Page 98 of Her Boss, Her Rancher: Sunrise On The Ranch

He picked up his phone to call her—and got her voicemail.

There had to be a way to reach her. And a way to make her listen.

Sierra stared at the papers on her desk without seeing them. Instead she saw Blake’s dark brown eyes, his smile and his thick, black hair. She missed him—and with each day she missed him more instead of less.

She couldn’t forget him. She couldn’t even shake him out of her thoughts. She didn’t want to marry him, but this being away from him was terrible. She knew she was in love with him. And that romantic part of her wanted to marry him. But what if they married and he never fell in love with her? Would that kind of one-sided marriage work?

She ran her fingers through her hair and massaged her temples. His revenge plan still chilled her. Hot tears threatened, and she wiped her eyes in hurt and annoyance.

She couldn’t concentrate on work, and she didn’t think it was healthy to be so glum, but she couldn’t see a solution to these feelings she had for Blake. If she could just stop thinking about him...but everything in her life reminded her of him.

How long was she going to cry over him and miss him? Was she making a huge mistake by not saying yes to his proposal?

Early Wednesday morning, Nan informed Sierra she had a call. Sierra didn’t recognize the name, but she took the call anyway.

When the call ended, she stepped into Nan’s office. “That was a man representing Dirkson Callahan. He’s made an appointment to see me, and he’ll be here this afternoon at one.”

“Dirkson Callahan? Mercy. Do you think he’s here because you’re carrying his grandchild?” Nan asked.

Sierra shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. Dirkson Callahan wouldn’t even talk to his own son. Why would he be interested in a grandchild? Besides, he has a little granddaughter. Blake’s half brother has a little girl and Mr. Callahan has never made overtures to her.”

“What would he want to see you about? If he’s making a donation, he’d send it in the mail.”

“I don’t think that’s what it is.”

“This will send Bert into a frenzy trying to figure out what’s going on. Speaking of Bert—when he checked on the children’s shelter, he said Blake had sent a bat and three balls—a baseball, a soccer ball and a football—plus a baseball glove and new tennis shoes to William. He also sent new balls and gloves to the shelter so they’ll have more equipment.”

“That’s good news,” Sierra said, surprised and pleased.

“Bert said Mrs. Perkins at the shelter told him that Blake Callahan stopped by to see William. Are you still not taking his calls?”

“Yes,” Sierra said, shocked and lost in thought. Blake had taken the time to see William. She didn’t want to think about why that made her feel warm and hopeful. “He went by there. So he’s been in Kansas City?”

“Sierra, talk to him. You didn’t know he was here because you won’t take his calls.”

“That’s amazing that he’s been out to see William. Did Mrs. Perkins say anything about William joining the other kids?”

“Yes, she did. He’s been making friends. She said once he started talking to the other kids and playing with them, he seemed to like being with them. She said he’s changed a lot. He’s still shy with her and other adults, but not with kids.”

“That’s really good news,” Sierra said, surprised and pleased. “So Blake did help. I’ll tell him how great that was.”

“So you’ll talk to him?”

“I’ll think about it. I’m happy for William. I might just send Blake a text.”

Rolling her eyes, Nan left Sierra’s office. Sierra turned back to her desk, thinking about William, about Blake being in Kansas City and not calling, and about someone coming this afternoon who was sent by Dirkson Callahan. The last was the most puzzling to her.

At one o’clock, Nan ushered in a man she introduced as J. Wilson Sedgewick, who represented Dirkson Callahan.

Sierra faced a short man with a fringe of black hair and rimless spectacles that were perched on his nose. After she asked him to be seated, he opened a briefcase. “Ms. Benson, I’m here on behalf of Dirkson Callahan. He wishes to make a donation to this agency, particularly for a children’s shelter you have.” He handed a sealed envelope to her.

“It is in honor of his four sons, and he hopes it will help some less fortunate children.”

“Thank you,” she said, astonished, as she looked at the envelope in her hand. She began to open it. “Four sons?” she asked, remembering Cade and Gabe, the married son, Nathan—and Blake had to be the fourth. She opened the envelope and withdrew a folded paper. When she opened it, a check fluttered to her desk.

She read the handwriting scrawled across the page.In honor of my sons: Blake Callahan, Cade Callahan, Nathan Callahan, Gabe Callahan.

Dirkson Callahan.