Winning Over The Cowboy. Shannon Vannatter Taylor

he clasped the hand she offered, stiff and somehow disapproving. Checked his watch, as if she were late.

      But she wasn’t. She was exactly on time. Was he one of those uptight people who arrived ten to fifteen minutes early wherever he went? Surely not, with his nomad lifestyle.

      “We’ll talk in the office.” Despite his dour welcome, Chase opened the door for her.

      A blast of air-conditioning pebbled her heated skin.

      “I know where it is.” Her stomach sank. Did he plan to sell, without even talking it over? He couldn’t. Eden loved this place. Lived and breathed it. And it was their family’s heritage.

      Same hardwood floors, log furnishings, cowhide chairs. Homey and safe. She wanted to look around more, but his hurried cowboy boots thudded behind her like he had somewhere else to be. One of his long strides ate up three of hers as she crossed the foyer.

      She made it to the office doorway, blocking Chase with her hesitation. A silver-haired man sat at the rustic ash desk, black reading glasses resting on his bulbous nose. Granny used to sit there. And then Eden.

      “Ms. Malone.” The man stood, clasped her hand and ushered her inside the room. “I’m William Abbott. We’ve been expecting you. Please, have a seat.”

      Landry settled in a cowhide chair across the massive desk from him. Chase eased into the one beside her. His long legs sprawled in front of him. Totally at ease.

      “As I told you on the phone, the senior Donovans left the Chasing Eden Café to their son, Elliot, and the Chasing Eden Dude Ranch to their grandchildren, Chase and Eden, effectively splitting the business.”

      It was so much more than a business. It was Granny’s legacy. Eden’s heritage.

      Landry’s cell buzzed, and her cheeks heated.

      “Need to get that?” Chase drummed his fingers on the desk.

      “I forgot to tell my mom I made it here okay.” With a wince, she fished her phone out of her pocket. “Sorry.”

      “By all means, let her know you’re safe.” Mr. Abbott’s smile was understanding. “I have a daughter.”

      Afraid to look at Chase, she focused on pulling up the message from Mama. R U there yet?

      Yes. Talking to lawyer, she typed as quickly as she could, then turned her phone off. “Sorry.”

      “As I was saying, upon Eden Donovan Miller’s death, her will comes into play,” Mr. Abbott continued, unhurried, patient. “Her last wishes were for her husband to take up to a year to decide if he had any interest in running the dude ranch.” He scanned the paperwork on the desk.

      “Recently, Paxton Miller signed an affidavit that he has no interest in the dude ranch. So according to Eden’s will, her half of the business goes to Ms. Landry Malone. The two of you must run the business together for two months. After that, each party may choose to run the business together or appoint another party to run it for ten months.”

      Run it with Chase? After meeting him, in passing, three times? Now four. Or some stranger he’d appoint? This was her chance. Eden’s generosity had given her a reason to escape her hometown. Escape the pitying whispers. Here she’d be owner—or, at least, part owner—of a dude ranch. Instead of the jilted almost-bride. She had to make it work.

      Her gaze drifted to the display of family photos on the wall. “And then what?”

      “After a year, you each decide whether to keep your holdings or sell.”

      Surely Chase wouldn’t want to sell his family legacy. But she remembered Eden saying he had no interest in running the dude ranch or the restaurant. That he was a free spirit. Instead of attending college, he’d traveled for several years.

      “But she’s not even family. She can’t sell to some outside party.” Chase straightened in his chair, tapped the toe of his cowboy boot on the hardwood. “What if Ms. Malone opts out?”

      She gasped. Was he already trying to finagle her out of her share? Why? He’d only returned from his gallivanting when Granny got sick. And he’d been content working as a trail and fishing guide and handyman while the rest of his family handled the business.

      “That’s not an option for Ms. Malone. Her only choice is to maintain her share or sell.”

      “We can’t sell.” She glanced at Chase, trying to keep her face neutral of the anger that was building. “Not without both of us agreeing. Can we? And how could we even sell the dude ranch when the restaurant is under the same roof?”

      “The businesses are separate entities. According to Eden’s will, if one party wants to liquidate the dude ranch, the other has first opportunity to buy the selling party out and another six months to acquire the funds for a buyout. The café belongs to Elliot, no matter what’s decided about the ranch.”

      The dude ranch was way out of Landry’s league. Her nails dug into the arms of her chair. She could never afford to buy Chase’s half on her own. Why had Eden involved her instead of simply leaving it all to her family?

      “But we barely know each other,” Landry said. “I can’t live here with a man I don’t even know.”

      Sarcasm coated Chase’s chuckle. “Do you really think Eden would saddle you with me if I were the boogeyman?”

      True. Eden had been close to her brother. How many times had she tried to orchestrate a date between Landry and Chase? She would never have tried to fix Landry up with him all those times if he weren’t a good man. He was just stiff. And hurting just like she was.

      “There’s a cabin on the property. I stay there.” Chase propped one booted foot on the other knee, drew in a sharp breath. “You can have the private quarters off the communal great room, where Granny lived. My parents’ private quarters are still on the other end by the kitchen.”

      So he’d thought this through. Of course, he’d had more time to get used to the idea than she had. But at least she wouldn’t be under the same roof with him. Back when she’d lived here during culinary school, his parents had lived in the cabin.

      “Ms. Malone, do you have another party in mind to manage the property after your two months here?” The lawyer peered at her over his glasses.

      “No. I’m staying. If I decide I want to sell, I’ll stay until then.”

      “Very well, then.” Mr. Abbott flipped through his calendar. “It’s Wednesday, July fifteenth. We’ll reconvene on Tuesday, September fifteenth.”

      Landry had to make this work. And if Chase wanted to sell, she’d figure out a way to get a loan when the time came to buy him out. What other choice did she have? She had to keep Eden’s legacy alive. If she didn’t, she’d have to go home. Where her entire town felt sorry for her. And she’d have to add failure to her jilted title.

      * * *

      “Thanks for coming today, Mr. Abbott.” Chase stood, shook the lawyer’s hand and escorted him to the exit.

      A temporary roadblock. That was all Landry Malone could be. He needed to unload her. The sooner she sold, the sooner he could get on with his life. Figure out how to enjoy running the ranch without Eden.

      His chest ached. Oh, how he missed her.

      Landry Malone had no right to his heritage. Why hadn’t Eden willed the dude ranch within the family? They didn’t need any outsiders. How had this Malone woman charmed Eden into leaving her half of the dude ranch his grandparents had built from scratch?

      Countless times, Eden had tried to get him to come home during his traveling years. To meet her friend. Had the fix-up been Landry’s idea, trying to get her talons into him, for the dude ranch? Was she some kind of player? Con artist?

      The front door closed behind the lawyer.

      “Are your parents here?”