A Cowboy to Marry (2 page)

“Me, too,” Holden promised.

Beaming, Miss Mim and Miss Rosa stood. “With a Lowell and a McCabe on the job, how can we go wrong?” the older lady joked.

Holden went with Libby to show them out. “Actually, you'll have a lot of McCabes,” he promised, “as soon as I let the family know what's going on.”

Briefly, Libby's expression looked pinched. “As far as the Lowells go, it's just me. But I promise you I'll give the situation my all.”

Thanks were given. More hugs ensued. And then the two librarians slipped out the door.

“Well.” Libby squared her slender shoulders and drew an innervating breath. “There's never a dull moment around here.”

“The people of this community have come to rely on you,” he said.

Unhappiness glimmered in Libby's green eyes as she regarded him. “That's not what I need to hear.”

He had hurt her. Again. Without meaning to do so. He injected as much gentle levity into his tone as he dared. “What
do
you need to hear, then?”

She snorted indignantly. “Oh, something along the lines of you understand that although I have done everything I could to live up to the wishes of Percy and his parents in maintaining the Lowell family tradition and legacy in Laramie…you also know I'm leading a life I never intended to lead.”

“I thought you liked running the dealership.” She was certainly good at it.

She peered at him through narrowed lashes. “I like managing things, keeping things running and solving problems. I have no passion for farm and ranch equipment, per se.”

He flashed her a cryptic smile. “You don't dream about combines and harvesters?”

Contrary as ever around him, she replied, “I have the occasional
nightmare
about a delivery not arriving in time for a rancher to harvest the crop that's going to feed his cattle all winter.”

Holden cleared his throat, regarding her steadily. “You're serious.”

She wandered back into the living room and plopped down on the sofa with her book. “Oh, yes.”

He watched her slide her reading glasses back on her nose. “You never said anything.”

She winced again. “That would have been ungrateful, wouldn't it?” Libby paused in the act of opening her novel. “Here I am, having inherited a beautiful home, a thriving business and the mantle of the esteemed Lowell name.”

Holden sat opposite her and studied the elegant contours of her face.

“When all I really want, if I'm to be perfectly honest…” Libby raked her teeth across the velvety pink softness of her lower lip.

He gripped the arms of the chair and rocked forward slightly, guessing, “All you really want is your husband back.”

A pained silence fell between them. When she spoke again, her defenses were up. “We both wish that were possible.”

“I'm sorry, Libby.”

“Please.” She lifted a delicate palm. “Don't apologize. Not again…”

How could he not? Holden thought with a fresh flood of guilt. “If Percy and I hadn't gone on that white-water rafting trip in South America right after my marriage busted up…”

The light faded from her eyes. “He knew you were devastated when you lost the baby and Heidi, all at once.”

The reminder of his loss had a wealth of undercurrents. “I never should have married her.”

Libby sighed, perceptive as ever. “That's true, since
shotgun weddings have a very low success rate. But,” she continued with laudable understanding, “you're a noble guy…and you were head over heels in love with her.”

Holden folded his arms over his chest. “Even if it turns out Heidi didn't feel the same way.” To his ex-wife, he had been her rebound guy from another relationship.

“You did what you thought was the right thing, in marrying her,” Libby soothed.

“And failed, anyway.”

She nodded, recalling compassionately, “And Percy wanted to cheer you up.”

Wearily, Holden shoved his fingers through his hair. “I should have said no.”

“Then Percy would have gone alone.”

Holden looked at her in disbelief.

Leaning forward, Libby took off her glasses and confided, “You weren't the only one unhappy at the time, Holden. Percy was feeling hemmed in. He was tired of running the dealership in the wake of his parents' death, tired of living the ‘expected, ordinary' life. He needed that little burst of pure freedom.”

Holden grimaced in regret. “But he had responsibilities. We both knew the Rio Suarez could be dangerous.” Many of the rapids were a grade four plus…!

Libby shrugged, clearly not as inclined to rewrite history as Holden was. “If your raft hadn't started to take on water and collapse the exact moment you hit the rapids,” she said with a resignation that came straight from her soul. “If Percy hadn't jumped to save you…”

“And succeeded,” Holden stated hoarsely.

“He never would have slammed into those boulders himself, or broken his leg and nearly drowned, until you and guides saved him. He wouldn't have needed to go to
the hospital in San Gil, which was miles away, over rough terrain. His wounds wouldn't have become infected, and he wouldn't have started running a fever.”

“And begged me to watch over you.”

Abruptly, Libby looked as numb as she had at the funeral. “Had none of that happened, Percy would have lived.” She stood and gazed deep into Holden's eyes. “But he didn't.” Restlessly, she paced the length of the room. “And now you and I are here. Dealing with the aftermath of my late husband's reckless nature, each and every day.”

Holden caught up with her. “You have to know,” he croaked, gripping her hands, “if I could take it all back…”
Make your life better. Make you happy again…

“I know, Holden. You would.” Libby squeezed his palms, then let go. Sadness glimmered in her green eyes as she confessed, “And I would, too. But we can't. Instead, we have to deal with the fact that around here, I will always be Percy's ‘tragic' widow. The keeper of the Lowell legacy, and the go-to person for all community problems needing solving. Around here, I'll never be just me. The Libby who grew up in Austin, and who wants a different kind of life.

He sighed heavily, watching her pained expression as she continued speaking her mind.

“Just as you will always be remembered as the guy who got quickly and unceremoniously dumped after Heidi lost your baby. The difference is, you've always lived here. You have tons of family in the area. And a ranch that you've built that will be your legacy from here on out.” She met his eyes. “Divorced or no, this is the life you are
supposed
to be leading. Mine was here only as long as Percy was alive.”

She had thought this through, Holden realized in shock. “You're serious about moving on, then.”

“After more than two years?” Libby put her glasses back on her nose. “Yes. Very.”

“So if this Jeff Johnston comes in with a good offer…”

“Or even a decent one,” she affirmed.

“You'll take it.”

Libby nodded, keeping the wall around her heart intact. “And I'll sell the house, move on…and never look back.”

“You're sure this is going to be okay?” Rosa asked Libby nervously on Friday morning.

Libby nodded and waved the library employee toward the dealership showroom. “You can set up a return desk over there in the corner. The books on hold—and the checkout and information counter—can go next to that.”

Miss Mim came to join them. She'd brought with her a small army of library volunteers carrying armloads of supplies, boxes of books, even a computer. “Hopefully, we won't need to be here more than a couple of days.”

Libby smiled at both librarians. “I'm sure we'll get this straightened out by then. In the meantime, library patrons will have a place to go for the essentials and information.”

The dealership business was carrying on as usual. Two ranchers were in the offices, signing papers on new tractors and equipment. Another three were lined up to arrange service on their machines. And Lucia Gordon, the receptionist, was headed straight for Libby, a handsome thirtysomething man in a tweed sport coat and jeans by her side.

The tall stranger smiled as he reached her and held out his hand. “Libby Lowell, I presume?”

She grinned back. “The one and only.”

He shook her hand. “Jeff Johnston.”

Libby's jaw dropped in surprise. “I thought we weren't meeting until this evening.”

“I wanted to let you know I had arrived and checked in at the Laramie Inn.” Jeff looked around. “Plus I thought it would be good to see the place through the eyes of a regular customer.” His brow furrowed as he noticed the temporary library being set up. “What's going on over there?”

Libby noted he didn't look pleased. Briefly, she explained the problem, as well as her solution, adding, “That's the way things work in a small town. We all go the extra mile to help each other out.”

Jeff rubbed a hand across his jaw, considering that. “None of the customers seem to mind.”

But, Libby noted, the next man coming into the dealership seemed wary. Not of what was going on in the corner, but of the man she was standing with.

Holden reached her and nodded at Jeff. “Johnston.”

“McCabe.”

Libby fought off a second wave of surprise. She squared her slender shoulders. “You two know each other?”

An inscrutable glint appeared in Holden's eyes as he informed her casually, “We met a little while ago at the Daybreak Café.”

Which wasn't surprising, Libby guessed, since the restaurant owned by Holden's sister, Emily, was
the
place in town to have breakfast.

“I was chatting up the locals, asking around, to see how people felt about the dealership,” Jeff explained.

Libby tensed, not sure how she felt about that. Shouldn't any questions have been directed at her first?

“Anyway, we're still on for dinner this evening, right?” Jeff asked.

She nodded.

“Great. I've got a lot of questions and things I'd like to discuss.” He inclined his head and strolled off.

Holden gave Libby a steady look that sent heat spiraling through her. “Tell me you're taking someone with you. Like a lawyer.”

Clearly, Holden didn't trust Jeff Johnston. For reasons that had more to do with his loyalty to her late husband—and to her—than to Johnston's overarching ambition, she suspected.

Libby folded her arms and moved closer to him. “I'm not paying a lawyer to sit through polite get-to-know-each-other chitchat.”

Holden looked at her soberly. “Obviously, Johnston wants it to be more than that. He appears anxious to get you to sign on the dotted line, here and now.”

She stepped back. “Then Mr. Johnston will be disappointed,” she said firmly, uncomfortably aware that she'd had the same impression of the businessman. “But if it will make you feel better…you can tag along,” she offered reluctantly.

Holden grinned as happily as if she had invited him into her bedroom. “Seriously?”

Doing her best to quell her conflicting emotions, Libby nodded. She did not want to depend on Holden, emotionally or otherwise. She had allowed herself to do that once, right after her husband's passing, and the result had been disastrous for both of them. To the point that guilt and discomfort from that time were still with both of them.

But she was smart enough to know that the easiest way to keep one man from becoming too aggressive with her
was to put another equally driven and protective man into the mix. So for now, for tonight, she would allow her late husband's best friend to appease his conscience by employing his innate gallantry on her behalf, once more.

Having decided that, she sighed.

Glancing up at Holden, she couldn't help but note how good he looked in that green corduroy shirt and jeans. His short dark hair was thick and rumpled, and his face had the shadow of beard that came from going twenty-four hours without a razor. But it was the cobalt-blue of his eyes, the compassionate set of his sensual lips, that really drew her in.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said.

Libby gave him a glance that warned him not to get too carried away. “It makes more sense to have you at the table with us than to have you hovering somewhere in the background, trying to watch over me from a distance.” Which, she knew, he was likely to do, given the depth of his concern about the potential pitfalls of the situation she was in.

And if she was completely honest, Libby admitted, she wouldn't mind having Holden at the first official meeting.

The handsome rancher was bound to be a lot less emotional about the proposed transaction than she, and would give her perspective on everything said.

In certain situations, two were better than one.

This, Libby figured, was one of those times.

 

“I
DIDN'T REALIZE THE TWO
of you were dating,” Jeff Johnston said to Holden and Libby after they had ordered their meals.

Taking comfort in the laid-back ease of the Wagon
Wheel Restaurant, she sipped her iced tea. “Holden is here as a friend.”

Jeff quirked a brow. “Do you always take friends to business meetings?”

Aware that her throat still felt parched, and that she was far too conscious of Holden and his sexy masculine presence, Libby took another drink. “No.”

Jeff glanced at her curiously. “Then…?”

She searched for an explanation for herself, as well. Ignoring Holden's equally probing look, she told Jeff, “You wanted to know how the ranchers in the area feel about the dealership. Holden can tell you that.”

The other man turned to him. “How is the level of service?”

“Excellent,” Holden stated promptly. “First and foremost, prices are fair.”

“Almost too much so,” Jeff countered. “Since the profit the company is taking on sales is slightly below the industry standard.”

“It's a competitive market,” Libby interjected. “We aim to please.”

“And they do,” Holden said candidly. “From the time you walk in the door, Lowell Ranch Equipment employees are there to help you decide what heavy machinery you need, and how to obtain financing. And they are just as dedicated when it comes to providing any service or parts required. Because of that, they have a very loyal customer base.”

“You're not just saying that because Libby is your ‘friend'?” Jeff chided.

“Libby doesn't need me to exaggerate on her behalf,” Holden said, beginning to sound a little irked at the remark. “Lowell Ranch Equipment has been in business for three
generations, and has served a hundred-mile rural area for the last seventy years. The commitment of the sales and service staff has never wavered.”

Jeff nodded, as if his research had garnered the same data. “I notice a lot of the employees are older, though. Fifty plus…”

For the thirtysomething Jeff, that was a problem, Libby noted unhappily. “Ten of our employees are in that age demographic—they have worked at the business their whole adult lives. Three others are in their twenties, but equally as committed to careers with us.”

He frowned. “Meaning you would be opposed to me letting at least some members of your staff go, and bringing in my own people?”

She stiffened her spine, the tough businesswoman inside her coming to the fore. “I won't sell to you unless there is a guarantee you'll continue to employ every person currently working there for as long as they want to stay, at their current salary and benefits.”

“You realize that could sour the deal,” Jeff warned.

Libby turned her hands palm up. “Then it does.”

He sat back in his chair as their dinners were put in front of them, and considered her position. “Well, that explains why everyone is so loyal.”

Libby picked up her knife and fork. “We've had virtually no turnover, because it is such a good place to work. The fact the customers know who they are going to be dealing with is a comfort to them. Everyone feels like family.”

Jeff cut into his steak. “In my experience, business and personal affairs don't mix.”

She took a bite of her grilled redfish. “That may be true in Houston. It's not the case in Laramie.” She paused long
enough to meet Holden's encouraging glance, then asked Jeff, “Why do you want LRE so badly?” He had been calling her every few months since Percy died, asking if she wanted to sell.

He added butter to his baked potato. “I specialize in acquiring businesses with no internet presence and taking them online. LRE would be my biggest acquisition yet. I see great potential for growth. In fact, you could stay on if you want, Libby, because I'm not going to be there more than once a week—if that—and I'll need someone to manage it.”

“Thank you for the offer, but—no. I'm selling because I want out.”

“You're planning to leave the area, then?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Libby saw Holden tense. “Yes.”

Jeff leaned toward her. “What about the house? Are you interested in including it in the sale? 'Cause I'm going to need someplace nice to stay when I'm in town.”

Libby hesitated. How did she feel about that? “We could negotiate,” she said cautiously. “If the price is right, of course.”

“Can I see it tonight?” Jeff asked eagerly, while Holden tensed even more.

Ignoring his obvious disapproval, Libby shrugged. “I suppose a brief tour would be okay.”

Victorious, Jeff smiled. “Then let's do it!”

They talked more as they ate. No one wanted dessert, so as soon as the check was paid, they went out to their vehicles. Libby took the lead in her Range Rover, with Jeff following in his Maserati and Holden trailing behind in his pickup truck.

Her self-appointed protector looked even grimmer when they arrived at the house.

The first thing that caught Jeff's eye was the Lowell photo gallery that lined much of the foyer and both walls of the grand front staircase. “Wow.” He stopped at the framed pictures of three generations of Lowells, then he studied Percy and Libby's wedding photo.

“You were awfully young when you got married.”

She had been. “Twenty-two. Right out of college.”

“And you were married how long?”

Libby noticed Holden studying the photos, too, with the familiar mixture of grief, guilt and sadness. “Almost eight years.”

Jeff turned back to her. “I can see why you want to sell,” he told her empathetically. “Residing here must feel like living in a mausoleum.”

Aptly put, Libby thought.

“The tour?” Holden said, looking irritated again.

Libby inhaled and braced herself for another slew of questions from the ambitious businessman. “Let's get started,” she said.
So I can put this evening—and the onslaught of confusing emotions—behind me.

 

H
OLDEN KNEW
L
IBBY WAS
ticked off at him. And maybe he was overstepping his bounds. But when Jeff Johnston asked to see the second floor…

“Not a good idea.” Holden moved to block the way to the stairs.

Jeff turned to Libby with a goading smile. “I thought the two of you weren't involved.”

“We're not,” she said, a hint of color coming into her cheeks.

Maybe not in the traditional way, Holden thought. But
they were linked through Percy's memory. And he had made a promise not to let anyone take advantage of his best friend's widow. A promise he would continue to carry out until his dying day.

“Actually, we are,” he stated flatly.

Libby's jaw dropped in shock. “I can't believe you just alluded to that,” she said, glaring at Holden.

It didn't matter, he thought, because Jeff clearly believed him, not Libby. And Johnston's obvious respect for another man's territory would keep him from making an untoward pass at Libby, at least for now.

“I'm going to head out,” Jeff said, his demeanor slightly less personal as he backed off. “But I'll be in touch.”

“I look forward to it.” Libby's tone was crisp and businesslike. Spine stiff, she walked him to the door.

As soon as he'd left, she whirled back to Holden and inhaled, the action lifting the soft curves of her breasts. A pulse worked in her throat as she kept her eyes meshed with his. “You had no right to tell Jeff Johnston he couldn't go up to the second floor.”

Holden found himself tracking the fall of honey-colored hair swinging against her shoulders and caressing the feminine lines of her face. Wondering if it was as silky to the touch as he recalled, he asked, “You were really going to let Jeff Johnston see the bedrooms?”

“No, of course not.” Libby propped her hands on her hips and sent him a chastising look. “Not without having a chance to tidy up and get the property ready to show!” She inched closer, inundating him with a drift of cinnamon perfume. “But that's not the point, Holden.”

Desire sprang up within him, as surely as irritation had. Reminding himself she was off-limits for a whole host of reasons, he returned carefully, “Then what is the point?”