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1
There was nothing like the smell of a ranch on a crisp winter morning.
Georgia Ludington stepped onto her front porch, mug of dark roast coffee in hand, and took it all in. Spread out in front of her was the snow-covered field her dad had worked all his life to maintain. Beyond that, the outline of the Spring Mountains was visible, obscured slightly by the morning fog.
“Ready for another day?” Georgia asked, looking down at her Pembroke Welsh Corgi, Max.
He looked up at her before returning his attention to the scene in front of them. He’d been on alert since they’d walked out here. She had no idea why.
Then she heard it. The low rumble of an engine. Frowning, she followed Max’s stare, looking for a truck to crest the hill that led into the Cupid Ridge Dude Ranch—the thriving business her family had started a decade ago.
The engine grew louder. Georgia quickly ran a mental inventory of her brothers’ vehicles—all trucks, none quite that loud. Besides, Sawyer and Joshua had just headed off to take care of the horses. Brendon always slept late these days and Drew…
Drew left after Dad’s death. Nobody knew where he was.
As Georgia took a sip of her coffee, a bright red streak caught her attention. She almost choked on the warm liquid when the full truck came into view.
She knew that red truck.
That was Clayton Mills’ truck.
“Well, I’ll be,” Georgia said, again directing her comment at Max. “If it isn’t Clayton Mills.”
The name would mean nothing to Max. He’d never met Clayton Mills. In fact, as far as she knew, Clayton had never set foot on this property. So, what was he doing here now?
And why was she about to face him in her sloppiest of sloppy looks?
Panic flashed through Georgia as she set her coffee mug on the porch railing and smoothed down her hair. She wore her PJs, but thankfully, she’d tossed her long, thick coat over them. The last thing she needed was for the guy who’d been every Cupid Ridge girl’s dream in high school to see the long johns she slept in, which were pink and covered in doughnuts that had faces.
“Stay,” Georgia told Max. He was a good dog. Well trained. He wouldn’t budge from the porch unless invited.
The truck pulled into the large gravel area in front of the Cupid Ridge Inn. That’s where both Georgia and her mom lived to keep watch over the guests who stayed there while visiting their dude ranch. Her mom hadn’t been much of an early riser since her dad died, though.
Georgia woke up before the sun rose, if only to enjoy a few minutes of nature before heading to the kitchen. Once there, she’d be tucked away for two hours, making sure breakfast was on the buffet for their guests. She had to get to it soon, though, and that was what frustrated her as she walked down the steps and crossed the small piece of land to the vehicle.
By then, the truck door was open and one boot-covered foot was already on the ground. She caught her breath as he stepped out, closing the door. One thing was certain. Clayton Mills was just as gorgeous as ever.
“May I help you?” she asked in the same voice she’d use to greet a stranger who pulled into the gravel drive in front of the inn. They had occasional drop-ins—people would stop by and ask about the property, prices, or availability. She’d gotten used to it over the years.
“Georgia Ludington,” he said.
As he walked toward her, she noticed he held a manila folder in his right hand. There were more than a few pieces of paper inside. He dropped his arm, holding the folder close to his leg.
“I wouldn’t have recognized you if I saw you on the street.” He smiled down at her. He was so tall, he practically towered over her five-feet-four-inches. “You’ve grown up.”
They graduated high school together, but he’d seen her around town plenty of times. It wasn’t like the last time he’d seen her was when she was rushing around the halls of Cupid Ridge High School, scrambling to get to her next class.
“You saw me last week at Mom’s Place,” she said.
Mom’s Place was the restaurant that served homestyle cooking on the town square. New restaurants had popped up all around their small town, but Mom’s Place remained the most popular—with old-timers like her family, anyway.
“I’m not allowed to pay attention to you when we’re out and about, remember?” he asked. “You’re the enemy.”
That she was. Not her personally, but her entire family. Clayton was part of the Knott family—not by blood, but by friendship. Technically, the Knott Ranch was next door, although each of their properties spanned so many acres, it would be a ten-minute drive just to get from here to the farmhouse at the front of their property.
Georgia’s dad and the man who owned the property next door were in a dispute that went all the way back to childhood. As a result, the families had never been allowed to speak—kind of a challenge, considering they’d all gone to school together.
“I’d invite you inside, but I have a house full of guests, and breakfast isn’t going to make itself.” Georgia looked back at the house, confirming Max was still in his spot on the porch. “If you could just state your business, that would be great.”
