Free Trusting the Cowboy by Carolyne Aarsen Page A

tried to object, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I know her sister Jodie is gone to Bozeman this weekend and she doesn’t know anybody here anymore, so I told her she simply had to come. No excuses.”
    “I’m sorry,” Lauren apologized. “If it doesn’t work out—”
    “Nonsense,” his mother said, patting her on the shoulder. “Nothing to work out. Dean’s sulking at home and I could use some female company and we have lots of food. Besides, I promised her some daylilies and peony roots.”
    Vic could tell that Lauren was trying to find a polite way to get out of the invitation, though he knew it was futile. Once his mother set her mind to something, she would not let go. And of late she’d been complaining about being lonely. He guessed Lauren had mentioned her desire to clean up the flower beds on the Circle M and his plant-loving mother had probably jumped at the chance to talk botany with another woman.
    “Just come for a while,” he encouraged her. “It’s got to be lonely sitting in that house by yourself. Unless you need to plant your flowers,” he teased.
    She smiled, which only served to make her more attractive.
    “No. I’m letting them harden off before I put them in the ground.”
    “You won’t need to do that,” his mother said. “It’s late enough that you could put them directly in. But we can talk more about that at home. You can follow us to our place. Just in case you don’t know the way.” Before anyone could make even the slightest objection, his mother bustled off again.
    It was on the tip of Vic’s tongue to let Lauren know that she didn’t have to accept his mother’s invitation, but he stopped himself. It might not hurt his cause if Lauren could meet Dean again. Put a face to the reason he needed to buy the ranch.

Chapter Five
    “S o what kind of work do you do?” Vic’s mother pushed her empty plate aside and seemed more than happy to put off cleaning up until later. She tucked her curly hair back from her face and clamped it down with a hair clip that had been threatening to fall out.
    Based on how casual Mrs. Moore seemed about her clothing choices, Lauren had suspected her home would be a reflection of that. But driving up to the two-story brick-and-sandstone home, Lauren shifted mental gears. The house was a beautiful mix of old and new. A wild array of flowering shrubs, perennials and potted plants softened the front of the house. Yet it didn’t look stilted or planned.
    The inside of the house was equally surprising. The appliances were basic white, but the wooden cupboards were an updated dark walnut with brushed aluminum hardware. The floor was a gray laminate and the dining room table and chairs were an elegant mix of wood and stainless steel.
    Clearly Mrs. Moore cared more about her home than she did about how she looked. Lauren admired the woman, knowing that she herself had spent far too much of her own life worrying about the correct image she needed to project.
    “I work as an accountant,” Lauren said, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin.
    “My goodness. Numbers.” Mrs. Moore fluttered her hands. “Benny always said I was horrible with numbers and he was right. Balancing the checkbook to me meant being able to carry it and my groceries without dropping either.”
    Lauren giggled, surprised at how comfortable she felt around the older woman.
    “Good thing you don’t need to balance the checkbook anymore,” Vic chimed in, smiling at his mother. “Dean takes care of everything online,” he said to Lauren.
    “One of the few things I can do,” Dean said, a grumpy note in his voice. He wore a plaid shirt that had seen better days, faded blue jeans with holes in the knees, a large leg brace and a sullen attitude.
    The stubble on his handsome face didn’t soften the hardened look he seemed to have adopted. Lauren remembered another Dean. Cocky. Self-assured.
    This young man seemed to have lost that part of his persona.
    “But you have a