Falling For The Rancher

“He doesn’t know any of us, really,” Kaycee said with a stubborn pout. “And he doesn’t care. Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it. The rules say no one can win more than one handyman each year. You want Edgar and I have an apartment, so I don’t need a handyman at all.”

Darcy needed Edgar desperately. It might take all of what little she had in savings to win him—and even that might not be enough.

Potentially losing her job and trying to move away two months from now would be hard enough. Without his skills, it might be impossible to fix up the cottage enough to sell it in a few months.

But now empathy for Logan burned through her, taking a hard, painful hold of her heart. Could she stand by and let him become the humiliated laughingstock of the auction if no one bid even a few dollars?

She elbowed Kaycee sharply. “Bid,” she whispered. “Now.”

Startled, Kaycee stared at her. “What? I don’t have the money.”

“I’ll pay. Bid against me just to bring it up to a decent amount so it isn’t embarrassing for him, and then I’ll take over. Seventy-five dollars max.”

“Isn’t this dishonest?”

“We’ll be increasing the youth fund profits, not trying to get a deal,” Darcy whispered back. “And I’ll certainly honor my bid if I do win.”

Kaycee weakly raised a hand to bid.

“We’ve got fifty, folks,” the auctioneer cried out jubilantly. “Now, do we have seventy-five...”

Darcy nodded.

From across the room, she saw Gladys Rexworth eye her speculatively, and her heart sank.

“Eighty,” the older woman barked. Her mouth twisted into a malevolent, superior smirk, and now Darcy realized this was personal.

Darcy closed her eyes briefly, remembering the run-ins she’d had with the woman in the past.

She hadn’t wanted Logan to lose face in front of the community. But now this—this would be even worse. Gladys was a wealthy, spiteful woman who seemed to take pleasure in causing others grief with her wicked tongue.

Darcy didn’t even want to imagine how Gladys might enjoy having the new vet under her thumb, and then spread her vicious comments after setting impossible standards for his work.

Darcy held Emma a little tighter and swallowed hard. “Eighty-five.”

Gladys lifted her chin triumphantly. “Two hundred.”

Please, God, tell me what to do here. Edgar stood next to the podium, awaiting his turn. The man who could swiftly, expertly deal with the most serious projects at the cottage...

Her shoulders sagged. “Two twenty-five.”

Gladys’s eyes widened and mouth narrowed. Then she shook her head.

“The vet is the bestseller so far tonight, folks,” the auctioneer crowed. “And our lady vet is the winner! Could this mean there’s a little romance in the air?”

Darcy groaned and ran a palm down her face at the titter of laughter in the audience.

“Now for the last opportunity of the night, we have...” The auctioneer droned on.

A sudden gasp spread through the crowd, and every head turned toward the back entrance.

Dr. Maxwell stood in the open doorway—windblown, disheveled and breathing hard, as if he’d run all the way from the clinic. His incredulous gaze shifted from the auctioneer to Darcy. “What on earth is going on here? I never—”

With Emma still in her arms, Darcy hurried to his side, looped an arm through his, and hauled him back outside. “Everything is fine, folks,” she called over her shoulder. “He’s just surprised to find he’s worth that much. I sure am.”

As she shut the door behind them, the auctioneer’s delighted voice followed her outside. “Back to the highlight of the evening, folks. We have Edgar Larson, your last chance to bid. He’s a fine carpenter who tops our auction every single year...”

She cringed inwardly. What in the world had she done?

Chapter Three (#ubec16442-5493-5349-889b-d4716c13d638)

Her face pale, Darcy put her daughter down, leaned against the exterior wall of the church and closed her eyes. She looked as if she were on the verge of collapsing.

Her little girl gave Logan a wary look and hid behind her mom’s legs, as if she thought he was the big bad wolf.

He moved a step closer in case Darcy crumpled to the ground. “Are you all right?”

“I can’t believe I just did that,” she moaned. She shot a sidelong glance at him. “I didn’t plan to go that high, but then Gladys...”

“And I can’t believe someone put my name on an auction block—and for what, I have no idea,” Logan bit out. “I don’t even know those people.”

“Those people are members of this church, some of whom generously offered handyman skills, babysitting or hours of yard work to be sold at the annual handyman auction. The others are the generous folks in town who often pay far more than a deal is worth, because every dollar helps the youth group attend an annual faith rally in the Twin Cities,” she retorted wearily. “If you’d answered my text messages on your cell, it wouldn’t be at all confusing.”

“I don’t check my phone while driving.”

“Not even at a gas station?” Now she sounded exasperated. “Or when you stop to eat?”

“I drove for several hours without good reception, and there were no messages.”

“Then you need to switch cell companies.”

The loud clang of metal against metal rang out from down the street. He glanced toward the sound. “That would be one of the horses in my trailer. I stopped at the clinic before going home and found a brief note on my desk that said, ‘Auction at the church—be there at eight tonight,’ so I came straight over here. Why am I involved in this?”

Her shoulders slumped. “My friend Beth is the committee chair, and she was desperate to have a few more names on the list. She also...um...thought it might give you some good PR in the community.”

Beth, of course. He’d worked for days sorting and packing possessions to bring back to Wisconsin, hauling things to Goodwill and wrapping up the details of his old life in Montana.

Now, after fifteen hours in his truck, plus three long stops to unload the horses for a break from travel, all he wanted right now was to get them into the barn and collapse on his sofa. The coming week was going to be even more hectic...but now what had Beth gotten him into?

“So she just went ahead and added my name?”

“No. I told her I would ask you, but apparently her assistant added you at the last minute before running off the programs.” Darcy shot a dark glance at him. “I suppose she figured that you—like all the others who volunteered—would be more than happy to help out the kids.”

“And what does this involve, exactly?”

“The winning bidder gets twenty hours of your time—but it can be just a few hours here and there. Carpentry, home repairs, lawn care...whatever.”

“So if I simply decline, you can save your money and I can save my time. Easy enough—”