Gracie nodded. Heaven help any woman mad enough to fall for a lonesome cowboy, let alone one with eyes that could melt the frost off any bad intentions. "So what about the barn dance?"
"I could probably spare a couple of men to help get things organized. If you think you can pull the dance together, go for it."
Leaning across the table she shook his hand, "Trent McKenzie, you've got yourself a deal. You just wait and see. Before the end of the month, you'll be signed, sealed and delivered to a woman only too happy to take you on."
CHAPTER FOUR
A horn honked from the driveway. Gracie ran out to meet the red sports coupe idling in the morning sunshine.
Karen grinned from behind the steering wheel. "Are you ready to give the stores in Bozeman an early wake-up call?"
"Ready and willing. I've got Trent's credit card burning a hole in my pocket, a spending limit of astronomical proportions, and a list a mile long of what we need." Gracie reached for her seat belt. "I've also been given strict instructions to keep you away from all jewelry stores."
Karen winked. "Sounds like Trent's been a busy boy."
"Don't get your hopes up." Gracie laughed. "This dance is an investment in his future. If he doesn't find a wife soon, he's going to drive me insane with his mumblings about dude ranches and phony cattle drives. Why did he ban jewelry stores from our shopping extravaganza?"
"Trent's trying to wean me off a harmless addiction to anything bright and glittery. There's a little store in Bozeman that calls to me in my sleep."
"Don't worry. You're in good hands with me. He doesn't know that I'm a bling girl from way back. If we stick together, he won't know what's hit him."
"Are you sure you don't want to skip the dance and become my daughter-in-law?"
"It wouldn't last." At least that's what Gracie told herself every time Trent sent her a melt-in-your-mouth smile. "We'd drive each other insane within a few months. Thanks for helping to organize everything."
"Send an S.O.S. out to me any day. Between you, me, and the girls, we've got every contingency covered."
'The girls' were an excited group of girlfriends and wives of the cowboys working on the ranch. A couple of Karen's friends had even pitched in to help. The day before they'd all met at the Triple L and settled in for a few hours of strategic planning, good company and Adele's chocolate chip cookies. Karen and Gracie had been put in charge of the decorations. They planned on transforming the barn into a dance venue worthy of the best country club in Montana.
Gracie pulled a shopping list out of her bag. "Did the hire store get back to you about the tablecloths?"
"Thirty red and white checkered tablecloths will arrive in the next couple of days. Jake's happy for us to pick them up next week. And before you ask, all the fairy lights will be here on Tuesday."
Gracie put down the piece of paper, remembering another list that was never far from her mind. She'd managed to track down two J. Greens this week. One was Jenny Green, a fifty-two-year-old bookseller in Bozeman who'd been only too happy to talk about another J. Green-her daughter, Janice. Two down, eight left to find.
Karen might hold the key to one of the James Greens on her list. Gracie wasn't going to miss the opportunity to ask her about him. "I noticed the Green family has been invited to the dance. Have you known them long?"
Karen smiled. "I've known Kristina and Jim for half my life. Their sons went to school with Trent and Jordan. There were plenty of weekends when the boys helped out with the hay baling and ate us out of house and home. One of their sons is working in Great Falls. Alex is following in Jim's footsteps, touring on the rodeo circuit. Did Trent mention they were coming?"
"No, I was trying to work out which guests are ranchers and who work in town." Gracie bit her lip, feeling a little guilty about stretching the truth.
Karen glanced across the car. "Remind me to introduce you to Kristina. Has Jordan booked a band for the dance?"
"He made a few phone calls last night and managed to find a group he's happy with." Gracie picked up her barn dance list and ran her finger down the column of things that needed to be done. "Trent's going to email the invitations. All we have to do today is organize the tables and chairs and sort out what decorations we want. I'll hire a car after we're done."
"There's a company down the far end of Durstan Street that can help with a rental. We might even have time for a little recreational spending of our own." Karen grinned. "What that son of mine doesn't know won't hurt him."
***
"You're back early." Trent glanced up from his computer as Gracie stumbled in the back door with an armful of parcels. He hadn't expected her back until dinner time. But here she was, sunglasses perched on top of her head, and a look of satisfaction plastered across her face. He knew that look. A shopping trip that left a woman feeling that happy didn't come cheap.
He stood up and stretched. "Tess called and left a message. She's emailing the pasta recipe through to me. You can give her a call if you've got any questions."
"Thanks." Gracie stacked her bags on the kitchen counter. "We had lunch at her caf?. We've been invited to a barbecue she's having next Saturday night."
"I know."
"You do?"
"Every second week I meet up with some guys for poker night. The trade-off is that we babysit their children on the in-between Fridays. Tess is part of the girls-night-out brigade and offered to have a family barbecue at her place."
Gracie frowned. "I didn't get the impression that Tess is married."
"She's not. She moved to Bozeman about a year ago. Tess became friends with Jenny, who's married to Greg Matthews. Jenny and Greg started the whole Friday night thing."
"You might be too busy wooing your lady loves to come to a barbecue."
"My lady love might be there."
Gracie's gaze spun toward him. "Tess wasn't on your list."
He leaned against the door frame. "But Katie and Jo-Jo are."
Gracie frowned. "If you know so many single women, why haven't you made a move on one of them?"
"I don't make moves." The truth was, he'd forgotten how. Jordan had tried to give him some tips but every time Trent got within spitting distance of a woman who looked interested he got tongue tied and bolted for the nearest exit. "What kind of rental did you get?"
Gracie headed toward the fridge, a smile stuck to her perfect mouth as if she knew he'd deliberately changed the subject. "A Ford pickup. Your mom thought it would be safer than a smaller car. I visited the library while I was in town. They've digitized most of the local newspapers so I had a good look through those. I met Erin, the librarian who runs the computer class your mom went to."
Trent shook his head, obviously not impressed with Erin's technology skills. "Did you find any information about your dad?"
"Maybe. I found an article about a group of men who left on a world rodeo tour about eighteen months before I was born. I ran out of time to find out who they were, but Erin offered to do another search for me. If it's okay with you, I thought I'd head to the library at about three o'clock tomorrow to see Erin and do a few more things."
"It's fine by me. Did you get everything you need for the dance?"
"We've ordered most of the furniture and I brought back some of the smaller decorations with me. I've left them in the barn so we don't have to lug them across next week." She took a long cold swallow of orange juice. "You'll be pleased to know that we barely spent half our limit."
His eyebrows rose. "I take it mom stayed clear of the jewelry stores?"
Gracie hid behind the glass of juice, taking another hasty gulp.
Trent waited while she rinsed the glass and composed her features. The makings of a grin skimmed across her face, curling a sliver of muscle tight in his gut.
"Umm. We had good intentions, but there was one little store on Main Street we had to visit. They had a half-price sale." Flicking him a quick glance, she said, "What could we do?"
"Not Dominiqu
e's? Please tell me mom stayed clear of that store."
Gracie's eyes took a sudden interest in the view out the kitchen window.
He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "How much, Gracie?"
"A woman never discloses another woman's purchases. All I'll say is that I was incredibly surprised by her restraint."
"Is that supposed to comfort me?"
"You're a cowboy, Trent. You're used to living on the edge. Comfort isn't supposed to be your middle name."
"Sometimes a man needs to know his mom's still on the straight and narrow and not filling her drawers with must have diamond pieces."
"You've got nothing to worry about. Your mom got one small item. It was half price and lovely. That's not to say that I didn't over-indulge, though." A saucy smile hovered on her lips. "My credit card didn't see the light of day in Dominique's, but I did find a store called Aladdin's Cave. Do you want to see what I bought?"
Without waiting for his answer, she dug through her stack of shopping. Out popped a shiny gold bag with a picture of a lamp printed on the side. Trent really didn't know if he should look. One bling girl was enough for him. With Gracie staying on the ranch, he felt as though he was supporting a chapter of addicts anonymous right in his very own home.
Looking extremely pleased with herself, Gracie whispered, "Look at these."
He gazed at the assortment of bracelets, earrings, and necklaces laid out in front of him. Sunlight danced off the sparkly loot, sending a rainbow of color across the far wall. His mom was a goner with Gracie on the loose. The two of them would never be safe shopping together again.
"Very pretty. But there's not much need for sparkly jewelry in the middle of a cattle ranch."
"I don't need to be living in a city to wear them." She pulled a strand of 'diamonds' off the table, "I might wear this lovely necklace next time I ride Daisy. I'm sure she'll appreciate the effort I've gone to."
"You'll probably spook all the other horses from the glare bouncing off the glittery bits."
"Have I ever told you there's not one romantic bone in your body, Trent McKenzie."
"More than once, honey."
Gracie gave him a bland look. She carefully put her purchases back in their bag and headed toward the stairs. "As much as I've enjoyed your scintillating company, I've got to get changed and meet Jordan. He's going to show me how to muck out a stall."
"Lucky Jordan."
Her snort of laughter brought a smile to his face. He walked back to his office and gazed down at the spreadsheet he'd been working on. Gracie in jeans and a T-shirt was enough to give a man sleepless nights. But Gracie in a short summer dress and strappy sandals that showed off her pink painted toenails just about had him on his knees. If she looked like that each time she hit the stores in Bozeman, he'd have to make sure he wasn't around to admire her purchases afterward.
He shook his head and tried to focus. Jordan would need his wits about him if he planned on teaching Gracie anything, especially if she got it in her head to be downright sassy.
Trent stared at the computer screen. Maybe he'd wander down to the barn once he'd finished the accounts and give his brother a bit of moral support. God knows he'd need it with Gracie around.
***
An hour later, Trent threw his pen down in disgust. Since Gracie's unexpected return, he hadn't been able to finish any work sitting in front of him. His spreadsheet wouldn't balance and his Internet connection had died. What he needed was a cup of coffee and a piece of Mrs. Davies vanilla cake. It had to be better for him than staring at a computer screen and wondering what Gracie and Jordan were getting up to in the barn.
Standing up, he glanced out the window. Who was he kidding? Even Mrs. Davies cooking held little appeal compared to a pixie with pink toenails. He reached for his boots and pulled them on. He might as well put himself out of his misery and go and get some fresh air.
Before he'd made it three-quarters of the way across the yard he heard squeals of laughter coming from inside the barn. He increased his speed just as Jordan's booming voice roared in the still afternoon air. Rufus and Spot were barking their heads off. Gracie let rip with a laugh that was quickly followed by a deeper male voice. He couldn't make out the words, but he knew for sure there was more going on inside those four walls than mucking out the stalls.
Trent stood quietly inside the barn, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. Gracie let out a peel of laughter, shouting, "Die, cowboy!" as she threw a pile of hay on Jordan's head from the overhead loft.
Pure delight shone from her face. She sat waist deep in the hay, a chaotic mess of red curls and hay stalks falling around her face. A sparkling tiara hung off one side of her head and if he wasn't mistaken, she'd added diamante earrings to add an extra bit of glitz to her barn-girl meets Hollywood ensemble.
Rufus noticed Trent long before anyone else did. He barked an excited greeting, running backward and forward between Trent and the haystack called Jordan. Gracie gazed down from the loft, giving him a cheeky wave.
"Hi, boss. Want to come and play?"
All kinds of thoughts flashed through his mind. He frowned at Jordan, catching the gleam of laughter in his brother's eyes. Yelling up to Gracie, he said, "Some of us have work to do." With a pointed look at Jordan he added, "And some of us obviously don't have enough to do."
Gracie giggled from the heavens. "Don't be a spoilsport, Trent. Look around you?all stalls mucked out and clean. You couldn't ask for two more dedicated employees. This is play time before I start dinner."
Trent glared at her. "Would you mind telling me what you're doing stuck halfway up a three story barn, throwing hay over my idiot brother's head?"
"It's called having fun." She caught her tiara as it slipped off her head. "You should try it some time."
He could feel his temperature rising at the saucy grin on her face. "Come down here right away. Your family won't thank me if I send you home in a box."
Leaning over the edge of the hayloft, she yelled, "What was that? I didn't quite catch it."
He moved further into the barn. "I said, come down?"
A pile of hay landed squarely on his head.
Jordan hooted with laughter and Gracie laughed so hard she fell backward into the loft. All Trent could see were her feet dangling in midair. He shook his body like a wet dog, flicking hay everywhere. Great clumps fell from his head and he plucked rogue strands out of his mouth and from the front of his shirt. "Gracie Donnelly, you would have to be the most troublesome import Montana has ever seen."
Sticking her head over the side of the loft, she yelled, "Comes with being a kiwi. We breed them tough in New Zealand, not like you girls from Montana."
Trent and Jordan looked at each other and grinned.
"She's all yours bro'," Jordan said. "It's because of you she's here, so you should take some responsibility."
Trent moved toward the ladder leaning against the back wall. He started climbing. "You made a critical error of judgment, Gracie." He'd almost reached the hatch. "Always have an alternative escape route before you belittle a man's ego."
She sat in the middle of the loft, grinning like a cat that had caught a tasty mouse.
"Before you come any closer, just remember whose cooking lasagna for dinner tonight. Any funny business and the Cook goes on strike."
"Who do you think cooked before you arrived?"
"You had leftovers from the night before when Adele cooked?" She asked hopefully.
He shook his head, moving closer. "Nope."
Gracie wiggled backward. "Okay, hotshot. I take back my slander on your manly virtues. Let's call it quits and go downstairs."
"Nope."
Her gaze darted around the loft. "Jordan?" she yelled. "Are you still here?"
Silence.
Trent picked up two handfuls of hay and moved closer.
Pushing back as far as she could go, she scrunched her eyes tight. "Just watch the tiara." She held her breath, waiting for th
e hay to strike.
Trent gazed down at her upturned face. She looked like she was about to turn blue from oxygen deprivation. Something warm slipped along his veins and wedged in his heart. He dropped the hay and took another step forward.
"Come on, Trent. Just get it over with."
He knew this was a bad idea, knew it could be the beginning of the end of Gracie's stay on the ranch. But fool that he was, his body decided to ignore what his brain told him was right. He knelt in front of her, planting an almost-not-there kiss on her lips, savoring the sweet touch of her mouth with something close to reverence.
Gracie jerked backward, staring at him with eyes the color of a Montana sky before a rainstorm hit; deep, dark blue, swallowing everything in its path.
It could have finished then. It should have finished then.
He should have told her how sorry he was, what a jerk he'd been. But instead of pulling away he ran his fingers along her jaw, brushing the edge of her lips with a hand that wasn't quite steady. As the pad of his thumb brushed over her mouth, Gracie moved forward, leaning into his body and undoing the last of his good intentions.
He tilted her face toward his, teasing the corner of her mouth with his lips. Gracie's hands curled in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until he felt the heat of her body against his chest. Her lips opened and her tongue flicked inside his mouth, sending all the blood in his body due south.
The need slamming through his body shocked him, left him trembling and so damn off-center that he couldn't think straight. Couldn't do anything but haul Gracie closer, groaning into her open mouth like a love-struck fool.
And that's when he knew he was in trouble. He liked Gracie. More than liked her.
If that didn't give him enough reason to run like hell, he didn't know what else would. He'd traveled down the same path before and look where that had gotten him. Married to a woman who'd happily traded him for a suit-clad executive in a concrete jungle. After saying goodbye to the only woman he'd ever loved, he'd buried himself so deep in misery that it had taken years to shovel his way out. And it wouldn't happen again.
"Gracie," he said, drawing back from her.
Taking a gulp of air, Gracie stared at him with a dazed look on her face.
He didn't know where to look. He stuffed his hands in his jeans, moving as far back as he could without looking like he was on the run. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kiss you."