Page 5 of Old-Fashioned Rancher

Craning my neck back, I gazed up at the house again. When Avery McCall had phoned the shop to set up a consultation appointment, she’d been so friendly and down-to-earth. Now that I stood on McCall ground, a nagging voice whispered in the back of my head that maybe I’d bitten off more than I could chew this time…

Before I could brave my approach, the front door opened and a man emerged, tugging the brim of his cowboy hat down over his eyes. My mouth went dry at the sight of him. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a bodice-ripping western romance novel. Broad shoulders, a square jawline darkened by salt and pepper stubble, and large hands rendered rough by years of work.

Stop drooling and say hello, I chastised myself.

“Good morning!”

He froze. Then he lifted his head, granting a full view of his face. As soon as I got a glimpse of his crystal clear, sharp gray eyes, and the firm line of his mouth that rarely—if ever—smiled, I knew who he was. My jittery stomach roiled with butterflies.

Grady McCall, rancher, millionaire, and most eligible bachelor in Ash Ridge. Many women in town admired him, but only from a distance. His prickly demeanor usually deterred any attempt at flirtation.

Despite the undeniably attractive man in front of me, I pushed away those thoughts and focused on what I came for—business. Taking a bold step forward, I held out my hand.

“I’m Beatrice Knowles, founder and florist of Lavender Lane. Everyone calls me Birdie. Avery McCall sent me to discuss the floral arrangements for the Harvest Festival.”

Grady flicked a glance down at my hand. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t take it. Then he grasped my hand briefly with a firm grip, callused fingertips rasping against my skin before releasing me.

“I’m her father, Grady,” he grunted, obviously less than thrilled about introducing himself. His gaze shifted in the direction of the barn, and the mountains beyond it. “Avery isn’t home at the moment. She left a note, saying she went for a ride this morning with one of my ranch hands. I suspect she won’t be back for many hours.”

“Oh, well, that won’t be a problem,” I replied. “She said you were the man to talk to about any big decisions that needed to be made anyway.”

Grady grumbled under his breath.

“Flowers aren’t really my area of expertise,” he said.

“That’s all right. I brought coffee and pastries—a little sweet treat I like to offer my clients as we chat. I’ll walk you through some of my ideas. Choosing a few bouquets won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.”

Grady’s gaze slid toward the mountains again, looking like a man trapped with no escape. I’d seen that expression on men’s faces before, seeking an apology bouquet and feeling completely lost when it came to the myriad of choices before them.

“Whatever you think is best will be fine,” he said.

Then he was on the move, striding away from me as if he couldn’t escape fast enough.

“That’s a dangerous thing to say to a woman,” I called after him. “Regardless of whether or not you know anything about flowers, Mr. McCall, may I remind you that the resulting bill in your name will be your responsibility to pay, whether you like it or not. And if I’m given free rein to do as I like, the resulting costs could be very, very high.”

Grady waved me off without breaking stride.

“Money is no issue, Ms. Knowles.”

I stared at his retreating back as he practically ran to the sanctuary of his barn. This wasn’t the first time a man had left all the floral decision making to me. It was one thing to trust my expertise implicitly, it was another thing to bolt for the hills and leave a blank check in my care for a festival that would cost more than I earned in a year.

Just as Grady reached the barn, I spoke.

“So, do I understand correctly that you’re willing to spend thousands of dollars on flowers instead of cattle?”

That got him to stop dead in his tracks. He turned to look at me. Thank God those steely gray eyes were shielded by the brim of his hat. It was hard to think under his piercing stare otherwise.

I flashed him a smile.

“Of course that’s just a ballpark estimate at the moment. I’ll have a better idea for a more specific number when I’ve selected the arrangements, factored in last-minute costs. Little things like that can add up quickly.”

A muscle twitched in Grady’s jaw. He cast one final baleful glance of longing toward the barn and the mountains and his beloved freedom of the open range. Reluctantly, he started making his way back to me.

“I feel like I’m being press-ganged into this bullshit,” he said.

“Oh, that’s exactly what’s happening, Mr. McCall,” I replied. “Avery paid me a pretty penny in advance to ensure that I didn’t let you wiggle out of it.”

“I’ll double whatever she paid you if you get back in your car and forget about this festival nonsense.”

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