place hadn’t been a dude ranch but merely a working ranch.
In the distance the huge two-story white house came into view, along with a plethora of outbuildings that hadn’t been there before. Still, a small rush of happiness swept through her. Some of the best memories of her youth came from this place.
As they pulled closer, she spied two men standing near the weathered wooden corral and instantly she recognized one of them as Matthew Delaney.
Even though it had been seventeen years and his back was to them, she recognized his tall lanky length, the impossibly broad shoulders and the downward tilt of the black cowboy hat on his head.
Again a swell of pleasure filled her chest. Some of the best memories of her youth came from this man.
As the car drew closer, the two men turned, and Lilly felt a sense of satisfaction as she saw that indeed, the tall cowboy was Matthew. He said something to the cowhand next to him and the man nodded, then took off toward the barn.
Lilly parked the car as Matthew approached them.
“Lilly. Clara. What a surprise,” he said as the two women got out of the car. He made no move to hug Lilly or kiss his aunt hello. Instead he stuck his hands in his pockets, his dark-gray eyes expressionless beneath the brim of his hat.
“We’ve come for a visit,” Aunt Clara announced. “I meant to call, but it just slipped my mind.” She frowned. “Lately it seems like lots of things keep slipping my mind.”
“I hope we haven’t come at a bad time,” Lilly said, once again looking at the handsome man before her.
“Of course not,” he replied after only a moment’s hesitation. “It’s been a long time.” His gaze flickered over her, traveling from her face downward, then back up again.
Lilly fought the impulse to smooth a hand down the light-blue cotton dress that was wrinkled from the hours in the car. Instead she tucked a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear. “Yes, it has been a long time.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, one that Lilly remembered from years ago. The first time she and Clara had arrived here when Lilly had been sixteen years old, Adam Delaney, Matthew’s father, had greeted them with the same lack of enthusiasm.
At that time Lilly had stood next to Aunt Clara, eyeing the four silent Delaney children with trepidation at the same time they had stared at her suspiciously.
“I was just about to head inside and get some dinner.” He pulled his hands from his pockets. “Why don’t I get your bags inside and get you settled in.”
Lilly nodded and as Aunt Clara started for the house, she popped open the car trunk to reveal two overnight bags. She handed one to Matthew and carried the other herself.
“Things are sure quiet around here,” she observed as they walked from the car to the front porch. Although it was just a little before six, the sun was already starting its descent, riding low and transforming the blue sky with glorious warm colors.
She’d expected crowds of people. She’d expected children running amok as parents attempted to corral them, newlyweds oblivious to their surroundings and high-spirited vacationers.
“The ranch went dark a week ago,” he explained. “We won’t have any guests here for another three weeks.” He opened the front door and gestured for his aunt and Lilly to precede him inside.
“Oh my, I can see I’ve come in the nick of time,” Aunt Clara exclaimed as she ran a finger across the hall tree in the foyer. A light layer of dust filmed the golden oak beneath.
Matthew swept off his hat and hung it on one of the hooks near the door. “The housekeeper is on vacation for a couple of weeks.”
“Then I can make myself useful here,” Aunt Clara said, a satisfied smile moving her plump cheeks upward.
Matthew opened his mouth as if to protest, then apparently thought better of it. “Why don’t I show you both to your rooms and you can freshen up while I rustle up some dinner.”
It took only minutes for Matthew to show them the rooms they’d used in the past when visiting, then he went back down the stairs.
Lilly was pleased to see that the room where she’d spent several weeks for three summers as a young woman had been left untouched in the passing of time. The wallpaper was perhaps a little less bright than it had been years ago and the bedspread appeared a bit frayed.
The bed was big and soft, and many a night she’d lain in it and dreamed girlish dreams about Matthew Delaney. She smiled now and moved to the window.
The view was magnificent. From this vantage point she could see the stables and, farther out, the pastureland that it must cost a fortune to maintain in this arid, desertlike climate.
She could hear her aunt in the next room, bustling about to unpack her suitcase. Lilly frowned. It disturbed her that Aunt Clara hadn’t called to let Matthew know they were visiting; that meant she hadn’t mentioned to him Clara’s plans of moving in here permanently. It would be up to Lilly to relay this information to Matthew.
Matthew. He had been a young girl’s dream. Because he’d been the same age as Lilly, he’d been assigned to entertain her those three summers she had visited.
She’d found him intensely handsome, heroically strong, and mysterious in a dark, poetic way. She had instantly developed an intense crush on him. And there had been times she’d thought her feelings for him might be reciprocated, but nothing had ever come from it.
She cracked open the window and drew a deep breath of air that smelled like warm earth, live animals and fresh sunshine.
It would be good to stay here, see Aunt Clara settled in and enjoy the ranch life for a week or two. She’d needed a break from her tiny apartment in Dallas and hopefully, during the time she was here, she wouldn’t think about the tragedy that had prompted her to take a year off from her work.
She left her room and went down the stairs to the kitchen, where she could hear Matthew rattling pots and pans.
She paused in the doorway, aware that he hadn’t noticed her presence.
For just a moment she took the opportunity to study the man he had become. The last time she’d seen him he’d been almost nineteen years old. She knew he was now the same age as her—thirty-five.
As a young man of eighteen, he’d been handsome. As a mature man of thirty-five, he was devastating. Life had etched lines into his face, but the fine lines that radiated out from the corners of his eyes and creased his forehead only added character and strength.
No gray accented his thick, black hair, and his lean, lanky body looked as if not a single year had passed since last time she’d seen him.
“You come down to help or to stand there and stare?”
She grinned. “Aw, busted. I was just looking to see what damage the years had done to you.” She stepped into the kitchen.
He lowered the flame beneath a pot of beans and turned to stare at her. His eyes were just as she remembered them, smoky gray and long-lashed. Heat welled up inside her as his gaze slowly drifted down the length of her, a visual onslaught that felt vaguely invasive.
“Looks like the years have been fairly kind to you,” he observed, as his gaze once again locked with hers.
She smiled and consciously ignored the heat that still flooded through her veins. She found it crazy and amazing that after all these years a flicker of those bedroom eyes of his could affect her. “Now that we have that out of the way, what can I do to help with dinner?”
“You can set the table. I’m afraid dinner isn’t going to be anything elaborate. Hot dogs and beans. I didn’t realize I was going to have company this evening.” There was a touch of censure in his voice.
“And I apologize for that,” Lilly said as she grabbed three plates from the cabinet and