Marriage At Circle M. DONNA ALWARDЧитать онлайн книгу.
her mother’s. “Is that why you’re here? Do they need someone to watch her for a while?”
“No, no.” Mike turned to her then, his lips relaxing just a little. “Connor’s grandmother is looking after her. But…it’s not fair of me to ask, but I was wondering, I mean we were wondering, if you’d consider coming back and doing the books for the farm for a while.”
If it had been a less serious topic, Grace would have made a quip about that being a regular speech for Mike. Instead she just nodded. “Of course I will. I don’t mind at all.”
“I know you’re already busy, and…”
“Mike, it’s fine. Alex and Connor are my friends, too. I’m happy to help.”
His relief was clear. “Thank you, Grace.”
It was her own fancy that made his words sound like an endearment. But Mike didn’t think of her in that way anymore. He only looked on her as a friend, she knew that. He’d made it abundantly clear long ago.
She’d already let girlish fantasy rule once in her life and look where that had gotten her. A few troubled years, a whole lot of hurt and then back here in small-town Alberta with a tiny yellow bungalow and a double bed with one pillow.
“You’re welcome. I’ll try to stop by tomorrow and get things up to speed.”
The morning sun grew warmer as they stood on her front lawn, the dew evaporating off in the heat. This was just what she needed. To torture herself further by seeing Mike day in and day out at Circle M, a reminder of wanting what she couldn’t have. But the truth was, she needed to do some repairs to the house and money was scarce. What she made by doing the odd book work and cleaning jobs didn’t leave her with a lot extra at the end of the month. Besides, Mike wouldn’t be there all the time now, would he?
“I guess I should be going,” he remarked quietly. “I have a few errands and then, well, we’re a man short at the ranch. And the building crew comes at nine.”
Grace’s head swiveled back to him. “Building crew?”
For the first time, Mike really smiled. The effect was devastating, making her heart thump ridiculously. Darn him for being able to cause such a reaction simply by smiling. His grayish-blue eyes lit up as he ran a rough hand through disobedient, coppery hair. “Yeah. We’re breaking ground for my new house today.”
How did I miss that bit of information? Grace wondered. Mike Gardner, with his own business and now a home. Was the eternal drifter really settling down? Wonders never ceased, it seemed.
“Anyway, if you need anything, just call Windover.” Mike called the house by its rightful name, even though the now defunct beef ranch was home of Circle M Quarterhorses. “I’m staying there while the house is going up.”
Not only at the ranch, but living in the house, too. So much for not seeing him, then. And for wanting what she couldn’t have. Surely she could stay immune to him for the short term, though, couldn’t she?
Grace’s hands were devoid of the white paint now, but bits of it still colored her hair. She pulled it back from her face, anchoring the twist blindly with pins at the back of her head. The heat lately had been cloying, and the only way to keep the tender skin of her neck from breaking out was to keep her heavy hair up.
She sighed, turning from the mirror and picking up the light cotton skirt from the foot of the bed.
The reason she kept busy…the real reason she kept taking odd jobs wasn’t really for the money, no matter how much it came in handy.
It was, simply, to keep occupied. To have idle hands meant admitting how empty her life was. How empty it would likely always be. She only had herself to worry about, and that wasn’t about to change. And so rather than sit at home, frittering away the time, she worked. Keeping her hands busy helped her forget about the disasters of the past. It gave her less time to sit and think about how everything could go wrong in the blink of an eye. Doing bookwork for the ranch again would fill even more hours.
And she absolutely wasn’t putting on a skirt today because she was going out to Circle M, she told herself. The light cotton print was simply cooler than anything else she had in her closet.
As she rolled down the windows of her car, she admitted that extra money wasn’t something to scoff at. The vehicle was past its prime and had only been a base model in its newer days. As a result, she had no air-conditioning and nothing more than an AM/FM radio with inconsistent reception. She pulled out, heading west out of town toward the ranch. The brakes squeaked as she stopped at the intersection to the highway. One of these days she knew the car was going to up and die without any apology.
The drive to Circle M was a pretty one. Now, in late August, there was a hint of gold on the cottonwoods, and hay lay in giant green rolls in the fields. Depending on the turn of the road or the elevation, she caught glimpses of the Rocky Mountains, snow-capped and the unforgiving color of steel. It was, to Grace’s mind, an almost perfect time of year. Another few weeks and the temperatures would mellow, the leaves would start to fall and everything would change from the dry, frantic heat of summer to the mellow, filling warmth of prairie autumn.
Turning north, she smiled at the pastures that had once held Black Angus and now held quarter horses, their hides gleaming in the sun, tails flickering at the flies hovering. Ahead, the main house at Circle M—Windover—stood tall against the azure sky.
It didn’t look any different from the outside. But everything else at the ranch had changed.
The barns that had once housed beef cattle now held livestock of the equine variety. Windover Farm, as it had existed for over a hundred years, was no more, and in its place was Circle M. The disease crisis of a few years back had meant the destruction of Connor’s BlackAngus herd, which was almost as surprising as the fact that Mike finally stopped rodeoing and settled down to a full-time, lucrative business.
Seeing Mike on a more regular basis had inspired more than a few dreams on Grace’s part. As she pulled up in front of the house, she pressed a hand to her stomach. It had been easier when he hadn’t been in town that often. She’d been able to forget about their brief relationship…if it even could have been called a relationship. She’d been seventeen and he’d been twenty-one. For a few weeks they had been more than friends. For a few weeks she’d been blissfully happy.
But when the rodeo season started up again, he went with hardly a word. She’d been okay about it for a long time, or so she thought. They’d gone back to being the friends they were before, the few times their paths had crossed. Now that he was back to stay, seeing him so often brought back longings she thought were dead and buried. She got tongue-tied and bashful. Fiddled with her hair.
No one man should have the power to cause a girl to get so fluttery, and, well, girly. She was supposed to be past that by now. She left girly behind when she and Steve had signed the divorce papers. When she realized that happily ever after didn’t really exist.
The house was quiet when she knocked, so she wandered around to the side of the house in case someone was outside.
She was in luck. Johanna, Connor’s grandmother, was kneeling at a small flower garden with the curly-topped Maren babbling happily at her side.
“Good morning, Mrs. Madsen.”
Johanna’s head turned, a smile lighting up her face. “Grace, dear. It’s so good to see you.” Rising, she brushed off the knees of her slacks and held a hand out to the toddling baby beside her. “Maren, you remember Grace, don’t you?”
Maren suddenly fell silent and popped a thumb into her mouth, and Grace laughed.
“She probably doesn’t remember me. I haven’t been around much.”
“That’s about to change, isn’t it?”
Grace nodded at Johanna, the two exchanging a solemn look. “I thought I’d stop in today and get up to speed.”
“Connor