Her Reluctant Rancher

By Anne Marie Novark

Living with his stern grandfather taught Trevor Callahan one important lesson: Caring makes a man weak. Now the old man is dead and Trev returns to Stone Creek for one reason and one reason only--to sell the Rocking C Ranch. Maybe then he can put his past behind him and move on.

Beth Evans once confused lust for love and vows never to let it happen again. The bookmobile driver is trying to raise funds to build a new library. The late Hank Callahan bequeathed a million dollars for the project, but he attached one stipulation: Do not let his grandson sell the ranch.

Excerpt:

He leaned across the desk. “You know, we haven’t discussed the kiss the other night.”

She scooted the chair back. “There’s nothing to discuss.”
He stood and slowly came around the desk, reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet. “I want to kiss you again.”

“That’s probably not a good idea.” Oh, lord. She was playing with fire and if she wasn’t careful, she was going to get burned. Bad.

“Probably not. I know you said we’d never kiss again. But don’t you want to kiss me? Can’t you feel the pull between us?”

“Yes . . . No!” She jerked her hand free and started backing away.

He followed, closing in on her until she bumped against the library table. “Just one kiss, Beth. One kiss can’t hurt.”

Before she could react, before she could reply, Trevor wrapped his arms around her, covered her mouth with his and God help her, she was a goner.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anne Marie Novark
• Release date: May 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458151773

Anne Marie Novark

Anne Marie is a Texas girl, born and raised. Romance is her passion. She loves to read and write about men and women falling in love, overcoming life’s obstacles, and living happily ever after. She writes spicy contemporary novels, usually involving a cowboy or two, as well as Regency historicals. Married to her high school sweetheart, Anne Marie and her husband spend their leisure time working (actually playing) in the yard and renovating their 1956 custom-built house on a one-acre lot in the middle of the city. They have two grown children, three white rabbits, two mischievous cats, and one sweet puppy dog.

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Her Reluctant Rancher

by

Anne Marie Novark

***

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Book One: Return to Stone Creek Series

Trevor Callahan's grandfather is dead. As a kid, living with the stern old man had been a pure living hell. Trev returns to Stone Creek for one reason and one reason only: To sell the Rocking C Ranch. Maybe then he can put his past behind him and move on.

Beth Evans once confused lust for love and vows never to let it happen again. The bookmobile driver is trying to raise funds to build a new library. The late Hank Callahan bequeathed one million dollars for the project, but he attached one stipulation: Do not let his grandson sell the ranch.

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Her Reluctant Rancher

Copyright © 2011 by Anne Marie Novark

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

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Dedication

For my mother, BK Reeves:

Mentor, critique partner, friend.

Thanks, Mom.

And to James, who never doubted my success.

You are my own personal hero.

***

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

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CHAPTER ONE

Trevor Callahan pulled his truck to a stop in front of the rambling old ranch house that had belonged to his grandfather. He made no move to get out of the truck, but sat still and erect, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles ached from the pressure.

Trev had grown up in this house. The place should have held good memories, but didn't. Hank Callahan was dead and the only thing Trev felt was relief. He'd returned to Stone Creek, Texas, to settle his grandfather's estate and sell the Rocking C Ranch. The sooner he was rid of it the better.

The noonday sun burned brightly. It was already hot for the middle of May, promising a scorcher of a summer in the weeks to come. Bermuda grass struggled to grow in the dusty red soil surrounding the two-story house. The wooden columns supporting the front porch needed a fresh coat of paint

Trev climbed out of the pickup truck and walked toward the house. On the porch, two large clay pots filled with red geraniums flanked the front door. The splashes of color emphasized the neglect surrounding them.

When he reached the porch steps, the door opened and out walked a little girl. Trev froze in his tracks. What the hell was a kid doing in Hank's house?

The screen door slammed behind her. Cocking her head, she frowned. Who are you?

Trev frowned back. Trevor Callahan. Who are you?

I'm Margaret Lynn Evans. Mommy calls me Mags, but you can call me Maggie. She studied him, obviously taking his measure. You sure don't look like your pictures.

What pictures?

You know. In the magazines. You don't look like your pictures in them.

Trev stepped onto the porch and looked down at her. For such a small person, she certainly seemed sure of herself. I'm not photogenic.

Huh? She tilted her head, studying him some more. "Oh well, the pictures aren't that bad. But you look a lot better in person." When she smiled, something shifted in Trevor's chest. He rubbed the offending spot, trying to make the strange feeling go away.

You know, Maggie said, hands on hips. It's about time you showed up. We've been waiting forever.

Before he could reply, she opened the door and disappeared inside. Mommy! Guess who's here?

Trev shook his head and followed the little girl into the house. Standing in the foyer, he braced himself. For what, he didn't know. Bad memories? Hank's ghost?

Get a grip, Callahan.

An amused husky voice drifted in from the kitchen. Calm down, Mags. Who in the world is it?

It's that man. Trevor Callahan.

"What? Maggie's mom said. He's here? Did you let him in?"

No, I left him on the porch. Can we eat now?

Why didn't you let him come in? Goodness, what can he be thinking? Oh my. The woman stopped abruptly in the doorway when she saw Trevor standing in the foyer.

She was pretty. Very pretty. A sleeveless green blouse and denim shorts complemented nice curves and long legs. She had gorgeous eyes and full, generous lips. A mop of long curly red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, making it difficult to guess her age. Early to mid-twenties probably. Nothing shifted inside Trev's chest as he gave her the once over, but another part of his body suddenly stirred to life.

You're Trevor Callahan? She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and eyed him up and down. You look nothing like your pictures.

What was it with the pictures? So I've been told.

The woman grinned. Mags said that, too?

Her grin was contagious, but Trev rarely grinned. Yeah, she mentioned something about it.

Mags has a habit of speaking her mind.

Like her mother?

Hey, I didn't say it was a good habit. She slung the dishtowel over her shoulder. Wow, I can't believe you're finally here. Hank died almost eight months ago. His lawyer's been trying to contact you forever.

I've been out of the country. Trev looked around the living room. His grandfather had remodeled and bought a few new pieces of furniture. Had he bought himself a new little wife, too? And you are?

I'm sorry. The woman offered her hand. Beth Evans. I was a friend of Hank's.

Trev shook her hand, conscious of soft skin sliding against his palm. A friend?

She jerked her hand away, green eyes blazing. Not that kind of friend, Mr. Callahan.

He shrugged. My mistake. I wasn't expecting to see anyone except Bonita. Is she still the housekeeper?

Yes, but she's not here right now--

Mommy! Maggie yelled from the kitchen. I'm hungry.

Just a minute, baby, Beth called over her shoulder. She turned back to Trevor. Hey, do you want some lunch? We were about to sit down when Mags heard you pull up. I can make more sandwiches. She didn't wait for an answer, but led the way to the kitchen.

Trev followed, enjoying the view of her backside while wondering what kind of relationship Beth Evans had shared with his grandfather. And why would she have wanted any kind? The old man had been the worst kind of bastard. Rough around the edges, harsh, strict. Antisocial. An unlikely acquaintance for someone like this lively young woman.

Trev sat at the same metal table that had stood in the kitchen when he'd been a boy. Hank had upgraded the room with new cabinets and appliances, making the old chrome dinette set look out of place in the new surroundings. Just like Trev felt. Had always felt.

Maggie sat on a chair with three stacked encyclopedias boosting her up to the table. She stared at Trevor and he stared back. He couldn't tell how old she was; he didn't know that much about children.

So, you're Poppy's grandson, she said.

Poppy? What was this? The Twilight Zone? What were the woman and kid doing here? His grandfather had been wealthy. Was Beth some kind of gold digger? Trev had plenty of experience with money-hungry women, but for some reason, he didn't think Beth was one of them. Or maybe he just didn't want to. He watched her move around the kitchen. She had a fresh innocent look about her. He reminded himself that looks could be deceiving.

That's what Mags called Hank. Beth placed a platter of sandwiches, a jar of pickles and a bag of chips on the table. She poured iced tea for herself and Trevor, milk for Maggie. Then she sat down and began filling her daughter's plate.

The little girl sighed. I miss him something awful.

Beth ruffled the gold curls. I know, baby. I miss him, too.

Do you miss Poppy? Maggie asked Trevor. She took a bite of her sandwich and looked at him with big blue eyes.

Aw, hell. He didn't want to lie to the little girl, but then again, he didn't want to hurt her feelings. I hadn't seen Hank in years. I left the ranch a long time ago.

Well, he sure missed you, Maggie said. He told me--

Margaret Lynn, eat your lunch.

Maggie shrugged and grinned at Trevor. She only calls me that when I'm in trouble. Am I in trouble, Mommy?

Mags, please. Mr. Callahan doesn't want to hear about Hank.

Trev took a drink of his tea. How did Beth Evans know he didn't want to hear about his grandfather? How much did she know about his relationship with Hank?

But why? Maggie asked. Poppy was his grandpa. I don't understand.

Hush. Eat your lunch. Beth selected a sandwich and opened the pickle jar. I'm sorry, she said to Trev. Mags is five, going on thirteen.

Five and a half, the little girl said. I'm five and a half.

That old, huh? Trev asked, amused in spite of himself. Something about the kid was getting to him. The whole situation was getting to him.

Maggie nodded and took another bite of sandwich. She watched him as she chewed and swallowed. I like you, she said suddenly. I'm glad you came.

That weird sensation shifted again inside Trev's chest. He didn't like it. He didn't trust it either.

Mags, eat. Beth offered the platter to Trevor. It's tuna. Probably not what you're used to, but it's good.

Tuna's fine. Trev grabbed two sandwiches and chowed down. The trip from Tulsa had taken all morning, and he'd only had a cup of coffee before he'd flown down in his Cessna. Janet had arranged for the truck to be waiting at the Stone Creek Airport. Thank God for competent secretaries.

Silence settled around the table while everyone focused on their meal. Before it became awkward, Beth spoke up. "Hank told me you own a construction company. And of course, I read all about you in Time. Do you enjoy your--"

He doesn't look like his pictures, does he, Mommy? He says he's not photo . . . photo . . . What was that word you used? She took a drink of milk, leaving a white mustache over her cute little mouth.

Photogenic, Trev said. Yeah, the kid was definitely getting to him.

Photo . . . genic. She beamed at him. What's that mean 'zactly?

Beth handed her daughter a napkin. It means he doesn't take pictures very well. She glanced at Trev and offered a shy smile.

Damn, she was good looking. Trevor found himself wanting to smile again. Her red hair glowed in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. A sprinkle of pale freckles traipsed across her nose and cheeks. When she licked a crumb from her bottom lip, Trev's body flexed in response. Well, hell.

He gulped down half his tea. Where was the husband? Beth said she was staying here at the ranch. Was there a husband? Did Trev want there to be a husband?

He looks a lot better than his pictures. Don't you think, Mommy?

I . . . Beth's green eyes snagged his and a blush stained her cheeks. She quickly looked away.

Trev felt the awareness crackle across the table between them, and he didn't think it was all one-sided either.

Interesting.

Well, don't you think he looks better than his pictures? Maggie took another drink of milk.

Yes, Beth said, keeping her eyes on her plate. Eat your sandwich, Mags.

Maggie smiled at Trevor. So now you don't have to feel bad about your pictures in the magazines.

Thank you. I appreciate that. He looked at the woman sitting across from him. The blush became more pronounced.

Beth cleared her throat and lifted her head. Do you enjoy your work? It must be exciting to travel all over the world building hotels and convention centers.

It's not glamorous, if that's what you're thinking.

She chuckled. Maybe not to you, but . . . Wow, I can't even imagine having the kind of money you have. She closed her eyes and groaned. Oh God, I can't believe I said that. I told you I'm as bad as Mags. Worse, even.

Hey, I'm not bad! Maggie said.

Of course not, pumpkin. I meant you sometimes say things you shouldn't. Beth glanced at Trevor. "Just like I do. I'm sorry I said that. I'm feeling a little awkward here. I mean, I'd gotten used to the fact that Hank had more money than he knew what to do with. But his picture was never in Time or Newsweek. He was just good old Hank with the battered Stetson and scuffed cowboy boots."

Good old Hank? Trev had definitely stepped into The Twilight Zone. Don't worry about it, he said. Can I ask you a question?

Beth nodded.

How did you become acquainted with my grandfather? And why are you here?

Maggie scooted out of her chair and jumped to the floor. Finished. I'm going to work on our project.

Wait! Beth caught the little girl's arm as she darted past. We need to clean you up.

Trev watched while Beth guided her daughter to the sink and wiped her mouth and hands clean. Maggie wiggled and sighed and wiggled some more.

All done. Beth kissed the top of her head.

The little girl drooped her shoulders and let her arms hang down by her sides. She let out another huge sigh. "Now can I go work on the project?"

Sure. But don't climb the ladder. Promise you won't.

Okay, I promise. Beth patted her daughter's bottom before the little girl took off at a run.

What kind of project? Trev asked.

Maggie skidded to a halt and turned around. A very important project. Me and Mommy are organizing Poppy's books according to the Dewey Decimal System.

Dewey Decimal System?

Maggie looked at him as if he were a dunce. You know, like in the library? Poppy gave Mommy all his books for the new library. The little girl flew out of the kitchen leaving Trev stunned and skeptical. His grandfather had never been known for his generosity. What the hell was going on here?

****

Beth walked slowly back to the table, acutely aware of Trevor Callahan's eyes lasered on her. She wished Mags hadn't left her alone with him.

Hank gave you his books? he asked.

The deep voice sent a jolt of something warm and fluid coursing through her body. Yes, he did. Well, to the library, not to me personally.

She sank into the chair before her knees gave way. Hank's grandson made her nervous and awkward. Mags was right. The man looked a lot better in real life than in his photographs. A whole lot better.

Trevor's eyes narrowed. Intense, hard gray eyes. A shiver of awareness shot up her spine. Why did Hank give you the books? he asked.

Beth tried to concentrate on the conversation. Hank didn't think you'd want them. You don't want them, do you? His grandfather's extensive collection filled walls and walls of shelves in the old man's private study. She knew Trev hadn't gotten along with Hank. They'd been estranged for years. She hoped like heck he didn't want the books.

No, I don't want them, he said. But you still haven't answered my question. In fact, you haven't answered any of my questions.

Beth leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her own eyes. Is this an interrogation?

No, I just want some explanations. He sat back and imitated her stance.

The man was too arrogant for his own good. And too damned handsome by far. He was big and muscular. His powerful presence filled the kitchen, making Beth extremely conscious of her femininity. Her body tingled all over, with a sexually-aware kind of tingle she hadn't experienced in a long time.

Well? He raised one eyebrow. His black hair was cut short. Almost too short. He had a long jaw line and a straight nose. There were two deep furrows between his thick brows, indicating a habitual frown. He definitely wasn't Beth's type. If she had a type, which she didn't. She never dated. No way. No how. Not since Mags. And even if she did date, this man was way out of her league.

He was filthy rich. She wasn't.

Beth cleared her throat. You asked how I met Hank. I came to Stone Creek when Mags was a baby, so my parents could help me with her.

Trev grabbed another sandwich. Where's her father?

The man could sure put away the food, Beth thought. But there wasn't an ounce of fat on his body that she could see. Only muscle and brawn. Lordy, lots of muscle and lots of brawn.

Beth took a deep breath. He left before she was born. I was young. He was young. She shrugged. At least I have Mags.

Trev nodded. She's a cool kid. I don't know much about children, but do all five-year-olds talk the way she does? I mean, come on . . . The Dewey Decimal System?

Beth grinned and shrugged. Mags is very bright. She's been reading since she was two. I have a tough time keeping up with her.

I bet. So, you came to Stone Creek when Maggie was a baby?

Yeah, I tried to make it on my own for a while, but going to college, working and taking care of Mags was difficult. Beth didn't like to think about how difficult that time had been. "Mom and Dad moved here from Midland. They're semi-retired, or so they say. Mom runs a beauty shop three days a week and Dad works part time at the golf course. I live in a garage apartment behind their house."

Trevor frowned. You seem to be making yourself right at home here. Why is that?

Long story.

I'm not going anywhere.

Beth sipped her tea. The man certainly had an attitude. He was demanding and oh so sure of himself. She needed to keep in mind what he'd done to Hank. Like Mags said, Hank left me the books after he died. I've been spending my free time organizing them. Mags and I sometimes stay over and sleep in one of the guest rooms. Bonita enjoys the company. She adores Mags.

Your daughter's a charmer, he said with a hint of a smile.

Beth nodded. His smile seemed rusty and she wondered why. Dragging her gaze from his lips, she caught Trevor looking at her. She took another deep breath. Mag's charm came in handy in dealing with Hank.

How's that? He popped a couple of chips into his mouth.

Look away from the man's mouth, Beth.

She took another sip of tea. "I drive the county bookmobile and I'd heard about his huge collection. We're always short on books and rarely