Second Chance Ranch (The Circle D series) Read online

  “Jess thinks you need a little help.” Zac tipped his ball cap back letting dark hair curl around his temples.

  “Jess Eklund? What’s Jess got to do with anything?” Her mind stalled at his mention of Arthur Eklund’s son. Jess had been nothing but a bully when they were kids. Rumor had it Jess hadn’t changed even though he owned one of the most successful steakhouse chains in the state. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the kitchen?”

  “You were preoccupied.” He dragged his hand down his face as if weary of the entire situation. “Jess called me as a friend to oversee the harvest, that’s all. Look Jen, that’s a lot of acreage to bale and stack. It’s going to be tough to finish in a couple of weeks even with all of us working full-time.” He waved his hand toward the barn and assortment of out buildings surrounding it. “Why don’t you take care of your business, I’ll handle mine and we’ll all be right where the good Lord wants us.”

  “Zac Davidson, don’t talk down to me.” She leapt around the back bumper and planted her feet toe to toe with his, her hand waving toward the barn as he’d done. “I am where the good Lord wants me. It’s you who’s not. Go back to Denver and keep the family business on a financial high - isn’t that what you do these days?” Satisfaction flared in her soul as he took a step back from the finger she drilled into his chest. “I can’t afford any problems.”

  “I can work the company numbers anywhere, Bean.” He caught her wrist, his grip putting an end to her harping. “What are you talking about? I’ve been haying my whole life. I know what I’m doing.”

  “The income off that hay is important to my loan application. I need someone I can depend on. Someone who isn’t going to leave when a better offer comes along.” She rolled her eyes and blew out a breath. “Max and Splint are working out just fine. They’ll get the hay in and make repairs to the house. I’ve got the camp covered. I’ve got a lot to prepare or the bank committee won’t approve my loan. Don’t screw up my system.”

  He studied her, his deep dark gaze tracing patterns over her face. She could only guess for what he searched. Zac, her childhood friend, rodeoed to his own tune, not caring who he dragged down along the way. His enthusiasm and innocent appeal had been the downfall of many of their adventures. Problem was, Zac never thought ahead to consider if those joining in his schemes knew how to catch themselves before they fell to the rocky ground below. What worked out great for Zac, usually spelled disaster for everyone else.

  Three weeks was all she had left before the committee evaluated her proposal to purchase the ranch. She’d been doing fine until Jess Eklund asked to review her business plan incorporating the agricultural acreage. If it were up to Jess, Jen knew he’d try to sabotage her efforts out of spite, if for nothing else. So, on top of her duties as Health Director for the camp, she’d been researching viable options of crop management.

  Still, she grudgingly admitted, Zac was right. Even with the three of them directing crews and working full-time, while praying for dry weather and sound equipment, the load pushed the edge of her contractual envelope.

  What choice did she have? She had to trust Zac.

  “Please, Zac.” Jen turned her wrist in his grip until she slid her palm against his, pushing into his solid strength. She didn’t know what she was asking of him, all she knew was in a split moment the tides had changed and he held her future in his two strong, more than capable, hands. “I need everything to go right.”

  The muscles in his cheek worked in concentration just as they had before every rodeo event where he and her brother, Kade, broke the gate after a calf. His skin warmed in her grip. She caught his gaze again and wished she could read his mind rather than just guessing.

  His rich brown eyes focused on her as the one side of his mouth tipped up creating a hint of a dimple in his cheek. “You take care of that camp and leave the rest of the place to me.”

  * * *

  “My weeks are getting full, Trevor.” Jen fanned the pages of her personal calendar. “Once I close on the purchase of the ranch, I’ll have to start working on renovations to the older cabins.”

  “Exactly why you need to go after these sponsorships, Jennifer.” Trevor Hockett tapped the end of his pen against the top of the desk. “If you want money to make changes, you have to attend these functions during your down time.”

  Down time? What was that? Jen looked at the fund-raising plan Trevor proposed and couldn’t contain her sigh. A few years older and a genius at non-profit PR, Trevor Hockett thrived on the challenge of making the little guy profitable. Exactly what Jen needed right now, but not on the accelerated plan he proposed. Like a Jack Russell Terrier with his eye on a stick to be thrown, Trevor anticipated shortfalls, planned for contingencies and not only had Plan B ready, but Plans C, D, E were probably scribbled on the back of his legal pad kept within reaching distance.

  Besides having perfected his Type A personality, he embodied the best of all worlds to the female singles’ population of the Gunnison Valley – educated, established, eligible. Not to mention exceedingly handsome in a well put-together sort of way. Jen admired his quick mind for planning to keep her camp afloat, but she much preferred men with easy-going attitudes. Too much time spent with Trevor left her exhausted.

  “I can’t do anything until October and even then, it’s going to be tight.” She flipped the page to the month. “I already have a block of meetings planned with the hospital board and the foundation.”

  “We have a 50-50 chance of securing sponsorships during the last quarter of the fiscal year. Either the corporations I’ve researched have set aside money to spend at the end of the year, or they’ll fall in love with your concept and find money to invest.” He leaned back in his chair, a confident smile on his face. “Either way, we have to plan for January and February and make sure we get in on the ground floor of budgets.”

  The battle gleam blazed in his blue eyes. Crisp and sharp, ready for the challenge. Zac wore crisp and sharp well too, but humor lurked within the deep brown, a call to adventure rather than a battle cry. She blinked and tried to focus on the typed words in her hand. Zac had nothing to do with this. If anything, maybe she did need to consider battle the operative word where Zac Davidson was concerned. Forget the excitement that strung her nerves in tight anticipation every time he looked at her.

  “Trevor, whatever you think is best.” She tucked the papers into her folder and gave a discreet roll to loosen her shoulder muscles. “Right now, I have to concentrate on a planting schedule for the bank to review. Like I said, I can’t do anything until next month.”

  A smug smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He elbows raised as he laced his fingers behind his head, the edges of his suit coat falling aside and revealing the contours of his sturdy chest beneath the crisp, white shirt. “I never thought Jess Eklund would come back to Hawk Ridge. Probably sound decision to sell the place. Can’t argue he contributes a lot to the valley, supporting the farmers and ranchers, but retaining ownership of the Trails’ End is a headache he doesn’t need.”

  A flash of irritation rushed through her. Why was everyone praising a man who had done nothing but aggravate his aging father? “He knows nothing about the Trails’ End except its monetary value.”

  Trevor gave her a lazy once over as if assessing whether the comment warranted a response. “He’s a business man with a great mind for investment. The family ranch may be rich in memories, but the physical aspects are of no use to him. He’s making a sound decision.”

  She wanted to stick her tongue out at his frankness. Zac’s, too. Obviously Trevor and Zac hadn’t a clue what a monster Jess could really be. “I’m taking a crash course on ranching.”

  “Not so easy, is it?” He lowered his arms, straightening his jacket and tie before sitting forward in his chair. “Doing two jobs when you’d prefer to just have the one. Jess wants to build his chain of steakhouses the way he knows how without the distraction of fringe investments. You want to run the best camp recovering kid
s can attend without the hassle of learning a trade you have no interest in. Really, you and Jess have seats in the same stadium watching the same game wanting the same outcome only viewing it from opposite sides.” He lifted a brow. “You’re just lucky his father’s will gives you and your camp first crack at the property.”

  Her stomach knotted at the blank look she received from Trevor. Instantly, dread turned to suspicion as she remembered her mail. “What aren’t you telling me? Was it in the letter you sent? Sorry I haven’t opened it yet, I just noticed it today on my way out the door to come see you.” When his brows drew together, Jen knew something was wrong.

  “I haven’t sent any letters.”

  Way wrong.

  Trevor sat straighter in his executive chair, the maroon leather absorbing his movement as only the finest Italian leather could do. “Jen, you have first chance at a prime piece of real estate. Lucky for you, there’s interest close by, otherwise Jess would have posted the sale notice nationally.”

  “Is that why you’re pushing me about the fund-raising? Getting all the support I can isn’t just to look good on paper, is it?” Her heart sank at his brief nod. She drew a breath to bring oxygen to her brain as she thought it through. “The hospital foundation is behind me. I’m working with the pharmaceuticals for sponsorship and a couple of the ranch supply chains are interested, too.” She grappled for more information that escaped her brain. “And, I’m putting together the crop plan Jess insisted on. With that in place, the harvest yield alone will make the monthly payment.”

  “The bank knows the Trails’ End has an excellent production history.” Trevor spoke slowly, the intensity of his gaze making it clear this was serious. “With a sound understanding of how to run the ranch and the collateral you’re offering, the battle shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “Battle? With whom?” Jen tried to think of ranchers in the area that might want to expand. “Someone contacted you about the sale?”

  He sat still.

  “Trevor, who else wants the ranch?”

  “Zac Davidson.”

  Blood flow stalled in her veins. “Excuse me?”

  His usual piercing glare softened as Trevor sat back in his chair. “Zac came and talked to me about putting in a back-up bid on the ranch. He wants to come home. He wants the Trails’ End.”

  Zac? “I know he was obsessed with the story of his great grandfather losing the ranch in a poker game, but he never said anything about wanting to buy it. Why would he? He never planned to come back to Hawk Ridge - he couldn’t wait to get out of here.” Her mind raced, tangling together the conversations they’d shared earlier in the day. Nothing. Just a dynamite kiss. Her stomach lurched. She gathered her papers and shoved them into the manila folder. “Excuse me, I’ll get back with you, Trevor. Thanks.”

  Bolting out of her chair, she stopped as the room spun around her. I will not faint. She focused on her mission of walking through the office and out into the sunlight. Zac’s betrayal stung enough, she didn’t need the humiliation of passing out in the lobby of the law firm, too. Jamming her palms on the crash rail, she shoved the glass door open and proceeded down the sidewalk. Steady girl, you’re almost there, she swallowed as her steps grew quicker. At the first streetlight in the middle of the block, she locked her fingers through the metal wire of the waste receptacle for support. A deep clang like the toll of a bell echoed through the cast metal as the ring on her pinkie finger connected with the post in the bare, open palm slap.

  “Zac,” she ground out through her clenched teeth. She slapped the post again allowing the stutter of pain to wrench up her arm. Pain was good. It distracted her from her initial intent of tearing Zac Davidson apart, limb from limb. She reared back for another slap, but thought better of it. The crisp smack still tingled in her palm. Instead, she threaded the fingers of her other hand through the waist-high wire rim and dug her fingernails into her palms.

  She tilted her head back and tried to focus through her frustrated tears on the wrought iron lantern design at the top of the post. “Why did you come back to Hawk Ridge?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Zac sat in his pickup waiting for Jen to leave the office building. He’d hoped for more time, creating a better relationship between them before he mentioned his plan to her. Just his luck she carried a chip on her shoulder about his not calling her after Gabe’s wedding, and then complicated matters by having her meeting with Hockett so soon.

  Poor, poor timing.

  The sun reflected off the glass doors of the P.B Wrenn building on the corner of Main and First Street. The red brick and copper-colored masonry cornerstone of town was named after Packer Bennett Wrenn, one of the founding families of Hawk Ridge. The family still lived in Hawk Ridge and managed the Tricky Find gold mine. Zac tapped his thumb on the steering wheel as his gaze skimmed over the ornate Corinthian columns and copper flake trim. He’d always thought the monstrosity was a bit overkill for the sleepy main road, but hey, his family wasn’t around when the plans had been drawn up. The Wrenn’s settlement in Hawk Ridge dated back earlier than the Davidson’s, a monumental accomplishment seeing as the Davidson brothers brought the first cattle operation to the area back in mid-1800s.

  As his gaze followed an ornate line of gilded masonry, Jen bolted from the glass doors and out of the office building. Even parked across the street, he noticed her face was way too pale for normal. He slid out of the truck and slammed the door, stopping between his tailgate and the bumper of an SUV to let a car drive by before jay walking across the street. Jen seemed on a mission to outrun him. Well, he was on a mission of his own to set the story straight.

  Reaching the sidewalk on the other side, he found Jen clutching the rim of a the trash basket, her eyes squeezed closed. Her lips moved without sound. Stopping a couple of feet short of her, he swayed back at the force of her tension. What had Hockett said to her? “Jen?”

  She continued to clutch the wire rim without acknowledging he’d spoken. As if approaching a spooked calf, Zac stepped forward and cupped her shoulders. Tension erupted as she snapped her eyes open. “Let go of me.”

  And have you take a swing at me? No way. The law clearly stated no brawling on public streets. He grasped her shoulders tighter and pulled her to his chest locking her there with an arm around her waist. Snagging the manila folder from under her arm before it hit the ground, he pressed it to her chest for added protection. “Let’s go to the park for a second.”

  Heat radiated from her skin as she drove her cheek into his chin, but she didn’t argue. They crossed the grass lawn and over to a small grove of aspens beside the picnic shelter. “Can we talk?”

  Her rigid shoulders relaxed. Once he cautiously released her, she slipped from his grip and leaned against the white trunk of an aspen tree, her narrowed gaze leveled accusations at him like hollow points at a target. He let the folder drop with a thunk to the ground at her feet.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her flat and lifeless voice betrayed the danger she held at bay.

  Squaring his stance, he didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t know what she meant. She’d just left the law office. That said it all. He looked across the street and shook his head. “I wanted to. That was one of the reasons I’d stopped by the ranch on my way to the Circle D. Between the plumbing incident and our conversation, the moment never seemed right.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “I didn’t lie.” That stretch of truth sounded phony even to his own ears.

  Jen wasn’t buying it. “Obviously, you knew my plans for Trails’ End. You knew how long I’d been working on this. I’m certain Trevor mentioned how excited I am about the project when you submitted your bid.” The emphasis of her words slapped him across the face.

  “Back-up offer, Jen. You hold the contract.”

  Her jaw clenched as she ground the ball of her booted foot into the grass. “You led me on. Again.”

  “I didn’t lead you on. I’ve never led you on.” He tried to
remain calm hoping the effect would rub off on Jennifer. Families and teenagers milled about the park. Kids were playing in the sand pit on the other side of the trees. A little girl squealed and cried about sand in her eyes. Zac knew how she felt. “I’m honestly excited for your new career path.”

  “A career path I can follow straight out of Hawk Ridge, right?” She snapped her heel into the tree trunk behind her.

  “Of course not.” The muscles in his shoulders tightened. This wasn’t a conversation, it was an inquisition. “It’s not like that.”

  “Oh really?” She planted her feet firmly apart and crossed her arms over her chest. A sheen of moisture brightened her eyes. “Why don’t you tell me how it is, Zac.”

  He’d never lied to her and he wasn’t about to now. Still, how could he tell her he wanted to reclaim what was rightfully his, sort of. If great, great-grandfather Jeb hadn’t lost that poker hand almost a hundred years ago, the Trails’ End would still be a part of the Circle D. Only by Divine providence did he have the opportunity to restore the family ranch. The Trails’ End belonged to the Davidsons — this Davidson specifically. Lord, help me say this without insulting her. “Running a ranch of this caliber takes more than having a dream, Jen. You have to have a plan of action and know how to implement it.”

  “I’m learning,” she said, her voice a low rumble.

  “Learning isn’t the issue. You’re smart. You can do anything you put your mind to. But right now, there’s a heavy mortgage resting on this property that is covered by the agricultural yield. Jess knows that; Trevor knows that; I know that. And now, you need to understand that who ever buys the Trails’ End will have to continue using the yield as payment.”

  “I know that.”

  He scrubbed his hand over his face. “How are you going to manage a hundred-acre camp and the rest of the twenty-four hundred acres?”

  Turning her head, she stared across the park in the direction of the main street in Hawk Ridge…toward the Wrenn Building…toward the law office that held and administered the Last Will and Testament of Arthur Eklund. “It’s important to give children recovering from cancer a place where they find unconditional acceptance from staff and other kids in the same situation they’re in. A place to heal and try their wings. Arthur listened to my plans for a camp, he heard the need for facilities like this. He took it upon himself to make it a reality, I didn’t ask for any of this.” She turned to him, cold calm etched deeply in her steely blue eyes. “I’m not going to let Arthur’s gift wither and die because I don’t know how to grow hay.”