“I’m not a YouTuber, and besides, aren’t you getting out over your ski tips a bit? It’s not like you actually live here.”
“I could.” Maisie’s eyes twinkled with a hint of the mischief that was likely to lead Drew into deep trouble down the road. She knew she should put a stop to it, but instead, she kept listening as Maisie said, “I was supposed to go to Florida and stay with my mom until the fall, but what if I stay here instead?”
“I know we’re technically married, Maisie, but—” God, why did Drew’s voice suddenly sound all girly, like she was a high school cheerleader?
“Hear me out. I’m not much use with your work—”
“Aside from your stellar toolbox carrying skills, obviously.”
“Well, yes. I do excel at that. And I’m pretty good at marketing. Not just boxes and bows. I’ve studied, or, that is, I’m planning on…” Maisie tripped over her words, her cheeks turning bright pink, along with the tip of her nose, which Drew had never seen happen before. She looked like a cross between an elf and Rudolph.
“Right. What are you doing, an MBA or something?” Drew honestly couldn’t recall the details and felt bad about it. “That’s pretty impressive, actually. A real MBA coming here to the Lazy C. You really think you could come up with a plan to save this place?”
Something like actual, real-life hope was springing up in Drew’s chest, a dangerous situation she couldn’t seem to put a stop to.
“I could try. I know your life would be a lot easier if I agreed to sign those papers right now, but if I did that,” Maisie’s voice crackled, “I still would have no place to go. If you let me stay here instead of sending me to Florida, I can work on ideas every day. Something is bound to come to me.”
“Even if it doesn’t, we’ve got the extra bedroom, and you can’t possibly eat much at your size.” Drew’s heart fluttered as she recalled that feeling she’d had when Maisie had handed her that perfectly wrapped box at the expo, like all the world’s problems were about to meet their match in this little spitfire of a woman. Against all odds, Drew had that feeling again now. “You know, I think you might be onto something. So, six months?”
“Six months.” Maisie punctuated this with a nod. “I’ll need room and board. I’ve got a little bit of savings I can use to cover my own incidentals.”
“I can pay you a weekly stipend,” Drew offered. “Not a lot but even Hannah gets an allowance for doing work around here. And I’ll get you a pair of boots. If you’re going to do all this for me, that’s the least I can do. Plus, youaremy wife, I guess.”
“About that.” Something in Maisie’s tone filled Drew with uneasiness, almost as bad as that other dreaded phrase,we need to talk. “I don’t expect half the ranch, you know, no matter how my friends might’ve made it sound. But if I can add value between now and then, I expect to be compensated when the time comes to sign those divorce papers.”
“You’re a different breed of gold digger.” Drew laughed at her own joke.
“I’m not a gold digger at all. I just want to be compensated for my input. And I’m not afraid of hard work. Except maybe the physical kind, like with cows and horses. Youdohave the ranch stuff under control, right?” Maisie arched one eyebrow, like it was only just occurring to her the trouble she could get into by being too generous with what she offered. “Because I wasn’t joking before when I said—”
“Yeah, I’ve got that covered. Except for the toolbox carrying. I’ll always need you for that.” Drew weighed the offer for a moment, surprised to find how happy she felt at the prospect of not sending Maisie away yet. “Okay. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Taking one hand off the steering wheel, Drew gripped Maisie’s hand, giving it a firm up and down motion.
“This is so exciting!” Maisie squealed.
“It is,” Drew agreed.
And it was. As long as Drew didn’t think about the final step in the plan, the part where they signed those divorce papers and Maisie left for good. That bit didn’t sit so well, and Drew wasn’t sure why. Sure, she’d always had strong views about marriage. Mainly that she didn’t expect to ever do it, but if she did, she’d assumed it would be forever.
They weren’t truly married, except on paper, so it didn’t count, did it? They hadn’t known each other, not really, and still were practically strangers.
Which wasn’t to say Drew didn’t look forward to getting to know Maisie a lot better, because if there was one thing Drew knew, it was that Maisie was a fighter. There was nothing Drew admired more than that.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
After they’d returnedfrom checking the fences, repairing two additional spots that had been damaged in the storm, Drew had carried in Maisie’s boxes and shown her to the guest room she’d be calling home for the next several months.
Maisie still couldn’t believe she’d had the nerve to suggest taking on a project as big as saving a ranch. It was even more shocking that Drew had believed her when she said she knew what she was doing. But that was because Drew thought she was about to go to business school for an MBA, something Maisie had been more than willing to let her keep believing. If Drew had known Maisie was really a college dropout who’d been fired from her position as a marketing assistant, would she have been so quick to allow Maisie to stay?
Let’s hope I don’t have to find out.
Maisie was in the middle of unpacking a box of sweaters, contemplating the need to wear all of them at the same time to have any chance against the brutal and never-ending wind, when the bedroom door burst open, and Drew launched herself inside, shutting it tightly behind her.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Maisie had exclaimed before she could stop to consider if there was a politer way of saying that to the woman who was letting her stay rent-free in the house for the next six months.
“Hannah and Cord will be here soon,” Drew rushed to say, her eyes nearly as wild as the hair that was sticking up all around her head, like she’d gotten caught in her own personal tornado. “We need a cover story.”
“For what?”