High Country Homecoming

He left a soldier...and returned a cowboy.

Can Rocky Mountain Ranch make him a husband?

After a medical discharge from the marines, all Devlin Langford wants is peace and solitude on his Montana ranch. Instead, he finds his childhood nemesis, Chloe Kenner, in his rental cabin. The cheerful cookbook writer can’t forget how she once pestered him—and crushed on him. Is her sunny smile just what he needs to begin healing?

A USA TODAY bestselling and award-winning author of over thirty-five novels, ROXANNE RUSTAND lives in the country with her husband and a menagerie of pets, including three horses, rescue dogs and cats. She has a master’s in nutrition and is a clinical dietitian. RT Book Reviews nominated her for a Career Achievement Award, two of her books won their annual Reviewers’ Choice Award and two others were nominees.

Also By Roxanne Rustand

Love Inspired

Rocky Mountain Ranch

Montana Mistletoe

High Country Homecoming

Aspen Creek Crossroads

Winter Reunion

Second Chance Dad

The Single Dad’s Redemption

An Aspen Creek Christmas

Falling for the Rancher

Rocky Mountain Heirs

The Loner’s Thanksgiving Wish

Love Inspired Suspense

Big Sky Secrets

Fatal Burn

End Game

Murder at Granite Falls

Duty to Protect

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

High Country Homecoming

Roxanne Rustand

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09667-6

HIGH COUNTRY HOMECOMING

© 2019 Roxanne Rustand

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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She was impossible to forget.

Looking at those big blue eyes that were staring at him with recognition and horror, he felt memories slam into him.

He hadn’t seen her since he was sixteen, when she’d been his persistent shadow. The bane of his existence. “Chloe? What are you doing here?”

She blushed. “I—I thought you were in the military. Your family said—”

Apparently her memories of him weren’t that happy, either. “I’ve been back a couple days. They were expecting me.”

“I...um...I’m renting a cabin here on the ranch. For a few months.”

He gaped. “Months?” he repeated, hoping he’d heard her wrong.

She nodded as she grabbed her suitcase. “Well...I guess I’d better get settled.”

Of all people to show up while he was trying to regain a sense of peace and figure out how to start his life over!

As he watched her enter the cabin, he couldn’t help feeling as if he were wavering on a fragile precipice with unknown, dangerous water below. Blue water the same color as Chloe’s eyes.

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for joining me in Montana ranch country.

High Country Homecoming is the second novel in my Rocky Mountain Ranch series, and this book was such fun to write. It combines some of the things in life that I love the most—faith, strong family connections, horses, dogs and country life...and cooking! And it even provided a nice reconnection to a wonderful old friend, attorney William Roemerman, who helped with legal aspects of the heroine’s past.

My husband and I live out in the country with three horses, two rescue dogs and a number of rescued kitties. I’ve had horses since I was a little girl of six, so whenever I start a book series set in ranch country, it makes me feel right at home. And in this book, my heroine Chloe is an avid cook—a woman after my own heart.

Since she’s working on a cookbook with recipes gleaned from her beloved grandmother’s recipe box, I thought you might like to try one of those recipes—which is actually a recipe that I have been making for decades!

If you enjoyed this book, you can check harlequin.com or other online bookstores for the first in this series, Montana Mistletoe. The third title will be out in early 2020.

You can reach me at: www.roxannerustand.com, http://Facebook.com/roxanne.rustand, http://Facebook.com/roxanne.rustand.author.

Or by regular mail at: PO Box 2550, Cedar Rapids, Iowa 52406

Wishing you a lifetime of blessings,

Roxanne Rustand

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth.

—1 Corinthians 13:4–8

With love to Danielle, Ben, Lily, Violet and Finn. You light up my life!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Grandma Lydia’s Chocolate Chip Cookies

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Home. Sort of, anyway.

Chloe Kenner glanced down the hill toward the sprawling ranch-style home sheltered by pines, then scanned the horse and cattle barns far below. Assured that no one was watching, she did a happy dance of joy.

She’d lived on the Langfords’ remote Montana ranch for five years as a little girl, while following her dad from his erratic employment at one ranch to the next. Even though their abrupt departure had been clouded with the usual embarrassment and regret, she still had warm memories of two of the three Langford boys and their sweet grandma, Betty.

The middle brother—Devlin—was another story altogether. But when she’d called to ask about renting a cabin, Betty had said Devlin was career military and rarely visited. And though everyone would be gone when Chloe hoped to arrive, her isolated cabin would be unlocked and ready, and she was to make herself at home.

Perfect. Complete peace and quiet.

After the calamitous end of her secretarial job in Minneapolis, heavy local news coverage of the debacle had ensured that she was nearly unemployable there. At least until one particularly rabid reporter gave up and decided to leave her in peace, and all of the others forgot about her and moved on. But surely none of them would find her clear out here in Montana.

She’d been skillfully framed by her conniving former boss—who had lied about being single and had declared his undying love, while embezzling from investment clients, then he’d pinned the crime on her when he was caught. How had she been so blind? Such a poor judge of character? Just the thought of ever risking another romance made her shudder.

But the thought of looming bankruptcy was worse. With no interruptions for the next three months, she could finish her writing projects and pray they would help pay off her staggering legal debts.

She shifted the weight of her heavy backpack, bowed her head and resolutely dragged her bulky suitcase up the rocky trail to the first of three cabins that she remembered were strewn amongst the trees.

The unfamiliar higher elevation had her panting as she struggled onward, but the crisp pine scent was so sharp and pure, so reminiscent of the past, she knew she was already grinning from ear to ear when she finally caught sight of a cabin partly hidden by the trees to the right.

Pebbles skittered down the steep path far ahead of her. A twig snapped.

Her heart lurched. She drew in a sharp breath, her eyes riveted on the trail that wound through some boulders and disappeared into the trees.

Bears.

Mountain lions.

Even wolves were possible here, in the foothills of the Rockies. She eyed the distance to the cabin. Too far. Running might make her look like scared, easy prey. Like a big, tasty rabbit.

She eased her backpack onto one shoulder and pulled the suitcase alongside her hip to widen her profile, raised her arms to look more intimidating, and then as a forewarning, began belting out the only song she could think of.

Another twig snapped.

A tall form sauntered into view, backlit by early evening sun. She couldn’t make out his features, yet she instantly knew who he was. Trouble. The song died on her lips as she blinked and swallowed hard.

If only it had been a bear.

* * *

“‘Jingle bells’?” Devlin drawled.

Bright flags of color turned the young woman’s face as pink as the roses his late mother had planted along the front of the main ranch house, turning her into a riot of color with that fluorescent-yellow T-shirt and the cloud of curly dark auburn hair that had partly escaped her ponytail. Several silver bracelets gleamed on her right wrist.

His first thought was that he’d like to get to know her a whole lot better.

His second was that a woman like this one wouldn’t want to be seen with someone like him. Six months ago, maybe. But not anymore.

He searched her face, his gut telling him that he knew her. From high school? College? Maybe an old neighbor? After so many years in the military, he’d lost touch with everyone around here.

Yet a lovely woman like this one would be impossible to forget, with that delicate ivory complexion, playful scattering of small freckles across her nose, and big blue eyes the size of pansies that were now looking up at him with recognition and utter horror.

A cascade of memories tinged with guilt slammed through his thoughts.

He hadn’t seen her since he was sixteen and she’d been his spindly, persistent shadow. An eleven-year-old chatterbox who had been the bane of his existence. “Chloe?”

“I—I thought you were in the Marines,” she stammered, her blush deepening. “Betty said...”

Apparently her memories of him weren’t that happy, either. “I’ve been back just a of couple days. They weren’t expecting me.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze sliding past him. “I...um...I’m renting a cabin here. For a few months.”

He stared at her, at a loss for words.

While the family was piling into his brother Jess’s SUV to leave for California yesterday morning, Betty had mentioned that someone was coming to stay in the cabin nearest the house.

He could now guess why she’d conveniently neglected to say who it was, or for how long. Betty had always seemed to know Devlin better than he knew himself, and surely she’d seen how Chloe had pestered him all those years ago.

But he still couldn’t imagine why the renter had to be this Pollyanna, who could cheerfully talk nonstop for hours without taking a breath. What on earth would she do with herself on this lonely, isolated ranch? Bother him, no doubt.

Pine Bend, Montana, population 1,200, was a good fifteen miles away, and the town beyond was another twenty miles, with even fewer residents.

“Months?” he repeated, hoping he’d heard her wrong—which was always a possibility, given his battle-damaged hearing.

She nodded as she shifted the weight of her backpack and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. “Well, then...I guess I’d better get settled.”

His vision of blessed, healing solitude evaporated. Sure, there were others living here at the ranch, but none of them were intrusive, and even his brother’s six-year-old twins seemed to sense that he needed to be left alone.

The Chloe he remembered had no such sense of personal boundaries.

He sighed, giving in to the inevitable. Dad had bought up several neighboring ranches at foreclosure auctions before he passed away. Maybe Devlin could use one of those houses if any were vacant.

Still, the strict code of manners instilled in him since childhood nudged at him. “Do you need help with that luggage?”

She shook her head and veered off the trail, onto the path toward the cabin, clearly laboring against the weight of that ridiculously large suitcase and the steep incline.

She was still stubborn, too.

He silently strode over to her and took the handle, carried the bag up to the cabin and opened the door wide.

He surveyed the interior, which was in far better condition than the other two cabins up the hill that had been empty for years. Betty had clearly done her best to make this one welcoming.

The windows were open to let in the crisp mountain air, a Mason jar on the table held a bouquet of wildflowers and through the open bedroom door, he could see a stack of fresh towels waiting on a bright patchwork quilt. The hardwood floors gleamed.

Chloe came inside behind him and dropped her backpack by the door with a soft gasp of wonder. “It’s almost the same as when I was a girl.”

She stood close enough that he heard almost every word clearly before she walked into the center of the main room and turned slowly, taking in the stone fireplace, the pine paneling, the sofa draped with a quilt and the dark pine rocking chair in the corner. Beyond an L-shaped counter with a breakfast bar and three bar stools, the rustic pine cabinets and updated kitchen appliances gleamed.

“This was always the foreman’s cabin, but I hear the last one left last November. Looks like Jess has done quite a bit of work in here.” He backed toward the open door and spun on his heel to leave.

At the touch of Chloe’s hand on his sleeve, he froze.

“Thank you,” she said. “This will be perfect.”

He nodded and made his escape without turning his right side toward her, avoiding the inevitable for a little while longer.

Initially, he’d been self-conscious, and had become adept at concealing his scars with collared, long-sleeved shirts and by the way he angled his face away during a conversation.

Now it was just a reflex.

For the most part, he’d learned to mask his more invisible and aggravating losses. The significant loss of his hearing, even with hearing aids. Loss of perfect vision in his right eye.

But even though he no longer cared what people thought of his appearance, he did dread the automatic gush of sympathy and empty platitudes from strangers who could surely care less.

But it was all relative.

Seeing Chloe again brought back his dark, helpless sense of being damaged, though his war injuries didn’t hold a candle to the crushing burden of what had happened on this ranch when he was just a kid.

Why did she have to show up while he was trying to start his life over?

Until last spring he’d been a Marine, an invincible warrior in control of his life. Now he was a disfigured man with disabilities, with nightmares that could hit without warning.

He’d spent the past six months recovering from multiple surgeries, knowing the military would never take him back for active duty. But last month, that sense of hopelessness had changed, thanks to an old buddy from the Marines who recommended him for a job. A perfect job.

And so he’d applied for a field position with a nationally acclaimed, high-tech security company. The recruiter had been doubtful, wondering if Devlin was still capable, but had given him until the first of July to prove he could handle the job.

And Devlin would do it. No question.

He would focus on regaining his strength, his dexterity. His accuracy with a weapon. And by July 1 he would be packing his bags for New York so his could reclaim his life, and a future. Having a firm goal had given him a new sense of hope.

But now, with Chloe’s arrival, instead of peace, he felt as if he were wavering on a fragile precipice with unknown, dangerous water below.

Was it the memory of her endlessly cheerful smile? The way she’d always tried to convince him that everything in his world was rosy, when as a young boy he was dealing with grief and guilt that never faded and a father who...

Even without hearing her footsteps, he sensed her coming up behind him. Stifling a sigh, he stopped in his tracks and spun around to face her.

“Look, I know we weren’t exactly friends when my dad was the foreman here. In fact,” she added with a rueful smile, “I suspect I was an awful pest.”

That much was true.

She’d shadowed his every move and asked a million questions every day, so in return he’d learned to retaliate by being a relentless tease—taunting her about her carrot-red hair, her freckles, her skinny legs—anything to just make her go away.

Never in a million years would he have told her that her hair was the prettiest color he’d ever seen, or that he’d always thought her freckles were cute. Looking back on his cruel younger self, he felt a flash of remorse.

“We were just kids. And you were almost like a sis—” He stumbled over the word.

“Sister,” she said softly, her eyes all too knowing. “I never knew the right things to say. But I saw the pain you and your brothers went through after your little sister died. And how cruel your dad was to you boys afterward. I just wanted to make things better somehow. Instead I probably drove you all crazy.”

His sense of guilt sharpened.

Life hadn’t been easy for her either, with an alcoholic father and a mother who’d ditched them both. Yet there she’d been, a little girl earnestly trying to help everyone else at the ranch after Heather’s death. Grandma Betty had called her a pint-size Pollyanna, but in return, he hadn’t been kind at all.

“Um... I can see my arrival is a surprise,” she added with a fleeting, wistful smile. “But don’t worry. I’ll be working in my cabin, making my own meals, and I won’t be a bother. You’ll hardly ever see me. Promise.”

The impact of her words hit him like a fist to the gut.

He’d put in his latest set of hearing aids from the VA this morning to give them one last try—though they sure didn’t help much and were aggravating to boot. Now he almost wished he hadn’t, because her meaning was all too clear. She figured making herself invisible was the best way to make him happy, and the sad part was that she was right.

Feeling like a jerk, he started to dredge up an apology, but she walked away without turning back.

* * *

After finishing up the late afternoon chores, Devlin glanced at the time and headed back to his cabin.

He’d felt edgy and off-balance since Chloe’s unexpected arrival, though there certainly was no reason for it.

She planned to keep to herself.

He planned to do the same.

In fact, once the rest of the family came home from California, Dev would work on remodeling his cabin—when he wasn’t running and lifting weights—and their paths would rarely cross again.

He collected a .22 Winchester 190 rifle from a padlocked closet and some boxes of ammo from a locked cupboard in his bedroom. The intense, laser-like focus of target practice had never failed to settle his thoughts. After a few hundred rounds or so, he’d definitely have everything back into perspective.

He headed over the rise just beyond his cabin. Below, the ground fell sharply into a broad, grassy meadow rimmed on three sides with a high, curving hillside that created a perfect rifle-range backdrop, while the fourth side opened up into a heavy pine forest leading up into the foothills.

Sure enough, the old wooden target frames were still there, though several were falling into disrepair. He sauntered over, found a dozen old tin cans scattered on the ground nearby and then lined them up on the almost-horizontal crossbar of one of the targets. Then he strode back to a triangular boulder marking a distance of a hundred yards and loaded .22 LRs into the magazine.

It had been almost nine months since he’d felt the weight of an assault rifle in his hands. The simple .22 in his hands had been his grandfather’s and felt like a toy in comparison.

But before he could raise it high enough to look through the site and fire, a searing jolt of pain tore through his damaged shoulder.

He winced.

Forced himself to continue.

Struggled to focus.

The shot went wild, pinging off a distant boulder with a puff of dust and rock chips.