Page 16 of Must Love Mistletoe

Twelve hours since starting her night shift, thoroughly buoyed and distracted and anxious that Seth’s plan would appeal to everyone…

Now, thirty seconds after putting Sam on the school bus and waving him away, Beth made a U-turn and steered her trusty old pickup toward the lower pasture to check that her hungry heifers hadn’t made another break for more palatable ground.

Except that when she got there, she found fresh bedding hay on the ground, more bedding hay double stacked in an L shape facing away from prevailing winds to provide a windbreak, and alfalfa hay bales sitting up off the ground in feeders she knew she didn’t own. The water trough—one of the heated ones Red had insisted on—was full to the brim with clean water. She did a quick head count, didn’t take long. There were only fifty-two of them left and they were all accounted for, standing or sitting, round bellied, cud chewing and content.

She wouldn’t cry… She would not cry at the easing of her load and the euphoria that came with it.

She’d been tearing up far too much of late.

It wasn’t until she was parking beneath the lean to beside the barn that she noticed Cal’s truck over by the house. Shefound the man himself next to her woodshed, splitting wood and stacking it neatly in a nearby wheelbarrow. He hadn’t seen her yet, and she took some time to watch the play of muscle beneath his plaid shirt as he raised the axe and brought it down in one smooth movement, strong and sure. He made grunt-work look graceful, but she’d never tell him so. Her words would come out all wrong. He’d think she was teasing him. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be comfortable if she flat out admired him, and wasn’t that a shame.

Maybe it was finally time to admit her long-held crush on him.

Comparing him to Red used to be something to avoid at all costs. It had never ended well. But she’d kept her wedding vows, in deed and in thought, as best she could, and she had nothing to feel guilty about.

Not then. Not now.

Things were different now.

He’s Cal Casey, that’s all. Six-foot five of pure cowboy muscle and integrity. And unexpected sweetness. Hard not to be impressed.

She looked toward her back porch at the stack of wood that certainly hadn’t been there this morning. It was his third or fourth barrow load, no doubt. And she somehow didn’t think he was cutting it because he thought she’d be out of the place within a week.

Funny how she’d been reflecting in depth on her embarrassing marriage proposal. Why had she done it? Had she really wanted him to say yes? Would she have been at all satisfied with a business arrangement? Would she have pushed for more?

He’d been right to reject her, but she sure as sunrise was right about him being a man worth having. Had her subconscious been working overtime?

What would he look for in a partner? A pretty face? Youth? Someone unencumbered? No dead husband and a kid that wasn’t his?

And then he shouldered his axe and looked at her and the warmth in his eyes clear stole her breath. Since when had she ever been on the receiving end ofthatkind of appreciation from this man?

It was enough to make her glance over her shoulder to make sure the perfect woman hadn’t magically appeared behind her.

Nope.

Nothing in view but a kitchen door in need of a lick of paint, so she turned back toward him, determined to keep breezing past her failed marriage proposal and find solid footing somewhere up ahead. Especially when they might soon become business partners in this spread.

“You saw to my cows,” she said, and waited while he wheeled the wood in the barrow to the porch and stacked it in the little snug beside the kitchen door.

“You meanmycows,” he replied with a grin. “We shook hands on it.”

“Did Seth talk with you about the plan for me and Sam, and a bunch of Caseys—including you—to buy shares in this place?”

“Yep.”

Seth had securedin principleagreements from everyone but Cal before she’d left Savannah’s table yesterday. Cal had been the only one left to ask.

“And?” She opened the kitchen door and waved him in.

Except that he stepped up behind her, his arm raised far higher than hers to keep the door open while she went in first. She could smell his clean, outdoorsy scent—a smattering of hay, a sprinkle of pine tree. She even imagined the freshness of a mountain stream bubbling over mossy rocks.

Cut with the simple tang of sweat.

“Beth? You in or out?”

“Yes. Sure, I was just…” Making a thorough examination of his jawline while contemplating deodorant marketing. “Thinking.”

He took his boots off at the door—his mama had taught him well. “I know about the plan,” he rumbled. “Wanted to iron out a few wrinkles before I said yes.”

---