The Man Who Had Everything. Christine Rimmer

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СКАЧАТЬ said, “See, all I’ve ever wanted is my own ranch to run. I kind of let myself forget that this place isn’t mine, you know?”

      “I know.”

      “So…forgive me for being so thoughtless and cruel to you?” She stuck out a hand. “Shake on it.”

      He took her hand. Mistake. Because then, he couldn’t stop himself from turning it over and pressing a kiss in the warm, callused heart of her palm.

      “Oh, Grant…” she whispered on an indrawn breath.

      He made himself release her. It was a real hard thing to do. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

      “Oh. See, now. Of course, you would say that.”

      “I’m not just saying it. It’s the truth.”

      She started arguing. “But—”

      “Wait.”

      “What?”

      “Steph…” He sought the words—and found them, somehow. “I’m never going to be…the right guy for you. Whatever we might have together, it wouldn’t be a forever kind of thing. I just…don’t want that.”

      “That?” She looked confused.

      He elaborated, “I don’t want marriage. Kids. All that. I’m not…my dad, you know?”

      “I never thought you were.”

      “What I mean is, I’m not like him. I’m not…the salt of the earth. Not a family man. What I want, it’s not what you want. When I was a kid, I thought it was. I told myself all I needed in life was a chance to walk in my dad’s big, muddy boots. But that was a lie. A lie to please him—and to please me, too, I suppose. Because I loved him and wished I could be like him. Because the world is built on men like him.”

      “He was a fine man.”

      “Yeah. The best. But I’m not him and I never will be. I’m…restless inside, you know? I want to be out there, mixing it up, meeting new people, making things happen. I always knew, deep down, that I had more talent for business than for running cattle. I loved every minute of business school—the whole time telling myself and my dad that I planned to use what I’d learned to help keep Clifton’s Pride in the black. But what I really wanted, what I dreamed of, is what I have now. I like the fast life. I like the progress a few around these parts hate. I enjoy my designer suits and high-powered meetings. I like making money. I like being single. And I plan to stay that way.”

      She considered his words, her elbow braced on her knee and her chin cradled on her hand. Then she nodded. “Okay.”

      It was a damn sight removed from what he’d expected her to say. “Okay?” he demanded. “That’s all. Okay?”

      “Yeah,” she said, with another strong nod. “Okay. I don’t want you to be anybody you don’t want to be. And don’t assume you know what I want. I might end up surprising you.”

      He had a very scary feeling she just might. And he wanted to kiss her. Damned if he didn’t always want to kiss her lately. Kiss her, and a whole lot more.

      “So we understand each other, then?” he asked, thinking that he didn’t understand a thing.

      “You bet.”

      “And I’ve got to go.” Because if I don’t, I’m going to lay you down right here on the front porch, take off that sweater and that tiny little top and those sunflower pj’s and finish what I started this afternoon…

      “See you tomorrow, then,” she said, with just a hint of a smile in the corners of that mouth he was aching to kiss.

      He stood and started walking, putting her behind him where she couldn’t see the bulge at the zipper of his jeans. He got in the Range Rover and started it up, leaning out the window before he drove away.

      By then, she stood on the top step, arms wrapped around herself, looking so sweet and pretty, it took all the will he possessed not to jump down from the car again and grab her tight in his arms.

      “I changed my mind,” he said over the low rumble of the engine.

      She grinned wide. “What? You mean you’re going to come back here and kiss me, after all?”

      Her words sent another bolt of heat straight to his groin. “Don’t tempt me.”

      “Oh, get over yourself.”

      He told her then, flat out. “I turned down that offer. I’m not selling Clifton’s Pride.”

      She gasped then. And she looked at him with such hope. With such gratitude and joy. Like he was Santa come with Christmas on the Fourth of July. “You’re serious.”

      “As a bad case of hoof and mouth.”

      “Oh, Grant. Are you sure?”

      “I am.”

      She shut her eyes, sucked in a long breath, and then asked, as if it pained her to do it, “It’s not… because of how mean I was to you, not because of the hard things I said about turning Clifton’s Pride into a dude ranch?”

      He answered truthfully. “That was part of it, yeah. But not all. I don’t know exactly why I changed my mind. I just know that, when it came time to sign on the dotted line, I couldn’t do it.”

      She hugged herself tighter, rubbing her arms against the nighttime chill. “I’m glad. It’s selfish and I know it. But, Grant, I’m so glad.”

      He found himself wishing he could be the man for her. That man would be one lucky sonofagun. And he was going to hate that man when he started coming around. He’d be hard-pressed not to beat the poor guy to a bloody pulp just for living, just for being what Grant could never be.

      He brought it back around to business. “You said you could make this place turn a profit. Rufus seems to think you can, too.”

      “It’ll take time. But, yeah. I’m gonna do it. You just watch me.”

      “Oh, I will.” He put the Range Rover in gear and drove away, sticking a hand out the window to give her a last wave, watching her in his rearview mirror as he rolled around the circle and headed for the highway.

      During the drive back to the resort, he almost let himself wonder, what their lives might have been…

      If things had gone on the way they’d started out. If the Julens still owned the Triple J and Grant still worked Clifton’s Pride at his father’s side. If Marie and Grant’s mom still sat at the kitchen table together in the long summer afternoons.

      If Andre Julen and John Clifton hadn’t been murdered in cold blood out by the Callister Breaks nine years ago.

      Chapter Seven

      The dream was always the same—and much too real. It was like living that dark day all over again.

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