Temporarily Texan. Victoria Chancellor

outside. She was probably in the barn, knitting sweaters for the “poor little babies.” If she got attached to those calves, he was going to…well, he didn’t know what he’d do, but he sure as heck wasn’t going to hold her and let her cry all over him when he’d warned her specifically not to get involved. Vulnerable baby animals could break your heart if you let them. She needed to toughen up, but he doubted she ever would.

      On a hunch, before trekking to the barn, he checked the front of the house where she’d parked her Yankeemobile. Sure enough, it wasn’t there. However, her canvas tote bag and clothes were still in the bedroom, so she hadn’t left. Good. She was just out running errands or something. Lecturing someone else on the evils of eating meat, no doubt. Winning friends and influencing people. Yep, that was Raven York.

      While she was gone and the place was quiet, he took a much-needed shower and shaved, which he did every day whether he was going someplace or not. He had nothing against the scruffy look, although he couldn’t stand the feel of stubble. He hoped Raven wouldn’t think he’d cleaned up just for her. Giving her the wrong impression wouldn’t be good for either of them, especially since she was only here for a few days.

      He heard her close the back door just as he was checking his e-mail again. Still no reply from Cal. Maybe by tonight, which would be morning over there. Again he shut down the computer and went looking for Raven. He found her in the kitchen, rearranging things in the refrigerator.

      “I wondered if you’d like to go into town to get a bite to eat in a little while,” he asked. “I was kind of hard on you at breakfast, and well, you might find something you’d enjoy on the menu at the local café.”

      “Why?”

      “I thought it would be nice to get away from the ranch for a while. You know, have dinner. Nothing more. No ulterior motive except to say I’m sorry for being rude. I’m not a morning person by nature and getting up before dawn is a stretch for me. Since I moved back to the ranch, I never had to get up early and be polite at the same time.”

      “I’m sorry my presence is so disruptive. I tried to find someplace else to stay, but you were right. There’s nowhere. Believe me, I looked.”

      “You want to leave that bad?”

      “Well, I know I’m not what you were expecting. I’m sure if the heritage garden people phoned you’d let me know, no matter where I was staying. And I get on your nerves, as you’ve pointed out. I’m not shy about my beliefs.”

      “Yeah, I got that.” He ran a hand around his neck. “Look, the truth is, since you arrived, things have been a lot more…interesting. Sometimes it gets kind of boring out here. You might irritate me occasionally, but you’re not boring.”

      “Well, thank you very much, I think.”

      He breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re welcome. So can we go to dinner? About five o’clock? The café closes early.”

      “TROY CRAWFORD! HOW THE heck are you, son?” the booming cowboy asked as he squeezed Troy’s shoulder. They were sitting in one of the booths that lined each long wall of the café. Front windows faced Commerce Street, and the order desk and window to the kitchen made up the fourth side at the very back. Raven had hoped that the café wouldn’t be busy this time of day, but a surprising number of people were here for dinner.

      “I’m fine, Bud. How are you?”

      “Couldn’t be better, unless beef prices go up and gas prices go down.” The older man chuckled and looked at Raven. “I see you’ve got someone new in town.”

      “Raven York, this is Bud Hammer. He’s a rancher.”

      Raven extended her hand. “Hello, Mr. Hammer.”

      “Just visiting our city boy, hmm?” he said with a knowing grin.

      “Just a professional visit to the Crawford ranch,” she replied.

      “Professional? What’s the problem, Troy?”

      “Nothing serious. Ms. York is a consultant. She’s giving me some new ideas…for crops and feed, mostly.”

      That was sort of true, she realized. They’d talked about what plants and products she thought everyone should eat.

      “Oh.” Bud winked at Troy. “Whatever you say.”

      “This is not a social visit.” Raven fixed her eye on Mr. Hammer. She absolutely would not have anyone thinking she’d come to Texas for a nonprofessional reason, no matter how good-looking Troy Crawford was.

      “Quit teasing the young folks,” another older man said, clapping Bud on the back. “Who are you to question someone who’s an expert?”

      “That’s right,” his companion, also about retirement age, added. “Troy ought to know what he’s talking about, since he works in the cattle industry.”

      “Thanks, Mr. Maxwell. Hello, Rodney.”

      “Call me Burl, Troy.”

      “I still remember you as Mr. Maxwell, my math teacher. It’s hard to call you by your first name.”

      “We’re all in the same boat now, aren’t we?”

      “I’m going to get some dinner,” Bud said, “since y’all are having such a happy reunion.”

      “Have a nice one,” Troy said, although Raven could tell he wasn’t sorry to see the man go.

      “I’m Rodney Bell. My spread is a little west of the Crawford ranch. We’ve been neighbors for years.”

      “And as Troy mentioned, I’m Burl Maxwell. I teach math at the high school and sponsor the 4-H Club.”

      “Hello, I’m Raven York,” she introduced herself to the two men. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

      The men smiled. They seemed genuinely nice. “How are you enjoying your visit to Brody’s Crossing?” Rodney asked.

      “It’s very…different than New Hampshire,” she answered with a smile. “Troy has been a gracious host.”

      “Cal asked me to get a consultant out to the ranch,” Troy explained. “Raven got sent here by mistake, but we’re making the best of it until we get the mix-up fixed. She’s trying to reform my wicked cattleman ways, and I’m trying to keep her from running off with all the calves.”

      Both men laughed, but Raven felt surprise that Troy had divulged so much to them. And a little annoyed that he’d made her seem so very different. So odd.

      “I specialize in heritage gardens,” she explained.

      “That’s great,” Burl Maxwell said. “Too many of the old plants are being lost to modern hybrids and genetically engineered varieties. There’s a real art in traditional methods of cross-pollination and grafting.”

      “Exactly! I’m so glad to find someone who shares my enthusiasm.”

      She could practically feel Troy roll his eyes, but even Rodney Bell didn’t seem put off by her passion for plants.

      “I remember back in the day,” he said, “the Crawford place had quite a vegetable garden, plus there were some climbing roses. You know, those little pink ones that have quite a smell?”

      “Probably a floribunda,” Raven commented.

      “Troy’s mother tried her best to keep it going, but you know, after…”

      “Then she was gone, and I imagine the garden was completely lost,” Troy said, his tone flat.

      Raven turned to look at him. His jaw seemed tight and his shoulders tense. What was the story with his mother?

      “Well, we’d best get some dinner, too,” Burl said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

      “You’re welcome to join us,” Troy said.