Her Dirty Ranchers (Men at Work #6) - Mika Lane Page 0,1

have an amazing dinner with yummy wine, thanks to Mary, and then we’d either watch a movie or play cards until we couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer.

I’d wake the next morning with the sun streaming in my bedroom, coffee brewing and bacon sizzling downstairs in the kitchen, where I’d wander wearing my flannel PJs and shearling slippers.

Like a real rancher’s daughter.

At least that’s what I pictured, until I realized the joke was on me. And it was a big, fat, fucking not-funny joke.

While waiting for whatever was taking Mary so freaking long to allow me into my own house, I wandered over to the credenza where my parents’ incoming mail was always kept.

Odd. It was empty. Not a newspaper or ranching magazine in sight.

And where were my mom’s usual vases of flowers?

They’d probably changed up their system, with the internet delivering everything digitally these days.

But still. My parents and the internet didn’t mix much. At least not that I was aware of.

“Um, Ruby Lee?” Mary asked from behind me.

My smile blazing, I whipped around, prepared to run into the arms of one or both of my parents.

Instead, my stomach dropped.

Standing before me with an expression that could best be described as what the fuck, was Roman Maxwell.

Our neighbor from the next ranch over.

I hadn’t seen him since I last babysat for his kids, long before I’d even left Flood Creek for college. He was still the handsome outdoorsman I remembered, with a splash more gray around the temples and deeper lines etched in his face.

And he was tall. So freaking tall.

Why was Roman Maxwell, who also happened to be my dad’s biggest enemy, in our house?

2

RUBY

“Mr. Maxwell…?” My voice came out like a strangled squeak, and I swallowed hard. I needed water.

“Ruby Lee,” he said, “could you come with me, please?”

He gestured in the direction of my father’s office.

Because I was so thoroughly thrown off by seeing him, I mutely followed, with Mary patting me on the back, entering the room where I used to do homework while my father read the paper.

“Have a seat,” he said, making himself at home behind my father’s desk.

Where were the family photos and other mementos my dad kept on display? The place had been wiped clean. But I spied the needlepoint pillow I’d made in 4-H on the crackled leather sofa between the bookcases. At least that was still there.

Dad would not be happy to know Roman Maxwell was behind his desk. But I wasn’t saying anything until I had a better idea of what the hell was going on.

Mary lingered in the doorway. I waved her in and pulled out the chair next to me so she’d take a seat. Having her close by was a comfort.

I really wanted to hold her hand, but I wasn’t ten years old.

After waiting for me to stop looking around and focus, Mr. Maxwell leaned his elbows on my father’s desk and wove his fingers together. “I’m surprised to see you, Ruby Lee.”

No shit.

“I go by Ruby now. Not Ruby Lee.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

I glanced in Mary’s direction, and she smiled kindly.

Awkward silence.

“I take it you haven’t been in touch with your parents?” he asked.

What business was that of his?

He must have seen the scowl on my face, because he didn’t wait for me to respond. “Ruby Lee, I’ll get right to the point since it seems you need to be brought up to speed. I’m sorry I’m the one who has to tell you, because I’m sure it will come as a surprise. But the fact is, your parents sold Flood Creek Ranch to me. Several months ago, in fact. They sold me this house with most everything in it. They sold me all the animals and outbuildings. They even let me hire Mary here. They packed up and left the state, last I heard.”

Was this a joke? Were my parents going to jump out at any minute and scream surprise? Because it wasn’t fucking funny.

It was impossible. My parents would never sell to anyone, much less Roman Maxwell, who my dad hated with a passion.

And they wouldn’t skip town without telling me. For Christ’s sake.

I waited, looking around, wondering where they might pop out from, and imagining their surprise. But there was no popping. No surprising.

“Mary. Is this true?”

She grimaced, and after a moment slowly nodded. “Yes. They’ve left and they sold everything, sweetie. Even the furniture,” she said, gesturing around.

Even the fucking pillow I’d needlepointed for them.