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Expecting A Lone Star Heir

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2019
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“That’s understandable.” Mike turned away to set the tray on a table and sip his drink. He set the glass back on the tray.

“If you’re ready now, I’ll call Slade and see if he’s ready to meet you.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

While she talked on her phone, he glanced around. The desk at one side of the room looked French and a sofa covered in antique blue velvet faced the fireplace. One wall was almost floor-to-ceiling glass and overlooked a fenced yard with neat beds of red roses, a flowering crab apple tree and spirea and hyacinth in bloom. His gaze flicked back to Vivian. Her clothes didn’t reveal her figure or her legs, but one of the pictures Thane had carried was of both of them on a beach and Mike had total recall of her long legs and fabulous curves and a smile that could melt ice.

She turned to Mike. “Slade said he’s ready, so shall we go? It’s a short walk.”

“Sure,” he said, watching her cross the room and joining her, catching the faintest scent of an exotic perfume. He held the library door for her and then fell into step beside her as they walked down a wide hall that held potted palms and an elegant arrangement of chairs and loveseats. A splashing fountain was built into one of the walls and marble statuary and oils in gilt frames lined each side.

“Is this your art?”

She laughed, a melodic, cheerful sound that made him want to get her to laugh again. “Not all of it. Some of them. I specialize in Western art and portraits. One of the horse paintings is mine.” She pointed to the nearest painting. “The black horse.”

“Very nice,” he said. As he commented, he thought what a pity that Thane’s wife wasn’t older, less attractive, less appealing and less friendly because then she would definitely be less tempting.

Outside, they followed a stone path bordered by beds of blooming yellow jonquils and purple irises to a gate that he opened and held for her.

“Thank you,” she said as she walked through and he followed, closing the gate. “I really know so little about this ranch other than that we raise Hereford cattle. I do ride because we had a family farm that we went to occasionally and I had a horse, but that farm was nothing like this ranch and I didn’t spend much time with my horse. And I don’t here. I’m really not a ranch person. Also, I think the farm was more of a place for my father to relax.”

Mike saw barns, corrals and garages for the various cars, trucks and the one limo. In another direction there were houses and fenced yards. They approached a single-story building with lots of glass and wood.

“Here’s the foreman’s office. And here comes Slade,” she said as a door opened and a tall, slender man came out. He was in boots, jeans and a long-sleeved denim shirt. In spite of the protection of his broad-brimmed Western hat, his skin was brown, wrinkled and weathered. His gray hair was long at the back of his neck.

“Slade, meet Mike Moretti, Thane’s ranger friend. Mike, this is Slade Jackson, our foreman.”

As Mike shook hands, he looked into gray eyes that stared intently at him. “I’ve heard about you from Thane, Mr. Jackson, and what a great job you’ve always done.”

“Call me Slade. Hate to step down, but the time has come. This is a family ranch and it’s been here through seven generations of Warners. It goes way back. I understand you’ve worked on a ranch.”

Vivian took a step forward. “Before you answer Slade, I’ll tell you two goodbye,” she said to the two men. “I enjoyed meeting you, Mike, and we’ll talk some more. You and Slade can come to some decisions.”

He gazed into her eyes and the thought crossed his mind that he could look at her for hours. Instantly, he thought about her from a few minutes earlier, crying over Thane, the man she once loved. And still loved. Mike knew he hadn’t imagined his reaction to touching her and he was equally certain that she had felt something, too. Why did they have the slightest chemistry between them when neither one wanted it? Was it really going to help for him to take her to dinner a couple of times to drive away a bothersome neighbor? Or would an evening together complicate both their lives?

Two (#ue39685f1-fddb-5a40-9801-9e12baeed87b)

Vivian walked back to the house with her emotions churning. Mike Moretti was the kind of man she had expected from Thane’s glowing description. What she hadn’t expected was the flash of awareness whenever they made physical contact. They didn’t know each other, so it wasn’t because she liked him. And she missed Thane every hour of every day. She missed him, she hurt and she didn’t want to go out with another man. Asking Mike to take her to dinner had been purely to get Clint to stop bothering her.

She really knew very little about Mike except what Thane had told her. She knew that her new foreman was one of Thane’s best buddies. She knew he was single, dependable, trustworthy, honest, strong, intelligent and understood ranching. Thane had mentioned all of those qualities, but as for actual facts about his life, Thane had said almost nothing and she hadn’t asked. She had always thought Thane would come home to her and she was still shocked over his death. She hated to ask Mike to take her out, especially on his first day here, but she wanted to be up front about it. She was becoming desperate to get Clint Woodson out of her life. He annoyed her like a fly steadily buzzing around her.

Any of her close friends would know when she went out with Mike that it didn’t really mean a thing to her. Clint, however, wouldn’t know that. She looked forward to the day when he was no longer bothering her and trying to get her to sell the ranch.

Her thoughts jumped back to Mike and her reaction to shaking his hand this morning. That stirring of awareness, that skitter up her spine, had shocked her and she couldn’t get it out of mind. She didn’t want to feel anything toward any other man. She loved her husband even if he wasn’t coming home to her. Was she making a mistake by going out with Mike?

She told herself she wasn’t. After all, she wasn’t interested in anything romantic and he didn’t act as if he was, either. She shrugged away her worries about going out with him, telling herself it would only be a polite evening with talk about the ranch and maybe good memories from Mike about Thane.

She entered her house and went to her room to change her clothes so she could paint. She didn’t expect to see Mike Moretti again until he moved in and worked for the Tumbling T.

* * *

Tuesday morning, Slade was showing Mike around the ranch. Everything was in good shape, even the garages where they stopped in for a tour of the vehicles.

Mike turned when Slade held out a set of keys to him.

“Thane wanted you to have his horse and his saddle and his truck.” Slade pointed out the newer vehicle to their right. “She’s all yours.”

“I think that’ll do nicely,” Mike said, shaking his head and silently thanking his friend. Leave it to Thane to have thought of everything.

After he looked over the truck, he turned to the foreman. “Looks like the Tumbling T is top notch. Is there anything this ranch needs that it doesn’t have?”

Slade laughed. “Just an owner. Vivian really doesn’t have her heart in this. She likes it out here, but she has no love for ranching, the horses, the land, not even that monster house he had built for her.”

Mike smiled. “It is a monster house. At least some people are living in it and enjoying it.”

“Yeah, they are. I think they like it more than she does.”

The two men walked over to the barn for a tour.

“Wait here and I’ll go get Thane’s horse,” Slade told him. “I can tell you that you’re going to like him. He’s a winner.”

Slade disappeared inside and came back out leading a black horse. Mike’s gaze ran over the horse and he smiled. “That is one fine horse.”

“He’s the best cutting horse on the place. He’s fast, fast enough to race. He’s the best and Thane loved him. Thane’s saddle has his initials on it and it’s the fanciest saddle in there. He has more than one, but you’ll see the one I’m talking about and you’ll like it.”

Mike led the horse into a corral and turned him loose, running his hands along his neck, feeling the muscles and the smooth hide, his coarse black mane.

“I think he’s waiting for something.”

“He likes apples,” Slade said.

“I’ll remember that next time I see him.”

He left, closing the gate and joining Slade on the remainder of the tour.

By the time Mike made it back to the guesthouse that night, he was ready to have a hot shower and to sit and think about all he had learned and seen of the ranch and the people he had met that day. It was dark when he finished his shower. He pulled on jeans and boots and a T-shirt, going outside to sit in a rocker and drink a beer. The guesthouse had a fenced yard and faced the back of the main house where a few lights burned on different floors. He wondered where Vivian’s room was and what she was doing.

His eyes had adjusted to the dark and there was a lamp post with a light in the yard, one beyond it near the drive and one farther down along the ranch road. Houses were scattered around him and they all had yard lights. There was a big mulberry tree in the guesthouse yard with lights and there was a white picket fence around the yard. He saw something moving along the outside of the fence and realized it was a shaggy brown dog. Curious, he watched as the dog went to the gate, stood on its hind legs and opened the latch with its nose. It nudged the gate open, came inside and up to the porch, walking up to Mike with a wagging tail.

Mike had to laugh as he scratched the dog’s ears. “Smart fella. That deserves a treat, but I don’t have one tonight. I’ll get one, though, because I suspect you’ll be back. Were you Thane’s dog or are you the ranch dog and get scratches from everyone?”

As he petted the dog, it raised its head and wagged its tail faster. Out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw someone approaching. “We’re going to have company.”

The dog left him, trotting to the gate and wagging its tail expectantly.

“Mike?”

He stood as Vivian came through the gate. “Hey, if you wanted to see me, you could have called and I would have come by the house. Next time, send a text.”
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