The Rancher's One-Week Wife Read Free Page B

of everything.”
    “Of course,” she said, nodding as she slid the envelope back into her shoulder bag. She hesitated a moment as she tried to think of some way to say goodbye. Deciding there wasn’t anything she could say that wouldn’t make matters worse, she rose to her feet. “I’ll be in touch if there’s anything else we need to do.”
    “Did you drive all the way from Seattle or is that little toy in the driveway a rental?” he asked, standing up.
    “I rented it when I flew into the Cheyenne Regional Airport,” she answered, wondering why he wanted to know.
    “I’ll check under the car before you leave to make sure you didn’t do some kind of damage to the undercarriage,” he said, taking his wide-brimmed hat from the hook as they left the room. “You hit quite a few potholes on your way up the lane. Drive slower on the way back. You’ll be less likely to damage the car.”
    “Who’s responsible for taking care of the roads around here?” she asked. “They’re in terrible condition.”
    “The county is responsible for the roads leading up to the ranch property lines, but ranchers have to keep the roads on their land plowed in the winter and graded in the summer,” he explained. “We took care of grading the road after the snow melted off in the spring. But once the rainy season hit it washed out a lot of places. We were waiting until it dried up to work on the road again, when we have time.”
    “I think it’s safe to say it’s dry enough,” she said as they walked out of the house. She didn’t know much about caring for a ranch or tending to roads, but she did notice the red sports car was coated with a thick layer of Wyoming dust.
    His deep laughter sent heat racing through her veins and reminded her of the carefree man she’d met eight months ago. The man he’d been before she’d told him she couldn’t be his wife after all. “It won’t be an issue much longer,” he stated. “The new owner is having it asphalted all the way to the county road.”
    “Why didn’t the previous owner do that?” she asked, walking across the yard with him to the rental car.
    “After her husband died, she wasn’t interested in anything but trying to sell the ranch to a land developer. When she tried for a couple of years and failed to find a buyer, she finally sold it to one of her husband’s sons from a previous marriage,” he answered, sounding a little angry as he kneeled down to peer under the car.
    She briefly wondered why he would be upset by a property dispute between the owner’s heirs, but she abandoned her speculation when her cell phone chirped. Taking it out of her shoulder bag, Karly looked to see who was texting her. Her heart sank as she read the message. It was an alert from the airline, informing her that due to a contract-workers strike at the Denver airport, all flights had been canceled until further notice. Since the only commercial airline going in or out of the Cheyenne airfield was from Denver, she wasn’t going anywhere until the labor dispute was settled.
    “Lovely,” she muttered sarcastically. Now what was she supposed to do?
    She’d packed light because she hadn’t expected to be away from home for more than a couple of nights. And she certainly hadn’t planned on having to find a local place to stay indefinitely while the strike was settled.
    “Looks like everything is intact,” Blake said, unaware of her dilemma. He straightened to his full height as he dusted off his hands. “When does your flight leave?”
    “It’s not leaving,” she said disgustedly as she opened the browser on her phone to see what lodging was available in the nearest town. “All flights in and out of Denver have been canceled due to an airport workers’ strike.”
    He remained silent for several long moments and when she looked up, he was staring at her. “Looks like you’ll be spending some time on the Wolf Creek Ranch after all,” he said, folding his arms across his wide