Книга Falling For The Rancher - читать онлайн бесплатно, автор Roxanne Rustand. Cтраница 3
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Falling For The Rancher
Falling For The Rancher
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Falling For The Rancher

Kaycee appeared at Darcy’s side. “This is awful. But on the other hand, he’s mean and he kinda deserves it.”

“No one ever deserves ridicule, and that’s what will happen,” Darcy said quietly. “He’ll be the only guy who failed to receive a single bid. Ever.”

“He’s still mean,” Kaycee retorted.

“To him, the clinic is business, not personal. He’s not changing things out of spite.”

“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

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—”

A young woman with a long curly blond ponytail burst out of the building, headed straight for Darcy and pulled her into a brief hug. “I’m so sorry, honey. I was helping in the nursery, but heard about what happened in there—that you bid on someone no one else wanted. That was the kindest thing ever. I know how much you wanted Edgar instead.”

No one else wanted? Logan didn’t want to be in this situation at all, but hearing he didn’t compare to some guy named Edgar didn’t sit right, either. “Who’s Edgar?”

Darcy ignored him. “Please—tell me Ed went for some impossible amount so I couldn’t have won his bid anyway.”

The woman bit her lower lip. “Two seventy-five.”

Darcy’s face fell. “Nooo.”

“But remember, you’ll never know how much higher the winner would have gone to beat you—it could have ended far, far above your budget.”

Darcy scooped Emma up into her arms. “I’ll keep that thought when I go back to trying to hire someone.”

“Who knows? Maybe your guy has some great skills, too.” The woman’s speculative gaze swept over Logan. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Hannah Dorchester, one of the physician’s assistants in town. And you are...”

“Logan Maxwell.”

“So you’re the one Darcy just bailed out, in front of all those people?”

Bewildered, he looked between the two of them. She’d bailed him out? “This was all a mistake. I’ll go inside and straighten this out right away.”

“Please don’t make a scene.” Hannah sidestepped to block the door. “The kids are all excited and celebrating. Anyway, it’s all over now, so there’s no rush. Go home. Think about it. Do you have any idea what Darcy just did for you?”

Darcy rested a hand on Hannah’s forearm. “It’s okay. He never agreed to this in the first place.”

“I need to get back inside to help Beth wrap things up for the night.” Hannah glanced at her watch, then tilted her head and gave Logan a brilliant smile. “Can I stop by the clinic for a few minutes first thing tomorrow? You can give me your decision then.”

He gave a noncommittal nod, though he already knew what his answer would be.

Once she’d gone back into the building, he turned to Darcy, but at the sound of a horse delivering a another solid kick to the horse trailer, he reached for the keys he’d shoved in the back pocket of his jeans. “I’m being paged, so I’d better get those horses home.”

She smiled at that. “Of course.”

He would be free of this crazy situation tomorrow, no doubt about that. But all the way back to his new home, he couldn’t escape the vision of Darcy’s expression.

She’d been clearly embarrassed, but he’d also caught a hint of desperation and bitter disappointment. So what was going on with her, for this auction to matter so much?

And who in the world was Edgar?

* * *

Hefting another bale of fragrant alfalfa that the farmer had just tossed down from the hay wagon, Logan looked over his shoulder at the approach of an unfamiliar car.

A moment later, the woman he’d met after the auction last night stepped out of the vehicle and approached him with a hand shading her eyes from the morning sun. Hannah, if he remembered correctly, though last night he’d been so tired he didn’t know for sure.

“I called the clinic, but Marilyn said you were taking care of a hay delivery. So I decided I’d just bop out here. Beautiful drive, anyway, with all of this timber and those rocky bluffs. I always loved coming out to Doc’s place for his annual barbecues.”

“I could’ve saved you the trip if I’d had your number.”

“That’s why I wanted to see you in person.” She laughed softly. “Beth and I are hoping you won’t get off that easy.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Honestly, I think you’d be better off if you just let it stand. Good PR and all that.”

He tipped his head toward the house. “Even if I wanted to help y’all out, I just don’t have the time. I can barely get in the door with all of the moving boxes stacked inside. It’ll take days to finish fencing the pasture and longer to take care of repairs in the barn.”

“But—”

“And then there’s going to be extensive remodeling at the vet clinic. A lot of time just getting the new practice going, and we’re still in foaling and breeding season, which means long days and even longer nights when I start seeing clients.”

“Last year a guy backed out,” Hannah said darkly, as if she hadn’t heard a word about his complicated life. “It was the talk of the town for months when the winning bidder demanded her money back from the youth group, and that started a big flap about the future of the auction—liability, worries about lawsuits—but without this big fundraiser, too many deserving kids will miss a wonderful opportunity. This year we’d been praying there wouldn’t be a single glitch to jeopardize the auction concept. But now there is. You.”

“This reminds me of a conversation I had with Beth at the cafe.” He stifled a laugh. “Darcy has some pretty convincing friends.”

“My fiancé likes to say I’m forthright.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “Others just say stubborn. But if it’s for a good cause, why not?”

There were now a good twenty bales waiting for him on the ground. The man on top of the stack was holding another and eyeing him impatiently. “If that’s it, then...”

He turned to get back to work, but she touched his arm. “Please.”

“Look, I—”

“If you don’t care about the kids, well...”

“It isn’t that I don’t care—I just don’t have time.”

“Then think about Darcy and what she gave up for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s single, you know, with no family around to help. Her little cottage is a wreck, and she’s been trying to hire a good handyman for months. But the good ones are booked ’til after the end of the year. And now, with her job in jeopardy since you showed up, she might have to sell and move. The cottage needs a lot of work before it can be listed.”

Baffled, he shook his head slowly. “How could just twenty hours of labor make enough difference, then?”

“She wanted to win Edgar. She’d been saving for months, hoping he would get the work started and then be willing to keep working for her. He’s a wonderful craftsman, but takes very few new clients.”

“Then she shouldn’t have bid on me.”

“That’s what I say. But she has a soft heart. She felt bad for you when no one else would bid. I’m sure she didn’t want you to face any ridicule.”

“I’m sure I could’ve handled it,” he said dryly.

“Maybe so...but with half the town angry over you threatening to fire the entire vet clinic staff, why add more fuel to the fire? And—” Hannah bit her lower lip, as if deciding how much more to say “—the other woman who drove the bidding up is...well, I think Darcy went so high ’cause she was trying to save you from a potentially bad situation. Very bad.”

The man on the hay wagon cleared his throat. “Hey, Doc, I need to get back to the farm. You want me to just keep pitching these off or what?”

Now there were a good fifty bales tossed into a jumbled pile on the ground, and at last one had landed wrong and broken. The farmer was muttering under his breath.

“I’ll be with you in just a second.”

He turned back to Hannah. “What if I made a donation to cover Darcy’s bid instead of doing the work?”

Hannah folded her arms over her chest. “Fine, donate the two twenty-five. Except Darcy is still left high and dry. No Edgar, and no other skilled craftsmen are available until January...at least. Like I said, this is a small community.”

“Fine. I’ll do it, then,” he said on a long sigh as he lifted a bale and started into the barn.

But long after Hannah left, questions kept spinning through his thoughts as he stacked bales into one of the box stalls he was using to store hay.

So Darcy had been struggling to save up for this auction? He knew what she was being paid at the clinic, and saving up a few hundred bucks for her beloved Edgar shouldn’t have been any big deal.

Yet apparently she was strapped for cash.

So what was her problem? Credit card debt? A gambling problem? Sheer irresponsibility? She didn’t seem like the type, but then, his own sister had mired herself in debt from online shopping, and he’d had to bail her out more than once so she and her kids wouldn’t lose their condo.

And then there was his ex-fiancée—who had been far worse. He knew all too well how a person could be caught up in a web of embezzlement.

So maybe this unexpected situation wasn’t so bad after all. If he completed the auction obligation to her, he’d have a chance to observe her situation and see if he even dared keep her around for the next two months.

Desperate people could end up doing desperate, illegal things, and he wasn’t going through that situation ever again.

* * *

Logan logged onto the computer at the clinic on Monday morning and continued the search he’d started at home late last night.

“Marilyn, can you come in here, please?” he called out.

Darcy came in instead, wearing the new clinic uniform—maroon scrubs—plus her white lab coat with the Aspen Creek Vet Clinic logo on the front pocket, and a stethoscope around her neck. “She’s out in the parking lot helping Mildred McConaughy bring her dog in. Can I help you?”

“I need to order some equipment, and I’d like an opinion on the vet supply distributor reps around here.” He flipped through the battered Rolodex on the desk. “Who do you prefer to deal with?”

“Doc Boyd usually gave his orders to Harold Bailey—the two were old friends who went way back.”

He looked up at her, momentarily taken aback. She stood in a shaft of morning sunlight streaming through the windows of his office. He’d first thought she had nondescript brown hair, but now he was struck by its rich, molten gold-and-amber highlights.

It took a moment to gather his scattered thoughts. “And...uh...you don’t call him anymore?”

“His branch warehouse is clear down in the Quad Cities, and the company takes too long for deliveries. After Doc passed away, we started using ABC Vet Supply because it has a warehouse over in St. Paul. Next-day delivery, usually, because it’s so close.”

“So that sales rep is...” He thumbed back through the Rolodex. “Vicki Irwin?”

“She’s young and fairly new, but sharp as can be and really follows through. She stops in twice a month. Sooner if we have any issues.” Darcy lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug. “But of course, you’ll need to decide for yourself which companies you want to use. What kind of equipment are you looking for?”

“The most outdated pieces of equipment are the blood chemistry machine and CBC cell counter—which should run around twenty grand. A new anesthesia machine would be at least four grand more.”

“With Doc gone, I didn’t feel right making any major purchases, but both are long overdue, for sure. What else?”

“Most everything else can wait a while.” He shifted his gaze to the computer screen. “But a new equine ultrasound is imperative for reproductive issues and evaluating injuries.”

She whistled under her breath. “Not cheap.”

He nodded. “It could run over fifty grand if I duplicate what we used in Montana.”

“It’ll be fun watching you bring this clinic up to date.”

She turned to leave, but he cleared his throat. “Your friend Hannah came out to see me on Saturday. I imagine she told you about it.”

“What?” Her mystified expression cleared. “You mean about the auction? I knew she planned to talk to you, but I haven’t heard from her since Friday night.”

“She and I got everything squared away.”

“Good to hear. I told Beth that the committee shouldn’t try to push you into something you never intended to do, so you’re off the hook.”

“But is that what you want? Your friend says you’ve been saving money for this for a long time.” He eyed her closely. “That you really need the help and can’t find anyone to do it.”

“Yes, well...that’s my concern, not yours.” A weary smile briefly lit up her face, and she looked like someone who had the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Honestly, I just want to apologize for what happened.”

“I understand your bidding saved me from the clutches of a difficult woman.”

At that, she laughed aloud. “You do owe me a favor for that. You have no idea.”

“I’m going to follow through. Will that just about cover it?”

Her eyes widened with surprise and a touch of wariness. “You don’t need to. Really.”

“I called Beth just a few minutes ago. It’s a done deal.”

“Um...” Her gaze veered away, and she swallowed hard. “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but I...um...need someone who is really skilled as a handyman. Experienced.”

“You’re worried about getting your money’s worth.” He heard the unintentionally hard edge in his tone and instantly regretted it when he saw her flinch.

“I must sound so crass.” Rosy color washed up into her cheeks. “It’s just that whether my daughter and I stay or need to leave town, I... I need the work to be done well and up to code.”

“Tell you what. You’ve got twenty hours of my time, so make a list of what needs to be done. Then let me come over some evening this week so I can see if I have the skill set for what you need. Tonight would be fine, if you’re eager to get started.”

“That I am.” She bit her lower lip. “But if you don’t feel it’s something you want to tackle?”

“Then I’ll donate the full amount of your bid to the youth group, and you can save your money to pay someone else.” He offered his hand across the desk. “Deal?”

She hesitated, her expression still filled with doubt, but she finally accepted his brief handshake. “This is beyond generous. I think you’re being too kind.”

Not kind, he thought as he watched her head out of his office. Just careful.

Since asking about her around town would only start rumors, he needed to take this into his own hands.

Because absolute trust was a rare and fragile thing, and he couldn’t afford to make the same mistake twice.

Chapter Four

Darcy had given Logan a list of projects and the directions to her house before leaving work at the end of the day. She’d blushed a little, saying she knew there were far more than twenty hours of labor on the list, but she’d thought he might want to choose what he wanted to do.

A tactful expectation that he’d need to select the easier tasks, he supposed.

From that long, long list he’d figured she was living in shabby house worthy of a wrecking ball in a seedy part of town. Probably around the taverns, trailer park and mechanic’s shop on the south end.

But he’d followed her directions down several winding, tree-shaded streets into an area of well-kept homes from the early 1900s. Now he stood on the sidewalk in front of 56 Cranberry Lane and just stared.

The surrounding houses were two-story brick, with sweeping covered porches on the front, leaded glass and manicured lawns. Darcy’s place was brick as well, but just a single story, with a brick-paved driveway leading past the side of the house to a matching one-stall garage.

It reminded him of a dollhouse in comparison. A neglected one, at that. If Darcy was blowing her money, it hadn’t been spent on the place she lived.

Lace curtains in the front window fluttered. Then the door opened and Darcy came across the porch and down the steps and let him through the gate at edge of the sidewalk.

“I’m sure you can already see some of the projects here,” she said with a self-conscious laugh, gesturing at the ornate white picket fence surrounding the front yard. “The backyard is fenced as well, and there must be dozens of pickets that have broken or rotted away.”

He eyed the intricately cut upright pieces. “These were custom-made.”