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“Well, Rita, we have ourselves a situation.”
She smiled politely as she wondered if she would ever get used to her new name. At least she didn’t stare blankly when someone called her that. When she’d first run away from the wedding and those men with guns, her only thought had been to stay alive. Changing her name had made her feel safer. It was probably unnecessary, but it was too late now. Brady thought of her as Rita Howard and that’s who she was going to continue to be.
“There are over a dozen cowboys on the ranch,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Counting Tex and myself that’s nearly twenty men. Except for my dog, Princess, a few of the cats and some breeding stock, you’re the only female around.”
“Oh.” His words sank in. “Oh,” she repeated as heat climbed her cheeks.
“Yeah. Oh. So I’m going to give you a room up at the main house. I’m the only one who sleeps there, and I’m about as safe as they come.”
That wasn’t true, she thought, eyeing his broad shoulders and muscular thighs. She would bet he could be pretty dangerous when he chose to be. What he really meant was he wasn’t interested in her so she wouldn’t have to worry. It was no more than she expected. While children didn’t run in horror when they saw her walking down the street, no man had ever lost control because of her beauty, either.
“I appreciate the concern,” she said. “It won’t be a problem.”
“It better not be. I don’t want you making trouble with the men.”
Rita grinned. “Brady, don’t let that thought keep you up nights. I swear, if you catch me having my way with one of your cowboys, you won’t have to fire me. I’ll quit. As tempting as all that testosterone sounds, I’m going to do my best to resist.”
His answering smile caught her unaware. His eyes got all scrunchy, and there was a dimple in his left cheek. Until this moment she hadn’t noticed he was handsome, in a rugged cowboy kind of way.
Don’t be stupid, Randi told herself. The last thing she needed was to start thinking of Brady as anything but her employer. Hadn’t she learned anything in the past few weeks? She’d nearly married a man she didn’t love, and running out on the wedding had almost cost her her life.
“Fair enough,” he said, and led the way to the house.
Once inside, he quickly showed her around. She had brief impressions of worn but well-made furniture, lots of light and more room than a single man could possibly need.
“Is there a Mrs. Jones?” she asked as Brady headed for the stairs.
He glanced back at her. “My mom?”
“No. Are you married? Will your wife mind me being here?”
He turned away. “I told you that you were the only female here. My parents are away traveling.”
“Then, I won’t bother introducing myself to them.”
As he walked down the hallway, he pointed to partially open doors and identified which belonged to whom. His room was at the top of the stairs, a guest room stood across the hall. His parents’ bedroom was next to that and hers was down at the end.
The twelve-by-fourteen room had big windows that overlooked the barn and the bunkhouse beyond. She could see the leafy trees, the backyard and out into the open pastures. A tall dresser stood opposite the window. A desk sat in the corner. Like the rest of the furniture, the four-poster bed was light oak. The comforter and throw pillows were a neutral beige and light blue, and someone had draped a hand-crocheted throw on the foot of the bed.
“There’s a bathroom in there,” Brady said, pointing to the door on the right. “Closet’s on the other side. There’s towels, soap, I’m not sure what else. Let me know if you need anything.”
She moved past him, into the room. Sunlight spilled onto the hardwood floor. Oval rugs sat next to the bed and in front of the dresser.
“It’s great,” she said. “Thanks.”
“It’s not fancy, but it’s clean. A couple of ladies come in from town every couple of weeks and go over the place. They were here last week.”
She touched the smooth surface of the dresser. “They seem to do a great job.”
Brady stepped into the hallway. “Make yourself at home. You can use the television in the living room if you want. There’s a stereo in the study. I know it’s tough being in a strange place, so feel free to look around. Dinner’s at five. We eat early so we can go to bed early.”
At the mention of food, her stomach growled. No doubt the cook served simple food in large portions. She couldn’t wait.
Brady hovered for a couple of seconds, then nodded. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“I’ll be there.”
He left. She stayed by the dresser until his footsteps had faded. A minute later she caught sight of him leaving the house and heading back to the barn. She crossed the floor and watched him.
If this were a movie from the fifties, Randi had a feeling John Wayne would be playing the role of Brady Jones. The rancher appeared to be honest, hardworking and trustworthy. There was something solid about him. Maybe it wasn’t a romantic description, but it was one that made her feel safe. In the past few weeks, being safe had become a priority.
She folded her arms over her chest and curled her fingers into her palms. The action reminded her of Brady’s touch when he’d taken her hand in his. His strong fingers could have crushed her easily, yet she hadn’t been afraid. There’d been nothing threatening about his gesture, nothing sexual. He’d checked on her the way he would check on one of his horses—impersonally.
Except for a couple of pats on her butt when she’d worked in the truck stop, his was the first physical contact she’d had with a man in weeks. If things were different…
But they weren’t, she reminded herself briskly. She was a runaway bride with no plan. A man had tried to kill her and she didn’t know why. For now, all she wanted to do was survive and think. Eventually she was going to have to figure out what to do.
“Eventually,” she said softly. “But not today.”
She unpacked. As all she had were a spare pair of jeans, three T-shirts, one long-sleeved shirt and some underwear, it didn’t take long. The bathroom vanity had double sinks and lots of drawers and cupboards. Her brush, toothbrush and toothpaste barely filled two shelves in the medicine cabinet. A quick glance showed her the shower was clean and there was bar soap as well as shampoo. She opened the bottle and sniffed the expensive liquid. It was a far cry from the cheap stuff she’d been using. Amazing what she’d gotten used to in such a short period of time.
As she crossed the bedroom and headed for the hallway, she realized that except for feeling safe and talking to a few friends, there was little she missed of her old life. She didn’t even mind not belonging, maybe because she’d never belonged.
Briefly she allowed herself to wonder what her mother must be thinking. Assuming the older woman was over her fury. Randi shuddered at the thought of what her mother was going to say to her. So far, she’d avoided having that conversation.
“You’re a chicken,” she told herself. “A smart chicken, but a chicken all the same.”
She’d wanted to tell everyone she was all right so they wouldn’t worry, but she hadn’t wanted to talk to her mother. Instead, she’d phoned her brother Noah.
She didn’t want to think about that phone call she’d made the morning after she ran off, about the worry in his voice as he’d tried to talk to her through the static on the line. Eventually, they’d been cut off—by the stormy weather, she supposed. But in all these weeks, she’d never gotten the nerve up to call again. She liked to think she would have already gone back to face everyone—if it hadn’t been for those men with guns.
But she hadn’t mentioned them in her too brief conversation with Noah. Instinctively she’d guessed that he wouldn’t believe her. Why would he? It was such an insane story, she barely believed it herself. In the light of day it was easy to laugh off what had happened as some bizarre misunderstanding. But at night, when she was alone, the fear returned, and she knew that those few seconds when she’d faced death had been very, very real.
At least she’d recognized her brother had been right with his assessment of her character before the wedding. It was time for her to grow up. And that was what she was going to do while she was on the road. Grow up. Take responsibility for her actions and stop expecting other people to rescue her.
Maybe she should call again. It had been too many weeks since they’d tried to talk. But she didn’t really have anything to tell Noah, or anyone.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around at the large main room. Long sofas and overstuffed chairs filled the floor space. The homey prints, brass floor lamps and magazine-covered tables were so different from the cool elegance of her mother’s house. There wasn’t a nonfunctional antique in sight. Randi figured she should have been appalled or at least contemptuous. But she wasn’t. If anything, the room drew her in, invited her to stay awhile, to be comfortable. To be safe.
This room felt like home.
She crossed to the fireplace and stared at the pictures on the mantel. They showed an attractive couple, first as newlyweds, then in different stages of their lives. Randi picked up one that featured the parents and an eight- or nine-year-old Brady standing next to a horse. He proudly showed off a blue first-place ribbon.
The couple stood close, their arms brushing in a way that was intimate yet comfortable. The man beamed with pride as he rested his right hand on his son’s shoulder. Brady had his father’s size and strength, and his mother’s winning smile.
Randi touched the glass covering the picture and ignored the stab of longing. Someday she would find a place to belong and someone to love. Someday she would figure out what she wanted and be grown up enough to make it work.
Brady Jones was a lucky man. She hoped he was smart enough to appreciate all he had.
Chapter Two
Brady stood in the entrance to the dining room and watched his men talk about their day. They were an interesting group, these cowboys he’d hired. Some had spent years on the rodeo circuit, some had grown up on nearby ranches, some hired on to escape a present or a past they couldn’t handle. He was used to strays, but telling himself Rita was no different from anyone else wasn’t going to cut it. She was a woman and that made her different.
Had he made a mistake? Maybe he should have turned her away, despite the fact she had nowhere else to go. There were cities with shelters. Not around here, but in the bigger towns.
He didn’t want to be responsible. He didn’t want to have to care about a stranger’s fate. Yet he could no more escape that than he could change the color of his eyes or his height. He was his father’s son, and he’d learned early to look out for people.
He heard footsteps on the concrete path and grimaced. He didn’t even have to look over his shoulder to know it was her. Her step was lighter and quicker, her stride shorter. He’d hired a woman—what on earth had he been thinking?
As he turned to greet her, he reminded himself it was too late for second thoughts. He’d offered her a week’s trial, and he wasn’t about to go back on his word. He would make it clear to the men that she wasn’t to be given special treatment, nor was she to be considered available.
She smiled when she saw him. Her hair was damp and pulled back in a tight braid. So far no curls had escaped to tease at her face and neck. Although she’d showered, she’d put on the same inexpensive, worn clothing. Times had been hard. For a moment, he allowed himself to speculate about her past, then he pushed the thoughts aside. As long as she did her job, her past wasn’t his business.
“Hungry?” he asked.
She laughed and touched her flat stomach. “Starving. I could smell whatever is cooking the moment I stepped out of the house. I felt like one of those characters in a cartoon who floats along, inhaling the scent.”
Her bright smile made him respond in kind. Then his expression froze as he realized she was hungry because she hadn’t eaten that day. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he sensed it as surely as he believed the sun would rise in the morning. Dammit, why hadn’t he thought to offer her something earlier? There was food up at the house.
He opened his mouth to apologize, then clamped his lips tightly together. Rita might not have a lot of money, but she had pride. Tomorrow he would casually mention there was food available for her whenever she wanted.
“You ready to meet the gang?” he asked.
She nodded. “I can hear their voices. There sure are a lot of them.”
A faint ribbon of nervousness wove through her words, but she squared her shoulders and stepped into the dining room as if she wasn’t worried at all.
He followed her and waited for the men to notice. It didn’t take long. Within five seconds, the room was silent.
Brady glanced at Rita, who stared at the men. They stared back. He wondered what she thought of his ragtag group of cowboys. Like good-working cow ponies, they weren’t much to look at, but they got the job done.
In turn, he wondered what the men thought of Rita. She might not be conventionally pretty, but her big eyes and smile were lovely, she had great hair and the kind of shape that was pure temptation.
“This is Rita Howard,” he said. “She’s our new groom.”
Several of the men reached up and pulled off their hats.
Rita smiled and said, “Hi.” There were mumbled “hellos” in return.
Brady motioned to the table. “There’s no assigned seating, so plant your butt wherever’s comfortable. Tex serves plenty to eat.”
“If it d-doesn’t k-kill you on the way down,” Ziggy said, smiling at Rita.
“I’m hungry enough that nothing’s going to kill me,” Rita said. “Who are you?”
“Ziggy.”
“Nice to meet you.”
One by one the men introduced themselves. They were cautious and polite. Brady figured that would last a couple of days, and then Rita would become one of the boys. At least that was his hope. Except maybe for Ziggy, who was staring at Rita with a wide-eyed puppy dog gaze. Ziggy and Rita were about the same age, although he’d always thought of Ziggy as a kid.
The sharp clang of a bell cut through the conversation. The men quickly moved to the table and took seats. Ziggy held out a chair. “M-Miss R-Rita,” he said, his stutter more pronounced than usual.
Brady frowned. He didn’t want her treated that differently. But before he could say something, Rita moved to the offered chair and sat down.
“Thanks, Ziggy. Do you do this for a different cowboy every night?”
There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by an explosion of laughter. Ziggy’s face turned nearly as red as his hair. “No, ma’am. I ain’t never held a chair out for a man in my l-life.”
“I see.” She took a sip of iced tea. “Tell you what. Tomorrow night I’ll hold out your chair, then we’ll be even.”
“Yes, Miss Rita.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Just Rita, please. At six in the morning when you come to collect your horse, I’m going to be knee-deep in hay and horse manure. I won’t feel much like being called ‘Miss Anything’ then, okay?”
Brady saw that Ziggy had placed Rita to the right of the head of the table. As if he, Brady, were responsible for her. He was about to protest, then he realized it was probably for the best. Thinking he had a personal interest in Rita would keep the men from making any moves on her.
“Grub’s on,” Tex said, walking in the room carrying a large tray. He set it on a side table, then started placing bowls and platters in front of the men. On his second trip, he leaned close to Rita, caught sight of her and froze. His gaze narrowed.
“Tex, this is Rita,” Brady said. “She’s the new groom.”
“Uh-huh.” Tex straightened. “You much of a cook?”
Rita stared at him. “I’m terrible in the kitchen.”
“Uh-huh. We don’t do much in the way of fancy food here. No decorated cookies or sushi.”
“I’ve never had sushi,” Rita said. “I always thought raw fish was something you fed to cats.”
“Uh-huh.” He returned to the kitchen.
Brady took his seat. “Tex takes a little getting used to.”
“He’s jealous because you smell better than the food,” Quinn called from halfway down the table.
“Next time I won’t bother showering,” Rita mumbled under her breath. “Then that won’t be a problem.”
The dining room door opened and Ty stepped inside. A couple of men greeted him, but the majority didn’t acknowledge his presence. The tall, dark-haired loner didn’t encourage idle chitchat.
“Evening, Ty,” Brady said.
“Boss.” Ty walked toward the empty chair at the far end of the table, then paused when he saw Rita. “Ma’am.”
“This is Rita,” Brady told him. “She’s the new groom.”
Eyes so dark they were black didn’t show a flicker of emotion. Ty nodded briefly to Rita, then took his seat. Brady resisted the urge to slide his chair closer to hers, as if it was necessary to claim her. The point was to treat her like one of the guys. If that was possible. He’d already done a lot more thinking about her than was safe.
“You planning on eating or do you want to just look at the food?” Tex growled when he returned with another tray.
Brady realized they’d all just been sitting there, waiting for Rita to start. He nudged her arm and nodded toward a bowl overflowing with mashed potatoes. She grabbed the serving spoon and dropped a mound of fluffy potatoes onto her plate. As she passed the bowl to her left, Tex set a huge platter of fried chicken in front of her, then glared defiantly.
Rita glared right back. “Looks great,” she said, and speared the largest piece.
“You mean to tell me you ain’t got one of those prissy little girl appetites?”
“That’s exactly what I mean to tell you,” she said, and took a bite of chicken.
“Uh-huh.” Tex returned to the kitchen, but Brady would have sworn he was smiling.
* * *
Randi stepped out into the evening. The air had cooled some and the night creatures were warming up for their regular performance.
“Get enough to eat?” Brady asked, coming out of the dining room after her.
She laughed. “I can barely move. If these jeans weren’t loose to begin with I would have had to unbutton them.” She patted her stomach. “Three pieces of chicken, two servings of potatoes and vegetables, three rolls and dessert. Are you sure you want to include room and board in my salary?”
“The men eat twice what you do. It’s all the physical activity. These guys aren’t sitting behind a desk in some office. They’re outside working hard.”
At least they had an excuse, Randi thought. She’d been hungry from not eating much over the past couple of days. She shook her head, determined not to dwell on that. For now she was here and things were looking up.
She paused in front of the bunkhouse, not sure if she should say good-night or if Brady was walking back to the main house, as well. She took a tentative step in that direction and he moved with her.
“You made progress with Tex,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” she replied, trying to imitate the cook’s low, disbelieving tone.
Brady chuckled. “He’s proud of his culinary skills and enjoys people eating what he prepares. I’m sure he thought you were going to complain.”
“About someone else’s cooking? Never. Maybe tomorrow I’ll take that second piece of pie and he’ll actually smile at me.”
“Oh, that’s a tough one. It takes about a month of solid eating to earn one of Tex’s smiles.” Brady shoved his hands in his pockets. “The men aren’t usually like that.”
“I know.” At his quizzical glance she shrugged. “They’re showing off because I’m female and I’m new. They’ll get bored soon and I’ll be one of the guys.”
“You sound experienced.”
“I’m no expert, but I have a brother. He’s a lot like that. In fact—”
Randi crossed her arms over her chest and bit back a groan. What was she thinking, spilling personal information like that? She had been so careful since she’d run out on her wedding. She’d never let anything slip. It must be all the food making her sleepy, or maybe it was the ranch itself. Maybe here she could feel safe for a while.
If Brady noticed her faux pas, he didn’t let on. “I did warn you about being the only female around. But I think you’re right. They’ll get over it in a few days.”
“I can handle meaningless flattery until then.”
They’d reached the main house. Brady rested one foot on the stairs, but made no effort to climb up to the porch. “What makes you think it’s meaningless?”
She glanced down at herself, then at him. “Let’s just say I have no illusions.”
“Then you have some misconceptions.”
Randi wasn’t sure how to take that. Brady didn’t give her a chance to respond. He jerked his thumb toward the house. “We’ve got a satellite dish on the ranch so you can get a couple hundred channels, if you want to watch TV. There’s books in the library. I’ve got some work to do in my office, so you’ll have the place to yourself. ‘Night.”
With that he turned and walked away.
Rita stared after him. He moved easily through the darkness, walking a path he’d traveled thousands of times before. She waited until he disappeared into the barn before climbing to the porch and entering the house.
She touched the switch by the back door and lights sprang on in the kitchen. Having him come inside with her would have been awkward. Had Brady really wanted to return to his office to work, or was he giving her time alone so she could settle in? She suspected it was the latter. The guy was definitely a gentleman.
She left the light on for him and started up the stairs. Hal was socially correct and always knew which fork to use, but she wouldn’t have described him as a gentleman.
Hal. The longer she was away from him the more she wondered why she’d been willing to go out with him or get engaged. Worse, she’d nearly married the man. What had been wrong with her?
Once in her room, she crossed to the window and stared out at the clear West Texas night sky. Stars twinkled. During the day the heat was oppressive, but at night it cooled off some. She inhaled the scents of horses and grasses, flowers and hay.
What quirk of fate had brought her to this particular ranch, to this place of misfits and strays? She thought about the cowboys she’d met at dinner. Ziggy with his stutter; Quinn, whose left arm and hand were nearly useless; Ty, the mysterious loner. There were others, a collection that defied description. Oddly enough, she fit right in. A woman on the run from a man she didn’t want to marry and two strangers who wanted her dead.
She leaned against the windowsill. Her gaze settled on the barn, specifically on the light shining from an office in the back. “Who are you, Brady Jones? Why do you bother with the likes of us?”
She didn’t have an answer and she didn’t need one. Around Brady, she felt safe. After nearly two months on the run, there was nothing she wanted more, except maybe to find a place to belong.
Her body ached with exhaustion, yet she made no move to get into bed. Sleep was hard to come by these days. Of course, tonight she wasn’t on her own anymore. She was on a ranch, surrounded by cowboys. Soon Brady would return to the room down the hall. She wouldn’t be able to hear him, but she would know he was there. Maybe that would be enough to allow her to relax. Maybe tonight she would finally be able to sleep without dreaming or waking up at every unfamiliar sound.
Chapter Three
It was still dark when Brady made his way to the barn the next morning. There were lights on in the bunkhouse, and the smell of coffee wafted through the still air. He’d heard Rita walk past his bedroom door at ten minutes after four, so he knew she’d gotten up on time. At least one of his concerns had been addressed. Which left all the others. She’d claimed to have worked in a stable for several years, but without being able to check references, he had no way of verifying that information. Did she know her way around a horse? What kind of job was she doing?