When her father had been alive and well, he had at least half a dozen hired hands working for him, close to a hundred horses grazing in the pastures and the barns and outbuildings had been painted a striking red with white trim. The board fences and house had always been kept a pristine white, the trees and shrubs were always neatly trimmed and everything was in excellent repair. But in the years following his death, Heather hadn’t had the time or the money to keep up with everything. The roof leaked, fences needed mending, paint was peeling and the trees and shrubs were overgrown and shapeless.
Her breath caught on a sob as she thought about the assurance she had given her dying father as he lay sick in the hospital with end-stage cancer. He had begged her to hang on to the ranch that had been in his family for over a hundred and fifty years and she had given him her word that she would. But that promise was quickly becoming one she was finding almost impossible to keep.
That hurt more than anything else. Not being able to honor his last wish was going to be one of the biggest disappointments of her life.
She and her father had always been extremely close. He had been her best friend and taught her everything she knew about ranching. She often thought that closeness had played a part in why there was an emotional distance between her and her sister.
Stephanie was actually her half sister—her mother’s daughter from a previous marriage. From what Heather had learned over the years, her father had doted on Stephanie until Heather was born. After that, he didn’t seem to have as much time for his stepdaughter and Stephanie clearly resented Heather for that.
“Heather, do you need help?” T.J. asked, from behind her.
“No, I just finished up in here,” she said, shaking her head.
She had been so lost in her disturbing thoughts that she hadn’t noticed his approach. But she noticed it now. He was so close, she could feel the delightful heat from his body. A shiver of awareness coursed through her and, making sure she kept her back to him, she quickly swiped away the moisture that had gathered in her eyes before she turned to face him.
“Where’s Seth?”
“In his bed.” T.J. laughed. “I think I wore him out. We played for quite a while with a little barn that mooed every time the door was opened. Then he yawned a couple of times, crawled up in my lap and went to sleep.”
“Thank you for watching him while I got things cleared away from lunch,” she said as she turned to start the coffeemaker. “It isn’t always easy trying to get things done while watching him, too.”
T.J. smiled. “Seth’s a great little kid. I enjoy spending time with him.”
Heather took a deep breath and released the last of her lingering anger. It wasn’t T.J.’s fault her ranch was so run-down and it was past time that she stopped taking her frustration out on him.
“It’s still raining and it looks like you’ll be here awhile.” She reached in the cabinet for two mugs. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Sure.” He was silent for several long moments before he commented, “We’ve had more rain in the past couple of days than I can ever remember at this time of year.”
“It has been unusual,” she agreed, walking over to set a mug of coffee in front of him.
As they stared at each other she was reminded of how comforting it was to have another adult to talk to. She had been so busy taking care of Seth and the ranch, she hadn’t had time to think about how truly alone she had been.
The moment stretched into awkwardness and she knew of only one way to ease the tension. When she lowered herself onto the chair across from him, they stared silently at each other a few seconds longer before she finally took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted earlier today when I discovered you fed the horses and then later when you asked me about the leaking roof.”
He eyed her over the rim of the raised coffee cup in his hand before he responded. “I just wanted to help.” Shaking his head, he added, “But like you said, what you do on your ranch really isn’t any of my business.”
“That isn’t an excuse for my being hostile toward you,” she said, feeling worse about her behavior by the minute. He had done nothing but try to help her and she’d been nothing but ungrateful. Of course, she had been sick and thoroughly worn-out. But she suspected it had more to do with not being used to confiding in anyone for longer than she cared to remember.
Sighing, she admitted, “I was...embarrassed.”
Setting his mug on the table, he nodded. “I thought that might be the case. But I swear, I wasn’t being judgmental when I asked how long the roof had been leaking.”