Montana Dad
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Jeannie Watt
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CHAPTER ONE
ALEX RYAN CLIMBED out of her car and stretched the kinks out of her back before swinging the door shut with a satisfying slam. Two thousand miles, three nights on the road, four days of checking the rearview mirror for familiar-looking cars, and she was finally here.
And she was alone. She was sure of it.
She’d had the highway to herself as she left the Gavin, Montana, real-estate office where she’d picked up the keys to both the house and the gate closing off her isolated home from anyone who accidentally started down the road. The graveled lane leading from the highway to the ranch turnoff had been equally empty, and when she’d gotten out of the car to unlock the gate, the only sign of life had been a flock of geese flying toward a distant river.
Yes. Alone.
She let out a long breath and rolled her shoulders as she took stock of her purchase. The two-story house was smaller than she remembered. More run-down. The paint was flaking and one of the shutters hung at an odd angle. Behind the house, the garden shed was losing its roof, and the barn didn’t look as if it was in much better shape and the low hanging rainclouds made everything look just that much drearier. But it was home. Alex pulled the keys out of her raincoat pocket and crossed the weathered porch to the equally weathered front door. The house and her life had a lot in common. Both needed work.
The old bolt slid sideways, and Alex pushed open the door. A wave of musty air rolled over her and then a sharp gust of wind blew in from behind her and dissipated the nasty smell. She hunched her shoulders against the cool air and stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her.
The house was totally, utterly silent. The kind of silence that pressed in on the ears...the kind of silence Alex relished. She stood for a good minute, straining her ears to hear anything over the sound of the breeze lightly rattling the shutters.
Not so much as a creak inside the place. She didn’t know what she would have done had she heard a creak. Investigate? Dash for the door?
She was tired. And jumpy. A rotten combination and one she’d been living with for over two months. But a faint stirring of excitement began to bloom inside her as she stood in the center of the empty living room, wrinkling her nose against the musty smell that resurfaced now that the door was closed.
This was her house. A place to rebuild. A place to start a new life, far from the disaster that had been her old.
Nobody here would look sideways at her when she entered a store, or suddenly stop talking when she came into a room. No one would be caught creeping around her property. The encounter with the person in her living room a few days after she’d been cleared of criminal charges might have been unrelated to everything else that had gone down over the past several weeks, but she was taking no chances. She’d moved in with her mother after the break-in and endured almost three weeks of “I told you so” before closing the private deal on the house and heading across the country.
Alex walked through the living room and dining room to the smallish kitchen with its painted beadboard walls and limited counter space. There was work to be done here—painting, if nothing else. She tilted her chin up to study the grease-stained ceiling above the stove. A ventilation fan would be a wonderful addition to the room.
Funny that she didn’t remember the place being this small and...greasy.
She’d spent a summer in this house during her early teens, reading, making cookies and riding horses while her parents traveled Europe. At the time she’d had no inkling about what made a workable kitchen; she and Juliet had turned out sheets of chocolate chip cookies and whipped up batches of fudge using the kitchen table and a rolling cart for additional workspace.
There was no longer a table or a rolling cart—only about twenty-four inches of counter space on either side of the enameled cast-iron sink, which would be adequate space for Alex’s needs, because she didn’t see herself doing a lot of entertaining.
A choked laugh escaped her lips. Had she really given up her new apartment with the state-of-the-art kitchen that she’d loved so much for this?
Yes. And you are fortunate to have this place.
Agreed.
Things weren’t perfect, but buying this house from her aunt Juliet gave her a place to land far away from the drama she’d been facing at home. A place where she had a passing familiarity, yet no one knew her. But it almost hadn’t happened.
Less than a week before Alex contacted Juliet about buying the place, a neighbor had made an offer on the property, which Juliet had been in the process of accepting, pending loan approval. Alex had pleaded with her aunt to sell to her instead, digging deep into her savings to outbid the neighbor.
Juliet allowed herself to be swayed, and they’d closed the deal days later, signing a private contract. No mortgage. No paper trail. Juliet’s name was still on the deed, for the time being, and she carried the loan—which she could afford to do, having outlived three relatively wealthy husbands. The trick, she’d confided to Alex during their cookie making, was to marry a much older man. They appreciated younger women, expected less and gave more.
At the time the advice had seemed callous, but Alex had thought maybe she’d understand it better once she grew up. And now she did. Her aunt Juliet used people, but she’d also come to Alex’s rescue—for a price—so she wasn’t going to get all judgy.
The important thing was that she had the house, and here she would be Alex Ryan, newcomer, self-employed technical writer if anyone asked about her occupation, rather than Alex Ryan Evans, private investment firm accountant and embezzlement suspect. Technical writing seemed like a believable pretend occupation—one that didn’t invite awkward questions, because it wasn’t all that exciting.
She would have loved to have landed a job related to accounting or finance while living in Montana, but there was no way she’d make it through a background check without a sea of red flags popping up, thanks to Jason Stoddard, her former boss. She’d left behind a lot of things she loved, including a career, because of that man, who was now probably living the good life on a beach in Rio.
Alex tamped down yet another wave of impotent anger. It did her no good to mentally rail against Jason. The guy had played her and that was that. She was still suffering repercussions, but here in Montana, as long as she kept to herself, her past should stay where it belonged—in an upscale Virginia community.
She walked through the dining room to the staircase leading to the three upstairs bedrooms, and automatically went to the room that had been hers during her summer visit. She crossed to the window and looked out over the fields and river. This would be her office when she decided it was safe to resume her accounting career, but that time, she feared, might be a long way off. She had to be certain that all repercussions of the nightmare phase of her life were over and done. That no one was looking for her, believing that she knew more about Jason’s whereabouts than she did.
As she opened the closet and took in the unexpected stack of cardboard boxes and plastic storage bins, the distinctive sound of water hitting wood brought her up short.
No.
A quick look into the room that had once been her aunt’s crafting room told her yes. The roof had a leak. A persistent one, judging from the size of the stain on the ceiling.
She needed to find a towel and a container to catch the drips.
But if the biggest problem she had in her new life was a leaky roof, she could live with it. Such things were to be expected in an older house—especially one that had been bought sight unseen and hadn’t been inhabited for almost two years. The only thing that bothered her was that she’d really hoped to lay low for a few months. Assure herself that she hadn’t been followed. That the ski-mask-wearing guy who’d broken into her apartment and slammed her up against the wall hadn’t been one of the people Jason had screwed out of a fortune before taking off to parts unknown.
No one believed she was clueless as to his whereabouts, but there was no evidence that she was involved, either. Some of her former neighbors and the people associated with Stoddard Investments would probably take her disappearance as proof positive, but she couldn’t keep them from thinking that, so she wasn’t going to worry about it. She’d leave that to her mother, Cécile Ryan Evans.
Alex watched as another drip slowly built, the droplet growing so slowly that it would probably be several minutes until gravity took hold and pulled it from the ceiling. A slow leak. Which meant she would have time to find someone to fix it, as much as she hated having anyone on the property just yet. She was still too raw.
But leaks did tend to grow, so she was going to have to rein in her paranoia and seek out a handyman.
Not a problem. You’re in Montana. Thousands of miles away from the people who believed she knew more than she did. She controlled access to the ranch via a locked gate, and she was about to get a very big dog.
She was going to be okay hiring a roof-repair guy. But she was going to settle in, get her bearings first.
“DO YOU WANT me to come to the Dunlop ranch with you?”
Nick Callahan hadn’t told his sister, Katie, where he was going that morning, but she was pretty good at putting two and two together. “I can handle it,” he said dryly.
“Be tactful.”
As if he wouldn’t be tactful. He wasn’t exactly the laid-back guy he’d once been, but he could still finesse a situation. “Thanks for the suggestion.”
“Daddy!”
Nick’s youngest daughter, Bailey, came barreling out of the kitchen at a dead run. He swung her up in his arms.
“What’s up?”
“She thinks that you need to stay and make cookies with us,” Kendra said from behind him.
“I’ll be back to frost them,” he promised his five-year-old as his almost-three-year-old patted his face with her hands.
“More like to eat the frosting,” Katie murmured.
“I do my part.”
She rolled her eyes and reached for Bailey, masterfully transferring the toddler into her arms and then balancing her on one hip. Nick gave Bailey a quick kiss on top of her curly head as his grandmother Rosalie came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Are you going to the Dunlop ranch?”
Was every woman in his family a mind reader? “Yes.”
His grandmother nodded but had the good grace not to remind him to be tactful. “I have to head back to town as soon as the cookie dough is finished, but I want to know what happens.”
“I thought you were staying for the day.”
The ranch was now Rosalie’s home away from home. She’d lived there for most of her life, but after the death of her husband, she moved to town where she and her best friend, Gloria Gable, bought a house and started a gift and garden business.
“Gloria called a little while ago. We’re meeting with a local artisan this afternoon to see if her creations are a good fit for The Daisy Petal.”
“I’ll keep you in the loop,” Nick promised.
“Thank you.” Rosalie turned to the girls. “Who wants to turn on the electric mixer?”
“I do!” Kendra gave Nick a quick hug. “Hurry back, Daddy.” She followed Rosalie into the kitchen as Katie hefted Bailey a little higher on her hip.
“Good luck. And remember, you catch more flies with, well, you know.”
“I will be tactful.”
Katie raised an eyebrow as if she didn’t fully believe him, and he couldn’t really blame her. Two weeks ago, when he’d discovered that his offer on the property next door—property his family needed for access to their ranch—had been rejected, he’d pretty much gone ballistic. He’d been outbid at the last minute and the seller hadn’t given him a chance to bid again. Juliet Dunlop simply told him the deal was off.
Since that time, he hadn’t managed to get much information on the new buyer, except that she’d paid cash and was from the East Coast. That smacked of entitlement, but he told himself not to jump to conclusions. He needed very much to get along with this woman.
“Hey. I used to be charming.”
Katie smiled a little. “Once again, good luck.”
Nick left the house to a chorus of “Bye, Daddy,” and got into his truck, drove over the cattle guard, then took the bumpy side road that led from the Callahan ranch to the old Dunlop place. The gate that separated the two properties was constructed of three strands of barbed wire connected to thin posts. He unhooked the latch and dragged the wire across the road, drove through and left the gate lying beside the road. He’d be back soon enough, and the cattle were on the river pasture, so they wouldn’t be straying through the gate.
Losing the bridge two months ago during a series of spring floods had hurt, and now the family had to jump through hoops to get it rebuilt. Permitting regulations had changed since the original bridge had been rebuilt in the 1960s, and the process was moving forward at a glacial pace thanks to a county commissioner who kept throwing roadblocks into the process and Nick suspected he knew why.
He realized then that his fingers were tight on the steering wheel and forced himself to relax. He really didn’t want to fight with anyone. He just wanted to raise his daughters in peace on the ranch where he’d grown up. And to do that, he kind of needed easy access to the place.
He needed to make a deal with the new owner of the Dunlop place.
ALEX NEARLY DROPPED the dishes she was in the process of unpacking when the sound of an engine hit her ears. The gate across the road was locked—she knew because she’d double-checked after driving through. There was no way anyone should be able to drive into the place.
Unless they had a key.
Or bolt cutters.
Her insides went cold at the thought.
Do not jump to conclusions. Breathe!
Carefully, Alex set the small stack of plates on the freshly washed countertop and then made her way to the dining room, heart pounding. Sure enough, there was a pickup truck parked just outside the picket fence. Montana plates. Okay. That was good. Not terrific, but better than Virginia plates. Or rental car plates.
Alex automatically drew back as the man glanced toward the window, even though she wasn’t close enough for him to spot her standing near the kitchen doorway. He was tall, dark haired, and he moved with athletic grace as he sidestepped puddles and headed for the walk leading to the front door. That was when Alex noticed that his truck was pointed the wrong way. He hadn’t come from the county road—he’d driven in from the back of the property.
Great. Now she was going to have to buy another gate lock.
Alex pulled in a breath and squared her shoulders before crossing the room to meet the stranger at the door. She should have gotten the dog she planned on adopting sooner.
No. You should get a grip. The guy’s wearing a cowboy hat, for Pete’s sake. A black one, true, but good-guy white probably got dirty too quickly in this country.
At the sound of boots on the porch, she pulled the door open and attempted a cool smile. Not an easy thing to accomplish with her heart hammering.
Just a local cowboy. No big deal. She’d just hear him out, then send him on his way and see about getting another lock for the rear of her property.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I help you?”
He took a moment to study her face before he answered, making her wonder what he saw. A nervous woman who didn’t want strangers lurking about? Or a confident woman who could hold her own if push came to shove?
She knew what she saw. One good-looking guy with an almost straight nose that had obviously been broken, an amazing jawline and dark, unreadable eyes. And he looked...nervous.
Huh.
Nervous because he was planning something?
Before she got too far down that track, he said, “Hi. I’m Nick Callahan. I live next door.”
Alex frowned. “I didn’t know there was a next door.”
“Well, two miles next door.”
“Two miles isn’t next door.”
He gave her an odd look, telling her that she was coming off like a city girl. “I know you just arrived and are settling in, but there’s a matter that’s kind of important that I need to discuss with you.”
Alex politely lifted her eyebrows, clueless as to what he might want to talk about, but relieved that he seemed harmless. So far. “What’s that?”
“The bridge to our ranch washed out last month. The only easy access to our place is through your ranch, and I’m here to ask permission—”
“To drive through my...place?” She couldn’t exactly call it a ranch. For one thing, she wasn’t the ranch type. For another, it would never be a ranch again.
“Exactly.”
Alex pulled in a breath, telling herself to get more information before she panicked. “Who would be driving through?” The road went directly between her house and the barn. It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t notice the traffic.
“Me and my family. The ranch hands. When bridge construction begins, the bridge builders.”
“For how long?”
“The way things are moving, I’d say six months. Maybe a few months more.”
Alex’s cheeks tingled as the blood left her face. Six months or more of strangers driving through her property? Six months of not knowing who was on her property?
No. She didn’t see that happening. Not when she was still uncertain as to whether the people who so desperately wanted the money Jason absconded with were going to follow her across the country.
He seemed to sense her uncertainty. “It wouldn’t be a lot of traffic.”
“You must have another means of access.”
“Almost ten miles of unmaintained road.”
“Which I assume you’ve been using to this point.”
“Yes.”
“And could continue to use. It’s not like I’m locking you out of your property. It’s more like I’m saving you time if I granted access.”
“Time is an important commodity.” He shifted his weight, pressed his very nice lips together and stared down at his boots. When he looked up again, she read the light of challenge in his gaze and steeled herself. “It isn’t like everyone and his uncle would drive through. It would just be my family and me. If you want to keep the gate locked, we could share a key.”
“What about the bridge builders?”
“They would need to share the key, too. Otherwise, I’ll be paying them extra to travel the unmaintained road.”
Alex shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I moved here for privacy.” She instantly kicked herself for saying that. What if he did an online search for her? Even though she was going by her first and middle names, it might be enough to pin down her identity, given the coverage Jason’s story had received when he first skipped town with all that money.
“It’s not like we’re going to stop and chat as we drive through.”
“I don’t want people driving through my place, even temporarily.” The next few months were crucial to her as she determined whether or not she was going to continue to be targeted as Jason’s accomplice. “I don’t think that’s unreasonable, given what I spent to buy the property.”
Something shifted in his expression. Something she couldn’t read...and then it struck her. “Were you the other bidder?”
He gave a nod.
She didn’t even think about saying sorry for outbidding him. This was the way business worked—sometimes people got outbid and had to live with the consequences—but there was no way she was voicing that thought to the guy standing in front of her. Once again, she wished she had a big threatening dog standing beside her. Something to kind of hurry this man on his way.
“I apologize for not being able to help you, but I can’t have open access to my property.”
Once again, his mouth tightened, as if he was making an effort to hold back words. As far as Alex was concerned, he could let them out. It wasn’t like it would hurt her feelings or cause her to change her mind.
“We’ll pay for access. Write up a contract.”
“No.” She gripped the edge of the door more tightly. At any other time in her life she would have said yes. But not now, while she was still jumping at shadows. Another apology teetered on her lips, but she held it in. This was her property. Her right.
“Fine.” He pushed the brim of his hat up, allowing her a better look at his chocolate-brown eyes. “If you change your mind and want to discuss matters...” He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a wallet and handed over a card. “That’s my cell number.”
Alex took the card and palmed it without looking at it. “I don’t want to be a bad neighbor.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“Excellent goal. Poor execution.” The man turned and walked down the uneven sidewalk toward his truck.
Despite a desperate need to have him leave her property—now—Alex lifted her chin and called after him. “Do not judge me when you don’t know my circumstances.”
He swung around. “Lady, we all have circumstances. If I could help you with yours, I would.” He curled his lips into an ironic smile before adding, “You have my number. Call anytime.”
