Page 54 of Snowed in with the Rancher

“Then let me tell you about my idea.”

* * *

An hour later, Olivia was sitting on his living room sofa as Tate handed her a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Lobster rested his head on her knee, and her eyes shut for a brief moment as she drew in a long breath to savor the coffee steam.

“You make great coffee,” she said. “I don't think I ever took the time to tell you that.”

He smiled as he took the seat next to her. “And you have some amazing ideas for that organization of yours.”

“Well, it only makes sense to narrow our focus to dreams that involve livestock, hiking, camping—the kinds of things Montana is known for and that we can do better than anyone else. Let the bigger organizations handle dreams about Disneyworld and dinners with celebrities. We can be the one-stop shop for these Montana-themed dreams, and that will keep funds rolling in—and disabled children served with great experiences.”

Tate nodded, amazed at how sharp she was. She was an amazing businesswoman, and added to that, she was running a nonprofit.

“So, you think we can turn that piece of land into the perfect location for all these events for the kids?”

“I do,” she told him, giving him a knowing smile. That confidence was sexy as hell. “If I can raise the funds to make those improvements to the trails and the barn, make them accessible, I'm sure they'll be well-used.”

“And I'll keep the land, and be able to write off a portion of the lease as a tax deduction.” He thought for a moment. “I would like to try a breeding program there at some point, but I think we have plenty of space for both your organization's programs and that.”

She gave him a coy smile. “Maybe the kids who come to visit could spend some time with the calves and foals?”

He grinned. “I understand why they hired you.”

She took another sip of her coffee, and he glanced at the clock on the wall. As much as he wanted her to stay, he knew that wouldn't be the best choice for their fresh start. This was a first date, and he wanted to show her he could do it right.

“It's probably time to take you home, Cinderella,” he said softly, reaching over and stroking a finger down her silky cheek.

She shifted, setting her cup on the table. Her big, warm eyes blinked slowly, and she leaned toward him.

“I've had a really nice time tonight,” she said.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers gently. “I have, too.”

“Why didn't we talk like this when I was here every day?”

“Because there were dirty dishes and four-year-olds and a blizzard outside.” He scratched his head, his brow furrowing at the memory that seemed years ago, not weeks. “Also, I was being an idiot, so that probably didn't help. I'm honestly not sure what I was doing or thinking. It was like one long panic.”

Luckily, Olivia wasn't the type to hold grudges, and she chuckled. “Ithoughtyou were the one who was panicked, but I have to admit, now that I've had some space—I was pretty overwrought myself. I think I may have been in a semi-panic for the last five years. That moment I first saw you, something inside me kind of collapsed in relief. I was so happy to not be alone in this anymore that I think I expected too much of you. That wasn't fair of me.”

“It's not that I don't want to be there—”

She interrupted. “I know. But you need time to adjust, and that's not unreasonable, Tate. You're only human.”

He looked down at their hands that had somehow wound together. “My parents didn't seem to need time to adjust. They've been a hell of lot more helpful than I have.”

“Your parents are the most wonderful grandparents I could have ever dreamed of for the girls. But they only have to be grandparents. It's not their responsibility to make sure those girls grow up right. They don't have to worry about how to feed them and clothe them, how to pay for college, and whether to put them in soccer or gymnastics.”

“Soccer,” he said firmly. “There's a Kicking Cubs program at the rec center. I checked, and it starts in February.”

“See?” She ran her fingers through the lock of hair that fell over his forehead. “You're being a dad already.”

He leaned forward then, those last few inches, and brought his lips to hers. One gentle, sweet brush of a kiss. Then he was pulling back, because this was the first date, and he was going to do it right.

“Time to go home,” he whispered.

“Time to go home,” she agreed.

TWENTY-THREE

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