The Rancher And The RunawayBride: Part 2 (2 page)

* * *

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.

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.

“Take one of the horses. It would be faster to drive there, but you’ll need a horse
to find Princess. She doesn’t keep to the main road all the time, and I doubt any
of the trucks would make it on that rough terrain. Brady’s working north of here.
It’s about four miles.”

He gave her the map and detailed instructions, then ordered her to wait. Two minutes
later he returned with a cell phone, a couple of blankets and a first aid kit. “Just
in case,” he said, pressing the supplies into her arms. “If she’s hurt and you don’t
think you can bring her back, call and I’ll drive the truck out.”

“Okay.” She paused, wondering if she should say anything about their previous conversation,
then figured it didn’t matter. Not now.

Once in the barn, she quickly saddled Casper, grateful the strong, gentle gelding
hadn’t been taken out to work that day. He was the horse she’d ridden the most. She
trusted him.

After loading the saddlebags, she studied the hand-drawn map for a minute. First she
had to find Brady, then they had to locate Princess. She sent up a quick prayer that
the dog was all right.

* * *

Brady studied the dozen steers in front of him. It always came down to the last few.
Making a decision about a couple hundred seemed easier, somehow. He was gambling—trying
to put together the right elements without having all the facts. He had to have enough
hay to feed the cattle he kept until spring. How much stock, how much hay, how long
would they be able to graze, how long the winter? Guesswork, all of it.