that he lied to you about just how sick the doc said he was when he told you to go on and see to your own dad’s needs. He would’ve been fit to be tied if you’d stayed with him and refused to see to your father.”
That much was true. Tex had been adamant about Caleb making up with Dad, no doubt because the family rift with the Byrds had gone on for so long and Tex regretted that he’d missed out on being a part of his own children’s—and grandchildren’s—lives.
The last thing Caleb had wanted was for Tex to be disappointed in him, so he’d gone. But he hadn’t made it back to the Flying B in time—he’d only been here for the funeral, staying in the background before seeing to the last of Dad and Aunt Rosemary’s new home—and that dogged him.
Grieving for Tex alone. Wishing he could’ve done something to keep him around for much, much longer.
Even with the note Tex had left him, telling him how proud he was of Caleb and how he hadn’t wanted Caleb to see him wasting away in his final days, there was still that raw sense of loss and failure.
Hugh gave him another sidelong look, and Caleb decided to move on.
“The Flying B’s a different place without him, isn’t it?”
“It’s a kind of different that Tex would’ve approved of. When he gave the girls the east side of the property, with the ranch and its buildings, and the Byrd boys the land that wasn’t being used, he stipulated that they use their inheritance money to develop both sides after he passed away.”
“I like what they’re doing.”
“I hear you like even more than that.”
Caleb grinned. “It’s no secret I get along with women.”
Hugh’s chuckle was a rasp. “The snooty Byrd isn’t the one I would’ve chosen for you.”
“Donna Byrd isn’t snooty. She’s just a fish out of water.”
“And you’ll reel her in. Is that right?”
“Why not? It’s about time I settled down.”
He’d come to that conclusion after seeing Donna for the first time. It’d been an instant, overwhelming attraction, even if it would be a challenge to hook her.
Hugh shook his head, and it rankled Caleb. Maybe the older ranch hand thought Donna was out of Caleb’s league, or that a ladies’ man like him would never settle down for anyone, even a Byrd. Or maybe Hugh was even thinking that Donna might be way too much trouble for him in the long run and he shouldn’t pin his hopes on anything with her.
But Caleb couldn’t blame his friend for any of that. No one, not even Hugh, knew how much of a father figure Tex had become to Caleb after he’d taken him in—even more than his own dad. Tex had sorely missed his own sons, and somehow, Caleb had filled a void, sitting down with him on the main house’s old creaky porch swing after a long day, smoking cigars, talking for hours and drinking the good bourbon and wine Tex used to collect. The old man had never told Caleb the details about what had torn apart his relationship with his sons Sam and William—and what had made them dislike each other so intensely that it’d caused a tear that made their relationship ragged even today. But Caleb had heard rumors around the ranch, anyway, about how Savannah Jeffries had been dating one twin, William, during college. She’d come home with him one summer, after he’d suffered a broken leg in a car accident, and during his convalescence, she’d supposedly fallen for Sam, Donna’s father.
Nope, no one knew just how much Tex had meant to Caleb.
Hugh sighed gruffly as he pulled the truck off the road, toward the fences that required their labors.
He turned off the engine. “Maybe you think that there’s some kind of love bug going around since the Byrd kids have come back, Caleb, but from what I hear, Donna’s probably immune to it. She’s a cool one.”
“I’ve melted my share,” Caleb said.
“So you have.” Hugh grabbed Caleb’s shirtsleeve before he could open the door. “Just keep in mind that she’s got a lot going on.”
Although the older man didn’t explain further, Caleb knew that Hugh only meant to protect him, and he gave the man a gentle, fond shove.
“Don’t worry about me, boss.” He exited the truck, his boots hitting the dirt.
He was as grounded as ever, with his feet back on familiar territory.
And he was just as determined to show Donna Byrd that he was more than merely a heart-struck cowboy.
Chapter Two
At the first peek of dawn, Donna was up and about because, no matter how long she’d been in Texas, she was still on New York time—an hour ahead of the dear Old West.
After doing a quick check of her email—nothing new or exciting there—she tucked her iPad into the crook of her arm, then went to the kitchen to grab one of the luscious chocolate chip muffins Barbara the cook had already made. After downing that, then a mug of Earl Grey tea, she scooted out the back door before a real breakfast could be served buffet style in the dining room.
A million things to do, Donna thought as she made her way to the nearest renovated cabin. And the first item on her list was to double—no, quadruple—check this particular room’s condition.
It had cute embroidered curtains and valances, rustic Southwestern furniture, faux-Remington sculptures and “hotel amenities,” as Caleb Granger might’ve called the fancy bathroom vanity basket that included everything from soaps and shampoos to more private items, like toothbrushes and even condoms for the younger, hip crowd they were targeting for business. But, at the sight of that last item, a flurry of sensation attacked Donna, and she frowned, turning away from the bathroom sink and its basket.
Putting Caleb Granger and condoms in the same train of thought brought back those tingles she’d been trying to ignore ever since she’d officially met him yesterday.
Yet she left all of that behind as she focused—and focused hard, to tell the truth—on switching a rugged cowboy sculpture on one oak end table with a second horse sculpture on a highboy chest by the door.
Afterward, she stood back to assess the look of the room again.
Not bad. Not bad at all. The Flying B and B would impress anyone, even the college friend she’d invited for the weekend. Theo Blackwood worked at Western Horizons travel magazine, and Donna hoped he would be swayed enough by the ranch to do a layout during their grand opening in a little less than a couple of months.
After brushing some dust off the rough cowboy sculpture, Donna couldn’t find anything else to nitpick. It all really was tip-top. That’s how everything needed to be. That’s how life had always been for her, and someday soon, it would be that way again. All she needed to do was create a smashing success of this B and B, and she would be on her way out of Hoop-De-Do, Texas, and back to the glamour and rush-rush of the big city.
She sat on the bed, the foam mattress and beige duvet as comfortable as sin, then fired up her iPad. The screen saver still featured the swirly, creamy logo she’d commissioned for Roxey magazine, but instead of feeling sorrow at its demise, Donna only wanted to live up to its failed promise.
But first, there were personal matters to attend to. One of her To-Do’s today was an activity she managed every day—tapping the name Savannah Jeffries into an internet search engine. She was hoping that this time of all times she would discover something new that their P.I., Roland Walker, hadn’t found out about the woman who’d torn this family apart.
Yet all that popped up on the screen were the same old results and links Donna always got, so she checked her email for the second time this morning.
But there was no word from their P.I., either, even though Donna contacted him religiously.