Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(132)

“Actually, I do. Three different varieties.”


“Please, please, please sell me some. I’m desperate to make a batch of borscht.”


Rielle laughed. “I’ll sell you anything you want. Come by anytime. I run the Sage

Creek Bed and Breakfast out on Bridger Gap Road. I’m usually there or in the gardens.

”


“You’d better swing by tonight after work, Ainsley. In case there’s a run on beets

tomorrow,” Ben suggested dryly.


Rielle whapped his arm. “Such a smart aleck. I’ll leave you to enjoy your lunch. Nice

to meet you, Ainsley.”


“You too, Rielle.”


The waitress dropped off the food and several minutes passed before either spoke.


“You are coming to my place tonight after you stop at Rielle’s.” Not a question.


Ainsley pointed at him with her fork. “You’ve got a short attention span, cowboy. No

slap and tickle between us any more.”


“You said this would end after I’ve filled out the loan paperwork and you’ve

submitted it. Even if I get everything filled out today, the soonest you can get

started on it is tomorrow. Which means I’ll expect you at my place tonight as soon as

you get off work.”


“Ben—”


“Bennett,” he corrected. “This is not up for discussion. The parameters of our

agreement change tomorrow.”


“Yes, Sir,” she snapped off.


“That smartass response just earned you an extra ten.”


“An extra ten what?”


“Ask me again and I’ll add ten more.”


A mulish look flattened her lips.


After he paid, they walked back to the bank. He intended to come in for the paperwork,

but Ainsley tried to hold him off. “It’d be easier if I bring it tonight.”


“We won’t be spending our last time together filling out a loan application,” he

half-growled.


She murmured, “That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.”


Chapter Twenty-Two


The main structure of the Sage Creek Bed and Breakfast was crafted of rough-hewn lumber

and stone. The steps were constructed from railroad ties, set at jaunty angles and

filled with marbled concrete, which led to a large front porch. An eclectic mix of

furniture created intimate conversation areas. Pots of flowers abounded—surprising,

given the late time of year. The sun’s last golden rays reflected in large windows

stretched to the rafters on both the first and second story. The rustic nature brought

to mind old hotels from the Wild West days.


That made Ainsley think of the Rawhide Club, which made her think of Ben. And were her

eyes playing tricks on her, or was that Ben’s truck parked in front of the barn? She

climbed out of her car, following the sounds of laughter to the back of the building.


She called out, “Hello?”


Rielle looked up and smiled. “Ainsley. I was hoping you’d come by. I dug up a bunch

of root vegetables.” Her gloved hands pawed through the wheelbarrow of dirt. “So far

I’ve found beets, turnips, parsnips, a few carrots, late potatoes and some pink

Peruvian sweet potatoes that are too big for the chef at Fields to use.”