ALLY WAS UPSTAIRS IN the sewing room when Hank and Shane returned.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know something had happened while they were gone. The two men appeared to be barely speaking as they parted company. Which was a surprise. Ally had thought the McCabes were a close-knit family through and through. Yet as Hank stood watching his father’s pickup disappear from view, he looked as tense and bereft as she had usually felt when dealing with her own parents.
Not that it was any of her business, she reminded herself sternly, returning to the cutting table.
Seconds later, she heard him come in.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. The door to his bedroom closed.
Fifteen minutes later, Hank emerged, looking freshly showered and cleanly shaven. He paused in the doorway of the sewing room. A smile quirked his lips when he glanced at the puppies snuggled together in the warming bed, with Duchess lying on the floor next to it.
An eyebrow lifted in silent inquiry.
Self-consciously, Ally explained, “I needed to do work up here, and I didn’t think I should leave them unattended so soon.”
Hank nodded, a knowing light in his midnight-blue eyes.
“By the way, the candy cane shaped coffeecake your mother sent over was absolutely delicious.” The festive gift had sported a flaky golden bread, cranberry-cherry filling and cream cheese frosting.
Hank folded his arms and propped one shoulder against the frame. “I’ll tell her you said so.” He nodded at the sophisticated ivory fabric she was measuring. “What are you doing here?”
Ally picked up the shears and began to cut. “Making new drapes for the downstairs windows, to dress up the space.”
He came closer, in a drift of sandalwood and leather cologne. “You know how to do that?”
Her gaze flicked over his nice-fitting jeans and navy corduroy shirt, then rose in a guilty rush. “My mother taught me how to sew when I was eight. I helped her make custom slipcovers and draperies.” And she needed to stop remembering what it had been like to be held in his arms, kissing him passionately.
Hank hooked his thumbs in the belt loops on either side of his fly. “I didn’t realize she had a business.”
Ally swallowed around the sudden parched feeling of her throat. “They needed the income she brought in to buy more land.”
His gaze roved her face, settling briefly on her mouth. A prickling, skittering awareness sifted through her. “And put you through college?” he added, almost as an afterthought.
Ally tensed and marked off another length. “I did that myself.”
Hank did a double take. “Seriously?”
Ally picked up her shears once again. She bent her head, concentrating on her cutting. “They didn’t want me to leave Laramie County. They would have preferred I stay on the ranch and build a life here.”
He came closer. “But you went anyway.”
She sighed. “Like I said, I was determined to do things my own way.” She pushed the bad memories aside and turned her attention back to him. “And speaking of parents…what’s going on with you and your dad?”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “What do you mean?”
Ally eyed him pointedly. “I saw the two of you come back. Neither of you looked particularly happy.”
Hank shrugged and averted his gaze.
“Does the discord have something to do with the ranch?”
His expression darkened. “Why would you think that?”
“I’m not sure.” It was her turn to lift her shoulders. “I just do.”
Silence fell. Hank looked as if he was about to say something, but didn’t. The quiet continued, fraught with tension.
Aware this wasn’t the first time she’d been summarily cut out of a situation-her parents had done it all the time-Ally turned her attention back to her task and cut along the last line she had marked.
Her feelings were hurt, but she wasn’t sure why-it shouldn’t matter if Hank confided in her or not. She cleared her throat, and added with as much indolence as she could manage, “Anyway, if that’s all…”
“Actually-” Hank’s frown deepened “-it’s not. I’ve got something I need to do in Laramie.”
Could he be more vague?
Could she be more nosy?
Honestly! What was wrong with her today? Just because she and Hank had bonded a little over the birth of the litter, and exchanged one way-too-hot kiss, that was no reason to think they were involved in each other’s lives. Because they weren’t now, and definitely wouldn’t be once the ranch was sold!
“Can you watch over Duchess and the pups a little while longer?”
Trying to hide her disappointment at his sudden remoteness, Ally nodded. “Sure.”
And that, it seemed, was that.
“THERE’S NO WAY WE can give you a mortgage on Mesquite Ridge without at least ten percent down,” the president of Laramie Bank told Hank an hour later. “And given the fact we’re talking about a two and a half million dollar loan…” Terence Hall ran a hand over his close-trimmed beard.
Hank had already run the numbers. “I need two hundred and fifty thousand, cash.”
Terence rocked back in his chair. “Plus an application fee, closing costs. Money for the survey, inspection and title search. And a real estate sales commission if she lists with a broker, as she currently plans to do.”
The situation was getting worse by the minute, Hank thought, as he listened to the Christmas music playing in the lobby of the bank. Only there was no Santa Claus here. Only Ally Garrett, and Graham Penderson from Corporate Farms, who could easily become this year’s Grinch, by stealing the property out from under him.
Aware that his holiday spirit was fading as fast as his problems mounted, Hank decided to be straight with the most influential banker in the county. The word in the agricultural community was that if Terence couldn’t make it happen, no one could. “I’ve got only forty thousand saved.”
Terence rapped his pen on his desk. “Maybe you could convince Ms. Garrett to do some sort of land contract or lease-purchase agreement.”
Hank’s hand tightened on the brim of his Stetson. “I doubt it. Besides, even then I’d have only a hundred eighty days max-to come up with the rest of the cash, or forfeit everything I’ve already put in.”
On just the assumption this would work out as I hoped.
“Perhaps if you sell your herd…”
“I’d be all hat and no cattle, with no cash to replace ’em.”
“Sometimes there are sources for cash that aren’t readily thought of.”
Hank knew where this was heading. He’d already had one argument today with his dad. He wasn’t going to have another, with a banker. He lifted a palm and stood, not about to go down that road now. “Thanks for your time,” he said curtly. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
Terence followed him to the door. “Maybe you should have another talk with Ms. Garrett,” he suggested hopefully.
As it happened, Hank planned to do just that.
THE ONLY PROBLEM WAS, when Hank got back to the ranch, a big Cadillac with a Corporate Farms logo was sitting in the driveway.
Frowning, he got out of his truck and walked inside.
Ally was standing next to a ladder in the living room, a spritz bottle in one hand, a putty knife in another. In worn jeans, an old Rice University T-shirt and sneakers, with her hair drawn into a clip, she looked younger-and more vulnerable than ever-as Graham Penderson harangued her.
“It’s a good offer. Better than you’d get if you went the traditional sale route.”
Snorting, Ally sent Graham a narrowed-eyed glance. “That’s ten percent less than the asking price suggested by Premier Realty.”
You go, girl, Hank thought, pleased to see her standing up to the pushy acquisition agent.
Penderson turned his back on Hank and continued his pitch in a you’d-be-crazy-not-to-accept-this-deal tone. “We subtracted out the real estate commission and other costs. You’d still get the same amount, only without all the hassle and expense of-if you’ll forgive my candor-renovating this dog of a house.”