Page 54 of Cowboy in Colorado

Will nods, and I see his mind racing, working, and thinking through the many variables. “The main issue for me, off the top, would not so much be about having people coming into town—that would be fine—but people running wild all over the ranch. That wouldnotbe fine.”

I wave a hand. “Right now, it’s easy to get from Auden Town to the Big House and to the rest of the ranch. It’s all pretty much wide open. You could easily put a gate across the road, along with signage making it clear the ranch is private property and not open to the public.”

Will shrugs. “Makes sense. The next issue is one of housing. People are going to come in and need somewhere to stay. There’s a room for let over the saloon, but that’s about it, and honestly it’s not the nicest.”

“I know, I stayed there,” I say, my voice dry. “My answer to this one is twofold. First, we’d build an inn. Something in keeping with the rest of the village—not a hotel or motel, but more of a boutique sort of place. A dozen rooms max, probably fewer, like a bed-and-breakfast. That would be within the village itself. I also toyed with another idea, which I’m not so sure you’d go for, and that’s us buying a whole separate chunk of land, away from the ranch and the village a ways, where it won’t impinge upon your ranch operations or the feel and aesthetic of everything, and we’d build a little resort community, some small hotels and more B-and-B’s, some condo buildings, restaurants and stores and the like, and maybe even a decent-sized lake, stocked for pleasure fishing, and of course just outside it, a stable where folks could rent horses for the day, take guided tours of certain portions of the ranch, perhaps, trail rides, take riding lessons—all provided and sourced through Bar-A Ranch, of course.”

Will blinks at me. “You’re talking building a whole different town.”

I nod. “That’s the big idea. It wouldn’t all pop up overnight, and it would be basically phase two of this whole thing, once we have the village up to where it can support an increase in traffic.” I hesitate. “All this, of course, would bring eyes to Bar-A Ranch, and to the quality of your horses. Bring you new contracts, perhaps. Certainly we would contract you for stock in the village, as there would need to be horses available to ride, as well as hands to take care of them and guide the rides, which obviously would include making sure the tourists stay in designated areas.” I wave a hand. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves, however. Details like that would get ironed out later—this is all assuming you even agree to the whole idea in the first place.”

Will is silent for a long, long time, his eyes downcast; he’s utterly still, nothing of him moving save the pulsing of his pulse in his throat and the ticking of his jaw.

And then he looks up and meets my eyes. “Where do I sign?”

13

Istare at him, my mouth agape. “I—where do you sign?”

He nods. “I’m in. It solves a lot of problems, and brings us new business.” He rolls a hand. “I’m resistant to change, but this one is necessary.”

I hold up a hand. “Thatwasthe idea, William. After the way things happened, I’m not at all certain I want to do business with you at all.”

He tilts his head backward. “I should have heard you out when I had the chance, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”

I lean forward toward him, a tense frown on my face, disbelief all over my face. “You really think that’s it? One little I’m sorry and I’m over it and back to square one? I chased you across half of fucking Colorado! I nearly died under the hooves of your idiot monster horse! All just to get you to listen to me for five damned minutes, because I had an idea that would saveyourranch,yourfamily. Yes, it will profit me and my family’s business, but we don’tneedit. I’m wrapping up the last details for an all-inclusive resort in Costa Rica as we speak, and there’s been no drama whatsoever, and certainly no near-death experiences. Resistant to change I get, but you took that to a whole new level, Will. And that’s only the less personal aspects of what happened between us.” I’m on a roll now, and the words pour out—and if Dad’s listening, if Tina’s listening, if the rest of the bloody office is listening, I don’t care. As previously mentioned, once I get my ire up, the fire has to burn out on its own.

“So, seeing as you are here, let’s discussthat, shall we? Not only did you run away from me professionally, refusing to hear me out, like a little boy with his hands over his ears, you ran away from me later. And after what we experienced together in that little cabin, I think—at the very least—I deserved a ride back the Big House. But no, you ran. You vanished. Literally, you ran away in the middle of the night, in the middle of the storm.” I stab a finger at him. “Scared much,William? Couldn’t face me in the light of day, much less in the aftershocks of whatever the hell that was. You think I was any more ready for that level of connection, that kind of intimacy than you were? What did you think, Will? That I’d suddenly demand a ring and a house with a white picket fence? Fuck that! It was intense, yes, and it was unexpected, yes, and it was something unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I would have appreciated talking about it a little, perhaps, but I’d have gone back to my life and left you to yours. I’m honestly not even sure what it was you ran from, because I didn’t have time to even process what happened before you bolted like one of your spooked horses, much less put a name to it or develop expectations.”

“I left—” he starts.

“Yes, you left anote,” I snap over him. “Whoop-de-doo for you. Less than twenty words, max, and nothing about what happened.” I snort angrily. “So, sorry, you don’t get points for that.”

Will’s jaw grinds audibly. His eyes do not move from mine, searching, piercing, seeking. “I have a name for it,” he says, his voice low, rough, gravelly and uncertain.

“And what would that be?” I ask, my own voice skeptical and hard.

He lifts his chin. “Love.”

I rock back in my chair, gobsmacked into stunned silence.

Will taps the table, waiting for my response, but I’m still unable to utter a single word.

Because the one word he said is still echoing in my head.

Love.

Love.

Love.

It jangles and echoes and reverberates in my skull, in my chest, in my gut, in my heart.

He did not just say that.

He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

I’m not even prepared to admit that I like him, that I’m even attracted to him on the most basic physical level.