A Rancher's Christmas. Ann RothЧитать онлайн книгу.
supposed to happen between now and when I return. We’ll start with Grant Industries and then go over the other accounts.”
“I’m ready.”
Carrie didn’t quite manage to stifle a yawn, which caused Gina to yawn, too. They were both exhausted, but she needed to know she could depend on her assistant. A lot was riding on this campaign.
“This is a huge responsibility, Carrie. Are you sure you can handle it? Because I can easily bring in someone else.” Several of her colleagues, including her best friend, Lise, would do anything for the Grant account. But when Grant Industries had signed with Andersen, Coats and Mueller, Kevin had selected Gina to manage it, and she preferred to keep Lise away from her “baby.”
Carrie perked right up. “I’m thrilled to have this opportunity to prove myself.”
Gina smiled, relieved. After reviewing all of their clients’ accounts, Gina shut down her desktop computer. “That’s it, then. My uncle’s ranch only has dial-up, but I found a hot spot for wireless so I’ll be able to stay connected.” She would have to drive about five miles into town to get internet, which was inconvenient but better than nothing.
“Seriously? No wireless?”
“Unfortunately not. My uncle was a rancher and didn’t use the internet much. I expect frequent reports from you on the Grant account and the rest of our clients. Numbers, feedback plus any ideas or concerns you have. That way I can keep tabs on everything and make sure nothing slips through the cracks.”
“No problem.”
“Great. You have my cell phone number. If you need me for anything at all, text me or call—day or night. Oh, and Montana is an hour ahead of us, by the way.”
Carrie nodded. “Don’t worry about a thing, Gina. I can handle this.”
Gina hoped she was right. Her job and her creditors depended on it.
* * *
DUSK WAS FALLING when Zach Horton exited Redd’s battered Ford wagon. Icy wind blew across the airport parking lot, and he clapped his hand on his Stetson to keep it from flying across the pavement. Time to switch to a wool cap.
Redd blew on his gloved hands and squinted at the cloud-filled sky. “Looks like it’s fixing to snow tonight. Good thing Gina’s flight is due to arrive on time. I sure appreciate you driving my old heap to pick her up.”
The seventy-one-year-old was too shaken up by his older brother’s unexpected death to drive the forty miles to the airport alone, let alone in the dark. “I’m happy to help,” Zach said. “I’ve been hearing about Lucky’s niece since he hired me. It’s time I met her.”
She didn’t know it, but Lucky had left her the ranch. He wanted her to take it over. Correction: he wanted Zach to persuade her to take it over. “Where did she say to meet her?” he asked.
“In the baggage claim area.”
“She checked bags?”
“That’s what she said.”
Zach shrugged. According to Lucky, Gina Arnett was a marketing whiz, steadily climbing the corporate ladder. She’d recently been promoted to assistant vice president at her company. The whole family was proud of her.
Zach was familiar with the type. Uptight, driven, goal oriented—he’d had his fill of women like her. He’d had his fill of corporate deals and one-upmanships, period.
He doubted Gina Arnett would want anything to do with the Lucky A and had told Lucky so. But Lucky had asked Zach to do everything possible to persuade her. The rancher had taken Zach in when he was a broken man, and Zach owed him.
There weren’t many people he counted as friends, and losing Lucky hurt. He would sorely miss the old man who had taken him in and mentored him in ways his own father never had.
He and Redd entered the baggage claim area, which was noisy and full of passengers awaiting their luggage.
After a moment, Redd pointed to a woman across the way. “There she is.”
In high-heeled suede boots and a stylish camel hair coat over pants, she looked pretty much as Zach had pictured her, though taller. Her light brown hair was parted on the side and hung almost to her shoulders in a straight, sophisticated style. With big eyes, full lips and an air of self-confidence, she was knockout beautiful. Lucky had neglected to mention that.
“Uncle Redd,” she said, hugging Redd tight. Her eyes flooded before she squeezed them shut.
Feeling like a voyeur, Zach stood back and averted his gaze, giving them privacy.
Finally, Redd let go of her and wiped his eyes. “Gina, this is Zach Horton—he’s the foreman at the Lucky A.”
She raised her watery gaze to Zach. Makeup had smeared under her grief-stricken eyes. For some reason, that made his chest hurt.
He whipped off his hat and extended his arm. “Pleased to meet you.”
She had delicate fingers and a firm grip, her skin soft against his callused palm. “I’m sorry about Lucky,” Zach said, sounding gruff to his own ears. He cleared his throat. “He talked about you quite a bit.”
“He told me about you, too. I remember how happy he was when he hired you several years ago. He was always talking about how much he liked and respected you. I loved him so much.” Her eyes filled.
As the tears spilled over, Zach’s throat tightened, pressure building behind his own eyes. He turned away and nodded at the conveyor belt. “Here come the bags. Which one is yours?”
“I checked three—two big and one smaller. They’re red with cream trim.”
She was staying what? Ten days? This wasn’t a vacation, and little Saddlers Prairie had only one real restaurant. What did she need all that stuff for? Zach didn’t miss the laptop peeking out from her huge shoulder bag. She must be planning to work from the ranch. He’d expected that.
Gina pulled the smaller of the three bags from the conveyor belt and Zach grabbed the remaining two. Redd reached out to take one, but Zach shook his head. “Leave those to me.”
“I’ll take the other one, then.” Redd pulled the smaller bag from Gina’s grasp.
“Thank you both.” She hooked her free arm through Redd’s. They bowed their heads and made their way toward the exit.
* * *
SHIVERING, GINA TUCKED her cashmere scarf into her coat collar as she, Uncle Redd and Zach made their way toward her uncle’s old station wagon. The icy Montana wind was every bit as biting as she remembered—not much different from Chicago in late November.
Snow flurries danced in the glow of the parking lot’s perimeter lights. A few flakes could easily turn into a deluge, and she hoped they made it to the ranch while the roads were still passable.
“You sit in the front with Zach,” Uncle Redd said, the breath puffing from his lips like smoke while Zach loaded the luggage into the cargo area.
Tired from lack of sleep and the long travel day, and feeling emotionally raw, Gina preferred to sit in the back and just be. “You take the front, Uncle Redd,” she said. “I’m fine sitting in the back.”
“That’s where the dogs ride. You don’t want to get dog hair on those pretty clothes.”
He had a point.
Zach slammed the cargo door closed and headed toward the passenger side of the car. “Hop in,” he said, opening the door for her.
He was big and muscular and movie-star good-looking, with a strong chin and wide forehead, and he was tall enough that even in boots with three-inch heels, she had to tip her head up to meet his gaze. She’d noticed his striking silvery-blue eyes halfway across the crowded baggage-claim area.
Despite