LITMIR.BIZ

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hard to handle…

      Taylor swallowed again.

      She had put herself back on the building waiting list, telling herself that if she wasn’t ready to rent when her name came to the top of the list again, then she was well and truly a failure. Which she wasn’t. A few months—maybe a year or two—living and working in the wilds of Montana would do her good. Broaden her horizons.

      Her ex-supervisor had said it would humble her, but Taylor had paid no attention. Madison said things without thinking. The woman had no filter, yet she still had a job with Stratford. She was like Kent—neither had put in as much voluntary overtime as she had.

      Taylor wasn’t going to think about that.

      Nope. She was going to think positive thoughts—like how she was going to work her way into a position of power in a competing company and wreak some havoc on Stratford. Those were good thoughts. Satisfying thoughts.

      She finally came clean with her mother, Cecilia, who hated Montana with a passion. Cecilia had moved to the farm shortly after she and Taylor’s father, Tom, were married, but after the romance of rural life had worn off, she’d yearned for her old life in the city. Unfortunately, Taylor’s father was as rural as her mother was urban and the two never found a middle ground. Taylor had been only five when her mother filed for divorce, packed Taylor up and moved back to Seattle. After that, it was vacations on the farm until her father passed away from a heart attack too young.

      “I hope you know what you’re doing,” was all Cecilia had said after the confession.

      “It’s temporary, Mom.” But even though she believed what she said, she still felt like a loser. Her mother had hammered into her over the years what a hellhole the ranch was. Yes, it was a nice place to visit, but if you tried to live there, it would eat your soul.

      “I’m so sorry you’ve been driven to this. I’d help you out if I could, but—”

      “I know.” And she did. Her mother kept to a stringent budget with her artist husband of ten years in order to live in a tidy two-bedroom apartment in the heart of San Francisco’s North Beach. Taylor had never once considered asking her mother for money, because she knew there wasn’t any to spare.

      The little trailer Taylor towed behind the SUV wobbled every now and again as the wind hit it, reminding her that she wasn’t driving the Z, and then she’d slow down. There was really no hurry. She planned to spend the night in a motel in the Eagle Valley in order to avoid dealing with Cole Bryan after a long drive. She wanted to be fresh for that. They had a few issues to iron out, and she wasn’t looking forward to sharing her environment with a stranger. But, as her grandfather had said, she was living rent-free and was within driving distance of job markets. Well worth having to share three hundred acres. As to who ended up in the house…well, her money was on herself.

      It was almost nine o’clock when she pulled into the Eagle Valley. She debated about the mom-and-pop motel closest to the farm, then chose to drive through town to stay at the Manor Suites—a business hotel that made her feel more at home. She could grab coffee and breakfast in the lobby the next morning before heading out to the farm. It was good to be properly rested and nourished before tackling a potentially touchy situation. Cole Bryan likely wouldn’t relish her being there, keeping an eye on him. But she’d be a good farm-mate to him, as long as he didn’t cross her. Or try to keep her out of the house.

      Taylor checked in and rolled her suitcase along the carpeted hallway to her first-floor room. Her last night of privacy. She’d assumed that she’d spend it stretched out on the bed watching bad television—which had become something of a habit since she’d been laid off—but instead she fell asleep almost instantly. She woke up a few hours later, disoriented. The lights were on and an infomercial blared away on the television. Instead of learning how a Wonder Blend could change her life, she snapped off the TV and peeled out of her clothes, crawling under the covers in her underwear. So very tired…

      A car alarm outside her window brought Taylor fully upright in bed. She heard the sound of a kid’s laughter, followed by a man’s warning voice, and then the alarm shut off. Taylor lay back against the pillows, noting that it was daylight before snagging her phone off the nightstand and checking the time.

      Eight thirty!

      She practically sprang out of bed.

      She never slept that late—not even when she stayed up until the early hours. Maybe it was the altitude or something. She headed to the bathroom, showered and dressed. What if that guy was out doing farm stuff by the time she arrived? She’d have to hunt him down or spend the day cooling her heels and waiting. Not acceptable.

      By nine o’clock she was checked out of the hotel, her laptop case slung over her shoulder, rolling her luggage with one hand and hanging on to a much-needed cup of coffee with the other. The door had just closed behind her when she stopped dead.

      Oh, no.

      Taylor dropped the cup, only vaguely aware of the hot coffee splashing on her leg before she started jogging across the parking lot, her laptop beating on her hip and her suitcase bouncing wildly behind her. She skidded to a stop next to the partially open trailer door. Barely able to breathe, she pulled the heavy metal door the rest of the way open and peered inside, her stomach going tight when she saw the ransacked mess inside. Taylor blinked at the clothing carnage, then noted the neatly cut padlock lying on the ground next to her feet.

      The bastards!

      The trailer wasn’t as full as it had been, but she had no idea what had been stolen. Everything was jumbled up, messed up, screwed up…just like her life.

      “Are you okay?”

      She gave a small start, then turned to see a man with a small child in his arms standing behind her. “No. I’ve been robbed.” In Eagle Valley, Montana. It just wasn’t right.

      “That stinks. I’ll go get the manager.”

      “Thank you.” Taylor went to the SUV and peered in through the window, her heart pounding so hard she was having a hard time taking a full breath. Her small jewelry armoire was still in the back seat of the SUV, covered by an old blanket, along with her desktop computer and monitor, which sat on the floorboards, covered with a couple of old towels. Unfortunately, she’d put everything else—her cookware, her bedding, her clothing—in the trailer, and probably half the stuff was gone.

      Welcome to Montana, Taylor.

      * * *

      WHAT WAS IT about balers that made them break down whenever they were most needed? In the case of Karl’s old baler, it was probably a matter of the thing being almost twice as old as Cole was. He’d had the option of leasing Karl’s equipment—some new, some old—or coming up with his own. He’d decided to lease, and still thought it was the best option, if he could get the baler back into commission.

      After an hour-long wrestling match, he decided to break for a quick lunch, maybe with a beer chaser, then go back to it. He was on his way into the house when an SUV pulling a trailer slowed and then turned into the driveway.

      His stomach tightened. She was here. His space was officially invaded. But, as Karl said, the likelihood of her staying long was nil. How often would he see her anyway? She didn’t seem to be the type to hang around when there were things to accomplish elsewhere. Bottom line, Karl was playing hardball with his granddaughter, but he loved her, and Cole was going to do whatever he could to help Karl out. He owed the guy for letting him escape from the guest ranch. Bottom line, he was going to make the best of a bad situation and hope against hope that she got a job and moved ASAP.

      Taylor pulled the SUV to a stop directly in front of the barn door, thereby making access impossible, but one look at her face when she got out of the vehicle made the request to park elsewhere die on his lips.

      “Are you okay?”

      Her gaze snapped up to his. “No.” The word dropped like a rock. A big, heavy one.

      Years of working with guests had taught Cole that sometimes

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