Redeeming the Rancher Read online

  It was a simple question, requiring a simple answer. Obviously she needed something or she wouldn’t be here knocking at his door. So why was she hesitating? And blushing?

  “Well, this is awkward,” she muttered.

  He raised a brow. “Really? How so?”

  “My sister—” She started but then stammered to a stop. She shook her head. “No, never mind. My problem. I’ll deal.”

  What was the woman chattering on about? He waited, hoping she’d finish her sentence. What had Vivian done now?

  “It doesn’t matter,” she continued. “I didn’t come here for that.”

  It would help him tremendously if he knew what “that” was, if he had any expectation of contributing to this conversation. He had to admit he was curious, but it was all he could do to follow Alexis’s wild roller-coaster of a monologue.

  “I’ve scheduled a superbusy afternoon ahead of me, so I wanted to make sure I got down here this morning to ask if you’d care to take supper with me.”

  “Tonight?”

  She looked surprised. “No. Well, I mean, yes, but not just tonight. I meant always, while you’re here. You’re welcome to eat supper at the house every night for as long as you’ll be staying on at the ranch, or whenever you’re available, anyway. I thought maybe we could spend some time discussing your strategy for finding some land. For starters, I can introduce you to our local Realtor, Marge Thompson.”

  “There’s only one?”

  “In Serendipity? Yes—and she only works as a Realtor part-time. She’s also our resident insurance agent, so she’ll be able to set you up with anything you need for your house and land and car and all that.”

  “That’s convenient,” he said, tongue-in-cheek. He swallowed a chuckle. Instead of the soft, lazy Texas drawl that Vivian possessed, Alexis’s words were all jammed together and coming a mile a minute, increasing speed at every intersection.

  Again he had the impression something was off about her. She was acting skittish. Was she nervous about something?

  He was good at reading people, but Alexis had him stumped. Every time he started to believe he had her figured out, she changed. She was a total mystery to him.

  Had he said or done something to send her off-­kilter? And if he had, what could he do to take the edge off?

  “I’d be happy to accept.”

  Not that. He wanted to kick himself for his sheer stupidity. Open wide, mouth, ’cause he had two feet coming.

  If only he could take back the words. In his rush to make her feel more comfortable, he’d dived right off the side of a cliff without looking to see if there was water at the bottom of the canyon, never mind how deep. What had happened to his not wanting to be beholden to her? Sharing meals with her was just exactly the kind of thing he was trying to avoid. Here he went again, acting like an imbecile over a pretty face. He’d wanted to ease her obvious discomfort, he’d panicked, and he had blurted out the first solution that had come into his mind. Idiot.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Alexis exclaimed, clapping a palm against her cheek. “I didn’t realize. I should have been thinking of your predicament yesterday. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think things through. I hope you got along okay last night. You didn’t have a thing to eat. Oh, my goodness,” she repeated.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle at how flustered she’d become over his “predicament,” as she’d called it. “Don’t worry about me. You don’t need to feel obligated. I managed just fine. I had supper with the ranch hands. Since the cook has Sundays off, they were kind enough to open a can of beans for me. Oh, and don’t forget I had my loaf of bread from breakfast.” He grinned, hoping the statement didn’t come out sounding facetious. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

  “I am so sorry.”

  She was an astute woman and correctly interpreted his tone. “No worries. I’ll admit it was a bit of a challenge at the outset. I didn’t expect all the stores and restaurants in town to be closed on Sunday. But as I said—no worries. It all worked out in the wash.”

  “But still—I should have realized you’d be in a pinch. I should have at least thought about it. Please forgive me for not realizing your dilemma.”

  “Not your problem,” he reminded her again. “It isn’t up to you to make sure I get fed.”

  As sweet as the woman was for wanting to look out for him, she took too much on herself. He’d showed up out of nowhere with no advance warning, and yet she was treating him as though he was a guest at her ranch. He didn’t want her to think she was accountable for him—not in any way, shape or form.

  “It kind of is my problem.” She propped her fists on her hips, tilted her head up to meet his eyes and set her jaw. Her gaze was no-nonsense, almost daring him to argue with her. She was nothing if not determined. “You are my responsibility as long as you’re staying at my ranch.”

  No. This wasn’t right at all.

  It was as if she’d dropped a cage over him, trapping him behind steel bars. He didn’t like the feeling. Every muscle in his body tensed for flight and he had to consciously breathe through the urge to sprint away. “Let me reiterate—you are under no obligation to take care of me. I don’t want to be any kind of bother to you. I’ll just stay out of your way.”

  And you stay out of mine, he added silently. He’d come out here to get away from debts and commitments. If she took charge of him while he stayed at the ranch, then he would feel beholden toward her, which was the last thing he wanted.

  “But you’ll still take supper at the house, right? At least tonight? Then you can decide if you want to come back for another meal. I promise not to poison you.” She chuckled drily.

  It wasn’t the possibility of being poisoned that he was worried about. On the second pass, conceding to her wishes didn’t sound any better than it had at first. She was practically forcing him into her debt and he was definitely making extra work for her. He desperately wanted to backpedal, except that her voice sounded so hopeful, not to mention the expectant look in her compelling blue eyes that tugged at his heart despite his best efforts to ignore it.

  Those pink-tinged cheeks and that ready smile were hard to say no to. He just wasn’t strong enough to deny her.

  “I’ll be prompt,” he promised her through gritted teeth. He was crazy to be doing this. Out of his mind.

  She sighed in relief, as if the fate of the world had turned on his answer.

  “Great. I’ll see you tonight, then,” she affirmed cheerfully. “Seven o’clock sharp. Dress is casual. Don’t forget. We’ll be expecting you.”

  She didn’t wait for his reply. Instead she turned on her heel and walked away, down the porch stairs and back up the slight incline toward the main house.

  “Uh—thank you,” he called after her, feeling as though he needed to say something nice to her, even if he felt like cursing on the inside. He was digging himself further and further into a hole of his own making.

  Wait—what? She’d said we. Had she invited others to take supper with her? It seemed like something Alexis would do—try to introduce him to others in the town.

  He sighed. Yet another bump in the road. He was trying to avoid people, not engage with them. But Alexis wasn’t “people.” She was a thoughtful, sensitive woman and even though he knew he shouldn’t, he found himself looking forward to sharing supper with her.

  He liked her. He wanted to get to know her better.

  That made him a fool. And, worse yet, it made Alexis the biggest threat of all.

  Chapter Three

  Alexis set an enormous platter of home-fried potatoes at one end of the long, rectangular oak dining table and then glanced at her watch. Ten minutes until seven. She had six troubled teenagers fresh off of the bus and joining her for supper tonight.

  And then there was Griff.

  Her
pulse gave a little leap, but she wrote that off to the adrenaline-packed afternoon she’d just experienced. Intake days were always exciting for her whenever she took in a whole new group of kids at Redemption Ranch. Six brand-new hearts to influence with the love of Christ. No matter how surly and off-putting they generally acted about it at first, she knew that’s all it was—an act. The kids really did crave love, and here at the ranch, that’s what they got, in spades.

  Showering them with affection was a great part of her theory behind helping troubled kids turn their lives around, although in practice, it was the tough part of the love that usually brought about immediate change. She had to show them they mattered to her so they could gain the confidence to believe in themselves.

  It wasn’t an easy job, and definitely not for the faint of heart. The teenagers pressed her and pushed her to see how far she’d bend. But her methods worked. Her kids didn’t leave with the same bad attitudes they arrived with.

  And she loved it. She loved the teenagers. In fact, the whole process was a blessing to her. She’d proved herself and her techniques repeatedly in the years since she’d opened Redemption Ranch as an alternative to community service for non-violent juvenile offenders.

  Her brain-child. Her ministry.

  Her life.

  Working with teens on this ranch was the only thing she could imagine herself doing with her life; the one career into which she really believed she could put her whole heart.

  She reached for a pair of green-apple pot holders and removed the spiral ham from the oven, placing it on the countertop to cool. She smoothed her hair back and sighed, lifting her heart in prayer before her emotions bottomed out. It wouldn’t do for the kids, or for Griff for that matter, to walk in and catch her crying.

  She didn’t have a depressive nature by any means. But at the moment the future loomed black for her. All her hard work at the ranch was going to be for nothing unless God somehow blessed her in a big way with the means to stay financially afloat. And soon.

  She hadn’t shared her anxieties with anyone. She wasn’t the type of woman to burden anyone else with facts she could not change—not even her two best friends Samantha and Mary. No sense worrying them. But the truth was, though the Lord was blessing the ministry in the sense that the teenagers in her care were growing and flourishing both emotionally and spiritually, financially speaking, Redemption Ranch was tanking. She had enough money left—barely—to fund the necessities for this group of kids, but then it was over. Done. Kaput.

  Not only was she going to lose her ministry, she was going to lose the ranch if she couldn’t find a way to get more money. She certainly couldn’t borrow any more. The ranch was already double-mortgaged as it was. How else would she have paid for Vivian’s dream to go to cosmetology school in Houston? It had seemed like the logical solution at the time, and with the money she’d gotten from the bank, she’d had a little extra to put into the beginning of her work in ministry.

  She had a little income flowing in from the fees the teenagers’ parents paid to send them to the ranch as an alternative to community service, though that wasn’t nearly enough to cover running such a complex operation. On its own, her relatively small working ranch barely paid for itself between the overhead and salaries. Her ministry went far above and beyond that. The Lord had provided generous ministry partners to support her—at least until the economy crashed. Now it seemed as though nonprofits in general had to fight for every dime they received, and frankly, she just didn’t have the know-how or the wherewithal to reach the benefactors she imagined must be out there somewhere. Plenty of nonprofits had professionals on staff solely to handle grant applications—how could she compete with that? Raising money was simply beyond her scope of expertise, and since she was essentially running the ranch on her own, she had no one else to turn to. And she most certainly didn’t have the money to hire someone to work out the finances for her. What was the adage? It takes money to make money…

  She wished that wasn’t true.

  It wasn’t so much herself that she worried about, although the idea of losing her childhood home simply broke her heart. It was the teens she wouldn’t be able to help. And the counselors and wranglers, whose livelihood depended on Redemption Ranch, who would lose their jobs when she folded.

  Oh, if only…

  Alexis snorted and shook her head. “If only” was a wasted thought. All she could really do was to do what she was already doing and pray that God would provide new answers for the rest of her problems.

  Cup half full, even if it was tipped over and leaking all over the floor.

  Two sharp raps on the front door alerted her to Griff’s presence. She knew it was Griff since the teens and their counselors would come in through the back—and besides, they weren’t due for another ten minutes.

  “Smells great,” Griff said as he entered, making a big show of sniffing the air and patting his lean stomach appreciatively.

  “Spiral ham. Home-fried potatoes. Buttermilk biscuits. Broccoli-cheese casserole. Chocolate cake for dessert.”

  He whistled. “The works! I appreciate it, I mean my mouth is watering here, but seriously, you didn’t have to go all out cooking a huge supper on my account,” he chided, his voice low and rich.

  Her gaze widened. “Oh, I didn’t.”

  His eyebrows hit his hairline and a smile crept up one side of his mouth. His gray-blue eyes sparkled mischievously.

  Heat rose from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. She wasn’t easily flustered, but with Griff it seemed as though she was constantly and repeatedly bringing “open mouth, insert foot” to new heights of grandeur.

  “That sounded really bad,” she admitted, ending the sentence with an awkward laugh.

  Griff chuckled. “You think?”

  She laid her palms over her flushed cheeks and groaned. “What I meant to say was that while I’m happy you joined me tonight, the full country dinner I’ve prepared isn’t only on account of you, although again, you are quite welcome to be here. It’s just that I always cook a big supper on the first night of camp. I like to impress my kids before I start putting them to work and making them earn their keep.”

  “Your k-kids?” he stammered, threading his fingers into the salt-and-pepper tips of his hair. “I guess— I mean, I thought… I assumed—”

  “Oh, my,” she interrupted with a quivering laugh. She really had confused him. “Not my kids as in my kids. I’m taking you on a mental roller-coaster ride here, aren’t I?”

  Griff lifted an eyebrow, but at least there was a spark of amusement in his gaze. Alexis had to restrain the urge to burst into giggles at his transparent bewilderment.

  “Why don’t you come in and have a seat at the table and I’ll try to run down exactly what I do here at Redemption Ranch. I’m sorry, I thought you knew or I wouldn’t have blurted it out like that. I take it from the flabbergasted expression on your face that Vivian didn’t mention what I do for a living—and the ranch hands didn’t say anything, either?”

  He shook his head and dropped into the chair at one end of the table. “Vivian didn’t even mention you were a female,” he reminded her. “So, no, she said nothing at all about your career. And the wranglers aren’t big talkers. But given the layout of your holdings, and what with your stable and wranglers and all, I assumed ranching was a pretty good bet.”

  “And if you were speaking to virtually any of my neighbors, you would be spot-on in your assumptions. I, however, use my land for an entirely different purpose. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

  “Yeah? Let’s see if I can guess. You mentioned children. You’ve got a decent spread of land. Do you run a day care? Maybe a summer camp? A dude ranch for kids or something like that?” He reached for the butter knife by his plate and idly threaded it through his fingers. The shiny silver occasionally caught the light from t
he chandelier hanging directly above the table and formed radiant patterns across the walls and ceiling.

  Alexis chortled. “Definitely in the category of ‘or something.’ Although to be honest, there are days when I do feel very much like I’m running a day care. Or maybe even a zoo. Trust me when I say teenagers can be every bit as stubborn as toddlers. And don’t even get me started on the temper tantrums they sometimes throw at me.”

  The butter knife Griff had been playing with clattered onto his plate.

  “Teenagers?” His voice was laced with distaste. What was up with that? She hadn’t even yet told him these kids were all in trouble with the law.

  She frowned at his unexpected outburst. “You’ve got something against teens?”

  His face turned a disturbing shade of red. For a moment he looked as if he was about to speak, but then he pressed his lips into a hard, straight line and broke eye contact with her, his gaze shifting to somewhere over her left shoulder.

  “Speak now or forever hold your peace,” she cautioned, indignation welling in her chest. “Because in about one minute—”

  She didn’t get to finish her statement, because the minute she’d warned Griff about turned out to be only a matter of seconds. The din of shuffling feet and shrill voices came through the back door as six stylish, if not yet particularly practically dressed, teenaged boys and girls clamored into the house. Two of the young men shouted and jostled each other for a position in the lead. Three girls entered directly behind them, huddling together and effusively giggling at something one of the young ladies was saying. Lagging at the rear was a third boy. His solid black trench coat and military boots matched his shaggy, ink-black-dyed hair. He clearly didn’t fit in with his peers, and wasn’t even trying to—rather, he was working hard at giving the impression he didn’t care. Resentment and bitterness wrapped around him every bit as voluminously as his trench coat. His hooded brown eyes simmered with bad attitude and negativity.