LITMIR.BIZ

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he nodded in the direction of the picturesque little barn. “The way you look all wistful when you look at barns.”

      She smiled, then shook her head. “No, I’m from Billings.”

      “So what plans do you have for the ranch?” he asked.

      “I’m not even sure this is the right ranch,” she said, and she noticed the tall cowboy stilled at those words. He raised an eyebrow.

      “What do you mean, the right one?” he asked.

      “My family had a homestead around here somewhere, and I want to buy the land they used to live on back in the eighteen hundreds.”

      “Oh.” He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, then shrugged. “And how will you know if you’ve found the right land?”

      “There are some descriptions in old journals. Some names of creeks and rivers... Before I put down an official offer on this place, I need to confirm it’s the right property.”

      “Does Mr. Vern know that?”

      “I’m not hiding anything.”

      From the view that spilled out in front of her, she very well might fall in love with the place as Mr. Vern hoped. But it wasn’t the view she was passionate about purchasing, nor would loving the place stop her from walking away. She wanted the land where her ancestors struggled through long winters, where they hunted to keep their growing family fed, where they chopped down trees for their very own log house and barn. Ember’s mother had told her stories about the old days when men had to guard their cattle against wolves, and when wagons clattered over trails on their yearly trip to Victory, the closest town they had. Those stories had inspired her, made her feel like she was part of something bigger than herself, something more meaningful.

      “You must have people who can look into this stuff for you,” Casey said.

      “People?” Ember turned to face him. “Oh!” She laughed. “We should probably clear that up right now. Yes, I’m Alistair Reed’s daughter, but I’m illegitimate. I don’t exactly have the full weight of the Reed legacy behind me. My father helped me get my education and get a start. That’s it. I’m not quite the heiress you’re taking me for.”

      “Ah.” He eyed her skeptically. “What’s your education in?”

      “Family counseling.” And yes, she noted the irony that she, a dirty little secret for so long, would want to devote her life to helping other families be more functional than hers had been.

      “And what do you want the land for?” he asked.

      “I want to open a family counseling center—a resort-style environment where families can get away from the pressure of their everyday lives, enjoy some outdoor activities together and talk out their issues.” She smiled, wanting him to see and understand her vision.

      “So if you bought this place, you wouldn’t run the ranch,” he clarified.

      “No. I’m not a rancher. I’m a therapist.”

      “Gotcha.” Casey chewed the side of his cheek. Was he worried about his own job? Likely. Who wasn’t in this current economic climate? She hadn’t grown up rich, and she’d only recently come into any kind of money, so she wasn’t unfeeling when it came to these issues.

      “Casey—may I call you Casey?”

      “Might as well,” he replied.

      “Casey, obviously, I don’t even know if I’ll buy this place, but if I do, I’ll need a manager for the land. I wouldn’t be running a full ranching operation, but there’d be horses, some cattle—”

      “What would you do with the cattle?” he interjected.

      “Do with them?” she said. “Raise them, I suppose. Cattle are very soothing. I think a lot of my clients would benefit with some time in nature.”

      “So...” Casey squinted. “You’d just feed them? And...keep them?”

      “I suppose, yes.”

      “So your vision is to have fields full of elderly cattle?” He eyed her with a veiled expression on his face, and she was relatively certain he was mocking her.

      “I’m not a complete fool,” she retorted. “I know where the meat on my plate comes from, but I’m not looking to run a cattle ranch. I suppose those are all decisions I’d have to make later on.”

      “Fair enough.”

      “What I was trying to say,” she said, “is that if I buy this place, I’ll need a manager, and I understand that the prospect of losing a job is a daunting one. You wouldn’t need to worry about that.”

      “I’ll land on my feet,” he replied tersely. “No need to worry about me.”

      “Okay.” That definitely didn’t sound like gratitude for job security. In fact, he sounded like he had no interest in working for her at all. “Is there a reason you don’t like me?”

      “Let’s just say that this county has been hit hard by your father’s corporation,” he replied.

      “My father’s corporation provides a lot of good jobs to this county,” she shot back.

      “Your father’s corporation pushed my family out of our ranch,” he snapped. “And yeah, the Reed ranches provide jobs—jobs I don’t want. I want my land back. But that’s not happening, is it? You’re an outsider—don’t think you know people around here or how we think.”

      Ember swallowed. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know.”

      “Yeah?” He shook his head. “Great. Thanks.”

      His tone dripped sarcasm, and some anger simmered deep inside. She might not know him or the people around here, but he didn’t know a thing about her, either!

      “Hey—my mother was the housekeeper in the Reed house,” she said. “I wasn’t raised in some mansion. My mother gave me the Reed last name on my birth certificate, but my father didn’t publicly acknowledge me until I was twenty! We lived in a basement apartment and wore secondhand clothes. My mom worked hard in order to provide for us. I’m no spoiled heiress.”

      “I’m glad to hear it,” he replied curtly. “But you’re still crossing lines you know nothing about around here. There’s such a thing as family pride. We don’t want to work for someone else. We want land that’s connected to us...land we can pass down.”

      “And in that, we can finally agree,” Ember replied with a tight smile. “I want what you want—land connected to my family. And for the record, the family connection is on my mother’s side, not my father’s.”

      Casey met her gaze for a moment. Then his cell phone rang and he dug it out of his front pocket.

      “Yeah...” he said, picking up the call and turning away from her.

      This ruggedly handsome man didn’t like her, but there was more to the anger and frustration he was showing—she could sense it. If he were a client, she’d ask him how all this made him feel. And he likely wouldn’t answer. She knew Casey Courtright’s type—stubborn, reticent, silent. They were the hardest kind of man to get to open up—the kind that clammed up during appeals to talk inside a therapist’s office, but became more relaxed and responsive during outdoor activities like horseback riding or long hikes. Or work.

      She eyed Casey as he talked on his phone, his tone low. Yes, Casey Courtright would be the kind of man who valued his work higher than anything else. And she was threatening to change it. Was that his problem with her?

      Casey hung up the phone and turned back toward her. “That was one of my ranch hands. He’s got to head out to check on a herd, so I need to take over for him.” Casey nodded toward his truck. “I can’t start the tour until I take care of this, I’m afraid. Care to come along?”

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