The Ranch She Left Behind (33 page)

“The Risk-it List.” Alec nodded. “Yeah. I’ve seen that. It’s like a bucket list, only dumber.”

Ellen turned around, making fists. “Alec, if you say mean things about Penny—”

Alec shook his head in a world-weary way he probably picked up from one of the wranglers. “I’m just saying some of the stuff on there is dumb. I mean, come on. Juggling? Would you have juggling on your bucket list?”

“It’s not a bucket list. It’s a Risk-it List.”

“Whatever.” Alec swung himself down off the railing. “If the list is the only thing standing in your way, that’s easy enough to fix.”

Ellen held her breath. This had better not be another of Alec’s braggy lies. “How?”

He dug another candy out of his pocket. It must have been the last one, because he practically had to dig down to his shoes.

“How could we fix it?” She was hardly able to stand still while unwrapped it.

“Easy.” He filled his mouth with chocolate, then grinned.

Disgusting.

“Darn it, Alec.” She practically stamped her feet. “Easy
how?
”

“Isn’t it pretty obvious? We just find a way to help her finish up the things on her list.” When no one oohed with impressed delight, he shook his head.

“Listen. Here’s how it would go. It would be like…she’s got juggling on there, and also ‘throw a costume party,’ right? So we throw her a circus party, and we all come as juggling clowns, and
wham!
Check, check, check…and
bam,
you’re married!”

* * *

T
HE
PROBLEM,
M
AX
discovered later, was that none of them was sure exactly what was on Penny’s Risk-it List.

He remembered the ones she’d checked off, like the kiss and the hot air balloon, and, of course, the juggling. Alec remembered the costume party. And Ellen remembered something about a sailboat.

“Yeah, but
what
about a sailboat? Sail one? Own one? Rent one? Get someone else to sail her around in one? Just ‘sailboat’ isn’t really all that helpful,” Alec said as they sat in Max’s kitchen, trying to replicate the list.

Max sat back, enjoying listening to the two kids bicker, both of them caught up in the plan. It felt nice to think the campaign would be a family affair.

He wasn’t sure when he decided to go along with the gag and approach Penny this particular way, but he was committed to it now.

Or maybe he meant he should
be
committed.

He couldn’t be sure this was the right thing to do. He didn’t know if it would work. But he knew that the three of them would always remember the night they plotted to win the heart of Penny Wright.

He stepped outside for privacy, then took out his cell and called Rowena.

“Hi,” he said when she answered. “It’s Max. Before you hang up, just listen to what I have to say.”

The silence at the other end was edgy. “Okay. What do you have to say?”

“I am no threat to Penny,” he said, for starters.

She made a disdainful sound. “I know one broken wrist, two bruised ribs and sixteen stitches that say otherwise. And if you’re going to say you’re not to blame for those—”

“I’m not going to say that. I know I’m to blame.”

This time the silence was shock. “Okay,” Rowena finally said, very slowly. “I’m listening.”

“I’m in love with Penny,” he said. “I want to marry her. I want to make her happy, if I can. Right now Alec and Ellen and I are trying to figure out how to make everything on her Risk-it List come true.”

Another pause. “You and Ellen…and Alec?”

“Yep. Problem is, we aren’t sure what all is on the list. I wondered if you might know.”

“No.” Rowena spoke slowly, as if she’d just awakened from a deep sleep. “I can’t say that I do remember, exactly.”

“Then would you be willing to come over, go into the house, and look at the list for us? Penny keeps it on the refrigerator door.”

“Umm…” For once Rowena seemed at a loss for words. Finally, she spoke. “The thing is…it’s not something I ought to stick my nose into. You see, I promised her I would stay out of this entirely.”

“I understand.” Max did understand, he thought. Rowena didn’t think Max was right for Penny, and she didn’t want to cooperate. Well, he’d find a way without her. He’d win Penny first, and then he’d have his whole life to show Rowena how wrong she’d been about him.

“Thanks, anyhow.”

He was just about to hang up when she cleared her throat dramatically. “But on an
entirely unrelated
topic, I was wondering whether you might be able to help Penny get that back window fixed.”

“Sure,” he said absently.

“You know, the one just to the left of the kitchen door, if you face the house from the back?” Rowena paused a moment, as if to give him time to orient himself. “Well, on that particular window, the lock is broken, and I keep telling her that anyone, I mean
anyone,
could get in the house that way, if they really wanted to.”

Max began to laugh. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Rowena sniffed. “Oh.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll look into that.” He started to click off, but at the last minute, he decided he might as well be in for a dollar. “You’re such a good sister, Rowena.” He chose his words as carefully as she’d chosen hers. “I think it’s terrific, how you protect her. It’s important to be able to tell when there’s a danger…and when there’s not.”

She huffed softly. “As long as you don’t prove me wrong, Max Thorpe. I’m a bad enemy to have.”

He chuckled softly, then clicked the off button. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and returned to where the children were still arguing about the sailboat.

“Well, that settles it,” Max said, sitting down and leaning back in his chair. “I guess we’ll have to break in.”

Both children turned to look at him, their eyes as wide as saucers.

“Dang,
Ellen!
” Alec’s voice was awestruck, and the look he turned on Max was filled with a new, stunned respect. “Your dad is
badass.
”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

P
ENNY
CAME
BACK
to Bell River the next day and was welcomed into the arms of her huge, boisterous family—even including Mitch, who had, to everyone’s joy, appeared at Bell River the day of her accident. Although, mysteriously, Bonnie was not with him.

She didn’t know Mitch well enough to probe any of that, and no one else seemed ready to quiz him, either. So they just made a celebration out of her homecoming, and included Mitch as casually as if he’d never been gone.

It felt strange to be back on Bell River land, but not altogether bad. Especially since she wasn’t going to be sleeping in the main house.

Bless Rowena and Bree for that. The River Song cottage had come open, and her sisters had taken it off the “available” list, even on the computer reservation site, because they sensed that Penny might prefer to stay there instead of in the main house.

They were so right. If she stayed in the main house, in what they’d come to call the Sister Suite, she would have to walk past the front staircase, time and again, every single day. She simply couldn’t do it.

Someday, she promised herself, she would be strong enough to put that old ghost to rest. But not today.

Today it was all she could do to hold the pieces of her broken, aching body together.

Not to mention her broken heart.

She couldn’t allow herself to think of Max. It hurt more than her broken bones, her bruised ribs and her stitches all rolled together. When he’d left the hospital room yesterday, it had been like watching a beautiful, shimmering bubble bursting in thin air.

She had always known the bubble was too fragile to survive. But watching it pop and disappear felt like an act of violence. It felt like a little death.

She would not fall apart, though. She’d promised herself that. She’d gone white-water rafting yesterday to prove to herself that she was still moving forward, in spite of the fact that Ellen’s outburst had clearly destroyed all hope of a relationship with Max.

She might have lost the man, but she hadn’t lost herself. She hurt, but she was still growing, still risking. She’d looked at her list that day and asked herself,
what is the scariest thing on here?
The answer was the same as it had always been—white-water rafting.

So that was what she did.

And now here she was, twenty-four hours, one broken bone and two bruised ribs later, still missing Max like an amputation.

Maybe it was time to pick out something else to risk.

When the doorbell rang, she assumed it was one of the staff, bringing her lunch.

“Come in,” she called, because standing was fairly painful. She’d managed to bathe and dress this morning, but that had taken most of the starch right out of her.

She let her head fall back against the cushioned armchair. Rowena had decorated these cottages so beautifully. She felt at home here already. Maybe later, she’d bring a couple of her paintings over. And of course she’d want her sketchbook….

She opened her eyes, ready with a smile to thank whichever college kid had been recruited to deliver her food. Instead, she thought she must be hallucinating.

Because the person standing in front of her was Max.

She tried to stand, but every muscle protested. He held out his hand. “Don’t,” he said. “You need to rest.”

She felt her head shaking just an inch or so from left to right, like a subconscious expression of denial. Max couldn’t really be here….

And what was he holding? It looked like a large white box. Like a box you’d buy a bedspread in.

“Max, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see if there were some way I could help you finish up your Risk-it List,” he said. He pointed to the chair on the other side of the little, unlit fireplace. “May I? It might take a while.”

She nodded carefully. “Max…” She watched him drag the chair closer. He put the large white box between them, on the ottoman. “Max, what’s really going on here?”

“Really. It’s what I said.” He smiled. “I’ve got some ideas that I hope will get you through your list in record time. Just hear me out, okay?”

She nodded again. Her head was spinning, anyhow, and she wasn’t sure she could think straight enough to ask sensible questions even if he let her. She wished, suddenly, that she hadn’t taken the doctor’s recommended pain pill when she got up this morning. He’d said it might make bathing and dressing easier. But right now she’d rather have a clear head than clean hair.

“Okay, so, as best I can tell you’ve got only five items left. They are, in no particular order, learn to juggle, get a beautiful tattoo, take a photo of someone famous, host a costume party and something about a sailboat. Is that about right?”

She looked at him, wondering whether she’d actually fallen asleep in this chair, knocked out by the pain pill, and was dreaming him here. He looked good here, she thought. His suede jacket picked up the browns in the river rock fireplace, and his blue shirt picked up the blue of the carpet. Even in her dreams, she liked a nice color scheme….

“Is that about right?” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re listening, aren’t you, Penny? Are you feeling all right?”

She smiled. “I’m feeling fantastic,” she said. “But if you’re a dream, I definitely do not want to wake up.”

“I’m not a dream.” He leaned forward, and looked carefully into her eyes. “Have you been given some pain medication?”

She nodded, still smiling. “Yes. It was only so-so until a few minutes ago, but it’s really kicking in now.” She sobered for a second. “Wait. You said you’re not a dream.”

“No. I’m not. But I tell you what.” He stood, and came to sit next to her on the sofa. “How about if you rest your head here.” He tilted her very, very slowly toward him, so gently that it didn’t even make her ribs cry out in pain. How did he do that? Even talking made them hurt, before.

She let her head sink into the hollow between his shoulder and his neck. It was a perfect fit. She kept her face out, though, so that the stitches about her eyebrows didn’t press against anything. They did still hurt, just a bit.

“This is nice,” she murmured as she shut her eyes.

“Good. So how about if you sleep here for a little while, until the medication wears…”

And that was all she remembered for a very long time. Later, she woke with a start that made her ribs blaze with pain. The sun was casting long rectangles of light through the great room windows, and the color of the light was clearly an afternoon gold. She glanced at the clock over the fireplace. Three? She’d slept for three hours?

She looked back at the man whose shoulder she’d been sleeping on. She rubbed at a small round damp spot on the suede. Oops—not just
sleeping
on. Drooling on.

Well, drool was about as unglamorous as you could get. It hadn’t been a dream, then. It really had been Max. And there was the white box, on the ottoman.

“Hi, there,” he said softly. “Are you feeling better?”

“Actually, I’m feeling physically much worse. But my head is clear, and I know you’re real. So that’s better.” She smiled. “In fact, it’s quite wonderful.”

“Good.” He took her hand. “Do you remember where we were?”

She thought hard. “Oh. You were telling me about the five things left on my Risk-it List.”

“Right!” He seemed proud of her, as if she were a student who had just turned in an A paper. “So those were the five things. Juggle, photo of someone famous, tattoo, costume party, sailboat.”

She nodded. “Sounds about right. But I’m still not sure where this is going.”

“Bear with me. So here’s my plan. There’s a pro golfer who is behind the Silverdell Hills project. His name is Acton Adams. Ever heard of him?”

She laughed. “Of course. Everyone has.”

“Great. That means he definitely qualifies as famous. Which is good, because he’d like to hire you to do his photo shoot for the Silverdell Hills brochure.”

“I…” She tilted her head suspiciously. “You arranged this?”

“Of course. Well, I got some help from Ellen and Alec. But the Acton Adams plan was mine.”