Blacksmith's Beauty (River's End Ranch Book 19) Read online

  Copyright © 2017, Caroline Lee

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  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  First edition: 2017

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  Since moving to River’s End Ranch to take over the blacksmith shop, Elvis “Elf” Redfern has been surrounded on all sides by deliriously happy couples in love. And despite his well-earned reputation as a flirt, he’s beyond jealous. He’s ready to find the love of his life—like his sisters have done—and figures that Christmas is just the time to make it happen.

  Which probably means that he shouldn’t have taken that bet about kissing the first woman he sees, huh?

  Belle Kalani is used to fending off men; as a former beauty queen, she understands that most only want to spend time with her because of her appearance. But Elf is different; he sees past her beauty to the part of her that’s desperate for friendship. And when he reveals a surprising talent, all bets are off when it comes to True Love and Christmas at River’s End Ranch!

  Mele Kalikimaka!

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  SNEAK PEEK

  Other works by Caroline Lee

  River’s End Ranch:

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  Blacksmith’s Beauty

  River’s End Ranch

  Book Nineteen

  Dedication:

  For my neighbor Dave, who doesn’t read romance at all, but who one day said to me,

  “These days, everybody’s chatting on Facebook before they go on dates anyhow.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  “It’s mid-December, man. Put on a shirt, for crying out loud.”

  Elf Redfern paused mid-swing to look over at his best friend. Andrew was stomping snow from his work boots as he pulled his gloves off, but Elf hadn’t even noticed the door opening: that’s how hot it was in the smithy.

  Rather than replying, he focused once more on the delicate flower petal he was affixing to the iron stem. His iron roses had become hugely popular souvenirs from River’s End Ranch, and this one was just…about…

  “Done.” He straightened and ran the back of one gloved hand across his forehead, wiping the sweat away. “Now, what were you saying?”

  Andrew had unzipped his coat and was lounging against the table that held all of Elf’s finished creations—and the cash register—with his legs crossed at the ankle and a bag of sunflower seeds already in his hand. The engineer always seemed to be snacking on something.

  “I said,” Andrew repeated around a mouthful of seeds, “that it’s mid-December, snowing outside, this is Idaho, and you need to put a shirt on.”

  Elf snorted and stepped back from the anvil. With a pair of tongs he carefully lifted, then plunged the iron rose into a handy bucket of water. The steam that exploded upwards was fragrant in a way he couldn’t ever describe. He loved it.

  “It might be snowing outside, but it’s burning up in here. And besides, I’m not violating any regulations.” He wore a heavy leather apron with his gloves, and was so covered in sweat and soot that it wasn’t like he was naked or anything. At least, none of the tourists had complained…

  He smirked. “You’re just jealous that you have to wear a uniform and I don’t.”

  Andrew snorted his agreement and popped another handful of seeds into his mouth. He was talented enough to separate all the seeds from the shells while they were in his mouth, and spit the shells out separately. It was a surprisingly meticulous way to snack, and his own uniform shirt was tucked neatly into dark cargo pants.

  Elf did have a uniform, but he only had to wear it when he was on duty as the ranch’s mechanic in the mornings. He could make the facility’s four-wheelers, snowmobiles, and golf carts hum…but his real passion was his afternoons. As soon as the clock chimed one, and he could go on his lunch break, he peeled off that uniform shirt and headed for his smithy.

  Here, he was surrounded by his real tools and he could craft anything he wanted to, as long as he did it with old-fashioned tools to wow the tourists. Fine by him; they paid more for knickknacks they saw made anyhow. The Westons might be paying him an hourly wage for his mechanic’s work on the ranch’s fleet of vehicles, but he made more money here in the smithy, selling his art to tourists.

  And now, in the weeks leading up to Christmas, he’d been selling these little iron roses like hotcakes. Pulling this one out of the water, he was pleased to see that it still looked good. He’d been concerned about the forge’s heat on that last weld, but it had held. Once it cooled a bit, he’d go over the whole thing with a wire brush, and bet it would be sold by this evening.

  “Nah,” Andrew replied.

  Elf started. Not only had he forgotten what they’d been talking about, he’d completely forgotten his friend was still there. Not the first time he’d been lost in his creations, he admitted ruefully.

  “Nah, what?”

  “Nah, I’m not jealous. I don’t want to have to scrape the ladies off me like you do.”

  Elf chuckled as he used the tongs to carefully place the new rose on a workbench to cool. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

  “Nope.” Andrew poured another handful of seeds out of the bag. “You know the ladies find you irresistible.” He sounded almost…bitter?

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re some kind of chick magnet. I’m guessing it’s got something to do with standing around half-naked.”

  “I am not,” Elf protested. “I mean, not the naked thing. Whatever. You know what I mean.”

  “I’ll bet that you standing around like that is just your way of getting women interested. I’ll bet that with those biceps you could have any lady you wanted.” Andrew popped the seeds into his mouth, and bit down hard.

  Elf winced, both at the sound of the seeds crunching and his friend’s assumption. The problem was, Andrew was right. Elf had been blessed with an easy smile, a handsome face, and a God-given talent for flirting which made him a favorite with almost every female he met. He’d been on more dates than he could remember, and not a single one of them had meant a darn thing to him.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled, reaching for the bellows to ready the fire for the next round of forging.

  “You’re a ladies-man, Elf. You probably think you can get any woman, huh?” Luckily, Andrew’s voice was teasing. “A random woman struts through your door, you know you can just flash those pearly whites at her and flex those arms, and she’s putty in your hands, huh?”

  Unfortunately. Elf snorted, then muttered, “You’r
e probably right,” under his breath.

  Andrew crowed triumphantly. “Modest much, eh?” When Elf glanced over at his friend, the other man was grinning. “Put your money where your mouth is.”

  “What?”

  “Take my bet.”

  Elf was lost. “What bet?”

  “You think you can get any woman who walks through your door, huh? You feeling confident?”

  How’d things end up this far? Elf shook his head. “You mean, a random single lady walks through the door, and I…what? Seduce her? Date her?” He scoffed. The whole thing was ludicrous. He turned back to his fire.

  “Kiss her.”

  “What?”

  Andrew crunched into more seeds behind Elf’s back. “Kiss her. Say, within a week. You’ve got a week to kiss the next random single lady who walks through that door.”

  “What?” Elf swung around to gape at his friend. “And what happens if I don’t?”

  “You owe me a hundred bucks.”

  Elf almost laughed at the other man’s easy claim. A hundred dollars? Ridiculous. Besides, he had no interest in winning that bet. Over the last few months, he’d come to realize he didn’t want dates that meant nothing, or flirtations that never went anywhere. Since coming to River’s End Ranch and seeing his sisters so blissfully happy with their new husbands, he’d realized that he was looking for…

  More.

  So no, he wasn’t about to put a hundred dollars on the fact that he could get a kiss out of some unsuspecting woman. Not only would it be too easy, it would be meaningless. And he very much wanted to find some meaning in a kiss. He wasn’t going to find it betting on the next woman to walk through his door.

  And he was just about to tell Andrew to keep his money, when the door to the smithy nudged open. This time, Elf felt the cold breeze, since he wasn’t hunched over a lump of hot wrought iron, but when he glanced in the direction of the door, he was surprised no one came inside.

  Instead, there was a faint snuffling noise, and Elf was saved from having to respond to his friend when a small pig poked its pink snout through the opening, and then wiggled the rest of the way inside his smithy.

  The pig—the pig?—was wearing tiny purple booties—pigs wore shoes?—and what looked like a hand-knitted red and white sweater. It met his eyes—do all pigs have such small beady eyes?—oinked delicately, then trotted primly for the workbench Elf had just set the iron rose on top of. It pushed aside the leather curtain that circled the piece of the furniture, and tucked itself underneath.

  There was a pig in his smithy. A pig!

  Elf opened his mouth for a full two seconds, then closed it again and pursed his lips. Another dozen heartbeats went by—him staring dumbfounded at the workbench in the corner, before he tried again. “Did… Uh. Did a pig just run in here?”

  “Sure looks like it,” Andrew replied, popping another fistful of sunflower seeds in his mouth.

  “Is that…” Elf blinked and looked around the shop, as if the answers hid someplace nearby. “Is that normal? I mean… I mean, I haven’t been in Idaho long, but are there feral pigs here? It’s winter, right? And I mean, that obviously wasn’t feral, right? Feral pigs don’t wear Christmas sweaters, right?”

  “Beats me, but I’m not going to be distracted that easily.”

  Elf thrust one gloved hand towards the workbench in exasperation. “By a pig, man! A pig just ran into my shop!”

  “Yep, a cute little piggy. But I’m not going to let dinner distract me from my bet.”

  “Your bet?” Elf let the bellows ease off, knowing that he wasn’t going to be starting the next ingots melting any time soon. “Come on. Help me catch it and get it out of here.”

  Andrew meticulously folded the top of his seed bag and jammed it down into the side pocket of his uniform pants. “Nope. Not ‘til you take the bet.”

  The bet? He was still on about that?

  “What? Fine.” Elf rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll get a kiss from whatever lady you want.” It was galling to admit that he wasn’t being boastful. As much as he wanted to avoid temporary relationships, they didn’t seem to want to avoid him.

  “In a week? You honestly think you’re so suave you can get a random lady—the very next single lady to walk through that door—to kiss you within a week, and you’re going to put a hundred bucks on it?”

  Elf growled under his breath and, picking up his still-warm hammer, took two steps towards the workbench. Was the leather curtain quivering? How was he even supposed to catch a pig? Did they come when called? “Yes, fine. Whatever. A hundred bucks.” Only at this moment, he was beginning to think that he’d pay Andrew just to drop the bet nonsense and come help him with this pig. “Now get your butt over here and cover that corner. I’m going to try to shoo him out the door again.”

  Just as the two men moved into position, they heard a voice from outside the shop. “Kalua? Kalua, where are you? Tootles!”

  Elf exchanged a confused look with Andrew, who shrugged. The door opened again.

  And when she entered, all Elf could think was, God bless Andrew’s bet.

  The woman was gorgeous. She was wearing a long gray skirt that swirled around her legs in a tantalizing way, and she made that snow-dusted pea coat look good in a way that a Southern boy like Elf could only dream of. She had skin a few shades darker than his own, which set off her blonde hair and the exotic tilt of her dark eyes. He’d never seen anyone with that combination of coloring before. Maybe that was why his mouth had just gone dry.

  “Hi.” She grinned brightly. “I’m looking for my pig.”

  Belle managed not to wince. Worst opening line ever. I’m looking for my pig? She managed not to snort. What must that bronzed god over there think of her? And what did it matter what he thought of her?

  Sure, he was the most gorgeous-looking man she’d seen in a long while, with his thick dark hair and piercing blue eyes and those shoulders that had to be as wide as she was tall. And sure, his sexy bare arms were covered in soot in a way that made him look like he’d been working hard. And sure, he was shirtless and sweaty and masculine and stirring something primitive and sensual inside her and that didn’t matter at all, she reminded herself firmly. Not at all.

  She wasn’t interested in a man for his looks. No matter how delicious his looks were. No matter how mouth-watering sexy his shoulders looked underneath that old-fashioned leather apron that made him look right at home here in the Old West town, and no matter that she’d always had a thing for men who worked with their hands, and—

  No. Not interested.

  Belle forced her smile wider, although she felt her jaw pop from her tightly clenched teeth. “Have you see him?”

  “Who?” The other man—not her gorgeous giant—asked, and Belle remembered that she wasn’t alone with River’s End Ranch’s new blacksmith. She also realized that the blacksmith—assuming that’s who he was, standing there in his gloves and holding a hammer—was still staring at her with his mouth open.

  “My pig. Kalua.”

  The second man’s eyes darted towards the workbench in the corner. The blacksmith’s eyes hadn’t left her at all.

  “Kalua? Like the drink?” the man asked.

  “No.” She sighed. “Like the pork dish. His real name is Tootles, but it’s not like that’s any better. So when he’s being particularly annoying, I call him Kalua.”

  A deep rumble startled her, and when she glanced back at the sexy blacksmith, she realized he was laughing. His even white teeth stood out in the darkness of his beard, and she found her smile easing into a genuine one.

  “Have dinner with me.”

  His invitation caught her by surprise, and her smile froze. “What?”

  “Have dinner with me. Tonight?”

  “No.” Her denial was immediate, instinctual.

  “Why not?” His easy grin was heart-melting and confident, not at all like a man who’d just been turned down.

  “Because you don’t know a thing abou
t me.” He was reacting to her looks, just like every other man under the sun. Her beauty, which had won her titles, had never been anything but a pain when it came to her love life.

  “I know you named your pet pig after a pork dish, and that makes me want to know more about you. And I can’t do that unless you hang out with me. Like at dinner.”

  He has a point, her treacherous heart whispered. She tamped down on it. “No, but thank you.” Men who looked as fine as he did were only ever interested in her for her appearance. And, she had to admit that she’d been reacting only to his appearance as well.

  He really was gorgeous.

  “Lunch?” he asked hopefully. “Tomorrow? I eat lunch at Kelsey’s Kafé most days.”

  “No…” This time her denial was a bit slower, a bit more hesitant.

  Maybe he noticed, because his eagerness didn’t diminish. “Coffee? Sadie’s Saloon makes the best coffee around.”

  Belle’s conviction wavered. She was a sucker for anything frothy. “When?”

  His smile grew, and she told herself that it wasn’t actually triumphant. It just looked that way. “Right now. I’m about to go on my break.”

  “Your break?” The other man snorted. “You don’t—”

  “Yep, my break.” The blacksmith was already untying his apron. “Which I take. Right now, in fact. And my best bud, Andrew here, was going to watch the shop for me. Isn’t that right, Andrew?”

  The other man—Andrew—shook his head. “I’m still on call.”

  “You’re always on call; you’re the engineer. You can be on call from here,” he replied. She hadn’t noticed his delightful Southern accent. It was faint, but charming.

  “Fine, you lucky dog.” Why did Andrew glance at her when he’d said that? “But if the front desk rings me, I’m leaving your shop for whatever passing ruffians want to ransack it.”