Kissed by a Rancher
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Sara Orwig
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HarlequinOne
Josh Calhoun glanced at the red neon sign glowing through the swirling snow. The windows of the Beckett Café were frosted, so he couldn’t see if it had closed for the night. As hungry as he was, he was far more interested in finding a bed. Highway patrol troopers had closed the roads, and he couldn’t even get back to the tiny airport to sleep on a cold hangar floor or inside his plane. He glanced at the cab’s clock: a few minutes past ten. He felt as if it should be around 1:00 a.m.
The taxi left the two blocks of one-story buildings, shops and neon behind as the main street of Beckett, Texas, was swallowed in a white world of howling wind and blowing snow. In spite of the warmth of the cab, Josh shivered. He pulled his jacket collar up while he peered outside at the uninviting storm.
In minutes he spotted a sign swinging in the wind, a spotlight on the ground throwing a strong beam over the announcement of the Donovan Bed and Breakfast Inn. Glumly he stared at the bright red No Vacancy part of the sign.
Even wind-whipped snow could not hide the three-story Victorian-style house that loomed into view. A light glowed over the wraparound porch. Dark shutters flanked the wide windows spilling warm yellow light outside into the stormy night. The driver pulled to the curb.
“Ask for Abby Donovan. She runs the place,” the driver said.
“Will do. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll wait. Abby’s a nice person. I don’t think she’ll turn you out in the cold. You’ll see.”
Placing a broad-brimmed Stetson on his head, Josh stepped out of the warmth of the cab into the driving wind and streaming snow. Holding his hat against the battering wind, he trudged to the house to ring the bell. Through a window he could see a big living room with people inside and an inviting roaring fire in the fireplace.
When the door swung open, he momentarily forgot why he was there. A slender woman with huge, thickly lashed cornflower-blue eyes faced him. She wore a powder-blue sweater and jeans. He forgot the time, the howling storm and even his plight. Too captivated by eyes that widened and held him, Josh stood immobilized and silent until he realized how he stared at her.
“Abby Donovan?” His voice was husky, and he still was lost in her gaze.
She blinked as if as captured as he had been. “I’m Abby.”
“I’m Josh Calhoun. I flew in to see someone about buying a horse, and then I couldn’t get back to the airport. I was told to see you about a place to stay. I know you have a No Vacancy sign out, but at this point, I’m willing to sleep on the floor just to get in out of this blizzard.”
“I’m so sorry, but we’re overbooked. I already have people sleeping on the floor.”
“My cabdriver can’t get back to the airport. They’ve closed the roads.”
“I’m sorry, but even the overflow space is taken here. I’ve let two people come in tonight who will sleep on sofas, and we have two on pallets on the floor. That’s the most I can possibly accommodate. I have eighteen adults in rooms, plus nine children. Four other people live here at least part of the time. I don’t have extra blankets or pillows now—”
“I stopped and bought blankets and a pillow at the only store open in this town just as they closed. I’m desperate.”
“Oh, my,” she said, staring at him with a slight frown. Her rosy lips were full, enticing. He tried to focus on getting a bed for the night and stop thinking about the possibility of kissing her. He couldn’t recall ever having this type of reaction to a total stranger, much less under his present circumstances. His gaze roamed over her, and he was even more surprised by his attraction to her, because her sandy-blond hair was caught up behind her head in a ponytail, giving her a plain look that shouldn’t have done anything to his pulse. All he had to do was gaze into her eyes, though, and a physical response strummed in him. Her riveting blue eyes were unique.
“Abby, I’m desperate. I have bedding. I can sit in a chair. My cabdriver has little kids and wants to get home to them. Just any corner will do. Even a kitchen floor, and I’ll get out of your way in the morning. I’ll pay you double what you charge for a room.”
Her frown deepened. “Come in while we talk. The air is cold.”
“Yes, it is,” he said as he stepped inside a wide hallway dominated by winding stairs to the second floor. Warmth enveloped him, and his spirits lifted a fraction. A floor mat was close, and he stamped his booted feet. “I can provide payment in advance, an extra fee—whatever you would like. I can’t tell you how much I would appreciate this. I really am desperate. I was up until three last night working on a business deal in Arizona and flew in here today on the way home to see about the horse. I didn’t have dinner. I’m tired and cold. I can’t get home. It’s a miserable night and even more miserable without a place to stay. What can I do to help if I stay here? Order in breakfast for everyone?”
Shaking her head, her frown vanished. “There’s nowhere in Beckett you could order breakfast. I cook, and it’ll be better than trying to order in at this time of night or in the morning. If this snow doesn’t stop, no restaurants will be open.”
“I’m sure you’re right. You’re highly praised in town, and I also heard you’re softhearted, generous, kind—”
“Stop,” she said, a faint smile appearing. “Tell me more about yourself. We’re going to be in close quarters, more so than if you just called at an ordinary time and checked in for a room.”
Josh was amused by being asked to give a reference, because he was well-known in Texas. “I’m Josh Calhoun from Verity, Texas, and I own a business, Calhoun Hotels.”
Her gaze swept over him from his wide-brimmed Stetson to his hand-tooled boots. “You’re buying a horse, but you’re in the hotel business?”
“I’m a rancher, too. The hotel headquarters are in Dallas, where I have another home, so you can check that out easily by calling the hotel’s front desk. The sheriff of Verity can tell you about me because we’ve known each other all our lives,” Josh said as he withdrew his wallet and flipped it open to show her his driver’s license and fishing license. He was turning to the next license when she placed her fingers over his.
The contact sizzled, startling him and causing him to look up. She had stepped closer, and he could detect an old-fashioned lilac perfume. Again, he was caught and held by her stare.
She shook her head slightly. “You don’t have to show more identification,” she said, stepping away. “All right, you can stay tonight. You can sleep on the sofa in my suite, but I will not share my bathroom, so you’ll have to go across the hall to a central one.”
“That sounds like paradise,” he said, smiling at her. “Thanks, Abby. This means a lot to me, because it’s a deplorable night.” He wondered if he could talk her into going to dinner with him some night. The cold and relief of acquiring a room must have affected his judgment, because she definitely didn’t look like his type of woman. He didn’t know her, either, and he didn’t ask strangers to go out with him. “I’ll get my bedding and pay the cabbie. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“The front door will be unlocked. I’ll lock it after you’re back inside.”
He stepped closer to her. “You’re not going to regret this.”
She blinked as if startled. “I certainly hope I don’t,” she replied breathlessly.
He turned and left, pulling the door closed behind him. Holding his hat squarely on his head again, he sprinted to the taxi and climbed inside. “I got the room. Thanks for the ride,” he said, drawing bills out of his wallet. “Thanks for getting me back into town after seeing about the horse. And thanks for your encouragement and for stopping so I could buy a pillow and blanket.”
“Glad you found a place. Sorry I couldn’t help more, but with the kids plus my in-laws staying, my two-bedroom duplex is not the best place, although you could have come if nothing else had turned up. Good luck to you. When the roads open and you’re ready to go back to the airport, call—you have my card. I’ll come get you.”
“Thanks, Benny,” Josh said, glancing at the man’s identification card attached to the visor, knowing he would have stayed anywhere he could find before imposing on the cabbie and his family with four little ones plus in-laws in a tiny place. “I won’t forget all you’ve done.” Josh tucked an extra-large tip in with the other bills he gave the cabdriver.
“Mister, you made a mistake,” the driver said, seeing how much money he had in his hand.
“No, I didn’t. That’s a thank-you. Take care of yourself and your family,” Josh said.
The man smiled. “Thanks. That’s a generous tip.”
Josh started to step outside but stopped and looked back. “Does Ms. Donovan have a husband who helps her run the inn?”
“No. She’s single—from a big family. Her grandmother used to run the place. Now Abby does, and Grandma Donovan lives up on the top floor with some other elderly relatives or over at her daughter’s house, which is next door.”
“I see,” Josh said, deciding the town was small enough that everyone knew everyone else. “Thanks again.” He stepped out into the snow to dash back to the inn.
Abby appeared instantly to lock the front door and switch off the porch light. Wind whistled and howled around the house.
“I’ll show you where to put your things,” she said, walking down the hall and turning as it branched off. “This is my suite.” She stepped into a room and turned on a ceiling light. The room had a polished oak floor with a hand-woven area rug, antique mahogany furniture and bookshelves filled with books and family pictures. Green plants gave it an old-fashioned, cozy appearance that made him think of his grandparents’ house. A stone fireplace had a smoldering fire with a screen in front of it.
“I started the fire a while ago so my room would be warm after I told everyone good-night,” she said. “Most of the guests are in the big living room, and they go to their own rooms about eleven, when I shut everything down. Tonight is a little different because no one can get up and leave in the morning, so I think some will watch a movie. Suit yourself about what you do. You can leave your things and join us, or if you prefer, you can stay in here. There is a door from my bedroom into the hall, so I can come and go that way and not disturb you. You’ll have this room to yourself. As soon as I get towels for you and get you registered, I’ll go join them again.”
“I’ll go with you,” he said, placing his pillow and blanket on the sofa before shedding his coat. He wore a thick brown sweater over a white dress shirt, jeans and boots and was glad he had dressed warmly.
“You’ll be too long for that old-fashioned sofa. Would you rather sleep on the floor?”
“I’ll be fine. Just to have a roof over my head is paradise. I don’t mind my feet hanging off the sofa,” he said, smiling at her. Once again he received a riveting look that momentarily immobilized him until she turned away.
“I’ll get your towels,” she said and left. He watched her cross the hall and disappear into a room. She returned to hand him clean towels and washcloths.
“If you’ll come with me, you can register.”
Josh followed her to the front desk of polished dark wood with scratches from what must have been years of use. He glanced around at the decorative staircase rails. “This place looks Victorian.”
“It is. It’s been in my family for five generations now.” She turned a ledger toward him. “Please sign your name. I’ll need a credit card. Since you’ll be on the sofa, I’ll just charge you a discounted rate. Here are the rates and details about staying here,” she added, handing a paper to him. “And here’s a map of the inn and a map of the town of Beckett, although you won’t be leaving tomorrow, because we’re supposed to get a lot more snow and possibly sleet.”
“No, I’m stuck probably through tomorrow at least.”
“Everything has shut down—highways, roads and businesses will be closed tomorrow. They’ve already had the announcements on television and said schools will be closed Monday.” She reached under the desk and produced a small flashlight. “We heard on the radio that half the town is without power because of ice on electric lines. I’m giving all the guests flashlights. This is an old house, and candles are dangerous.”
“Thanks.” Pocketing the flashlight, Josh barely glanced at the papers she handed him as he studied her instead. Her smooth, flawless skin and rosy cheeks added to her appeal. What was it about her that fueled this tingling awareness of her? It wasn’t her personality, because he barely knew her and had spoken with her only briefly. Her fuzzy sweater came to her thighs and hid her figure, so that wasn’t the electrifying draw. She was a nice person who was being helpful. That should be all. Instead, he had a scalding awareness of her that made him think about asking her out, fantasize about dancing with her and holding her, and wonder what it would be like to kiss her and make love with her. She was providing shelter and comfort; maybe it was his long hours of work over the past few days and now the storm that caused his reaction to her. He had slept little for over a week.
When she turned the register around, she read what he had signed. “This gives a Dallas address. Do you consider Dallas home instead of Verity?”
“I live and work in Dallas most of the time. I also have a ranch in west Texas. The closest town is Verity,” he replied. She nodded as she gathered more papers to hand to him.
“So you’re a hobby rancher,” she said.
“Yes, at least for now. Someday I’ll move to the ranch and do that full-time and let someone else run the hotel business for me. I go to the ranch when I get a chance, but that rarely happens,” he admitted, thinking there weren’t many people who knew he missed ranching and wondering why he was telling a stranger.
“Here’s the schedule for tomorrow,” she said. “Normally breakfast runs from seven-thirty until 9:00 a.m. Since no one can get out tomorrow, we’ll start at 8:00 a.m. and go until nine-thirty.”
“Thanks. The breakfast time is fine.”
“I’ll be going back to join the others now unless you have anything else you want to ask me about,” she said, looking up, those wide eyes capturing his full attention again.
“Thanks, no. I’ll follow you.”
“We’ve been singing. I play the piano or leave it to a guest.”
They entered a large living room that ran almost the length of the east side of the house and was furnished in early American maple with a hardwood floor and area rugs. A fire burned low in the fireplace, adding to the inviting appeal of the room. Two small children slept in adults’ arms. Five children sprawled on the floor or in an adult’s lap. A couple of men stood to offer Abby a seat. Smiling, she thanked them and asked the men to sit.
“We’ve been waiting. Let’s sing some more,” someone said.
“Folks, this is another guest—Josh Calhoun of Dallas, Texas,” Abby said, smiling and glancing at him while he acknowledged her introduction with a nod and wave of his hand.
People said hi as Abby crossed the room to slide onto the piano bench. She played a song Josh had heard his grandmother play, a song from his childhood that he was surprised to discover he still knew when he joined in the singing.
As they sang, he watched her play. She was not his type in any manner, other than being a woman. He couldn’t understand his reaction to her. She was plain, with her hair in an unflattering thick ponytail, and she wore no makeup. She ran a bed-and-breakfast inn in a small west Texas town. He would never ask her out.
He looked out the window at the howling storm blowing heavy snow in horizontal waves. Snowflakes struck the warmer storm window, melted slightly, slid to the bottom and built up along the frame. It was a cozy winter scene, but he wished he were flying home tonight.
Relaxing, he leaned back in the chair and sang with the others while he reflected that he hadn’t experienced an evening like this in years. He felt as if he had stepped back to a different time and way of life, and he began to relax and enjoy himself.
After another half hour, Abby turned and slid off the piano bench to take a bow. “That should do for tonight’s songfest. Does anyone want hot chocolate? If so, I’ll be glad to make some. The entertainment room is open, and Mr. Julius said he will be in charge of the movie. Right now, for hot cocoa, just come to the kitchen.”
She left the room. People followed her out until Josh was the only one left. He turned off all the lights except one. He sat again, stretching out his legs and leaning back to gaze at the snow. A few red embers of the dying fire glowed brightly in gray ashes.
He heard tapping and looked again at the window. Sleet struck the glass, building up swiftly on top of the snow at the bottom. He placed his hands behind his head. He couldn’t go anywhere or do anything for the rest of the night and probably all day tomorrow. As a peaceful contentment filled him, he thought that an unplanned holiday had befallen him, and he intended to enjoy it.
“You don’t want any hot chocolate?”
He glanced around to see Abby entering the room. As he stood, she motioned to him to be seated. “No, thanks,” he said. “I’m enjoying the quiet and the storm now that I’m inside and it’s outside. I’m beginning to think I’m getting a much-needed vacation.”
“That’s a good way to look at being stranded. I usually let the fire burn out this time of night. Did you plan to sit here a lot longer?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Let the fire die. I’ll turn out the light when I go. If you aren’t going to watch the movie, sit and join me,” he said.
“Thanks. I will while I can. Mr. Julius knows how to deal with the movie.”
“My cabdriver said you’re single. This is a big place to run by yourself.”
“I’m definitely not by myself,” she said, smiling as she sat in a rocker. “I have a long list of people I can rely on for help. I have a brother and a sister nearby, and my grandmother lives here part of the time. I can turn to her for advice if I need it because she used to own and run this place.”
“So there are three kids in your family?”
“Right. I’m the oldest. The next is my brother, twenty-year-old Justin, in his second year at a nearby junior college on an academic scholarship. He helps with the bed-and-breakfast and lives at home with Mom. Arden, the youngest at seventeen, is a junior in high school, and she also works here at the inn and lives at home. What about you?”
“I’ve got two brothers and one sister. This is a big bed-and-breakfast—I’m surprised it doesn’t hold more people than you listed earlier.”
“I mentioned the people on the third floor who are permanent residents. My grandmother stays here about half of the year. I have two great-aunts who live here part of the year, and I have Mr. Hickman, who is elderly. His family is in Dallas. He’s told me that his married sons run a business he had. They have asked him to move to Dallas and live with them, but he grew up here and came back here when he retired and his wife was still living. I think she’s the one who wanted to return to Beckett because she still had relatives here. His wife was my grandmother’s best friend, so he lives here. He has a little hearing problem, but he’s in relatively good health. There is an elevator the elderly residents can take, so they don’t use the stairs. My aunts and my grandmother are gone right now—my grandmother at Mom’s and my aunts visiting their families.”
“Do you have to take care of them?”
“No, not really. I have a van and drive them to town once a week, and I’ll take them to church. My brother or sister or I take them for haircuts, little things. They just need someone around. By living here, they have that. My great-aunts’ families have scattered and are on both coasts. They don’t want to move, but they may have to someday. Right now, they’re happy here with my grandmother and our part of the family.”
“That’s commendable of you to let them live here. You’re young to be tied down to a bed-and-breakfast.”
“I’m over twenty-one,” she said, smiling at him. “Twenty-five to be exact.”
“This is a lot of responsibility,” he remarked, noting that her attire hid her figure, except for the V-neck of her sweater, which revealed curves. Also, even in suede boots, it was obvious she had long legs as she stretched them out and crossed her feet at her ankles.
“It’s fun, and I meet interesting people. I can work here in my hometown, actually work at home.”
“For some, working at home in your hometown is a drawback, not a plus,” he said, thinking he didn’t know a single woman like her with such a simple life.
“For me it’s a definite plus. I’ve never been out of Texas and never been out of my hometown much beyond Dallas or north to Wichita Falls or around west Texas, south to San Antonio once. I don’t really want to go anywhere else. Everyone I love is here.”
Thinking of his own travels, Josh smiled. “You’re a homebody.”
“Very much of one,” she said. “I suspect you’re not, and you sound as if you’re a busy man. Are you married, Josh?”
“No, I’m single, not into commitment at this point in my life. I travel a lot, and this is a job I like,” he said. “Or have liked. At heart I’m a rancher, which is why I came to Beckett to see about a horse.”
Big blue eyes studied him, and he thought again how easy it was to look at her.
“You have two vastly different interests—I guess, vocations—ranching and the corporate world,” she said. “Does your family live close?”
My siblings are here in Texas, but our parents retired in California. Are both your parents next door?”
“Mom is. She’s divorced. She’s Nell Donovan, a hairdresser who has a shop in her house. Her story is well-known in town, so it’s no secret—my dad ran off with a younger woman he met on his business travels. That was when I was fourteen. He traveled a lot.”
“Sorry that he left your mother and your family.”
“We hardly saw him anyway because of his job.”
“So besides this inn and family, what do you like to do?”
“Gardening, swimming. I’d like to have a pool here, but so far, that hasn’t worked out. I like little kids. Once a week I have a story hour at the library and read to preschool kids. I also like movies and tennis.”
The thought flitted to mind again to ask her to dinner when the storm was over and the snow melted. Instantly, he vetoed his own thought. She was the earnest type who would take everything seriously. With a sigh, he turned back to look at the fire, trying to forget her sitting so close. It was even more difficult to ignore the tingly awareness of her that he couldn’t shake.
“Is there a guy in your life?”
“Sort of,” she said, smiling. “There’s someone local. We’ve grown up knowing each other, and we like the same things, so we occasionally go out together. I always figure someday we’ll marry, but we seldom talk about it. Neither of us is in a hurry.”
“That doesn’t sound too serious,” Josh said, wondering what kind of man the guy was to have that type of relationship.
She shrugged. “We’re after the same things. He wants never to move from Beckett, and I don’t either. Our lives are tied up here. He’s an accountant, and we’re both busy. It’s pretty simple.”
They lapsed into silence. Josh wondered if in a few months he would even remember her.
“I hope no one else appears on your doorstep and wants shelter,” he remarked after a time. “I have two blankets, and I’d feel compelled to give him a blanket and let him sleep on the floor in the room I have.”
“I’ve turned off the porch light, and I can’t take anyone else. In the morning I’ll have to cook for thirty-five people. We barely have enough of certain food items, and my brother and sister are both out of town, so I’m without help. I can’t handle another person.”
“I’ll help you cook breakfast,” Josh volunteered, the words coming without thought.
She laughed softly. “Thanks. You don’t look like the type to have done much kitchen work.”
He grinned. “I’m a man of many talents,” he joked. “I’ve cooked. I’ve camped and cooked, cooked as a kid. Occasionally I cook at home, but rarely, I’ll admit. I can help. I can serve and that sort of thing.”
“Watch out, I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“I mean it. I’ll help you,” he said, still wondering why he was so drawn to her. He should have gone to bed an hour ago or when he arrived. “What time will you begin cooking?”
“About six. You don’t have to get up that early.”
“I’m usually up that early. I’ll set the alarm on my phone,” he said, getting his phone from his pocket. “I haven’t had a call since I arrived,” he added, realizing that was a switch in his life, as different as so many other things about this night.
“You surely don’t get many calls at night.”
“Sometimes. Not getting any is a unique change in my life, and I can live with it tonight easily.” He put away his phone. “It’s like a holiday. Tell me more about your family.”
He settled back in the chair, listening and talking to her as the fire died into gray ashes. It was after one in the morning when she stood. “I should go to bed. Six a.m. will come soon.”
He stood to walk with her, stopping at the door to his room for the night. “I’ll see you at six. Thanks again for this room.”
“Thanks for offering to help in the morning. Good night, Josh.”
“Good night,” he replied in a husky voice, gazing into her eyes and as riveted as he had been the first moment he had seen her. Still puzzled by his reaction to her, he turned to his door.
Then he glanced down the hall to see her ponytail swing with each step as she walked away. There was nothing about her that should set his heart racing, but it did. He still wanted her in his arms, wanted to kiss her at least, before he left Beckett forever. What made his heart beat even faster were the slight reactions she’d had—her blue eyes widening, a sudden breathless moment in which neither of them spoke—that told him she had felt something, too. He didn’t intend to let that go by without doing something to satisfy his curiosity.
