A Cowboy to Marry. Cathy Thacker Gillen

searched for an explanation for herself, as well. Ignoring Holden’s equally probing look, she told Jeff, “You wanted to know how the ranchers in the area feel about the dealership. Holden can tell you that.”

      The other man turned to him. “How is the level of service?”

      “Excellent,” Holden stated promptly. “First and foremost, prices are fair.”

      “Almost too much so,” Jeff countered. “Since the profit the company is taking on sales is slightly below the industry standard.”

      “It’s a competitive market,” Libby interjected. “We aim to please.”

      “And they do,” Holden said candidly. “From the time you walk in the door, Lowell Ranch Equipment employees are there to help you decide what heavy machinery you need, and how to obtain financing. And they are just as dedicated when it comes to providing any service or parts required. Because of that, they have a very loyal customer base.”

      “You’re not just saying that because Libby is your ‘friend’?” Jeff chided.

      “Libby doesn’t need me to exaggerate on her behalf,” Holden said, beginning to sound a little irked at the remark. “Lowell Ranch Equipment has been in business for three generations, and has served a hundred-mile rural area for the last seventy years. The commitment of the sales and service staff has never wavered.”

      Jeff nodded, as if his research had garnered the same data. “I notice a lot of the employees are older, though. Fifty plus …”

      For the thirtysomething Jeff, that was a problem, Libby noted unhappily. “Ten of our employees are in that age demographic—they have worked at the business their whole adult lives. Three others are in their twenties, but equally as committed to careers with us.”

      He frowned. “Meaning you would be opposed to me letting at least some members of your staff go, and bringing in my own people?”

      She stiffened her spine, the tough businesswoman inside her coming to the fore. “I won’t sell to you unless there is a guarantee you’ll continue to employ every person currently working there for as long as they want to stay, at their current salary and benefits.”

      “You realize that could sour the deal,” Jeff warned.

      Libby turned her hands palm up. “Then it does.”

      He sat back in his chair as their dinners were put in front of them, and considered her position. “Well, that explains why everyone is so loyal.”

      Libby picked up her knife and fork. “We’ve had virtually no turnover, because it is such a good place to work. The fact the customers know who they are going to be dealing with is a comfort to them. Everyone feels like family.”

      Jeff cut into his steak. “In my experience, business and personal affairs don’t mix.”

      She took a bite of her grilled redfish. “That may be true in Houston. It’s not the case in Laramie.” She paused long enough to meet Holden’s encouraging glance, then asked Jeff, “Why do you want LRE so badly?” He had been calling her every few months since Percy died, asking if she wanted to sell.

      He added butter to his baked potato. “I specialize in acquiring businesses with no internet presence and taking them online. LRE would be my biggest acquisition yet. I see great potential for growth. In fact, you could stay on if you want, Libby, because I’m not going to be there more than once a week—if that—and I’ll need someone to manage it.”

      “Thank you for the offer, but—no. I’m selling because I want out.”

      “You’re planning to leave the area, then?”

      Out of the corner of her eye, Libby saw Holden tense. “Yes.”

      Jeff leaned toward her. “What about the house? Are you interested in including it in the sale? ‘Cause I’m going to need someplace nice to stay when I’m in town.”

      Libby hesitated. How did she feel about that? “We could negotiate,” she said cautiously. “If the price is right, of course.”

      “Can I see it tonight?” Jeff asked eagerly, while Holden tensed even more.

      Ignoring his obvious disapproval, Libby shrugged. “I suppose a brief tour would be okay.”

      Victorious, Jeff smiled. “Then let’s do it!”

      They talked more as they ate. No one wanted dessert, so as soon as the check was paid, they went out to their vehicles. Libby took the lead in her Range Rover, with Jeff following in his Maserati and Holden trailing behind in his pickup truck.

      Her self-appointed protector looked even grimmer when they arrived at the house.

      The first thing that caught Jeff’s eye was the Lowell photo gallery that lined much of the foyer and both walls of the grand front staircase. “Wow.” He stopped at the framed pictures of three generations of Lowells, then he studied Percy and Libby’s wedding photo.

      “You were awfully young when you got married.”

      She had been. “Twenty-two. Right out of college.”

      “And you were married how long?”

      Libby noticed Holden studying the photos, too, with the familiar mixture of grief, guilt and sadness. “Almost eight years.”

      Jeff turned back to her. “I can see why you want to sell,” he told her empathetically. “Residing here must feel like living in a mausoleum.”

      Aptly put, Libby thought.

      “The tour?” Holden said, looking irritated again.

      Libby inhaled and braced herself for another slew of questions from the ambitious businessman. “Let’s get started,” she said. So I can put this evening—and the onslaught of confusing emotions—behind me.

      HOLDEN KNEW LIBBY WAS ticked off at him. And maybe he was overstepping his bounds. But when Jeff Johnston asked to see the second floor …

      “Not a good idea.” Holden moved to block the way to the stairs.

      Jeff turned to Libby with a goading smile. “I thought the two of you weren’t involved.”

      “We’re not,” she said, a hint of color coming into her cheeks.

      Maybe not in the traditional way, Holden thought. But they were linked through Percy’s memory. And he had made a promise not to let anyone take advantage of his best friend’s widow. A promise he would continue to carry out until his dying day.

      “Actually, we are,” he stated flatly.

      Libby’s jaw dropped in shock. “I can’t believe you just alluded to that,” she said, glaring at Holden.

      It didn’t matter, he thought, because Jeff clearly believed him, not Libby. And Johnston’s obvious respect for another man’s territory would keep him from making an untoward pass at Libby, at least for now.

      “I’m going to head out,” Jeff said, his demeanor slightly less personal as he backed off. “But I’ll be in touch.”

      “I look forward to it.” Libby’s tone was crisp and businesslike. Spine stiff, she walked him to the door.

      As soon as he’d left, she whirled back to Holden and inhaled, the action lifting the soft curves of her breasts. A pulse worked in her throat as she kept her eyes meshed with his. “You had no right to tell Jeff Johnston he couldn’t go up to the second floor.”

      Holden found himself tracking the fall of honey-colored hair swinging against her shoulders and caressing the feminine lines of her face. Wondering if it was as silky to the touch as he recalled, he asked, “You were really going to let Jeff Johnston see the bedrooms?”

      “No, of course not.” Libby propped her hands on her hips and sent him a chastising