Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(25)

"Me? Why me?" he asked.

"You probably seemed the obvious choice." Noah flipped through the pages a bit. "Looks like it was Doc Mullins until you came to town. So, how about that? We don't have to start calling you sir or anything, do we?"

"When you say everything..." Jack said hesitantly.

Preacher was the one to answer. "House, contents, land... I wonder if there's something like a bank account. Knowing Hope, I wouldn't be surprised if the mattresses and cubbyholes were stuffed with bills."

"No," Noah said. "Remember, this is the woman who was auctioning the church on eBay. She's computer savvy. I bet half the stuff she bought she got off the Internet. I bet she has accounts on the computer. It's in the kitchen. We might have a challenge figuring out passwords, that sort of thing."

Jack leafed through her files. "Could it be filed under Passwords?" he asked, pulling out a file. He took on a decidedly superior air.

"Nicely done," Noah said with a grin.

"This is making me very uncomfortable," Jack said with a shudder. "I don't want to be in charge of Hope's stuff. I don't want to be the town manager, either."

"Take it easy. You start by going to see her lawyer. If there's any money--like after land sales and such--you're probably empowered to get a little help. You know--hire people."

"Really, I don't have time for this," he grumbled. "I don't want to be responsible for how it's used...."

The sound of Paul's heavy footfalls coming down three flights of stairs caused all the men to turn toward the staircase. He stopped at the bottom and smiled at them. "This is a great old house," he said. "Studs every twelve inches, fire walls, top-quality oak, marble and granite, tongue-and-groove hardwood floors... I couldn't build this house today for three million. It's old and it's awesome. I hope whoever gets it wants some help putting it right."

"And there is my first potential employee," Jack said.

Delivering feed to smaller ranches and stables was a job that Lilly had volunteered to do--she considered it as adding weight lifting to her exercise regimen. That, combined with yoga, kept her in shape. Plus, it was very important to Yaz that his only family stay involved in his business; it was to be hers one day. Lilly hoped Yaz would live a very long time because even though she knew all the details of the operation, she had trouble seeing herself as the owner of a feed store.

For the past three weeks, since the changes at the Jensen clinic, this menial part of her job had become infinitely more interesting. It was now a priority. She found herself looking forward to that delivery. If Blue was in the pasture, she ran out there just to see her. And she found herself feeling disappointed if she didn't run into Clay. If Streak was not in the round pen, she would make it a point to spend a little time leaning into his stall, talking to him quietly, even though she knew Clay wouldn't approve. Clay wanted the colt to focus on him and seemed almost jealous when Streak didn't shy from Lilly.

She preferred to see all of them--the horses...and the man.

She had an easy rapport with Clay now; he had helped save Blue and they shared Native roots. He always respectfully asked after her grandfather though he'd never met the man. He asked her about the store, about how she spent her free time, how she liked living in this part of the country. She asked about the horses, about the progress on the new barn addition, whether he was settling in all right.

He did not ask her about her boyfriend and she never asked him if there was a woman in his life--but those unasked questions hung heavy in the air between them. Not only was it obvious he was attracted to her, she was having trouble denying that she also felt a pull. There was sexual tension between them and she knew it.

Even though Lilly occasionally dated, it had been a very long time since she had felt that buzz of awareness; it ran like a river through her veins and made her heart beat faster. She wasn't sure if the shivers she was experiencing were from excitement or fear.

She drove up to the stable and turned around to back up close to the doors. By the time she had her gloves on and was pulling a bale toward the hatch, Clay was pushing open and securing the double doors for her. She lifted the bale out of the truck bed while he put on gloves. By the time she deposited her load in the feed room, he was right behind her, a bale in each hand.

"You don't bother telling me not to help anymore," he said, dropping first one then the second bale.

"Why should I waste my breath?" she said, smiling before heading back to the truck.

"Can you hang around a little while?" he asked.

"For?"

"I'm going to mount Streak. See how he does."

She turned as if startled. "He's ready?"

"We'll find out," Clay said, reaching into the pickup for a bag of feed.

"I don't know about putting a saddle on him. I get the feeling..."

"I'm not going to use a saddle. Not yet, anyway," he said.

"Have you tried this before? On him?" she asked.

"No, I was waiting for you. It's obvious he matters to you, Lilly. And I think you matter to him. He's quieted a great deal since he's been our guest. Now he even goes along with the bridle, the bit, minds his manners. He even takes more kindly to the brush, if it's not for too long." He lifted the feed bags, stacked them together and hoisted them on a shoulder. "Stay a little while."