Chapter One
Rowdy McDermott closed the door of his truck and scanned the ranch house that had seen better days. Carrying the casserole he’d been sent to deliver, he strode toward the rambling, low-slung residence. He’d always liked this old place and the big weathered barn behind it—liked the rustic appearance of the buildings that seemed cut from the hillside sloping down on one side before sweeping wide in a sunny meadow. There was peace here in this valley, and it radiated from it like the glow of the sun bouncing off the distant stream cutting a path across the meadow.
This beautiful three-hundred-acre valley was connected to his family’s ranch. Rowdy had hoped one day to make this place his own, but the owner wouldn’t sell. Not even when he’d moved to a retirement home several years ago and Rowdy had made him a good offer. He’d told Rowdy he had plans for the place after he died.
Four days ago his “plan” had arrived in the form of the owner’s niece, so Rowdy’s grandmother had informed him, at the same time she’d volunteered him to be her delivery boy.
He knocked on the green front door, whose paint was peeling with age. Getting no answer, he strode to the back of the house, taking in the overgrown bushes and landscaping as he went. Years of neglect were visible everywhere.
A black Dodge Ram sat in the drive with an enclosed trailer hitched to the back of it. He’d just stepped onto the back porch when a loud banging sound came from the barn, followed by a crash and a high-pitched scream.
Rowdy set the dish on the steps and raced across the yard. The double doors of the barn were open and he skidded through them. A tiny woman clung to the edge of the loft about fifteen feet from the ground.
“Help,” she cried, as she lost her grip—
Rushing forward, Rowdy swooped low. “Gotcha,” he grunted, catching her just in the nick of time. He managed to stay on his feet as his momentum forced him to plunge forward.
They would have been okay if there hadn’t been an obstacle course’s worth of stuff scattered on the barn floor.
Rowdy leaped over cans of paint and dodged a wheelbarrow only to trip over a pitchfork— They went flying and landed with a thud on a pile of musty hay.
The woman in his arms landed on top of him, strands of her silky, honey-colored hair splayed across her face.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
She blinked at him through huge protective goggles, her pale blue eyes wide as she swept the hair away. A piece of hay perched on top of her head like a crown.
“You saved me,” she gasped, breathing hard. “I can’t believe it. Thank you.”
“Anytime,” Rowdy said with a slow drawl, forcing a grin despite feeling as if he’d just lost a battle with a bronc. The fact that there was a female as cute as this one sitting on his chest numbed the pain substantially.
Those amazing blue eyes widened behind the goggles. “I’m sorry, what am I thinking sitting on you like this?” She scrambled off and knelt beside him. “Can you move? Let me help you up.” Without waiting for his reply, she grasped his arm, tugging on him. “That had to have hurt you.”
He sat up and rolled his shoulder. “Hitting the ground from the loft would have been a harder fall. What were you doing, anyway?”
Leaning back on her heels, she yanked off the goggles.
Whoa— Rowdy’s pulse kicked like a bull as he looked into her sparkling eyes.