âWeâre expecting a baby. But I never courted you, not in the traditional way. Did you miss that?â
âSort of, but given our family histories, we didnât have any choice.â In truth, sheâd mostly been happy sneaking off with him. âHow about you?â
âFantasies kept the relationship alive for meâremembering what really happened between us and imagining more. Itâs justâ¦we never got to know each other well.â
It wasnât until that moment that she also realized they hadnât. Not really. Even now, they tiptoed around each other, testing each otherâs reactions. âI guess not.â
He brushed her hair from her face, then touched her ear, her cheek, her jaw. âI know that you like it when I kiss this spot under your ear.â
He leaned forward and did just that, sending shivers through her.
Red Valley Ranchers: Brothers who work the landâ¦side by side with the women they love!
SUSAN CROSBY believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come trueâas long as she works hard enough. Along lifeâs journey sheâs done a lot of the usual thingsâmarried, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dove off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true.
Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and she will always believe in happily-ever-after.
More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.
For my heroinesâGeorgia Bockoven, Robin Burcell
and Christine Rimmerâoustanding writers, generous friends and loving women. Thank you from the top and bottom of my heart.
And with thanks to Gail and David Winslow,
creators and owners of the gorgeous Mt. Shasta Lavender Farms. Your input was invaluable.
Chapter One
Jenny Ryderâs senses heightened as she stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the hundred-year-old building. Anxiety tasted sharp in her mouth. Cars rumbled along Main Street, vibrating under her feet. And the majestic sight of the cloud-covered Gold Ridge Mountain was reflected in the Bank of Red Valleyâs glass door as she grabbed the cold metal pull. She had an appointment with the bank president, Jacob Campbell, who held her future in his hands.
She felt all grown up in the bankâs cool, quiet environment, and was glad sheâd dressed like a woman who meant business, not a college student.
Jenny glanced around, not seeing anyone she knew well enough to greet beyond a wave and a smile, even though sheâd been born and raised in the small northern California city. She headed straight to Mr. Campbellâs office. His assistant greeted Jenny, then led the way to the open door.
The sixtyish man stood and offered his hand. âNo pigtails anymore, I see.â
âI couldnât if I tried,â she said. Sheâd had her wavy auburn hair cut to a more carefree chin length last week. Wash and wear. Sheâd save time and energy during what she hoped would be very busy days ahead.
âHave a seat, Jenny.â
Her knees almost gave way as she lowered herself into a chair across the desk from him. A folder lay open on top. Even upside down she recognized the request-for-loan document sheâd painstakingly filled out. Behind it would be her business plan and a personal plea. Her familyâs business, Ryder Ranch, had been the bankâs first customer a hundred years ago. The relationship had held steady through the economic ups and downs of cattle ranching. That should mean something.
âSo, youâre the last college graduate of your family. Thatâs quite an accomplishment,â Mr. Campbell said.
âOur parents were uncompromising,â she said with a smile.
âBut you majored in farm management, even though the family business is cattle ranching.â
âThere wouldnât have been room for me at the ranch, not in any position of consequence.â She tried not to fidget but she really wanted to end the small talk and get on with her life.
âI can see how anxious you are,â Mr. Campbell said, âso I wonât make you wait. The loan committee denied your request. Iâm sorry.â
She felt as if sheâd plunged headlong into a wind tunnel. She saw his mouth moving but couldnât hear the words over the roar in her head. Denied. Sheâd been counting onâ
âI wish I could refer you to someone else, Jenny, but I doubt youâll find a bank willing to give a novice a loan. Unless, of course, your father will cosign, but you indicated you didnât want to ask him. Without collateral and a great deal of experience in the field, no one will want to take that kind of risk. You donât even have an income.â
Technically she had collateral. She just couldnât use it. âIf I got the loan, Iâd have a job,â she said, trying to smile. Keeping a tight rein on her emotions, she shook his hand before she escaped. âThank you for your time, Mr. Campbell. I appreciate it.â