Page 12 of Old-Fashioned Rancher

“I’d like to make it up to you,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows.

“An apology? I didn’t think you were the type of man who did that sort of thing.”

“It’s a rare occurrence, I’ll admit.”

I considered for a moment, eyeing him.

“Did Avery force your hand?”

“I’m a grown man. I can make my own decisions.”

I paused. My gut told me that Avery didn’t know about the card in her father’s pocket. She hadn’t exactly been subtle about pushing us together, but it seemed Grady was pursuing me out of his own interest, with no prompting from his daughter.

“Lending a hand with the festival set-up would be a wonderful way to apologize,” I offered.

Grady looked like he instantly regretted his decision.

“Do I have a choice in the matter?”

“Of course you do. Although I don’t think I need to point out that every decision has consequences.”

“Meaning?” he prompted.

“My phone number has an expiration date, Grady. I won’t wait around forever.”

He nodded, sliding the card into his pocket again.

“I didn’t think you would. That’s why I spoke to my cook this morning. Lunch will be prepared for us at one o’clock if you’re interested in staying.”

“Is this more of Avery’s doing?” I asked.

“Despite my daughter’s best attempts to socialize me and turn me into a functioning member of society, no, this has nothing to do with her.” He shifted in place, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “So…will you join me?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The wealthiest, grumpiest bachelor in Ash Ridge had just invited me on a date. I felt like I had wings on my feet.

“I’d love to. Since it’s only nine o’clock in the morning, that gives us plenty of time for festival prep.”

Grady sighed.

“Where do you want me? I’m following your lead.”

“It’s your ranch,” I pointed out. “Shouldn’t you be the one giving orders?”

“When it comes to the business of cattle, I’ll gladly take charge. But this?” He gestured to the volunteers laying out one of the tents by the barn. “This is entirely outside my wheelhouse. You are much better suited to it than I am.”

Warmth bloomed in my chest. It must be difficult for a man like Grady to surrender control over his ranch, especially when he had been the one in charge for decades. The fact that he trusted me to manage the festival was an honor I wouldn’t take lightly.

“In that case, I’ll put you to work.”

The next few hours were a whirlwind of preparations. I couldn’t help noticing that the volunteers gave Grady a wide berth. He never smiled, and his muscled figure loomed over everyone else like a thundercloud threatening to burst at any moment. But he did every task without complaining that I delegated to him. I wouldn’t say he was excited for the Harvest Festival, but at least he’d seemed to reach some level of tolerance for it.

When lunch rolled around, Grady cupped his fingers to my elbow and pulled me toward him until my shoulder bumped against his chest. Startled, I glanced up to realize how close we were—his hot breath against my cheek, the way his ribs expanded against my side as he breathed in.

“Time to make good on your promise,” he said.

“Is it one o’clock already?” I checked the clock on my phone for confirmation. “I’ll just finish up here—”

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