the ranch itself is still ours, not just mine,” Brett insisted.
“Earl Robertson left it to you,” Finn stated simply. The man, he knew, had done it to show his gratitude because Brett had gone out of his way to look in on him when he had taken sick. That was Brett, Finn thought, putting himself out with no thought of any sort of compensation coming his way for his actions.
“And I’ve always shared whatever I had with you and Liam,” Brett stated flatly.
Finn allowed a sly smile to feather over his lips, even though being sly was out of keeping with his normally genial nature.
“I see. Does that go for Lady Doc, too?”
Brett knew that his brother was kidding and that he didn’t have to say it, but he played along, anyway. “Alisha is off-limits.”
Finn pretended to sigh. “It figures. First nice thing you have in aeons, and you’re keeping it all to yourself.”
“Damn right I am.”
Finn changed the subject, directing the conversation toward something serious. “Hey, made a decision about who your best man is going to be?”
Brett was silent for a moment. He’d made Finn think he was debating his choices, but the truth of it was, he’d made up his mind from the beginning. It had been Finn all along.
“Well, Liam made it clear that he and that band of his are providing the music, so I guess you get to be best man.”
His back to Brett, Finn smiled to himself. “I won’t let it go to my head.”
“Might get lonely up there if it did,” Brett commented with affection. He glanced at his watch. “Guess I’d better be getting back or Nathan McHale is going to think I’ve abandoned him,” he said, referring to one of Murphy’s’ two most steadfast patrons.
Finn laughed. “Wonder how long he’d stand in front of the closed door, waiting for you to open up before he’d finally give up.”
Brett began to answer without hesitation. “Two, maybe three—”
“Hours?” Finn asked, amused.
“Days,” Brett corrected with a laugh. The older man had been coming to Murphy’s for as many years as anyone could remember, motivated partially by his fondness for beer and most assuredly by his desire to get away from his eternally nagging wife, Henrietta. “I’ll see you later tonight.”
Finn nodded. “I’ll be by when I get done for the day,” he said. He was back to communing with another ornery section of floorboard before his brother walked out the front door.
* * *
CONNIE HAD DECIDED to just drive around both through Forever and its surrounding area to get a general feel for the little town. For the most part, it appeared she’d stumbled across a town that time had more or less left alone. Nothing looked ancient, exactly, and there were parking places in front of the handful of businesses rather than hitching posts, but all in all, the entire town had a very rural air about it, right down to the single restaurant—if a diner could actually lay claim to that title.
She’d been amused to see that the town’s one bar—how did these cowboys survive with only one bar?—had a sign in the window that said Hungry? Go visit Miss Joan’s diner. Thirsty? You’ve come to the right place. That had told her that there was obviously a division of labor here with territories being defined in the simplest of terms.
Given its size and what she took to be the residents’ mind-set, Connie doubted very much if a place like this actually needed a hotel—which, she had a feeling, had probably been her father’s whole point when he had given her this project, saying if she wanted to prove herself to him, he wanted to see her complete the hotel, bringing it in on time and under budget. The budget left very little wiggle room.
“Newsflash, Dad. I don’t give up that easily,” she murmured to the man who was currently five hundred miles away.
Challenges, especially seemingly impossible ones, were what made her come alive. At first glance, the sleepy little town of Forever needed a hotel about as much as it needed an expert on wombats.
It took closer examination to see that the idea of building a hotel had merit.
Connie could see the potential of the place forming itself in her mind’s eye. She just needed the right approach, the right thing to play up and the hotel-to-be would not only become a reality, it would also be a success and eventually get its patrons.
But it wouldn’t get anything if it wasn’t first built, and she had already decided that while she could have materials shipped in from anywhere in the country that could give her the best deal, to get the structure actually built, she was going to use local talent, so to speak.
She naturally assumed that living out here in what she viewed as the sticks made people handy out of necessity. Unlike in the larger cities, there wasn’t a range of construction companies, all in competition with one another, all vying for the customer’s money. Driving down here from Houston, she had already ascertained that the nearest town, Pine Ridge, was a minimum of fifty miles away. That alone limited the amount of choices available. If anything, out here it was the unhandy customer who wound up searching to find someone to do the work for them.
Just like faith, the right amount of money, she had learned, could move mountains.
She had no mountains to move. But she did have a building to erect, and in order not to be the outsider, the person who was viewed as invading their territory, she would need allies. In this particular case, she needed to have some of the men from Forever taking part in making the hotel a reality.
Granted that, once completed, the hotel would belong to the Carmichael Construction Corporation until such time as they sold it, but she had to make the locals feel that building the hotel would benefit the whole town as well as provide them with good-paying jobs during construction.
Connie knew the importance of friends; she just didn’t exactly know how to go about making them.
But she had done her homework before ever getting behind the wheel of her vehicle and driving down here.
As she drove around now, Connie thought about the fact that on the other side of the town, located about ten miles due northwest, was a Native American reservation. She couldn’t remember which of the tribes lived there, but perhaps they would welcome the work, along with Forever townspeople. Given the local state of affairs, who wouldn’t want a job?
So, armed with her GPS, Connie was on her way there. She was driving slower than she was accustomed to for two reasons: one, she didn’t have a natural sense of direction, and she didn’t know the lay of the land and two, she wanted and needed to get to know this land she was temporarily camping out on.
The reservation was her destination, but something—instincts perhaps—made her closely scan the immediate area she was traversing.
Which was when she saw him.
At first she thought she was having a hallucination, a better-than-average morning fantasy that could easily trigger her latent libido if she let it. The trick to being a driven woman with not just goals, but also the taste of success tucked firmly under her belt, was the way she responded to things that needed life-long commitments. It required—demanded, really—tunnel vision. Eye on the prize and all that sort of thing.
Even so, Connie slowed her pristine, gleaming white BMW sports car down to an arthritic crawl as she stared at the lone figure in the distance.
No harm in just looking, she told herself.
Even at this distance, she could easily make out that the man was around her own age. She was keenly aware that he was bare-chested, that his muscles were rippling with every move he made and that, pound for pound, he had to be the best-looking specimen of manhood she had seen in a very long time.
Moving closer, she could see that perspiration