Wild Cowboy Ways (Lucky Penny Ranch #1)(4)

“She must’ve heard us talking about a new cowboy buying that place. I can’t leave the store so you’ll have to go get her,” Katy said. “It’s going to rain so take a vehicle. I hope she at least put on a jacket or else she’ll catch pneumonia, frail as she is.”

“Lizzy’s rubber boots are missing from the foyer and I dressed her in jeans and a sweatshirt this morning.” Allie stuck her free arm into a stained mustard-colored work coat.

“Thank goodness she’s at least got something on her feet. Last time she went over there, she was wearing nothing but a nightgown when I went to get her. There she sat on the porch flirting with someone in her head because the only living thing on the whole ranch was an old gray tom cat,” Katy said.

Allie picked up her van keys from the foyer table and headed out the door. “I’m on the way, Mama. She’s probably sitting on the porch like last time. I don’t think anyone has moved in yet.”

“Lizzy said that Herman Hudson came in for a load of feed this morning and that at least one cowboy moved in on Saturday,” Katy said.

“How’d you find out where she is?” Allie asked.

“The crazy cowboy who bought the place called the feed store. The number was on the bottom of one of those calendars we used to give out at Christmas. Lizzy answered and then called me.”

“I’ll call you when I’ve got her back in the house.” Allie jogged out to her work van and hopped inside. She shivered as she shoved the key into the ignition. They’d had a mild winter up until now, but January was going to make up for it for sure if this was a taste of what was to come. She didn’t give the engine time to warm up but shoved the truck into gear, hit the gas, and headed down the lane toward the road where she made a right-hand turn. The steering wheel was as cold as icicles, but in her hurry she’d left her gloves on the foyer table. Half a mile farther she made another right and whipped into the winding lane at the Lucky Penny.

Had she gone by foot, Allie would have walked a few hundred yards, crawled over or under a broken-down barbed wire fence, and gone another hundred yards to the old house. That’s most likely the way that Granny had gone, and it took less than ten minutes to get there. Allie came to a screeching halt outside the house and with a carpenter’s eye saw how much more dilapidated it had gotten since she was last on the ranch.

How long had it been? At least eight years because she’d been divorced more than seven, and the last time she’d been there was back when she and Riley, like all the other kids in that day and age, parked there to make out. Looking back, the smartest thing she did when she and Riley split ways was take her maiden name back.

A big yellow dog met her halfway across the yard. His head was down and his tail wagging, which meant he wasn’t going to take a chunk out of her butt. But the sight of him did slow her down.

She held out a hand. “Hey, feller, what’s your name?”

The dog nosed her hand in a friendly gesture, so she rubbed his ears. “You got my granny in that house, or is she hiding in one of the barns this time?”

The first big raindrop hit her on the cheek and rolled down her neck. It was as cold as ice water, and more quickly followed before she made it to the porch. Shivers chased down her spine as the water hit her bra and kept moving to the waistband of her underpants.

She knocked on the door and waited.

“Walter, don’t open that door,” her granny called out loud and clear.

“Are you Walter?” she asked the dog, who’d followed her to the porch, just as the front door swung open.

“No, he’s Shooter. Are you Katy?”

Allie looked up into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen rimmed by dark lashes. Her gaze traveled to his wide shoulders, the Henley shirt stretched over bulging abs, and the big belt buckle with a bull rider on it. She had to force herself to look back up, only to find him smiling, his arms now crossed over his chest.

Lord, have mercy! Crazy cowboys who bought a bad luck ranch were definitely not supposed to be that sexy.

She wanted to crawl under her work van because there she stood wearing cargo pants, a faded thermal-knit shirt frayed out at the wrists, black rubber boots, and the old coat she wore on the job site. She smelled like pine oil and ammonia and didn’t have even a smidgen of makeup on her face.

Granny shuffled across the floor. “Don’t be silly, Walter. This is Katy, my daughter. You’ve seen her lots of times at church for the past six months. Don’t you have enough sense to get in out of the rain, girl? Why haven’t you invited her inside, Walter? Where are your manners?”

“Granny, I am not Katy. I’m Allie, your granddaughter. You know better than to sneak out of the house like this. You scared all of us,” Allie fussed.

“Maybe we can sort this out inside where it’s warm and dry,” Blake offered. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Blake Dawson. C’mon in.” His eyes were so green that she would have sworn he was wearing colored contact lenses.

She put her hand in his. “I’m Allie Logan, your neighbor. I’m so sorry about this.”

Her hand tingled and the feeling lingered as she followed him into the house and through to the kitchen, tugging Granny after her. Maybe it was the weather, or the fact that he was one sexy piece of baggage. Most likely it was the fact that she hadn’t had sex in so long that she might have to get out the how-to booklet to even remember what body part went where.