Emily Baker wore a dress and high heels and had even shaved her legs. She felt a little like a homecoming queen as she made her way from the break room where she’d changed out of her scrubs to the front door of the retirement center. Five octogenarians followed along behind her, clapping their hands and singing an old Etta James tune, “At Last.”
Otis ran ahead of her and held the door. “Go get ’em, and don’t take no for an answer.”
“We’ll take up a collection and pay the big bucks. Tell ’em that.” Bess waved a lace hanky at her as she stepped out into the brisk Texas air.
“Ready, okay!” Patsy did a few snap movements like a cheerleader and led the rest in a cheer. “Two bits, four bits, six bits, a dollar. All for Emily, stand up and holler.”
All five of them shouted like they were at a football pep rally. Then Sarah put a key chain with a rabbit’s foot in her hand. “For good luck.”
“Okay,” Larry said. “We got to let her go. Let’s go to my room and play a game of cards while we wait for her to come back with the good news.”
Twenty minutes later, she was pulling through the gates of the Longhorn Canyon Ranch, still humming Etta James. With a smile on her face, she parked her bright red Mustang and stepped out of the car. But one wobbly step forward on her four-inch spike heels and her smile dropped right off.
Shit. Literally. She’d stepped her way right into a big ole pile of cow manure.
So much for making a great first impression. But there was no way she could disappoint the Fab Five, so Emily squared her shoulders and continued forward to the front door, hoping she might find something to wipe her shoe with along the way.
Before she even had a chance to knock, a tall, blue-eyed cowboy swung the door open.
“Can I help you?” His eyes started at her strawberry-blond hair, traveled over her size 16 curves, all the way to her soiled shoes. That put her right at his height.
“Hi there. I’m Emily Baker, and I was hopin’ I could talk to you about renting your bunkhouses for a week.” She spit it all out at once without taking a breath.
He opened the door for her. “Come on in. I’m Justin Maguire.”
She kicked off her shoes on the porch, glanced down at her chipped toenail polish, and wished that she’d taken time to redo her pedicure.
“Should’ve been a little more careful about where I was steppin’,” she said.
“Evidently you haven’t lived on a ranch.” Justin chuckled. “Can I get you a cup of coffee, glass of tea, water?”
Oh, honey, you are so wrong about me living on a ranch, but I appreciate the compliment. Evidently, I’ve come far enough that folks don’t see my past, she thought.
“I’m good, thank you,” she said.
“Okay then.” He led her to the doorway and motioned for her to enter first. “We can talk in here. Have a seat anywhere. Sorry about the mess.”
She glanced down at all the papers strewn about his coffee table. “You’re building a house? Are you an architect?”
“Not really, but I’ve always been interested in this kind of thing. I’m trying my hand at drawing up the plans for our foreman and his new wife,” he said.
Emily sat down on the end of the sofa. “It looks so cute and cozy.”
His eyes sparkled as he smiled. “Thanks. I wanted to start small and make it easy for them to add on later.”
He was one fine-looking cowboy with those steely blue eyes and that strong, squared-off chin. He raked his fingers through light brown hair that matched the light scruff on his face. The black western-cut shirt fit his body like a glove, and judging from the silver belt buckle, he’d probably ridden a few bulls.
He eased down into a chair on the other side of the sofa. “So tell me, Miz Emily, why do you want to rent our bunkhouses?”
“I’m the senior recreation director at the Oakview Retirement Home, and we try to have an outing for our residents a couple of times a year. One elderly gentleman asked if we could visit a ranch for a week this spring. He had a big spread up near the Red River when he was younger. He’s been with us for about a year now, and I can tell he gets homesick,” she said.
“For the smell of fresh cow manure?” Justin glanced down at her feet.
A slow burn crept from her neck to her face. “And hay and baby calves and all that goes with ranchin’. Anyway, there are five of them who are interested, and the youngest two are seventy-nine years old. Otis was the rancher and his buddy, Larry, owned a construction business. Then there’s Sarah, Patsy, and Bess, who want to get away for a while. Sarah was a schoolteacher, and Patsy and Bess are eighty-year-old twins who were raised on a ranch back in the forties and fifties.”
“I’ll have to run it by the rest of the family. When were you hoping to have this outing?”
“Maybe in a week or two, if that’s possible. We’re flexible.”
“We’re pretty busy with the ranch work this time of year. Were you thinking of any special activities for them?” he asked.
“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to do much extra. And I’m sure they’d be glad to help out with whatever they can.”
“Sounds like they won’t be a bit of trouble then,” Justin said.
Famous last words. “Thank you, Mr. Maguire. I’ll be lookin’ forward to hearing from you. Here’s my card. I’ve written my cell phone number on the back.”
Well, crap! Now he’s going to think he can call for something other than business.
He quickly laid the card on the table and then shook hands with her. “I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”
Growing up, Emily had never been a petite girl. She topped out at five feet eight inches, and shopped in the plus-size section. But her hand felt tiny in Justin’s big, callused palm.
Like a gentleman, he walked her to the door and waited until she got her shoes back on before he closed it. Thank God he’d already gone back inside, because as she was walking from the porch to the car, she stepped in that same cow patty—again.