“Tim used to be married?”
“Yes, but it didn’t last. About six months after the wedding, his wife filed for divorce and left him.”
Sly hadn’t been aware of that, but it explained a few things, such as why his neighbor seemed mad at the world. Or maybe the guy had been born that way.
“Then you know that his spread is five hundred acres,” he went on. “Mine is almost double that, and a fair amount of land separates our houses. You aren’t likely to run into him.”
Still, she appeared worried, fiddling with the hem of her blouse and almost frowning. Sly figured she was having second thoughts about going to his place. Which should’ve been a relief but wasn’t. Oddly disappointed, he shrugged. “Look, if you’d rather not...”
“No, Sly. I want to see it.”
He nodded. “Then follow me.”
As Sly turned at the black-and-white Pettit Ranch sign and rolled up the long gravel driveway, satisfaction filled him. He’d spent a decade building his ranch into what it was today. From the freshly painted barn and outbuildings to the rolling pastures dotted with grazing cattle and horses, he was proud of it all.
He glanced in the rearview mirror. Lana trailed close behind him. Was she impressed? In a few minutes he’d find out.
Just beyond the barn he signaled for her benefit, pulled over and braked to a stop. Standing beside his truck, he waited for her.
It was that magical time of day when the very air seemed bathed in oranges and pinks. Moving toward him, Lana looked unbelievably beautiful, like a woman in a painting at sunset.
Desire and the feelings he didn’t comprehend steamrollered him. He swallowed hard and wanted her gone. The sooner, the better. When she left, he’d find something physically demanding to mellow him out and knock sense into his Lana-crazed brain.
“This is my ranch,” he said.
If she heard any brusqueness in his voice, she didn’t let on. Wide-eyed, she took it all in. “It’s huge, Sly, and beautiful—exactly what I imagine a perfect ranch to be.”
His chest swelled. “Come on, I’ll show you around before I put dinner in the oven.”
She was full of questions. As he answered them and explained how he ran his operation, he relaxed.
Some twenty minutes later, her stomach growled. With a sheepish look, she placed her hand over her belly. “Oops.”
Sly chuckled. “I’ll heat up dinner.”
He followed her up the front steps to the veranda that spanned the entire width of the house.
“What a great porch, and that love seat seems cozy,” she said. “I want to curl up there with a good book.”
He liked that. “It’s a swing, too, and one of my favorite places to sit in the evening, after the chores are done.”
Lately he’d sat out here a lot at night, working on just how he was going to fit his kid into his life without screwing up.
She glanced upward. “This house is huge—at least twice the size of my town home.”
Too big for one person, but Sly had had nothing to do with that. “The people I bought it from had three kids. I guess they needed the room.”
“What happened to them?”
“The bank was getting ready to foreclose on the property, and they wanted out.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Ranching isn’t easy, and they were relieved to trade this life for one in the city. Last I heard, they were doing okay.” He opened the front door and gestured Lana inside.
As she stepped into the vestibule, he imagined her and their child here, filling the house with noise and laughter.
That stopped him. No way, no how. He enjoyed living alone. Cursing himself for inviting her over, he turned away from her questioning gaze. “This way,” he said with a curt nod.
