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Satisfied that Drew’s eyes were firmly fixed to the so-called road and not on her, Maisie pulled the edge of her turtleneck up to wipe away some drool she could feel dribbling from the corner of her lip.
Very sophisticated, Maisie scoffed at herself.Exactly what you’d expect from a rich woman’s wife.
The thought caused a hitch in Maisie’s breath. She wasn’t just married. She was married to a woman.
How am I going to explain this to my mother?
That was the million-dollar question, no pun intended, but not exactly something she could ask Drew. So instead, Maisie opted for, “How long have I been asleep?”
“Since we barely tiptoed into Minnesota. You missed South Dakota entirely.”
Maisie struggled to picture a map of the United States in her head. “You drove all that way without stopping?”
“We got gas. You probably don’t remember. You made it into the ladies’ room and back without so much as opening your eyes.”
“Great. A second night together I’ve managed to forget. Quite a habit.” Maisie crossed her arms, overcome by a childish urge to pout. “I’ve never been to South Dakota before. I might’ve liked to do some sightseeing.”
“What do you think this is, a honeymoon?” Drew chuckled when she glanced at Maisie in time to catch the glare that was being aimed directly at her. “What, too soon?”
Maisie didn’t reply, just continued to shoot daggers with her eyes, even as she fought to control some primitive part of her that was intent on exploring exactly what a real honeymoon with Drew would be like.
“Sorry for the rush, darlin’, but I’m a rancher. I always have fifty things to do at any given moment and no time to dillydally. We’ll have to catch the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota next time.”
“So cocky. What makes you think I’d agree to a next time?” Maisie bit her lip, hating how sexy Drew’s confidence actually was. She’d rather die than let on. “And don’t call me darlin’.”
“What do you want me to call you?” There was a hint of teasing in Drew’s voice—the kind of teasing that brought out all sorts of physical sensations in her that Maisie was trying to avoid—which only amped up Maisie’s sour mood.
The truck hit another hole, lurching Maisie up and down. That pretty much pushed her past her limit, and she growled, “Do you even know my last name?”
“Sullivan.” Drew hadn’t missed a beat. “Do you know mine?”
Touché, damn her.
Maisie frantically looked around for clues, though she wasn’t sure what she expected to find. It wasn’t like Drew was a cab driver with her name and photo posted on the dash. And there sure as hell wasn’t a mailbox with the woman’s last name on it anywhere in sight.
Come to think of it, there was nothing in sight. A whole lot of nothing. But hadn’t Drew said they were at the ranch? She must’ve meant they were near it. Given the flatness of the land sprawling around her, so black and white with a dusting of snow over dark earth that it reminded Maisie of a black and white movie.
“Where’s the sign for the ranch?” Maisie asked. “Don’t tell me I missed it.”
“What sign?”
“You know. The one that spans over the entrance, like maybe a wooden beam with the name of the place written in wrought iron. That way everyone knows whose land it is.”
“I guess that’s your way of admitting you don’t know my last name.” Drew chuckled again, a sound that simultaneously sent anger flaring in Maisie’s breast and a different reaction altogether flaring in places Maisie wasn’t about to acknowledge. “I don’t think the name of the ranch will help you much with solving this mystery, but just in case, it’s called the Lazy C.”
“Is that because there’s nothing to do here?” If Maisie sounded grumpy, it was probably because her entire body was starting to rebel from so many hours in a truck.
“No. It’s called irony, because we do nothing but work. And, we don’t need to say whose land this is with some big, fancy sign. There’s a reason they called this place Campbell County.”
“Your last name is Campbell, am I right?” Maisie guessed, even as a thrill went through her.My wife has a whole county named after her.
Drew snorted. “Don’t even think you’re going to get credit for that one. But, yeah. My family was here from the beginning.”
“What year was that?”
“1911.”
They were still living like it was barely the twentieth century from what Maisie could see, although this time she kept her thoughts quiet. She squinted, making out some scrubby trees in the distance. “Where are the cows?”
