Her Montana Cowboy

“Because it’s better at pulling things out of the mud. You might want to leave your little dog with Thad.” He started toward the tractor without another word and, after a brief hesitation, Lillie Jean crossed the driveway to the house. The kitchen was empty, so she set Henry on the floor and promised him she’d be back shortly.

Gus was waiting in the idling tractor when she returned. She started to the passenger door, but he motioned her to the other side of the machine. Cautiously she climbed the steps, finding a small jump seat beside the operator’s chair.

Once the door was closed, Gus pulled a few levers, raised the bucket, and the tractor started down the driveway, shaking and rumbling as he shifted to a higher gear.

Lillie Jean simply held on and focused on the road ahead of her, doing her best to tamp down the feelings that (a) she didn’t belong in a tractor, and (b) the cab of the tractor was too small for two people who didn’t trust one another.

“Do you have the keys?” he asked as they drove through the log archway that marked the entrance of the ranch proper.

“Yes,” she said shortly, glad that she did indeed have the keys sitting deep in her coat pocket. She could have left them in the car, stuck as it was, but old habits died hard. One didn’t leave keys in the car for even a little while where she lived. The place wasn’t crime ridden, but enough things happened, even in the suburbs, to leave one erring on the side of caution.

Lillie Jean held herself so stiffly in the small seat, trying not to let any part of her body come in contact with Gus in the small confines of the tractor cab, that by the time they reached her car, her muscles were starting to cramp. For his part, Gus ignored her. No small talk. No questions about who she really was, or dire warnings about taking advantage of his uncle—both of which she’d fully expected. Instead he’d focused straight ahead, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown of concentration. Plotting how to get rid of her, probably.

Lillie Jean refused to let it bother her. Instead she thought about next steps. The trip back to Texas. Going through the last of her grandfather’s personal belongings which were stacked in her friend Kate’s basement and attic. Her grandfather hadn’t left much. He’d lived comfortably, but hadn’t possessed a lot of material things. Lillie Jean had always assumed his frugal habits had been born of necessity, only to find out that he’d owned half of an eight-hundred-acre spread. It still boggled her.

Lillie Jean had questions about her grandfather and his secret past, and before she left, she hoped that Thaddeus Hawkins would give her answers. He wasn’t suspicious of her, like his nephew was, but he was unsettled by her sudden arrival, and she sensed that it went beyond the surprise element. What on earth had gone on between him and her grandfather?

* * *

LILLIE JEAN SMELLED like lilacs, a scent Gus knew well, due to the thick hedge near the ranch house that burst into blossom each spring, filling the air with perfume and sending old Sal’s allergies into high gear.

He hated that he noticed that Lillie Jean smelled good. Hated the way the delicate floral scent made him feel like leaning closer and taking a deeper breath. In fact, it was really annoying to find himself feeling that way, so he was very glad to finally arrive at the car.

Lillie Jean put her hand on the door handle before he’d rolled to a stop, and he automatically reached past her to keep her from opening the door. She shot him a startled look, which he met with a frown, once again doing his best to ignore the lilacs and the incredible color of her eyes.

“Never open the door until the tractor is out of gear.” He made a show of moving the gear lever. “Big tires,” he said in a clipped voice. “Very unforgiving.”

“Is it okay now?” Lillie Jean asked as she eyed the giant rear wheels.

“Yeah.” He put on the hand brake and set a hand on the back of her seat to maneuver himself out of the cab. Lillie Jean took the hint and climbed down the stairs and jumped to the ground, quickly moving out of range of those big tires. Gus followed her and then reached up to drag the chain off the floorboards under the seat.

The mud was deep and water soaked into his jeans as he crouched down to attach the chain to the frame of the big car. Once done, he motioned for Lillie Jean to get into the driver’s seat.

“What do I do?”

“You start the engine and steer. Do not step on the gas.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll annoy me if you ram that big car into the tractor.”

“Oh.” She moistened her lips—a mistake in the cool weather—and then said, “You don’t have much faith in my driving ability.”

All he did was point a finger at the car in the mud then turn and walk back to the tractor. “Just put it in Neutral,” he said, “and let me do the rest.”

“Why even start it?”

“So that the steering wheel works.”

From the way her jaw muscles tightened, Gus deduced that she was starting to hate him a little.

“I knew that.” She abruptly turned and headed toward the car, mincing her way across the lumpy half-frozen mud next to the door.

Gus climbed into the cab and, once Lillie Jean was situated behind the wheel, he gently eased the tractor back until the chain was taut. He continued inching backward until the car jerked, then moved forward. Lillie Jean kept the wheels straight until finally the car was free, and he swore he could see her biting her full bottom lip as she concentrated, even though they were separated by twenty feet and two windshields. Once he was certain Lillie Jean wasn’t going to throw the car in gear or anything unexpected, he moved the tractor forward so that the chain sagged.

“There are no more puddles between here and the ranch house, so you should be okay,” he said as he unhooked the chain. “You should be equally okay when you leave, which will be in short order, right?”

Lillie Jean propped a hand on her hip and stuck her chin out. “Enough, okay?”

He stowed the chain back in the cab of the tractor and then turned to her. “Enough what?”

“Enough passive-aggressive crap. And enough insinuating that I’m not who I say I am, and that I’m here to try to take advantage of your uncle. I’m not.”

“I have no way of knowing that.”

“And you have nothing to do with this situation. It’s between me and Thaddeus.”

“Thaddeus is getting up there in years. I’m his nephew, his ranch manager and half owner of his bar.”

“Meaning?”

He gave her a small, not particularly friendly smile. “Meaning that, until Thad tells me otherwise, it’ll be you and Thaddeus and me.”

CHAPTER FOUR (#u973fa985-05d3-5869-a594-47844f5d2c47)

LILLIE JEAN WAS HOT, in the angry sense, and maybe she had reason. Gus rubbed his forehead, then dropped his hand back to his side. Her eyes were pretty much spitting blue fire, but there was something else there besides outrage. Hurt, maybe? She gave the impression of being a woman who expected to be trusted. A woman not accustomed to having her honesty questioned. She was either truly insulted, or she was a very good actress—as an effective scam artist would be.

He needed more information.

He met her angry gaze and said, “Try to see my side of things. You show up out of nowhere, claim to be related to a man I didn’t know existed and twist my uncle into a knot.”

“I twisted nothing. Not your uncle. Not the truth.”

“Sometimes,” he said, fully aware that he was about to insult her again, “people have been known to do deep research and pretend to be people they are not, for personal gain.”

Anger shifted to ice. “I’m not one of them and you have a lot of nerve insinuating that I am.”

“Lillie Jean.” Her name felt odd on his tongue, as if saying it somehow made their relationship more intimate, which was nuts. “Until we have all this ironed out, I’m going to have my suspicions. I’d be stupid not to.”

She pushed her hands deep into her coat pockets and shivered. These were not temperatures she was used to. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were red, while the rest of her face was pale, making the blue-green color of her eyes more intense. She wore no makeup and a smattering of light freckles showed over her nose. Maybe that was part of her act. The sweet down-home girl without artifice.

Or maybe it wasn’t an act at all.

The one thing he was certain of was that, whether she was legit or not, she’d thrown a monkey wrench into his plans.

He jerked his head in the direction of the ranch. “Let’s get back to where it’s warmer.”

“Yes. Let’s.” There was a faint note of sarcasm in her voice, and maybe he couldn’t blame her, if she was legit.