Heart of a Rancher. Renee Andrews

cell phone rang, and her brother’s name displayed, as if he were reading her very thoughts. She answered and put the phone on speaker while she climbed in the comfy SUV. “Hey, Ryan, give me a moment. I’m getting in my vehicle.”

      “Sure thing.”

      “There’s heated seats.” Jesse pointed inside the car. “Just push that button right there. But be careful, I tried ’em, and they get mighty hot mighty quick.” He slapped the back of his jeans with a grin. “And all your payments and paperwork and everything were all taken care of. I guess you knew that. There’s a copy of everything in your glove box. Oh, hang on, nearly forgot.” He pulled a paper out of his back pocket. “I do need your signature on the contract showing the vehicle is okay and for the insurance and all.”

      “Thanks, Jesse.” She signed the paper and closed the door.

      “Heated seats.” Ryan couldn’t hold back his laugh. “Wow.”

      “He’s a very sweet man.” Dana watched Jesse Burger head toward his monster truck. “Very down-to-earth.”

      “I’ll say. So, you already growing accustomed to Nowhere, Alabama?”

      “I’m still at the airport, if you can call it that. I wouldn’t say I’m accustomed yet, but it looks nice.” She took in her surroundings, mountains in the distance, trees and fields all around. The airport was more of a runway in the middle of a pasture.

      Jesse waved before climbing in his big truck, and Dana waved back.

      “Nice. Right. Well, while you’re hanging out with the farmers, I’ll keep running the business in the real world.” He paused, and she knew what was coming before he started. “Honestly, Dana, this is not what Dad wanted. Think of all the medications he was taking when he talked to you those last days. That wasn’t our father. Do you seriously think he’d want you to turn your back on Brooks International? He built this company from the ground up, and he expected us to run it after he was gone. This business was his life.”

      “Exactly.” Those were her father’s precise words, in fact. “And he wanted more. He wanted to do more, help more, specifically help others more.”

      “Listen, I haven’t got time to argue with you about it now. I’ve got a meeting with marketing in five minutes.” He huffed out an exasperated breath. “I could use you here, Dana. That’s your expertise, not mine.”

      “You said you had no problem with my giving this a try. And it is what Dad wanted, whether you believe it or not.”

      He ignored the last part of her statement. “For one month max. You promised me that.”

      “Right.” She wished she hadn’t agreed to a time limit on her act of goodwill. What if it took longer than a month to get a dude ranch up and running in North Alabama? Her dad had wanted to help others, and John Cutter had impressed her immensely on the college entrepreneurial forum she’d joined online. Plus, she’d been drawn to the country drawl, the enthusiasm for his business plan and the optimism that radiated from the Alabama rancher. In fact, she couldn’t wait to meet the guy. “I’ve got to go, Ryan. I’ll call you in the morning and let you know how things are going.”

      “Fine,” he muttered before disconnecting.

      Starting the SUV, Dana glanced at the GPS and began her drive to the farm, thinking about the cowboy with the delicious Southern drawl. Did he look as good as he sounded on the phone? She’d searched the internet for John Cutter, of course, but there was no sign of a Facebook page or anything else with a photo on it. No, she couldn’t see herself with a country boy long-term, but John Cutter did have something. His texts were witty, their conversations interesting, and she found herself a little nervous about meeting the Alabama rancher. Dana couldn’t remember the last time she’d been nervous about, well, anything.

      Her suitcases bumped against each other when she turned out of the airport, and she wondered if she’d even brought the right clothing for this trip. She had an entire suitcase for shoes. Right now she wore typical travelwear, a navy-and-white jacquard cardigan over a matching shell, a navy gabardine skirt and high-heel pumps. Granted, she wanted to impress him with her business panache, but she also had to admit that she had no idea about appropriate ranchwear. She planned to head out shopping as soon as she got the right attire in mind, because while she did want him to see her as a businesswoman, she also wanted him to see her as approachable. Maybe even very approachable. She’d heard Southern men were gentlemen and treated ladies “right.”

      Every guy she dated in Chicago seemed to be after the Brooks name and money. John Cutter didn’t come across that way. He came across as black and white, honest to a fault, particularly when he told her all the reasons the bank gave for turning down his business plan. No genuine investor would ever fund a dude ranch in the middle of who-knows-where, Alabama.

      But she would.

      The GPS showed she was eighteen minutes from her destination, twenty-five minutes with traffic. An empty road stretched ahead, fields along both sides, mountains in the distance. Not a single car to be seen. “Eighteen minutes it is.”

      Eager to begin this journey—and meet John Cutter—Dana pressed her foot on the gas and increased her speed. She was surprised at how much she looked forward to meeting the cowboy with the big dreams and the strong faith. He’d mentioned God and family in nearly every phone call. Her father had finally found faith near the end. Dana didn’t plan to wait that long, and she suspected that John Cutter might be the right person to show her...

      Her thoughts were cut short when she rounded the curve and came face-to-face with two dark eyes in a white hairy face. Slamming on the brakes, she attempted to turn the wheel, but the next thing she knew the cow had dropped, and smoke billowed from under the hood.

      “Oh no, oh no, oh no!” Dana jumped out of the Escalade and surveyed the damage. Front end bashed in, and big white cow, motionless on the ground. “Oh, what have I done!” She ran back to the driver’s seat and grabbed her purse, yanked out her cell and, with hands trembling, dialed Ryan.

      No signal flashed back from the display.

      She’d never in her life been unable to get a cell signal. “No way, no way.” Trees surrounded the road and stretched as far as she could see in both directions. She’d been in the curvy stretch of road for quite some time and couldn’t remember seeing any houses. How long had she been driving? Surely she wasn’t that far from the Cutter farm. “Okay, Brooks, you can do this.” Sliding her purse strap over her shoulder, she began the walk ahead while trying her very best not to take another look at the large, white, undeniably dead animal in the middle of the road. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she passed. For all she knew, she’d killed someone’s pet.

      She peered ahead, didn’t spot any sign of civilization and realized she’d never felt so alone. “God, please, help me get there safely.” Prayer still felt a little foreign on her lips, but she planned to work on that, starting now. She’d killed a cow and had virtually no idea where she was.

      Definitely a time for higher guidance.

      The walk started easily, and she was glad her Christian Louboutin pumps were so comfortable. However, the “paved” road was pitifully surfaced, and by the time she’d gone fifteen minutes, even the Louboutins were feeling a bit defeated. She was certain some of those pointed rocks had pushed through her soles. A trickle of perspiration edged down her spine, as well as along her forehead. She unbuttoned the cardigan and thought about taking it off, then she noticed that she actually had a sweat line on her shell. Sure, she liked to sweat in a gym with her personal trainer, but she didn’t want to be drenched the first time she met John Cutter.

      “Hit a cow, wreck a truck and walk a mile. Welcome to Alabama,” she said, finally spotting a break in the trees ahead. In spite of her aching feet, Dana picked up her pace and hurried to the gravel side road. An oversize aluminum mailbox at the end had Sanders painted in white on the side, as did a big wooden arch that hovered over the apparent driveway. She looked down the length of the gravel and couldn’t