36 Hours Serial

As a devastating summer storm hits Grand Springs, Colorado, the next thirty-six hours will change the town and its residents forever….

The Rancher and the Runaway Bride Part 2

Since Randi Howell fled her own wedding—and sinister gunmen—and made a new home at Brady Jones’s Texas ranch, she knows this is where she belongs, with the work, the horses and especially Brady.

Randi doesn’t know who the gunmen were planning to kill, but she heard enough that they’re still after her. She’s safe for now far away in Texas. But she hasn’t told Brady about her past. The strong, handsome rancher is everything she has ever wanted in a man. He’s a man of honor—how could he accept her if he knew she’d left her fiancé at the altar?

Read the conclusion in The Rancher and the Runaway Bride Part 3.

Dear Reader,

In the town of Grand Springs, Colorado, a devastating summer storm sets off a string of events that changes the lives of the residents forever….

Welcome to Mills & Boon exciting new digital serial, 36 Hours! In this thirty-six part serial share the stories of the residents of Grand Springs, Colorado, in the wake of a deadly storm.

With the power knocked out and mudslides washing over the roads, the town is plunged into darkness and the residents are forced to face their biggest fears—and find love against all odds.

Each week features a new story written by a variety of bestselling authors like Susan Mallery and Sharon Sala. The stories are published in three segments, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and the first segment of every three-part book is free, so you can get caught up in the mystery and drama of Grand Springs. And you can get to know a new set of characters every week. You can read just one, but as the lives and stories of each intertwine in surprising ways, you’ll want to read them all!

Join Mills & Boon E every week as we bring you excitement, mystery, fun and romance in 36 Hours!

Happy reading!

About the Author

New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery has entertained millions of readers with her witty and emotional stories about women. Publishers Weekly calls Susan’s prose “luscious and provocative,” and Booklist says, “Novels don’t get much better than Mallery’s expert blend of emotional nuance, humor and superb storytelling.” Susan lives in Seattle with her husband and her tiny but intrepid toy poodle. Visit her at www.susanmallery.com.

The Rancher and the Runaway Bride Part 2
Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

The average runaway bride doesn’t have hit men after her but Randi Howell does. Calling herself Rita Howard and working on Brady Jones’s ranch, everything is going great for Randi. She loves her job, the animals, her coworkers…and (gulp!) her boss, Brady. She has created her own family. But they don’t even know her real name. It’s all a charade. The situation is a ticking time bomb and it’s about to explode, sending all of her secrets into the open before she is ready.

Chapter Six

“Cooperate, damn you,” Brady Jones muttered when the large gelding took an unexpected side step and bumped him. Brady scrambled back to keep from falling on his butt. “I own you,” he reminded the horse. “Keep this up and I’ll sell you for glue. Or dog food.”

Rita laughed. “That’s telling him, boss. Remind him who’s in charge and how you hold his life in your hands.” She stroked the horse’s head. “Are you scared, big fella? Don’t be.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s all bark and no bite. Yes, it’s true. Cheap talk. Can you say cheap?”

The horse snorted.

“She’s got a way about her, that one does,” McGregor said as he finished shaping the shoe and returned to the horse’s side. “Come on, laddie. Don’t be givin’ an old man trouble.”

The farrier bent over and deliberately bumped the gelding’s right front shoulder. The horse obligingly shifted his weight to the other three legs and allowed the man to pick up his hoof.

“Good boy,” the Scotsman crooned. “Stay steady just a wee bit longer. We’ll be gettin’ you a nice new shoe. The ladies will be impressed.” He set the shoe over the hoof and grabbed a handful of nails from a pocket in his oversize leather apron.

A few minutes later the shoe was in place, the edges filed to insure a perfect fit. McGregor released the hoof and straightened.

“I do fine work, if I say so myself. No doubt you’ll be thinkin’ the same, Brady.”

“You’re the best, McGregor. I appreciate you taking the time to see to my horses.”

Rita giggled. Brady shot her a quick look and winked. The old Scotsman was the best farrier in the business. He was also the only one close enough to come by on a moment’s notice. The gelding had thrown a shoe the day before. Until it was replaced, he couldn’t be worked.

The horse stamped his foot as if checking the fit. He tossed his head, then blew out air.

“See,” McGregor said. “He approves. You’ll be wantin’ me to look at the other three?”

Brady nodded. “I think that back shoe is coming loose.”

“Shoddy workmanship, and not mine. Who have you had around pretendin’ to shoe these horses?”

“Your nephew. Remember? You took off for a cruise.”

“Aye. I remember.” McGregor looked at Rita and smiled. “The Caribbean, it was. Very lovely. You ever been?”

“No. I haven’t.”

“You’d like it. Lots of pretty girls, but not as pretty as you.”

“Aren’t you sweet?”

Brady held in a sound of disgust. Not only was McGregor old enough to be her father, but his lines weren’t that good. Yet women everywhere always fell for him. “It’s the accent,” he muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?” Rita asked, but the glint in her blue eyes told him that she’d heard his comment.

“Nothing.”

“Gee, I could have sworn you said—”

“Rita.” Brady cut her off with a look designed to remind her he was her boss. She wasn’t the least bit intimidated, either.

She turned her attention to McGregor and said, “I adore your accent. It’s very charming.”

“Accent? Me?” McGregor moved around the gelding and lifted his left rear hoof. “You’re the one who sounds funny, lass.” He tapped at the shoe. “This one’s loose, like you said. I’ll be havin’ a talk with my nephew. I taught him better than this. The boy’s lazy. You know how young men are. Still, that’s a lame excuse for bad work.” He smiled at his pun, then set the hoof down and headed for his truck. “Let me get another shoe and I’ll replace it.”

The gelding shifted, again bumping into Brady. He pushed back. Unfortunately, the horse didn’t budge. “What’s your problem?”

“He’s establishing dominance,” Rita said.

“I thought we’d taken care of that already.”

“Not really.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think the basic problem is that he doesn’t understand enough English to know that you’re threatening him. Otherwise, I’m sure he’d be terribly respectful.” She spoke seriously, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

“Right,” he said, fighting a grin of his own. “Sort of like you.”

“I’m very respectful.”

“To whom?”

She laughed.

The gelding took another step. Brady saw it coming and ducked under the animal’s head. The horse was just as quick. He shifted back, catching Rita unaware, pulling her forward and making her stumble. As Brady moved to keep her from falling, the gelding stepped between them. Rita hit the ground, knees first.

Her shoulders were shaking. Fear darted through his chest. Had she hurt herself? He grabbed the halter and forced the gelding back two steps, then crouched down beside Rita.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She rolled onto her rear, and looked at him. Tears streamed down her face, but they weren’t from pain. She was laughing. “He’s so bored,” she said, motioning to the horse. “He’s been bugging me ever since you brought him in. I think he hates not being outside with the cattle.” She brushed the moisture from her face. “No horse has caught me so off guard since I was fourteen.”

Her reaction surprised him, then he reminded himself that it shouldn’t. Rita wasn’t like other women he’d known. Working on his ranch for only a few weeks proved to him that she was tough and sensible. Competent, not that she would consider his assessment much of a compliment, however he might mean it that way.

“You fell pretty hard,” he said, and touched her left leg. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

He squeezed her knee, trying to feel for swelling or tenderness. As he slid his hand a few inches down her shin, then up her thigh, he watched her face, looking for a hint of pain. He ignored the pleasure touching her brought. This wasn’t about desire, it was about making sure she was all right. Even so, it was difficult not to let his hand linger on her knee.

When he paused in his actions, she shrugged. “It’s a little sore from the fall, but I’m fine. I’m tougher than I look.”

“I know.” He stood up, then held out his hand to help her to her feet.

As she straightened, they were standing very close. He was once again reminded of their brief hug last week when her trial period was over and he said she could stay on. He swore under his breath. Every time he was close to forgetting that hug, along with the kiss he’d stupidly given her, something happened to make him remember. He didn’t want to remember. He wanted to take the whole thing back. It had been inappropriate behavior, and not his style at all. He’d had female employees before and had never once been tempted.

He couldn’t explain the impulse that had made him kiss her, and he couldn’t forget.

Rita didn’t seem to be having the same problem. She stepped up to the gelding and took his large face in her hands. “Don’t do that to me again,” she told the animal. “You know better.”

The horse snorted gently, as if apologizing.

“Like I believe that,” she said.

“Believe what?” McGregor asked as he entered the barn.

“Anything a man says to me. You all tell wonderful stories that don’t have a lick of truth.”

“I’m wounded, lass. At least let me share a story or two before you start accusin’ me of somethin’. In fact, I’ll think up a good one to tell you at the barn dance next week. What do you say? Surely an old gent like myself deserves a wee bit of your time.”

Rita blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know about any dance, but I don’t think—”

McGregor made a noise of disgust and glared at Brady. “Did you mean to be keepin’ the lass to yourself?”

“No. The subject never came up in conversation.”

“Typical. These young men. They don’t know what’s important in life.” McGregor moved to the gelding and lifted the animal’s rear hoof. “Next Saturday night there’s a barn dance in town. Everyone’s invited. It’s at the lodge, so it’s not really a barn, but it’s called that. There’s lots of music and food. Perhaps a wee bit of drink, too.” He held the metal shoe against the hoof, then lowered the animal’s leg.

Brady, who hadn’t been to one of the town dances in months, found himself suddenly eager to go. To dance. Specifically with Rita. Down boy, he warned himself.

“They’re a lot of fun,” Brady said, hoping he sounded casual. “You’ll know a lot of people there.” At her questioning look he added, “The cowboys all go. Even Tex. You don’t need a date.”

“But you will need a few dancin’ partners,” McGregor said, then pounded the shoe into the right shape. “I believe I’d like to claim one dance for myself.”

Rita bit her lower lip, then nodded. “I’d like that,” she said, sounding hesitant.

Brady wondered why. Was it going to a place where she didn’t know many people, or was it attending the dance itself?

“A two-step?” McGregor asked.

Rita smiled. “Perfect.”

Brady turned away, annoyed to find himself wanting to claim his own dance. Dammit, he wasn’t jealous of McGregor, he wasn’t jealous of anyone. He had no claim on Rita. She was just an employee. A young employee, he reminded himself, thinking of the nine years between them.

“And maybe a waltz,” the Scotsman teased.

Brady stepped around the gelding and headed for the back of the barn. “I’ll write you a check for the shoeing,” he said.

“Just for the one,” McGregor called after him. “The second one is repairing a bad job. No charge for that.”

Brady grunted in reply. He knew what the problem was, but knowing it and fixing it didn’t seem to be the same thing. If he was jealous of someone who wasn’t the least bit interested in Rita, what would happen if someone who was came sniffing around?

He crossed to his desk and jerked open the upper right drawer. His checkbook lay on top. As he sat down, he told himself to get over it and fast. So what if Rita got to him in a way that left him hard and wanting? So what if no one had affected him like that in years? So what if she wasn’t Alicia? She was still a woman with secrets. A woman with a past, and he of all people knew the danger in that.

He scrawled out the amount, then signed the check. Ten minutes later, the farrier came in to collect it. They chatted for a short time. When McGregor left, Brady tried to ignore the sounds from the barn. He didn’t want to think about Rita with the horses, of her doing her chores, of the way she would look bending over to spread straw or raising her arms high to grab a feed sack.

He rested his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples. He had it bad.

“Brady?”

He glanced up and found Rita standing in the doorway to his office. Her long braid hung over one shoulder and down the side of her right breast. He forced his gaze to her face. Some dark emotion flickered in her eyes. “Yes?”

“I, um…” She twisted her hands together in front of her waist. Worn jeans emphasized her round hips and shapely thighs. He told himself not to notice. “Would you rather I didn’t go to the dance?”

He leaned back in his chair and motioned for her to take the seat across from his. “No. Why?”

She sat down. “I’m not sure. You seemed a little put out by my conversation with McGregor. He was just joking. I knew that. I don’t want you to think I took his flattery seriously.”

Brady winced. Bad enough to act like a jerk, worse to be caught. “I’m sorry, Rita. That wasn’t it at all. You’re welcome to go to the dance or anywhere else. Your free time is just that. Yours. I think you’d have fun, so I hope you’ll go. McGregor is a great dancer, if you don’t mind some theatrics along the way.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I might even claim a dance myself, seeing as you have this thing for old men.”

That earned him the smile he’d been waiting for. As her mouth curled up, her eyes began to sparkle. “I consider humoring the elderly my good deed for the day.”

“When have you humored me? Weren’t you the one encouraging insurrection with my horse just a few minutes ago?”

“Hardly.” Her humor faded a little. “Are you or Tex going into town in the next few days? If either of you are, I need a ride. I have to buy a couple of things.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Rita. I should have thought of that. You’ve been trapped out here on your afternoons off.”

“I don’t mind,” she said quickly. “I like being on the ranch. A couple of the cowboys have invited me to ride in with them, but I didn’t feel comfortable doing that. Until now, shopping hasn’t been an issue, but I’d like to buy something for the dance.”

So much for being a thoughtful employer, he thought grimly. He paid her in cash, as he did all his employees. The people who worked for him often didn’t have bank accounts. But he hadn’t considered that she might want to spend some time in town. And maybe not alone.

He’d told her not to make trouble with the men and she’d listened. “You don’t have to avoid all social contact with the men,” he said, careful to keep his voice neutral. “If you would like to see one of the cowboys off the ranch, no one will interfere. What I’m trying to say is when you’re on your own time—”

She cut him off with a wave. Faint color stained her cheeks. “I know what you’re saying. That’s not what I meant. There’s no one that I want to see that way. I mean, they’re all very nice men and I appreciate the time they’ve taken to befriend me, but it’s not anything else.”

Did that include him, too?

The thought came out of nowhere, and Brady wished it back to that spot. “Okay,” he said slowly. “That’s clear. I have to go into town day after tomorrow. You’re welcome to take the afternoon off and ride in with me. My business will keep me busy for a couple of hours. Is that enough time?”

“More than enough.” She rose to her feet and smiled. “Thanks, Brady.”

He watched her walk out of the office, trying to ignore the sensation of being sucker punched. It had just been a smile. Nothing more. So why had it hit him like a blow to the gut? And lower?

* * *

Randi Howell, a.k.a. Rita Howard, tried to dispel the butterflies dancing in her stomach, but however much she imagined calming pictures and words, those darned butterflies just kept acting up. It was as if they moved to a wild music only they could hear.

Nerves, she thought in disgust. When would she be able to control her emotions? They were just going to town, yet she was as tense and nervous as she’d been when she’d first run away from her wedding to Hal Stuart.

Maybe it was that all small towns looked alike, she thought as she stared out the side windows at the stores lined up on the single main street. This one could have been any of a dozen she’d driven through as she’d hitched rides to escape from Grand Springs. Familiar yet unfamiliar, reminding her that she’d chosen to run instead of stand up for what she wanted.

Don’t think about that now, Randi told herself. She didn’t want to ruin her afternoon. So as Brady pulled the truck into a parking space, she took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind.

“Everybody knows everybody,” he warned as he turned off the engine. “You’re going to get a lot of questions and be the favorite topic at dinner for the next couple of days. Think you can handle that?”

“As long as what they’re saying is nice.”

“A pretty girl like you? What else would they say?”

She laughed. “You’re as bad as McGregor. All hot air and flattery. Here I was thinking you had substance.”

He winked. It was all just a game. Harmless conversation. Yet she couldn’t help but be pleased by his words. No one had ever told her she was pretty, not even in jest. Whether or not Brady meant the compliment, she was going to hang on to it with both hands.

She slid out of the seat and slammed the door behind her. Brady paused on the sidewalk and pointed up the street.

“We have a general store on the corner. Some folks call it a department store, but that’s stretching things a little. There’s clothes, shoes and other female kind of stuff.”

“Gee, what would that be?”

Confident Brady looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You know. Creams and junk.”

“Makeup?”

“That, too.”

“Creams and junk. What a way you have with words.”

He shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Just because I’ve brought you into town doesn’t mean you have the right to say anything you want to me.”

“Sure it does. Here you’re not my boss. You’re just a guy who’s terrified of female stuff.”

He rocked back on his heels. “I’m not afraid.”

Wondering what it was about this man that made her want to have fun, she stretched out her hand and touched his cheek. “You ever have a facial, Brady? You could use something to tighten those pores.”

He jerked his head away as if she’d burned him. “My pores are just fine.”

“And those little lines around your eyes. They have stuff to prevent that.”

He turned toward the storefront next to them. The large plate-glass window reflected the street. Brady frowned, then smiled, as if checking his wrinkle quotient.

Randi covered her mouth to hold in her laughter. Who would have thought this big, tough cowboy would be so easy to tease?

“I don’t know what you’re—” He glanced at her and drew his eyebrows together. “You’re laughing!” His voice accused her of an unforgivable crime.

“No, I’m not.” She swallowed hard and forced her expression to stay neutral.

“You’re mocking me. I don’t have a problem with my pores, or my eyes.”

She gave in to humor and chuckled. Brady grinned. “I’ve been had,” he complained. “You should warn a man when you’re going to take advantage of him.”

“You love the attention.”

“Hey, I’m the strong, silent type. You want to continue to make fun of me, or do you want to shop?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Tough decision. Can I really pick either one?”

“Why do I put up with you?” He placed his hand on the back of her neck and pushed her forward.

“Because there isn’t another alternative.”

She was proud of herself for managing a relatively long, coherent sentence. It was hard enough to keep breathing, let alone talking, while Brady was touching her neck.

She told herself it was an impersonal gesture at best. That it didn’t mean anything. He was treating her like a little sister. Funny, though. She didn’t feel like his little sister. She felt strangely alive and happy. Being here with him—she couldn’t explain it, it just felt so right.

When they reached the store, he released her neck and grabbed the door. As he pulled it open, he motioned for her to go first. Polite, charming, funny, sensitive, amazingly good-looking. Her original question still stood. Why wasn’t he married? Were all the women in the county blind, or was there something she couldn’t figure out? Some flaw he’d kept hidden, or maybe something from his past?

He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the center aisle. “Female clothing to your right. Creams and junk to your left. Shoes are upstairs. I have a meeting with my banker, so I’ll be gone for about an hour and a half.”

She turned her head so she could see him. “I’ve shopped before. Amazingly enough, on my own. So far I’ve avoided major disasters and shoplifting. I’ll be fine.”

“You have enough money?”

The question touched her, mostly because his concern was involuntary. He was the last of the good guys.

“My boss just gave me a raise. I’ve got plenty.”

“Have fun.”

He disappeared out onto the street. Randi looked over the store, then started toward the racks of dresses against the far wall. She needed something for the dance. Maybe she would pick up another pair of jeans and some T-shirts, too.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, she stepped onto the escalator to the ground floor. She’d bought a simple summer dress, on sale, along with a pair of jeans and two shirts. In the shoe department, she’d found an inexpensive pair of pumps. Everything she’d purchased had cost less than the cheapest dress in her closet in Grand Springs. If it didn’t have a designer label on it, her mother didn’t want it in the house.

Those clothes weren’t her, she thought as she moved down the center aisle, glancing left and right, looking for Brady. It had taken her a long time to finally figure out she didn’t care about who made the clothes as long as they fit and were comfortable. Keeping up with the latest styles didn’t interest her, nor did she worry about a trendy haircut. Thank goodness, because with her unruly curls, she was destined to always look a little messy.

She reached the front door, then turned back to face the store. On the far side, in the middle of the “creams and junk” department, she saw Brady talking with an older woman. From the way they chatted and laughed, they must be old friends. That made sense. Growing up near a town this small, Brady probably knew just about everyone.

As she crossed the store, she tried to ignore the flickering in her stomach. The butterflies had returned. She sighed. She wanted her nerves to be about coming to town, not about Brady. While he was nice and handsome and a lot of good things, he wasn’t for her.

She paused in the middle of the teen department and stared at him. He was so different from Hal. Not just in looks, but in temperament and style. Hal was the kind of man who measured every action based on how it would look and how many votes it was worth. So different from his mother, Olivia, the beloved mayor of Grand Springs. Hal was more like Randi’s mother—cold and always calculating. One the other hand, Brady acted a certain way because he believed it was right, regardless of who might or might not be watching. Hal was a politician down to his bones. Brady was just a man.

She’d known her ex-fiancé for years, yet, looking back at their courtship, she could easily admit she’d never known him at all. Brady had been in her life two-and-a-half weeks, yet she felt that she understood him and the code by which he lived.

Brady looked up and saw her. “You about finished?” he asked.

She nodded and held up her bags. “I’ve bought as much as I can carry. That’s when it’s time for me to leave.”

He walked over and relieved her of most of her purchases. “I thought we might stop at the ice cream shop on the way out of town. I’ve got a taste for a hot fudge sundae.”

Randi raised her eyebrows. “It’s nearly four o’clock. You’ll spoil your dinner.”

“I know. You have to promise not to tell Tex.”

Ice cream and hot fudge? How could she resist? “I’d love to join you,” she said. “If we try really hard, I’ll bet we can eat just as much dinner, too.”

“Deal.”

They shared a conspiratorial glance, then headed toward the street. Even though it was a temporary situation, Randi enjoyed fitting in. Brady was different off the ranch. Freer. Or maybe it was both of them. She’d been worried about coming into town, but she was having fun. Somewhere in the past couple of weeks, Brady had become a friend. Even if he didn’t know the truth about her, even if she needed to keep her secrets, she believed that he would be there for her if she ever needed him.

For the first time since running away, she didn’t feel alone.

Chapter Seven

Randi stretched and rolled over to look at the clock. It was nearly one in the afternoon. She would feel decadent at being in bed this late in the day if she hadn’t already worked six hours in the barn. Her late-morning nap was what allowed her to stay up until ten at night and still be able to function at four in the morning.

She’d been at the ranch three weeks today. It was the longest she’d been anywhere since leaving Grand Springs. Before, she’d always felt a restlessness after a few days, a nagging sensation that she had to keep moving. It was the only way to feel safe. But here that wasn’t necessary. If anything, she was going to have to force herself to press on. It would be far too easy to make this a permanent home.

She stood up and reached for her clothes. After slipping on jeans, a T-shirt and boots, she walked into the bathroom to wash her face and tame her hair. As usual, the braid looked tidy for about thirty seconds before the curls worked their way loose.

She went downstairs, then stepped outside to head for the barn. The men came in for their midday meal around eleven-thirty. Tex packed a lunch for anyone working too far away. For the first couple of days, she’d joined the cowboys, but she’d found it difficult not to nod off during the meal. Tex had taken pity on her and offered to keep a plate warm until the early afternoon.

Peter, the littlest kitten, sat on the porch railing. When he saw her, he meowed.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, and picked him up. He curled against her shoulder and began to purr. “Is Princess taking the afternoon off? Or did you sneak away from her?”

Usually Princess herded her charges into the shade of the barn for their afternoon nap. Playtime didn’t start until around four.

“You want to join me for lunch?” she asked the kitten. “I bet Tex would give you a treat.”

The kitten kneaded her shoulder, his eyes closed in contentment.

She walked into the dining room, crossed the linoleum floor and moved toward the kitchen. Tex sat at the small table in front of the window. There was a mug of coffee in front of him, along with a slice of strawberry pie. Across from him was a single place setting. Two sandwiches under plastic wrap, a green salad, some cut-up raw vegetables.

She set Peter on the floor, then headed for the refrigerator. After grabbing the pitcher of cold water on the top shelf, and a bowl with a single, albeit generous, serving of potato salad, she walked to the table and took her seat.

Tex looked up from the paper he read. “‘Afternoon.”

“Hi.” She glanced at her plate, then at him. “Tuna sandwiches and raw veggies? Why do I know you didn’t feed the guys that?”

He grinned. “Five-alarm chili. I didn’t think you’d want any.”

She pressed her hand to her stomach, remembering pain from the last time she’d indulged. There weren’t many things that upset her stomach, but that was one of them. “While I appreciate the thoughtfulness, you didn’t have to make me a special lunch.”

He shrugged. “No bother.”

“You guys are all alike. Tough on the outside, and complete marshmallows on the inside.”

Peter stood up on his hind legs and pressed his front paws against Tex’s shin. The kitten meowed plaintively. “Damn cat,” the former marine muttered as he picked him up and set him in the crook of his arm.

Randi spread her napkin on her lap and laughed. “I believe that proves my point.”

“Uh-huh.”

She unwrapped her sandwiches and pulled the cover off the potato salad. “Tell me about this dance Saturday. Do you go?”

“Sure. Everyone’s there.” The older man grinned. “They’ll dance your feet off.”

“Fortunately I bought comfortable shoes when I was in town yesterday.”

Tex frowned. “You two thought I didn’t know you stopped for ice cream, but I could tell.”

Randi had raised the fork halfway to her mouth. She froze. “How’d you figure that out?”

“You both looked so damned guilty. Like kids caught stealing from the cookie jar. I hope you had a bellyache from all the supper you ate, hoping I wouldn’t notice.”

“Sorry, no.” She chewed the potato salad and swallowed. “I have the most unladylike appetite. At least that’s what my mother always told me. She ate little tiny portions of everything. It made me crazy. I can stand just about anything but being hungry. Heaven help me if I ever have to go on a diet.”

“You’re strong. All that muscle needs fuel.”

“A nice way of saying I’d never make it as a model.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Why indeed.” She thought about Brady. About how he’d made her heart beat faster and her stomach quiver with nerves. What kind of woman did he find attractive? Skinny blondes with big boobs? Sultry redheads? She doubted he had a thing for sturdy women with uncontrollably curly hair. Just once she would like someone to think she was pretty. Her father had been kind and generous with compliments, but they hadn’t been enough to counteract her mother’s brutal honesty.

She still remembered dressing for a dance when she was sixteen. She hadn’t wanted to go, but her mother had arranged for a friend’s son to be her escort. A mercy date. She’d been standing in front of her mirror, trying to convince herself she didn’t look horrible when she’d heard her parents in the hall. Her father had been excited about taking her picture, but her mother had stopped him.

“She’s nothing to look at. Why do you want to remember that?”

“She’s my daughter,” her father had protested. “She’s beautiful.”

“Oh, please. Randi’s plain at best. That hair. I’m at my wit’s end with it. At least she has decent skin. With those features, if she had blemishes, too, we’d have to put a bag over her head.”

Eight years later, the words still hurt. She knew she wasn’t pretty, but she’d come to grips with that. Some days she thought she was actually okay-looking. Time had taught her that her mother’s overly critical remarks had little to do with physical appearance and more to do with the older woman’s general dissatisfaction that her daughter wasn’t a perfect clone. The two of them had nothing in common, save a blood relationship.

“You gonna eat that, or are you just going to stare at it?” Tex asked.

Randi glanced down and realized she was holding half a sandwich in her hands, but hadn’t taken a bite. “Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“Judging from the look in your eyes, somewhere far away.”

She glanced at the cook. “Sometimes you’re too observant, Tex.”

He grinned. “Part of my charm. It’s one of the reasons they’ve kept me around for so long.”

“What are the others?” she asked, pretending innocence.

“My cooking, and don’t you say another word about it.”

She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed. Peter raised his head and sniffed the air. He glanced up at Tex and mewed hopefully.

“Don’t even think about it,” the cook told him. “No tuna for you.”

Peter blinked, then collapsed back into the crook of Tex’s arm. He yawned, leaned against the large man’s chest and closed his eyes.

“Ten years is a long time to work somewhere,” she said. “First the marines and now the ranch. You bond with large groups. What about with individuals?”

He drew his eyebrows together. “You one of those psychological types? I’m not interested in being analyzed.”

“Just curious. You’re a great guy. Why aren’t you married?”

Tex cleared his throat. “Never met anyone I cared about that much. The marines kept me moving around. Not many women want to put up with that.”

Randi swallowed and took a sip of water. “Not to mention the fact you loved being a bachelor.”

He grinned. “That, too.” His grin faded. “I’ve got what I want here. A home. These are good people to work for.”

“I agree.”

His pale gaze settled on her face. “Brady’s a good man, too. He deserves some happiness in his life.”

“I’m sure he does.”

His gaze narrowed. “Be a shame for him to get hurt, wanting something he can’t have.”

The mouthful of sandwich dried up. Randi kept chewing, but she had to take a sip of water before she could swallow. Her appetite fled, and with it, her good mood.

She pushed her plate away. “Don’t be subtle, Tex. Just come right out and warn me off. But before you do, I want you to know I admire and respect Brady. He’s my employer. That’s as far as it goes. There’s no need for you to worry about anything else.”

She told herself she wasn’t lying. Just because she had some serious chemical reactions when Brady was around didn’t mean he returned her feelings. In fact, she would bet money he barely thought of her, and when he did, he considered her a kid sister. That was hardly a basis for romance.

She slid the chair back and stood up. After grabbing her plate, she crossed to the sink and dumped the rest of the food down the drain. The roar of the garbage disposal couldn’t drown out the disappointment she felt.

Not because Tex thought she was inappropriate for his boss. She was a drifter with no past—why would anyone want to risk that? Tex was only looking out for someone he cared about. What hurt the most was that she’d allowed herself to think she’d found a place to belong.

She turned off the disposal and rinsed her hands. When she turned around, Tex was standing behind her, the kitten still in his arms.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said awkwardly.

“Yes, you did. I can’t blame you. You don’t know anything about me, right? Who knows what secrets lurk in my past. You’re being cautious, and I’m sure Brady appreciates that.”

She walked out the back door and headed for the barn. Maybe she should just leave. That would solve everyone’s problem. Except she’d promised herself to stop running. She wanted to grow up enough to stay in one place and find solutions. But did it have to hurt this much?

“I thought I’d found a home here,” she told Pokey as she paused to bend down and pet the pregnant tabby. “You did. Life is complicated, and I want it to be easy. Pretty stupid, huh?”

The cat purred in response.

Maybe there was a bright side. Maybe Tex was concerned because he’d sensed interest on Brady’s part.

“Wishful thinking,” she muttered. Brady’s platonic hug and kiss on the cheek last week weren’t the actions of a man smitten by overpowering passion. He’d been attentive yesterday in town, but she suspected he’d been motivated by guilt. He’d needed to make up for her having not been off the ranch since her arrival. It wasn’t personal.

Randi straightened and glanced around the yard. All she’d wanted was to fit in. She didn’t deserve to be made to feel she was less than everyone else. She didn’t—She frowned, her attention shifting from her personal problems to the yard. “Something’s wrong,” she said softly.

She took a step back and turned in a slow circle, trying to take everything in. The barn doors were open, as they should be. A couple of the mares grazed in the pasture behind the bunkhouse. The main house looked fine. There were cats scattered all around. None of them looked alert or cautious. They were just dozing.

She snapped her fingers. That was it. The cats. They weren’t neatly herded together, resting in the shade of the barn. Odd behavior, because Princess usually kept them under control. But the shepherd was nowhere to be seen.

“Princess,” Randi called. “Princess, come here, girl.”

As she waited she tried to remember if she’d seen the dog at all this morning. There had been the usual frenzy when she’d fed everyone, but she didn’t recall seeing Princess.

She jogged around the barn, then checked up at the main house. There was no response to her repeated calls. Something wasn’t right. Something had happened to Princess.

Wishing there was someone else to tell besides Tex, Randi hurried toward the bunkhouse. She stepped into the kitchen. Tex stood at the sink, peeling potatoes.

“I can’t find Princess,” she said. “I don’t remember feeding her this morning. Have you seen her?”

“No.” The older man frowned. “She keeps a regular schedule and doesn’t usually go missing. Unless she’d found a sick cat on her route. Then she’ll stay by the animal until help comes.”

“Or she could have been hurt herself.”

Tex nodded. “That’s a possibility. Brady’s the only one who knows all her spots. You’ll have to go get him. Cell service is spotty where he is.” He crossed to the built-in butler’s pantry on the far side of the room and pulled open a drawer. There was a pad of paper on top. After grabbing it and a pencil, he returned to the table. He spoke as he drew.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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