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distrusted him. Instantly.
    Mostly because not trusting someone was her default setting until they proved she had reason to do otherwise. But also because he was at the door at six in the morning, and he was smiling.
    She just hoped he wasn’t from the IRS.
    â€œCan I help you?” she asked, putting a hand on her hip and mentally calculating the location of the nearest rifle in the house.
    â€œSorry to come by so early,” he said.
    â€œThen why did you?” she asked.
    She’d never been one to play games. She wasn’t shy, bashful or easily shamed. And she would happily take the upper hand of this situation, thank you very much.
    He, whoever he was, no doubt thought that showing up to do his business early and unexpectedly would put her on the wrong foot.
    Too bad for him, that wasn’t possible with her.
    â€œI was given the impression, by Ray Jameson, that it would be all right. This is Ray Jameson’s place?”
    She felt her hackles lower a bit. “Uh. Yes. May I ask what your business is here and who you are?”
    â€œJim Davis.” His name rang some bells, but she couldn’t quite place him. Not this early. Two cups of coffee would be required before she was feeling that sharp. “I spoke to the bank earlier this week about the standing of Ray’s loan.”
    â€œWhy the hell was the bank giving you information on my grandfather’s loan?”
    â€œI’m an investor. Well, part-time, anyway.”
    â€œWhat are you the other part of the time?” she asked, leaning into the doorframe, making sure that he knew he wasn’t welcome inside—not just yet.
    â€œA cowboy,” he said.
    She could have rolled her eyes. “Interesting. Now what are you doing here?”
    â€œYou the typical welcome committee?” he asked, obviously getting annoyed with her now.
    â€œYessir, I am. If you’ve got a problem with that? I don’t have a comment card for you to fill out, so it’s just too damn bad. State your business.”
    â€œI’d rather speak to Ray.”
    â€œI’m the executor of Ray’s estate,” she said.
    Once she’d discovered her grandfather’s forgetfulness with the taxes and several other bills, she’d gone and handled all that so that she could take care of all of the finer details of his life.
    â€œThen you’re the person I want to see,” he said, smile broadening.
    â€œI thought I might be.”
    She still didn’t give an inch, still kept him on the porch.
    She had a good sense for people. She’d been exposed to a lot of them growing up. And most of them hadn’t wanted anything good, in her experience. People in general wanted to use you to elevate them. That was about it.
    Cynical, maybe, but she was better insulated against douche bags than most.
    â€œI’m here to make an offer on the ranch,” he said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI want to offer on the ranch. The bank said you’d been in default, and that there were some other issues . . .”
    â€œThey had no right to disclose that information!”
    â€œRegardless, I’d like to help out.”
    â€œMr. Davis, nobody just wants to help out. Everybody wants something, and it isn’t to help. So you want to buy all this?” she said, looking around.
    â€œI do.”
    â€œWell, too damn bad. I don’t want to sell it.”
    â€œYou haven’t heard what I’m offering.”
    She thought of the bills on the counter, and all of the stress. And then she thought of what it had always meant to come back to this place.
    â€œDoesn’t matter.”
    â€œYou say that because you have no idea what you’re turning down.”
    â€œYou could be offering me magic beans and a goose that lays gold freakin’ eggs and I wouldn’t say yes. This is our home. Our legacy. We aren’t going to sell.”
    â€œDid I step into a heartwarming family film