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stabled their horses without saying a word. He wasn’t as practiced as Molly and when he looked up from putting away his tack she was gone.
    Gone.
    It was probably for the best. But he already missed her.

4
    M OLLY WASN ’ T HAVING the best day. Jason had left a message with Jeb that he was going to camp out on the land that evening and that he’d meet her at the lawyer’s office the next day. A horse had reared when she’d been trying to saddle it and its hoof had come down hard on her booted foot. She was pretty sure she had a deep bruise and hoped there were no broken bones.
    So when she rounded the house and saw the big late-model Ford Bronco sitting in the circular drive she almost turned around and walked back to the barn.
    The last person she wanted to talk to this afternoon was Wil Abernathy.
    But the driver’s-side door opened before she could leave and she wouldn’t give him the impression she was running away.
    â€œAfternoon, Molly,” Wil said as she came closer.
    Wil was five years older than her and about as tall as Jason’s six-foot frame. He’d spent his life on his family’s ranch and the years had been good to him. Their derricks were still pulling oil from the ground and the Abernathys ran one of the largest and most successful stud farms and insemination programs in the country.
    Wil was okay. A little too slick for her taste. The girls she’d gone to school with in Cole’s Hill had always said Wil, with his thick blond hair and blue eyes, looked like Brad Pitt. He had on his dress jeans—she could tell because they were dark blue denim and not faded at all—hand-tooled boots and a Stetson. All the Abernathy men wore Stetsons.
    â€œAfternoon, Wil. What can I do for you?”
    â€œI’m here to sweeten the offer I made your father,” he said. “Maybe we could go inside and discuss it?”
    â€œI’m fine right here.”
    â€œDamn. You are just as stubborn as your dad was,” he said. “I was sorry to hear about his death.”
    â€œThank you. Thank you, also, for the flowers you sent. I noticed you and your sister at the funeral service, as well.”
    â€œMick was a good guy and, despite the fact that he didn’t get along with my dad, I never had any problems with him.”
    â€œHe was a good guy,” Molly agreed. “I’m not selling.”
    â€œYou haven’t heard my proposal yet,” Wil said.
    â€œOkay. Tell me,” she said. Sweat was dripping down the back of her neck and she felt every inch the working cowgirl talking to Wil. If she hadn’t been so determined to keep him out of her house, she could be inside drinking iced tea in the air-conditioning. But her father had always said no Abernathy would set foot in the house...and she was honoring that.
    â€œI want to lease some of your land for grazing,” he said. “Damn, it’s hot. Want to sit in my Bronco if we can’t go inside?”
    She shook her head. “Do you know why Dad was so insistent on keeping you and your kin out of the house?”
    â€œI’m not entirely sure, but I think it has something to do with your mom,” Wil said. “My pops just said that the Tanners were sore winners.”
    It was another story she’d never know since she hadn’t thought to ask her dad about it, really push him to tell her what had happened. But she was hot and tired and Wil was here offering her an olive branch.
    â€œWhy don’t you have a seat on the east-facing porch? There are ceiling fans and we get a nice breeze from the creek. I’ll get us something cold to drink.”
    â€œSounds good,” Wil said.
    Molly heard him walking behind her as they went up the steps and she gestured to the right so he knew where to go. “Do you mind if I change out of these clothes?”
    â€œTake your time. I scheduled the entire afternoon to be out here.”
    â€œThank