What She'd Do for Love Read online

  “What time are you expecting your folks back?” Rodrigo asked.

  “I don’t know. They didn’t say.”

  “Looks like we’ve got company.” Rodrigo nodded toward the dust cloud that announced the approach of a vehicle on the long drive leading to the barns and hay sheds. A late-model white pickup with some kind of seal on the driver’s door crept toward them. Jet hurried to stand in front of Christa, barking, his tail wagging furiously.

  The truck stopped and Ryder, dressed in his usual crisp khakis and white shirt, stepped out. Today he wore a tan Stetson, similar to the ones Rodrigo and her dad always sported, though much newer.

  Christa scooped up the dog and shushed him as Ryder touched his hand to the brim of the Stetson in a salute. “Hello, Christa. Rodrigo. Is Bud around?”

  “He’s not here,” Christa said.

  “Is he up at the house?” Ryder glanced in the direction of the ranch house.

  Clearly, he knew his way around the place. “He and Mom are in Dallas,” she said. “Why did you want to see him?”

  “Nothing important. How are you doing?”

  Jet had quieted and was wriggling in her arms, so she set him down and resisted the urge to smooth her hair, which she knew was a mess, along with the rest of her. She wore no makeup and was dusty and sweaty, with hay sticking to her clothing, her hair a tangle. “We’ve been unloading hay,” she said, by way of explanation.

  “I’ve got some other work to do, so I’ll get on with it,” Rodrigo said. He nodded to Ryder, and sauntered away. Christa resisted the urge to call him back on some pretense. Last night she’d been easy with Ryder, in the café full of people, but now she couldn’t seem to relax. Without the buffer of other people around them, would he sense her attraction to him and get the wrong idea? Even Jet deserted her, distracted by some scent he’d uncovered on the other side of the shed.

  “So you grew up here.”

  He was still looking toward the house, which sat in the grove of oaks her grandfather had planted when he built the house. “I was born in a hospital in Dallas,” she said. “But I came home to here and didn’t leave until I went to Austin for college.”

  “What was that like—being a little girl here?”

  “I don’t think I could have asked for a better childhood. I mean, people pay big money to vacation in the kind of environment I lived in every day. I rode horses, swam, went to movies with my friends or hung out at the soda fountain. I knew almost everyone and could safely go almost anywhere in town.” She’d been hoping to recapture a little of those stress-free, uncomplicated times when she’d moved back here. She’d lost more than her job in the city—she’d lost her place in life, her identity. She needed to return to the one place she was always sure of herself in order to figure out where she belonged and what she was supposed to be doing.

  “You didn’t long for malls and drive-throughs?” His dimples showed when he smiled and her heart did its trapped butterfly imitation again.

  “Maybe sometimes I did,” she said. “I mean, I was a teenage girl. When I left for college in Austin, I was excited about living in the city, being closer to shopping and restaurants and all the things we didn’t have here. But after a while, I missed all of this.” She gestured around her, at the wide-open prairie, the ranch buildings and the little house. “There’s just something about home.”

  “I never felt that kind of tie to a place. I’m a little envious.”

  He was standing close enough she could smell the faint pine scent of the soap he used, or maybe it was aftershave. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to just below the elbows, revealing muscular forearms dusted with dark hair. She’d worked around men all the time growing up, riding horses, bucking hay and mending fences alongside Rodrigo and Duncan and the other cowboys, but none of them had seemed as masculine and desirable as Ryder did right now.

  As if sensing her uneasiness, he stepped back, putting more distance between them. “Would you show me around?”

  The request surprised her. “I thought you’d been here before.”

  “I have, but that was to talk to your dad. I’d like to see the place through your eyes.”

  She brushed hay from her jeans. “I’m a mess.”

  “You look fine to me.”

  She didn’t dare look up, but she felt his gaze on her, like a caress. Quickly, she whistled for the dog. As she started walking. Ryder fell into step beside her. “These two hay sheds were built in 1979,” she said. “My grandfather was ranching the place then. My dad was a teenager. He went to college at Texas A&M and got a degree in Agriculture Science, then married my mom and they lived in what everybody called the old home place, over near Jade Creek.”

  “Does anyone live there now?” Ryder took a long, deep breath and released it.

  “Not for a long time. It’s mostly used for storage,” she said. “By the time I was born we’d moved to the main house. Grandpa had died and my grandmother lived with us.” She smiled at the memory. “She was my favorite person in the whole world. She was half-Vietnamese, a tiny woman who still spoke with a lovely accent.”

  “How did she end up on a ranch in North Texas?”

  Christa smiled. She loved this story. “She and my grandfather met when he was stationed in Vietnam. She was only fifteen, but he thought she was older. She worked doing laundry for the soldiers and he would give her food and treats like chocolate and peanut butter. When it came time for him to ship back to the United States, they were in love. He swore he wouldn’t leave her behind.”

  “The war must have still been going on. How did he ever get her into the United States?”

  “That’s the wonderful thing about this story. It was almost impossible for adult Vietnamese to immigrate at that time, but some groups were able to bring in children—orphans. Somehow my grandfather convinced a group into taking her in and sponsoring her. By that time he knew how old she really was, but I think he lied and told them she was even younger. He broke all kinds of rules, spent all his savings and risked his career, his reputation, everything—all because he loved her so much.” She had never tired of her grandmother telling this tale—how her grandfather had worked so tirelessly so the two of them could be together. “His parents objected to the marriage, and it wasn’t as if anyone else was accepting. It was the height of the war and my grandmother was afraid to go out alone. People would say horrible things to her. But my grandfather didn’t care about any of that. He loved her so much.”

  “That’s an incredible story,” he said.

  “It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” She sighed. “He wanted to start over in a new place, so they came here right after they married. He bought this land from another rancher and lived in the old house that was already here until he could build a new house—the one my parents live in now.”

  “Were the people in Cedar Grove more accepting of your grandmother?”

  “By the time I was old enough to notice, people had accepted her,” Christa said. “Though she still wasn’t overly social. She preferred to spend most of her time on the ranch. She helped my mother with cooking and cleaning and gardening, and she looked after me. I never tired of hearing her talk, especially about the past.”

  “How long has she been gone?” he asked, his voice gentle.

  “She died when I was a freshman in high school. I’d never lost anyone I loved before. I was devastated. I still miss her.” She shook her head. “You asked for a tour of the ranch, not a family history. Sorry.”

  “No. I enjoy listening to you.”

  He was a good listener, and easy to talk to. “I told you about the hay sheds and the original house and the current house. To see anything else we’d have to take a drive, or saddle some horses.”

  “Maybe some other time.” He rested one arm on the wooden fence that bordered the driv
e and studied her. He had a way of looking at her, as if he was seeing below the surface, to secrets she kept inside.

  She tucked her hair behind one ear. “What are you looking at?” she asked.

  “You seem so at home here. I’m wondering what you were like in the city. What did you do for this marketing firm?”

  “A lot of different things. I worked with companies to design ad campaigns—everything from tech companies to nonprofits. I was part of a team. We did everything from idea generation to actually buying the ad space.”

  “What did you like best about the work?”

  “I liked learning new things. The companies we worked with did so many things, and I had to learn about their products and services in order to design marketing campaigns for them. Every day was interesting and different. And I liked the people I worked with, too. Because the company was privately owned and still fairly small, we were like a family almost. I’m going to miss that.”

  “I’m sorry you were laid off. It sounds like you really enjoyed the work.”

  “I did. I not only liked the work, I had good co-workers I looked forward to seeing every day. I even liked our office. It was a light, airy space near my apartment. I was planning to buy a town home in a new development in the neighborhood next year. I thought I had it made, and that I’d stay there for years.”

  “It’s even harder to leave a situation when you’re so attached to it,” he said.

  She nodded. “It’s scary, when things change that we thought we could count on to remain stable.”

  “That’s when you learn to count on yourself—and the people around you.”

  “I guess so.”

  Now it was her turn to take a step back, to move away from the connection she was starting to feel for him. “I have a bunch of things I need to do at the house before my parents get home,” she said. “I’ll tell Dad you stopped by. Do you want him to call you?”

  “No rush. I’ll stop by some other time.” He straightened. “Maybe I’ll see you again.”

  She took another step back. “Ryder—don’t get any ideas, okay? I mean, I’m here for just a little while, to get my bearings and look for another job. You’re here to oversee this highway project.”

  “And I’m part of all the changes you hate.” He nodded. “I know you don’t like what I do, but we can still be friends. That’s all. You can’t have too many friends, can you?”

  What did he expect her to say to that? “No. I guess not. And I think—I think you’re an okay guy, even if we don’t agree on this highway issue.”

  “I’m still hoping to win you over to my side.” He nodded politely and then headed across the yard, back toward his truck.

  She hugged her arms across her chest and watched him climb into the truck and drive away. She’d told him she liked it here on the ranch because life was simple. But lately, things had gotten very, very complex. Ryder was one more complication she wasn’t sure she knew how to handle.

  * * *

  RYDER DROVE BACK into town, intending to return to his apartment and follow up on some paperwork he needed in anticipation of next week’s ground breaking for the highway. He didn’t want any last-minute glitches to delay the project. The townspeople, as well as his bosses with the state, would scrutinize every aspect of his work, so he wanted it to be perfect.

  But instead of turning toward his apartment, he headed down Main Street and parked in front of the hardware store. Inside, he wandered the aisles, looking at displays of paint and supplies, then stopped in the aisle devoted to housewares. He fingered the edge of a red-and-blue braided rug.

  “Thinking of doing a little redecorating?”

  He turned and recognized Christa’s friend, Kelly. The petite brunette walked toward him. “I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but you look a little lost, Ryder.”

  “My mother’s coming to visit, and I thought I ought to try to fix my place up a little.”

  “Good idea.” She glanced at the display of rugs. “You don’t really seem like the braided rug type, though.”

  “Honestly, all I know about rugs is that you walk on them. And I don’t care to learn more, except I’m trying to avoid giving my mom an excuse to lecture me about growing up and settling down. I figured having an apartment that looked like I actually lived there would help.”

  “You’re in Vicki Harrison’s garage apartment, right?”

  “Yep. I take it one of her sons lived there for a while, so it still looks like a cross between a frat house and Grandmother’s attic.”

  Kelly’s laughter emerged as a snort. “Not a good look. So, what are you hoping for instead?”

  “I just want it to look like someplace an adult man would live. One who’s sort of...settled.”

  She quirked an eyebrow in a quizzical manner. “Does this mean you’re thinking about staying in Cedar Grove long term?”

  “I’m only here for the duration of the road project.”

  She clucked her tongue. “And here I thought I had some juicy gossip.” She studied the shelves, and then confidently pulled down a couple of navy blue rugs. “Start with these. I suggest you put them over any stains in the carpet.”

  “Okay.” He took the rugs. “What else?”

  “Are you seriously telling me you’ve never furnished an apartment before?”

  “I never needed to.”

  She shook her head and added a stack of bath towels. “Hang these where your mom will see them if she uses your bathroom. That will keep her from focusing on the ratty ones you probably use every day.”

  “You’re starting to scare me. Have you been peeking in my bathroom?”

  “I don’t have to. Most people—especially single men—use ratty bath towels for everyday, and save the good ones for company. Put these in the kitchen.” She added dish towels and a matching pot holder. “Oh, and these will help dress up the sofa.” She piled on four throw pillows in shades of gold, brown and blue.

  Ryder peered over the top of the growing stack. “Anything else?”

  “You need pictures. Art.” She looked around. “I don’t see anything here, but if you stop by Wildwood Flowers, she has a good selection. Buy a couple of plants, too. Ask her for anything that thrives on neglect. It would help if you framed a few photographs, too.”

  “Photographs of what?”

  “You—with friends. Hanging out. Doing stuff. You know, to personalize the place. Let your mom see that you have a life.”

  He tried to remember if he had any photos of himself with other people besides his family. Maybe he’d been captured in some shots other people took, at work or casual gatherings with acquaintances. But he had no albums or computer files with candid shots of himself at parties or barbecues or dinners. Those were things people accumulated when they lived somewhere for a while—at least long enough to establish a history.

  “Thanks,” he told Kelly as they headed toward the checkout. “I’m sure this stuff will help warm the place up a little.”

  “Maybe you should ask Christa to help you,” she said, her tone was casual, but the inference was not.

  He smiled. “I thought she was in marketing, not decorating.”

  “She’s a smart woman, so I’m sure she’d have good ideas for you. And it would give you an excuse to see her again.”

  Ah. More matchmaking. “I didn’t know I needed an excuse to see her.”

  She set her purse on the counter and faced him. “Etta Mae said you two looked pretty cozy at the Blue Bell last night.”

  “We enjoyed talking.”

  “You could continue the conversation at your apartment.”

  If he was worried about his mom seeing where he lived, he definitely didn’t want Christa to know what a failure he was at putting his own stamp on the place. “I think I’ll leave Chr
ista out of the decorating, thanks.”

  “Maybe that’s a good idea. Get the place fixed up first, then invite her over.”

  “Christa and I are just friends.”

  “That’s a good place to start. And I’m really happy for you. I think the two of you are a good match.”

  “We’re not dating. She made it very clear she doesn’t want to date me.”

  “And half the women in town would tell her she needs her head examined, but that’s just Christa—it takes her a long time to warm up to anything new. She just moved back to town, so she has to adjust to that before she can move on to dating. But she’ll come around. Trust me, I’ve known her all her life.”

  “So she’s always been slow to accept change?”

  “Are you kidding me? She carried the same backpack all the way through high school, even though it was falling apart, because she couldn’t stand to get a new one. In ninth grade, she ate a cheese sandwich every single day for lunch. When the Dairy Queen closed down, she practically went into mourning. It’s not that she doesn’t like new things—she just wants all the old, familiar things to stay the same.”

  “Yet she moved to the city after she graduated.”

  “Yeah, that was a big step, but it was what her parents and everyone else expected her to do, so that made it kind of routine. Plus, she loved her job and established herself there pretty quickly. I think that’s why this layoff has thrown her for such a loop. She thought she was settled for life.”

  “She seems pretty young to be so set in her ways.”

  “It’s not set in her ways so much as anchored. She’s very loyal to the people and places that are meaningful to her. And she’s willing to change, if she has a strong enough reason to. There’s something to be said for being steady and reliable and not flighty.”

  “I guess there is.” He piled his purchases on the checkout counter. “Thanks again for your help, Kelly. Maybe all this...” He indicated the rugs, pillows and towels. “Will make me seem less, um, flighty to my mom.”