The Cowboy's Promise Page 11

  She’d been single long enough to know this feeling all too well. Although she hadn’t dated much, she’d had a couple of short-lived relationships where the dude freaked out when things started getting serious. This was a definite freak out.

  And it was no coincidence it was happening right after they’d kissed. In fact, she was surprised she hadn’t expected it to happen. Since the kiss, it had been almost all she’d thought about. She’d barely had time to float around, all smiley and daydreamy about it, and now he was pulling the rug out from under her.

  Harley weighed her options as she climbed into the cab. She could ignore it. Just ride in silence and pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened. That would certainly be easier than the alternative—addressing it directly and telling him there was no need to freak out. She wasn’t holding him to some kind of commitment because they’d kissed.

  “Will your brothers be there tonight?” she asked.

  That was the question she would have asked if they’d never kissed and everything was normal. Back to business. If his brothers were there, she stood a small, almost microscopic, chance of getting those documents signed before she headed out in the morning. Otherwise, she was pretty much doomed.

  “Should be,” he said. “They’re here every year. Wouldn’t miss it. In fact, I’d say there isn’t a person in town who doesn’t come out for it.”

  “It’s the event of the year,” she commented, relieved the tension that had seemed to be between them was at least a little reduced.

  “Hardly. There’s the tree lighting, a winter festival, a spring festival, about six different big events in the summer, and, of course, fall fest.”

  “Of course.”

  “Pretty much same as every small town,” he said. “Most of our events are rooted in tradition. The old-timers keep them alive for new generations. I’m sure Seattle has plenty of events, but—”

  “It’s all spread out,” she said, guessing what he was about to say. “In a town like this, everyone comes together.”

  As they drew closer to the square, he suddenly veered right onto a street she’d never seen before. He whipped into an empty parking lot, cut the ignition, and hopped out of the truck.

  “Where are we?” she asked the empty cab.

  Looking around gave her no answers. The building in front of them appeared to be abandoned and there was another building next door that claimed to be a ‘Professional Building.’ Mostly medical and law offices, from what she could tell. She opened the door and climbed down, squeezing her feet to keep her flats on as she dropped.

  “Trust me.” He’d turned and was watching her, probably noting the puzzled expression on her face. Trust him. When he was being all weird, she wasn’t so sure about that.

  Zipping her coat all the way to her chin to battle the chill in the air, she rushed to catch up with him. Was he taking her somewhere as a surprise? Maybe showing her a property she could offer her boss instead of his ranch? Not that something like that would work. Her boss had laser focus and basically was like an overgrown spoiled toddler when he didn’t get his way.

  “Parking is a nightmare near the square.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “We would have had to walk at least a half a mile in the freezing cold. But here we are.”

  Sure enough, they rounded the corner and in front of them was the now-familiar sight of that gazebo. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d known about that shortcut. It was that nobody else seemed to have figured it out. Color her impressed.

  “Wow,” she said, looking around at the chaos in front of her.

  She’d been to more than a few festivals in her life—most in bigger cities. She’d attended an Independence Day celebration at the park once in a suburban-type city. But none of it had been like this. Not at all.

  There were people wandering around, but not nearly as many as at any other event she’d attended. It wasn’t the crowd. It was something else entirely.

  The scene in front of her was straight out of a TV show or movie. It was the very picture of small-town America, from the color-coordinated canopies over the food tables to the coats, earmuffs, and scarves people were wearing. Even the people looked like they’d been sent over by casting directors to represent the type of people who would live in a small town.

  There were families, of course. Plenty of families. Lots of two parents-two kids combinations. In fact, she didn’t see anyone under the age of forty or so who didn’t have at least one kid trailing along. Even those without kids were coupled up. No solo people wandering around looking sad or stressed. Everyone looked just the right amount of cheerful to paint the perfect scene.

  “It will get a little busier,” Clay said when he noticed Harley had stopped to take it all in. “It’s still early.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s just—everyone looks so perfect. Did you see that movie about a couple who stages an entire town to sell a house? Everyone was in on it. Just like this.”

  “I don’t think we have to talk you into buying our property by staging anything,” he said. “You’re pretty set in that area.”

  He’d said it in a light tone, but she still felt the need to clarify. “I know it’s not staged. It’s just so perfect. I didn’t know anything like this existed.”

  “This is Canyon Falls. But it’s all starting to change. Come on. I’ll show you.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the square.

  She could think of absolutely nothing except the fact that he’d grabbed her hand. Maybe it had been merely to move her along, but holding hands was something a couple did. That fact didn’t escape her.

  Once they were in the center of the square, where they had a view of the entire area if they turned in a circle, he dropped her hand. He stepped closer, though, presumably so he could speak to her without anyone overhearing.

  “Over there is the new taco place,” he said, pointing at the booth. “Notice anything?”

  She did. A group of five twenty-somethings who didn’t match the rest of what they were seeing. Honestly, they looked just like something she’d see at any coffee shop in Seattle. That wasn’t a bad thing. It wasn’t just that they weren’t coupled up and toting a bunch of children around with them. It was the fact that they looked uncomfortable here. As they walked away, the two women in the front moved close together and said something while staring at an elderly man nearby. Then they burst into laughter.

  “The taco place delivers,” Clay explained. “That appeals to the younger people moving in, which means everyone else wants a piece of that business. So guess what everyone else is doing.”

  She didn’t have to guess. The booth next to the taco restaurant’s had a ‘Now Delivering’ sign hanging in front. But she didn’t see delivery as something that would hurt the town somehow. Everyone loved food delivery.

  “The demographics are shifting,” Clay said. He started walking and she fell into step beside him. “This square will eventually just be history tours and law offices.”

  Harley wasn’t sure what to say to that, but luckily her cell phone interrupted her. The loud chirp penetrated the thick fabric of her coat. She withdrew it and squinted at the screen.

  Where are you? her boss had texted.

  What? Why did Mr. Cutler need to know where she was? She’d clearly stated she was coming back in the morning.

  Still in Canyon Falls, she typed, then pocketed her phone. It immediately buzzed again.

  Where? he’d typed.

  Canyon Falls, she repeated.

  This time she kept her phone in front of her. Good thing, too, since those three dots were moving, indicating he was typing something.

  Where in Canyon Falls? I’m at the ranch and you aren’t here.

  “What?” Harley practically yelled.

  That got Clay’s attention, as well as everyone around them. He’d walked several steps ahead, apparently not realizing she’d stopped. Now he doubled back to stand in front of her.

  �
�What’s going on?” Clay asked.

  “My boss says he’s at your ranch,” she said, looking up from the phone, trying to process the information herself. She realized even as she did so that Clay was not going to like this news.

  His gaze hardened. “Your boss? The one who’s trying to buy my property? But…why?”

  “I don’t know, but I can guess.” She swallowed. “He’s kind of a control freak, so I’m going to assume he’s here to do the job I’m not doing well enough.”

  “He came to close the deal,” Clay said. “So this could be good.”

  She looked down at her phone, which had just buzzed. Her boss was demanding an answer.

  Downtown, she typed. Taste of Canyon Falls festival.

  After pocketing her phone, she addressed Clay. This could not, in any way, be good, but she was eager to hear why he thought it would be.

  “I’ll tell him ‘no,’ and he’ll see you did everything you could,” Clay explained. “I’ll even put in a good word for you. Job saved, problem solved.”

  Yeah, he didn’t know her boss. He didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Unlike Harley, Mr. Cutler could even get a ‘yes’ without having to stay here for days at a time. He’d have it by the time this festival was over.

  Clay wouldn’t know what had hit him.

  As they stepped up to Brandi’s booth, Harley felt a little sick. She realized she didn’t want Clay to be manipulated into selling the ranch. She wanted him to stand by his principles and defeat her boss. But in her brief time working for Mr. Cutler, she’d never seen anything like that happen.

  Plus, she wasn’t sure what to expect in either direction. If Mr. Cutler sealed the deal, he could fire her, but if Clay stood his ground, he could still fire her, saying if he had to do the work anyway, he didn’t need her.

  If she could help Mr. Cutler, though, maybe he’d see she was valuable. She had a chance to save her job. Clay was right. This could be good.

  14

  Harley’s boss was not at all what Clay had expected.

  He’d pictured a middle-aged balding man with a loud, booming voice and a handshake that was unnecessarily hand-crushing. The type of man who did best in situations where a bunch of dudes sat around the table and figured out how they could help each other get ahead.

  But the man who stepped out of the blue BMW was decidedly not that. Somehow, he’d managed to show up just in time for someone to vacate the closest parking spot to the square. He stepped out, managing to look like a wealthy CEO in just a pair of khaki pants and a dress shirt. Even his shoes were perfectly polished, as though he’d bought them on the way here.

  “That’s my boss,” Harley said, as if he didn’t know. The guy just reeked of ‘business meeting,’ from the way he was dressed to the cocky set of his shoulders. He hit the button to lock his car and it chirped twice, calling even more attention to him.

  Flashing Clay an apologetic look, Harley headed over to meet her boss, leaving Clay with no choice but to follow. Well, he had a choice, actually. He could head straight over to the booth for the nearby deli and get a couple of free pickle bites with some ranch dressing. He’d been looking forward to those all day.

  Instead, he followed Harley. He felt this need to support her in this despite the fact he’d been trying to pull back. His original goal, before Harley’s boss had arrived in town, was to just avoid any discussion of selling his land until morning and send her on her way with no hard feelings.

  Then, and only then, could he start to forget about that kiss.

  “This is Clay Briscoe,” Harley said as he approached. “Clay, this is Kurt Cutler.”

  Ahh, so the famous Mr. Cutler did have a first name. Clay shook his hand. His handshake was not of the hand-crushing variety.

  “Nice to meet you,” Kurt said, stepping back to look around. “Lovely town you have here.”

  Clay nodded. He couldn’t claim credit for any of this, but he was pretty proud of it. He wondered if maybe he could sell Harley’s boss the way he’d been trying to sell Harley earlier. Try to get him to fall in love with the small-town charm of Canyon Falls so he didn’t want to buy up land and turn it into suburbia.

  “I like it,” Clay said in his typical noncommittal way.

  “Why don’t you show me around?” Kurt asked.

  Kurt flashed Harley a look. She nodded and stepped back. Clay knew exactly what that meant. Harley was supposed to leave the two of them alone for a while. No telling how long. That wasn’t going to happen.

  “Sure,” Clay said. “Harley can help. She’s pretty familiar with Canyon Falls now.”

  Harley’s eyes widened. She had no idea what to do, apparently. Her gaze slid from Clay to her boss, then back to Clay again.

  “Sounds like a great idea,” Harley’s boss said.

  It felt a little evil, but Clay got a little thrill from the sudden discomfort he saw on Kurt Cutler’s face. Kurt obviously did not like someone else taking the reins, but he had no choice if he wanted to make the sale. He had to let Clay lead.

  And lead was one thing Clay could do.

  Kurt wasn’t interested in grabbing free food, but it didn’t stop Clay. He noticed, though, that Harley wasn’t eating. She just shook her head every time he tried to hand her something, maybe because she feared it would look unprofessional to eat in front of her boss? To heck with that. When Clay was hungry, he ate.

  “You really should try this one,” Clay said, hoping to sneak around whatever was going on here. At that point, her boss was talking to one of the twenty-something suburb dwellers about what she loved about living in Canyon Falls.

  “Thanks,” Harley said, taking the cannoli he’d handed her and eating it in just a couple of bites. He’d keep sneaking her food if necessary. She wouldn’t go hungry on his watch.

  “These are all local restaurants?” Kurt asked once he was walking with the two of them again.

  “Yes,” Clay said.

  That was pretty much the entire point of a ‘Taste of’ festival, last time he’d checked. But he didn’t add that. He did, however, question just how bright this guy was. Already Clay was coming to the conclusion that Harley could do this better than her boss.

  “Running a ranch is similar to running a restaurant, I assume,” Kurt said. “Long hours, picking up the slack for workers who don’t show, trying to keep the books solid—”

  Clay immediately shut that down. “Two completely different kinds of businesses.”

  “Oh yes, I realize that,” Kurt rushed to say. “It’s just—I grew up around a family restaurant. Passed down across multiple generations. I was supposed to take it over, but I couldn’t live like that. Getting up before sunrise, working until I fell into bed, then waking up to do it all over again? It’s impossible to have any kind of life like that.”

  “The best thing about running a ranch is that home is where work is.” Clay looked around, wishing he could just enjoy this festival without having to spend the evening deflecting this guy’s not-so-subtle sales pitch. “I wake up and it’s all right there. I take my mug of coffee and head out on my morning chores.”

  “That can be a curse as well as a blessing, though,” Kurt said. “You never get away from work, so what kind of work-life balance can you have?”

  Work-life balance? He assumed that was some corporate mumbo-jumbo they were passing around these days. All that did was reinforce why he didn’t belong in any other type of business.

  “I can’t imagine doing anything else,” Clay said.

  “I used to think the same thing. But these days, you can be your own boss in almost every type of business. My cell phone—” Kurt held up his phone as if Clay didn’t know what that was. “It’s with me wherever I go. If I want to spend the afternoon at my kid’s soccer game, I can.”

  “You have kids?” Clay asked.

  “No.” That came from Harley. She’d been walking between them, but she still was hanging a little farther back, like she thought she had to stay behind her bo
ss at all times for some reason.

  “I do not.” Kurt’s frown of annoyance would have been impossible to not notice. “But if I did, this job would allow me the flexibility I needed to spend time with my family. The rate of divorce among business owners is pretty high, and that doesn’t even count the number who never marry or have families.”

  “You don’t consider yourself a business owner?” Clay asked.

  “You know what? I’d love some coffee.”

  The statement threw Clay off. Instead of answering his question, Kurt had taken a sudden interest in the coffee booth across from the gazebo. Clay recognized it for the delaying tactic it was.

  “He’s a solopreneur,” Harley said once her boss was out of earshot. “Independent contractor is what normal people call it. Yes, he’s running a business, basically, but he doesn’t see it that way. He likes to fly free like a bird.”

  “Does he really think I’m going to sell because ranch work means long hours?” Clay rolled his eyes. “It’s what I love.”

  He realized then that he probably shouldn’t give her that information. His time with Harley had created this us versus them mentality that wasn’t realistic at all. It was actually Harley and Kurt versus him. He needed to keep that in mind the next time he felt the urge to confide in her about something. Or kiss her.

  “I don’t think anyone’s ever told him ‘no,’” Harley said, watching her boss as he smooth-talked the young barista at the booth. “Probably started from the time he was born. Eventually, people just give him what he wants so he’ll leave them alone.”

  “Interesting business tactic,” Clay commented. “That actually works? Doesn’t he develop a reputation as a pain?”

  Harley dipped her head in a nod. “Oh, sure. But Seattle’s a big city. Word doesn’t spread quite like it does here. Not when it’s successful business dudes being talked about, anyway.”

  He could see that. It wasn’t like Clay had anyone to warn about this guy, unless he suddenly set his sights on Old Man Varney’s ranch or something. And Old Man Varney could give Clay a few tips on how to ward off property buyers.