The Bride Wore Denim Read Free Page B

passel of ingrates.”
    “I wasn’t going to say it.”
    “Hey.” She frowned. “You’re not supposed to agree with me.”
    “Hey.” He echoed her. “This is an astounding legacy you girls walked away from.”
    She felt the slight, sudden tension. “C’mon, Cole. You know how he was. It was impossible to fall in love with a place that was run like a cross between boarding school and a tough-love boot camp for delinquents.”
    “I do admit, your father was the nicest asshole I’ve ever known.”
    The accurate oxymoron drew rueful laughter from Harper, and the tension dissipated. “Yeah. And nobody said that out loud at the service did they?”
    “Funerals aren’t for honesty. You know that. And Sam was a good man. He wasn’t cruel.”
    “Just obsessed,” she said.
    “Exacting. Demanding.” He nodded.
    “Arrogant.” Harper sighed. “He chose Amelia to take over, but in truth I think he had his best chance at an heir with Raquel. He lost her when the other two triplets left. She wasn’t about to stay here alone. Besides, my father’s hired workers always did better dealing with his rigidness than we did.”
    “If you did your job around him, showed a little initiative, based on his standards, of course, he left you alone,” Cole said. “On the other hand, look what he built because of those standards. This place is spectacular. The man was brilliant.”
    “He was that.”
    She looked up, surprised to see they’d left the chicken coop and nearly reached the long, triple-level back deck of the big log ranch house, surrounded by its trellises of stunning blue and lavender morning glories—her mother’s favorite flowers. The chickens might have the Hilton because of her father, but the family had this warm, wonderful place, Rosecroft, because of their mother. Bella Crockett had designed and decorated the big house, planning its charm from the ground up, including the name because she’d fallen in love with the tradition of naming homes during a trip to Scotland in her youth. It was the one place on Paradise Ranch Harper always missed.
    To her surprise, Cole picked up her hand and squeezed it between both of his. He’d held it plenty of times in their lives—after she’d been teased on the school bus, the first time she’d been bucked off a horse—but the strong, long-fingered, broad-nailed hand engulfing hers caused as much trembling as it did comfort. “The bottom line is Sam Crockett left us too soon.”
    “Not that long ago, sixty-eight would have been old ,” she murmured.
    “He might have been an ass once in a while, but your father was not old.”
    She nodded and sighed. “I figured he’d live forever.”
    They both hesitated, as if heading up to the back door was something neither of them wanted.
    “I hear you’re not staying long,” he said. “That’s too bad. Are you sure you don’t want to hang around another week or so? Take some rides around the old place, for the heck of it?”
    She debated only a moment before lifting her eyes to his, a slow burn of excitement taking the place of heavy sadness. “Can I swear you to secrecy?”
    “Ah, intrigue. Sure.” He crossed his heart, eyes sparkling.
    “Tristan, you remember me talking about him? He booked me a gallery showing.”
    The genuine pleasure in Cole’s eyes thrilled her. “Seriously?”
    She nodded, and before she could elaborate he crushed her into a bear hug and twirled her in place hard enough to swirl her wet skirt in a dripping circle.
    “Tristan. He was that hippie-assed boyfriend of yours, right? The one who promised to make you famous?”
    Tristan Carmichael was her de facto manager—a fellow artist with far more connections than Harper would ever have. He’d been a . . . What? A lover for a while. But a boyfriend? She laughed. “He’s definitely not my boyfriend.”
    “Not what I heard.”
    She frowned at his teasing and finger-flicked him on the shoulder. He laughed and set her down. “The point