Honeymoon With the Rancher

“Of course.”

She smiled, feeling much better knowing she had an ally. “I was supposed to arrive at the Vista del Cielo this afternoon. He claimed this is it, but I am sure he was wrong.”

“This is the Vista del Cielo, but you were not expected.”

Her smile faltered as alarm jolted through her body. “Perhaps there is another Vista del Cielo?” she suggested, trying desperately to sound pleasant and not panicked. “I am booked there for the next week.”

The man’s scowl deepened. “No, we are the only one. But we have no bookings for this week. We did, but it was cancelled last month.”

“This is a hotel, then.”

“An estancia, yes. A guest ranch.”

A guest ranch. This was no mistake, she realized with a sinking heart. She remembered Antoine’s voice as he’d teased her. It will be different, he’d boasted. Lots of privacy for a newly married couple.

Looking back now, the idea made her blush. The thought of being here alone with Antoine made her suddenly self-conscious in front of the man before her. Thank goodness she’d at least been spared that.

Still, it seemed inconceivable that Antoine, with his lavish tastes, would have booked them here. It looked quiet and peaceful—a definite bonus to her—but it still didn’t seem to compute with what she’d expected. “Where is the spa? The pool?” After her long dusty trip, the idea of dipping into the pool for a refreshing swim sounded heavenly. Perhaps a hot tub to soothe the muscles that had been cramped up in an airplane and then the taxi. She could nearly feel the bubbles on her skin already. Maybe this place was more rustic than she’d anticipated, but she knew Antoine would have demanded a certain standard.

“That’s why we had to cancel the reservations. There was a fire. I’m afraid the spa building as well as others were destroyed. Thankfully the house was spared.”

Everything in Sophia went cold and the polite smile slid from her face. “Fire?”

“Yes…we’ve cancelled everything until the repairs are made and things rebuilt. The pool made it through, but we’ve had to have it drained because of the ash and debris.”

Sophia felt a growing sense of despair. She stared around her, wondering how things could have gone so perfectly pear-shaped. Her gaze caught on the odd looking tree, standing like a solitary sentinel in the middle of the plain. It looked exactly as she felt. Alone. And lonely. She was beginning to understand that they were two completely separate things.

“Perhaps if you told me your name, we could sort it out,” he said, a little impatiently.

“The reservation was under Antoine Doucette.”

The man’s face changed as understanding dawned. “The honeymoon.” Then he looked confused again, looked at her cases, and back again. “And the other half of the happy couple?”

Sophia lifted her chin. She could do this. She could. She could get past the embarrassment and the hurt and explain dispassionately. She had faced worse in the last months. She’d faced Antoine, her family and friends, even the chokehold of the press closing in around her. She could handle one annoying Argentinian…whatever he was. Farmer? Gaucho? Who was he to judge her?

“I came alone. I’m afraid the marriage did not take place.”

“I see. I am sorry, señorita.”

His words said apology but his tone certainly did not. It was strictly polite and almost…cold. “Don’t be,” she replied, putting her hand on her hip. “I’m not.” It was only a half lie. She wasn’t sorry she had called off the wedding. Under the circumstances it had been the right thing to do.

But it had been far from easy. She’d bear the scars from it for a long, long time.

A huff of surprise erupted from his mouth, followed by mutterings in Spanish that she couldn’t understand. That made her angry. It made her feel inadequate and even more of an outsider, and she was tired of that feeling.

“Why were we not notified of the cancellation, then?” She pressed on, annoyed.

“I don’t know.” His brow furrowed. “Maria handles all the reservations and business. I can’t imagine her making a mistake.”

“Someone did. I’m here, aren’t I?”

And so she was. She had to convince him to let her stay. Antoine had thrown in her face how he’d not bought travel insurance and her breaking their engagement would cost him thousands of dollars. She’d told herself she had nothing to feel guilty about—after all, he wa

s the one who’d been caught red-handed. She’d also spent money on a wedding that had never happened. The dress. The deposits for the printer, the reception, flowers, cake—all the trappings of a society wedding. His protests about the honeymoon money had fallen on deaf ears. It was only money. It would take a long time to replace it, but it would take longer to erase the pain of his betrayal. It was the betrayal that had hit her deep in her soul. She had been blind, had not recognized the signs. She had been left wondering if she could ever trust her own judgment again.

And now she was in Argentina with no place to stay.

She could go back to Buenos Aires. She could try to change her ticket and go home with her tail between her legs. Or she could book herself in somewhere and stay for the duration. It would mean taking most of her savings to pay for the hotel and food, but she’d have her dignity.