to drop his arm, which hit the side of the can resting on the ladder’s shelf. The can jiggled, and a small amount of sealer spilled. When he went to grab the rag he’d been using, it slipped through his fingers and fell onto the floor.

  His grunt of frustration was muffled by the face mask. What he’d give for a hot, relaxing shower. But, sadly, that was out of the question. Water to the house was turned off for the next several days. Fortunately, the water outside was still on, which meant he took showers with a garden hose near the horse stalls. At least he didn’t have to haul barrels of water from Nora’s house.

  With his back to the door, and the din of the jackhammer still audible even with the earplugs, he sensed more than saw a movement behind him. Scott must be finished in the hall bathroom and was coming to check in with Ryan.

  He pulled down his mask and hollered over his shoulder to the young man, “Hey, can you grab that rag for me?”

  A moment later, the rag appeared from behind Ryan. It was attached to a hand.

  “Thanks, pal.” He plucked the rag and started blotting up the spilled liquid from the ladder shelf.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Huh. Either Scott’s voice had changed drastically, becoming an octave higher, or the hand didn’t belong to him.

  Ryan twisted sideways and looked down, nearly losing his balance. He grabbed the top of the ladder, holding tight.

  Staring up at him were a pair of green eyes, a nose and cheeks covered with a smattering of freckles and a face framed by strawberry blond curls.

  Bridget!

  “Hi...uh, wait,” he murmured.

  Realizing she probably couldn’t hear him, he whipped off the face mask and set it on the top of the ladder. He also took out his earplugs and dropped them beside the face mask. The hands he used to grip the sides of the ladder as he descended were shaking slightly.

  Once on the floor, he reached out to touch her. No, she wasn’t an apparition.

  “What are you doing here?” He had to shout to be heard above the jackhammering. “Something happen at work?”

  She shook her head and smiled tentatively. “Can we talk? It’s important,” she added.

  His stomach clenched even as his excitement grew, and he motioned for her to follow him. “Let’s go outside. It’s too noisy and dusty in here to carry on a conversation.”

  Particularly this one.

  Ryan cautioned himself as they walked through the living room and out the front door. There’d been no indication things had changed between them when he’d seen her this morning at the ranch.

  But his heart pounded harder than the jackhammer in the kitchen. Bridget had come to see him. Her reasons must have something to do with them, and he couldn’t stop the surge of hope rising inside him.

  * * *

  ONCE THEY WERE outside and able to hear each other, Ryan made straight for the water spigot.

  “Give me a second. I’m a mess.”

  Twisting the handle, he proceeded to wash his face, neck and hands with a wet handkerchief. He was reminded of that night after the hayride, when she’d brought him dinner and he freshened up before the square dance. Then, he’d been attempting to woo Bridget. Today, he had no idea what was going to happen.

  “I’m surprised you have running water.” She waited for him by the back door.

  “I don’t. Not inside.”

  “How are you managing?”

  “Microwave meals and plastic forks.” He straightened. “Showers with the garden hose.”

  Her tentative smile from earlier widened. Ryan stared. She hadn’t smiled at him like that in weeks. He tried not to read more into it than there was...and failed.

  “You must be tired of roughing it,” she said.

  He cleared his throat in an attempt to keep his voice level. “Trust me, I’m willing to put up with a lot worse as long as this plumbing overhaul gets done.”

  It was hot standing in the direct sunlight. Ryan suggested they sit at the rickety kitchen table he’d moved outside and placed beneath the tall ash tree. His ice chests and crates were stacked nearby.

  At her puzzled expression, he explained, “I needed to empty the kitchen for the demolition,” and offered her a seat.

  Bridget accepted. “Kind of cozy. Gives new meaning to the term outdoor dining.”

  “Sorry. The place is still a mess.” He sat in the chair adjacent to hers.

  “I’m serious. I love eating outside. The cookouts after the monthly hayrides were my idea.”

  He could have guessed that.

  She glanced around. “The place is going to be nice when you’re done. The ceiling beams look fantastic.”

  “They do,” he agreed, wondering when she’d arrive at the purpose of her visit.

  “Have you decided on a design for the kitchen? I can offer some input. If you’re interested.”

  “With luck, that’ll be up to the new owner.”

  She gasped. “You sold the place?”

  “Not yet. But I’m renegotiating with the previous buyer.” He summarized his call with Cheryl-Anne. “Nothing official yet, but it appears promising. If the sale does go through, he’ll be finishing the renovations with his own construction crew.”

  “How do you feel about that? Is it hard walking away from something you started?”

  “Normally, I’d say yes. Not in this case, however.”

  He didn’t mention him wanting a quick sale in order to repay her grandmother. Until Emily said otherwise, he’d honor her request to keep their agreement private.

  Neither did he mention the memories of Bridget associated with the house and his eagerness to put those behind him. If such a thing was even possible.

  “Where do you plan to live?”

  He thought he detected a hitch in her voice. “I’m not sure.”

  “Are you leaving Mustang Valley?”

  He leaned toward her, eliminating half the distance between them. They hadn’t been this close since the day of their first, and last, date.

  “I like my job at Sweetheart Ranch, and I don’t want to leave your grandmother in a bind. She’s been good to me.”

  “Okay.” A flash of emotion danced across her face, only to vanish.

  “I have to admit,” he said, “it isn’t always easy for me to be around you.”

  She glanced down at her lap. “It isn’t easy for me, either.”

  Enough stalling, Ryan thought. “Why are you here, Bridget?”

  “Whew.” She blew out a breath and smiled weakly at him. “I’m not as brave as I’d like people to think I am.”

  “Tell me.”

  She started out slow. “I’ve spent a lot of years using food and lists and even my career to hide behind and avoid being hurt.”

  Ryan was guilty of the same thing. “It’s human nature.”

  “I’m going to take a leap. A scary one.” She pressed a hand to her chest as if to calm her racing heart. “I could land on my face or the other, more padded, part of my anatomy. But if I don’t at least try, I’m afraid I might lose something precious to me. Something precious to us.”

  Ryan went still, afraid to assume. This leap could simply be her way of unloading and clearing the air between them in order that she could move on to someone new. He’d seen the doctor’s BMW at the ranch earlier. Maybe the business the doctor was there to conduct had to do with Bridget and not his sister’s upcoming wedding.

  She swallowed. Fidgeted. Brushed at an errant lock of hair. Ryan gritted his teeth. When he didn’t think he could wait a second longer, she finally spoke.

  “I had a bit of an epiphany earlier. It had to do with my list. The dating nonnegotiable one.”

  “Okay.”

  “I realized on
ly one item matters, and it wasn’t even on my list.” She paused. “Sparks. I want sparks.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Yes. I suppose most people do...” She faltered again. “This is really, really hard.”

  Inside the house, the noise suddenly stopped. The workmen must be taking a break or had finished demolishing the kitchen floor. Ryan was only vaguely aware; his concentration remained focused on Bridget.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked. “Besides falling on your face?”

  “Losing what I love. The person I love. The life I love.”

  He wanted to ask more about the person she loved. Instead, he remained silent and let her continue.

  “Here I am claiming I want nothing more than to be a wife and mother. But the reality is I’ve done my dead level best to prevent it. You know what the really sad part is?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “If I continue hiding behind my list and refusing to date a man who doesn’t meet every one of my requirements, I’m going to wind up alone and miserable. The very opposite of what I swore I wanted.”

  It was a big, courageous confession. Ryan had one of his own to share.

  “I think I’m the same when it comes to flipping properties. That’s been my excuse for not settling down. I tell myself I need to wait until I’m ready. But my parents didn’t wait, and they’ve been as happy and in love as two people can be.”

  “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

  He happened to think they were a perfect pair. “What are you going to do, Bridget, now that you’ve tossed your list?”

  “That depends on you.”

  “Does it?”

  Her hand rested on the table. He could reach for it, but she might reject him, and he didn’t think he could take a second one. Except she was here, and that had to mean something.

  One way to find out. Ryan gathered her hand in his. She didn’t snatch it away, and he took that as a good sign.

  “I told you once I admired you for having a goal and working toward it.”

  He nodded. “I remember.”

  “What if...” She paused again. “What if we...worked toward that goal together?”

  He grinned. “I like the sound of that word. Tell me more.”

  She squeezed his fingers, and he swore he felt a jolt travel up his arm and straight to his heart.

  “I want to be a part of you realizing your dreams, Ryan. Not just standing by, watching and waiting impatiently for you to achieve them. I don’t care how many years it takes, as long as we’re together.”

  That word again. Ryan replayed the last minute in his head, making sure he hadn’t misunderstood her.

  She met his gaze and this time when she spoke there was no hesitation. “I think I might be falling in love with you. It was the sparks. I felt them the first time I saw you in the parlor, and I kept feeling them again and again. When we talked. When we kissed. When you made me laugh. At the park when you brought me the roses.” She moved fractionally nearer. “Once you have sparks, the rest will fall into place. Right?”

  Ryan stood so fast, the chair he’d been sitting on tumbled backward and fell onto the ground with a clatter. He didn’t care. He was too busy scrambling around the table and dragging Bridget out of her seat.

  “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said. “After that, we’ll talk because there’s a whole lot I need to say to you. But I can’t wait any longer for this.”

  “Neither can I—”

  He didn’t let her finish and covered her mouth with his. The next instant, she was locked in his embrace.

  And, like that, Ryan was home, in the place he’d been searching for all these years.

  They kissed and kissed. On and on. He eventually broke away only because if he didn’t stop now, he never would.

  “I’m falling in love with you, too.” He searched her face. “I think it was that scowl you wore the first time we met. I knew I had to make you smile. Every day, for the rest of our lives.”

  Her expression melted into one of pure joy.

  “Which makes what I have to say especially difficult.”

  A small furrow creased her brow. “Ryan?”

  “I’ve got to be completely honest with you before this goes any further. It wouldn’t be right otherwise.”

  The furrow deepened.

  He held her arms, refusing to let her go. “Your grandmother asked me not to tell you. I hope she isn’t too angry at me.”

  “My grandmother?”

  “I’m in a hurry to sell because it means a quick payoff to her.” He closed his eyes and prayed Bridget wouldn’t tear free and leave when she heard the news. “She’s my business partner.”

  “In what?”

  “This place. She funded me the money for the plumbing overhaul.”

  Bridget retreated a step, forcing him to release his hold on her arms. Ryan’s hopes sank. He’d reconciled with Bridget only to lose her again.

  “Wow. I’m stunned.”

  “In return, she gets a percentage of the profits when I sell. If all goes well, that’ll be soon.”

  “I don’t know what to think.” Bridget shook her head in disbelief. “Grandma’s making money off your misfortune?”

  “It’s not like that at all, I swear,” Ryan quickly assured her. “The arrangement is mutually beneficial. With luck, we’ll both walk away with a few more dollars than when we started.”

  “Then why didn’t she tell me?”

  “I think, and this is only my opinion, she didn’t want our business partnership to affect your and my personal relationship.”

  After a moment, Bridget lifted her shoulder. “I can see that, I suppose.”

  “Please don’t be mad at her. She quite literally saved me from the poorhouse.”

  “I’m not mad.” Her lovely features softened. “At either of you.”

  Ryan’s relief was so intense, he had to grip the edge of the table in order to steady himself.

  “Let me qualify that statement.” She narrowed her gaze. “I’m not mad as long as she sees a return on her investment. If she doesn’t, I’ll be furious with you.”

  A laugh broke free, and it felt good. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Grandma has always been pretty savvy when it comes to investments.”

  “I can learn a lot from her.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to stick around?”

  In response, Ryan hauled Bridget up against him. “Try and get rid of me.”

  He kissed her again, and for a while, the world disappeared, leaving only the two of them.

  Too soon, however, the jackhammer started up again inside the house. Anchoring her to him with one arm, Ryan stroked her cheek with the knuckles of his free hand.

  “I promise not to make you wait too long for me to become everything on your list.”

  “You already are.” She snuggled closer, her body flush with his. “Can’t you feel the spark?”

  Sparks? He was feeling fireworks. He swore he could see them exploding all around him and Bridget as they ran to the edge and took their leap of faith, hand in hand.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Six weeks later

  BRIDGET CLOSED HER eyes and counted to ten, a technique she used to help herself relax. Her agitated nerves didn’t listen and insisted on humming with a combination of anticipation and trepidation.

  What if Ryan said “no way, never happening”? He might think her idea harebrained and tell her to forget the whole thing. Then, she’d not only have embarrassed herself, but she could also have potentially sidetracked their relationship, if not ended it altogether.

  Which would surely devastate her. They’d come so far these past weeks. A minor miracle considering their rocky start.

  Bridget couldn’t remember
ever being happier. Love did that to a person, she decided. The constant infusion of endorphins had her walking around with a grin on her face, acting all manner of silly and floating from room to room.

  People were noticing and commenting. In a good way. Saying things like “What’s gotten into you lately?” and “Have you done something different with your hair?”

  Finally, she understood what her grandmother and sister had been trying to tell her all along and why they’d pushed her into giving Ryan a chance. Holding so much joy and love inside was simply impossible. She had to let it out with smiles and sighs of contentment, and by singing to herself and busting out a dance move every now and then.

  “How about we go to lunch and celebrate?” Ryan asked.

  “You have a place in mind?” Bridget did but food wasn’t involved.

  “The Cowboy Up Café, unless you’re in the mood for somewhere fancier.”

  “I like the café.”

  Maybe later, after she’d shown him her surprise, they could have lunch. That was, if she ever worked up the nerve and he didn’t end up hating her.

  She sat beside him in the front seat of his pickup truck while they drove through the center of town. They’d just left the bank, where Ryan had gotten a cashier’s check made out to her grandmother. Repayment for her investment in the old Chandler place plus interest.

  They’d started calling Ryan’s property by its former name, seeing as of yesterday he no longer owned it. The sale had gone through with only a few glitches, all of them eventually resolved.

  Ryan and the buyer had agreed on a price that, when all was said and done and the various fees paid, left him in a marginally better place financially than before and her grandmother with a respectable profit. Nowhere close to the amount of money he’d originally planned to make, but he wasn’t complaining.

  He’d moved out of the house earlier that week in preparation of the sale, and she’d helped him pack. Three trips with the bed of his truck and his horse trailer crammed full—the last trip hauling his two horses—and he was officially ensconced in his temporary quarters at Sweetheart Ranch.

  The horses were currently residing in the small corral behind the stables while Ryan had set up his bed and a few pieces of furniture in the loft above the carriage house, once the items stored there had been relocated to Homer’s shed. Bridget had convinced him to haul the old kitchen table and chairs to the dump and replace them with a cute breakfast set they purchased at the local thrift shop.