at him for a moment before descending the ladder. “That’s not necessary. I’ll get some help in here at some point.”
“I don’t mind,” he said as he walked slowly toward the ladder, giving her ample time to move away. His mom had taught him and his brothers to never make a woman feel as if she was trapped or threatened. The fact that there was only one vehicle outside and no signs of other people in the building told him that Lauren was here alone. “You almost had it anyway. My just being a little taller should do the trick.”
She didn’t object again so he climbed the ladder and nabbed the cloth banner bearing some unknown German coat of arms and several years’ worth of dust. When his feet hit the wooden floor again, he held up the banner.
“This thing has seen better days.”
Lauren made a small sound of amusement. “That it has.”
He shifted his gaze to her and momentarily forgot what planet he was on. The picture on Lauren’s website didn’t do her justice.
“I’d introduce myself, but I’m guessing you already know who I am.” She didn’t sound snotty or full of herself, more like...
“I suppose you’ve already had several visitors stop by.”
“You suppose correctly.”
“Small town. News travels fast.”
“Oh, I know. I grew up in a town not much bigger than Blue Falls.”
He found himself wanting to ask her about where she grew up, to compare experiences of small-town life, but his visit had a purpose. And that purpose wasn’t to keep Lauren talking so that he could continue to appreciate how pretty she was or how much he liked the sound of her voice, which for some reason reminded him of a field of sunflowers.
Wouldn’t his brothers—heck, even his sisters—hurt themselves laughing over the thoughts traipsing through his head right now?
“So, the question remains, what brings you by?”
Right, back to business.
“I’m Adam Hartley, and I wanted to talk to you about locally sourced beef from the Rocking Horse Ranch.”
“No mistaking this for anything but the heart of Texas. You’re the second beef producer to come see me in the last hour.”
Someone had beaten him here? He silently cursed that deer for making him later to arrive than he planned. A sick feeling settled in his stomach.
“May I ask who it was?”
Please don’t say Carrington Beef. They’d claimed a number of contracts he’d been in the running for, and if he missed out on being first with this huge opportunity because of hitting a deer, he might have to go to the middle of the ranch so he could scream as loud as he was able.
“Carrington Beef.”
Somehow Adam managed not to curse out loud, though the parade of words racing through his head was certainly colorful.
Lauren pulled a business card from her pocket. “A rep named Tim Wainwright.”
It was as if Fate said, “You think I can’t make your day any worse? Here, hold my beer.”
“Honestly, it’s going to be a while before I’m ready for any sort of food products,” Lauren said as she shoved the business card back in her pocket. She lifted her gaze to Adam Hartley’s in time to see a flash of what looked like frustration on his face before he managed to hide it.
“I understand,” he said, back to the friendly, engaging man he’d been since his arrival, as if the moment when he’d clenched his jaw and then finally let out a breath had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination. “I’d appreciate it if I could tell you about our products, however.”
His approach was different enough from Tim Wainwright’s that she wanted to give him a chance. It was possible that his good looks—dark wavy hair, lean build and a face that was far from difficult to look at—might be a factor in her decision, too. She wasn’t interested in getting involved to any extent with anyone—might never be again after what Phil had put her through—but it didn’t hurt anything to look.
And while Tim Wainwright had also been attractive, his personality was a little too slick and polished—a bit too much like Phil’s, she now realized—for him to appeal to her in that way. Granted, it could all be an act he put on for work, but it didn’t really matter. She was so not in the market for a man. The market wasn’t even on the same continent.
“If you don’t mind talking while I work, go for it.”
“Okay,” he replied, sounding a bit surprised by her response.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I have limited time to get a lot done, and I’m running behind.” Which hadn’t been helped by all the interruptions. Well-meaning ones, but interruptions nonetheless.
“No need to explain. I should have called ahead and made an appointment to meet with you.”
“Hard to do when you don’t know the number.”
“True.” He smiled, and wow, did he have a nice smile. He ought to be able to sell beef to half of Texas on that smile alone.
But she also knew better than to trust smiles alone. Phil had an attractive smile, too—until you realized it belonged to a snake.
“The Rocking Horse Ranch has been in my family nearly a century. Everyone who works there is family, and we have a history of producing high-quality beef products—steaks, ground, ribs.”
As she listened to Adam’s sales pitch, she grabbed one of the tables she aimed to get rid of and started dragging it toward the front wall.
“Here, let me help you with that.” Adam lifted the opposite side of the table and together they carried it away from the middle of the large dining room.
Before she could voice an objection to his continuing to help her with manual labor, Adam launched back into his spiel.
“I’m sure you already know that diners are more and more interested in where their food comes from, and with our products you’d be able to tell them it’s from a few miles down the road, raised by a family that’s been part of Blue Falls for a hundred years.”
She had to give him credit—he certainly was passionate about his family’s business. Considering her own strong ties to family and the hard work to share her love of food with others, she admired that passion. Still, when it came down to the decision-making, it would have to be based on the price and quality of the beef. Adam Hartley could have all the charm and belief in his products the world had to offer, but it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t deem his ranch’s beef good enough to associate with her own brand.
“Sounds as if you have a fine operation,” she said. “If you’ll leave your card, I’ll call for a sample when I’m closer to making those types of decisions.”
After a slight hesitation, he nodded and retrieved a card from his wallet, then handed it over. The ranch brand was like none she’d ever seen before, a little rocking horse like a child might use. She made a mental note to provide rocking horses for the girls when they were old enough.
“Interesting brand.”
“With an interesting story behind it,” he said as he helped her move another table.
“Well, don’t keep me hanging.”
“Shortly after my great-grandfather bought the first part of the ranch acreage, he found out my great-grandmother was pregnant with their first child, my grandfather. He used part of a tree he cleared where the house was to be built to make a rocking horse for the baby. And he