Susan Mallery - Cowgirl Bride

Only it wasn’t going to be that simple. They’d both changed. There were complications, explanations, not to mention a nine-year-old boy between them. Dylan’s feelings might not have changed, but both he and Sierra had. He knew she wasn’t going to welcome him with open arms. He was lucky she hadn’t already decked him.

“It’s not what you think,” he told her, wishing he had the perfect words to make her understand. Ironically he was a lawyer and words were his stock-in-trade. Yet at this—possibly the most important moment of his life—he couldn’t think of anything to say. Anything except the truth—that she was lovely with her dark blond hair pulled back into a braid. With her tanned skin, her full lips, her muscles and her work-roughened hands. She might not fit the traditional definition of womanhood, but she’d always epitomized femininity to him.

“I suppose you’re not a successful lawyer,” she said contemptuously. “You’re not here to flaunt all you’ve become.”

He eyed her arm. “Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

She dismissed him with a scowl. “Yeah, right. Don’t try to avoid the question.”

“I’m a lawyer,” he said. “I’m not here to flaunt anything. I’m here because I bought a ranch.”

That startled her. Her eyes widened slightly as she continued to glare at him. Her only concession to her injury was the gentle way she cradled her left arm in her right. “What do you mean? You bought a ranch around here?”

Dylan put his hand on his son’s shoulder, then smiled down at the boy. “It’s something we’ve talked about for a long time, right?”

Rory grinned. “Yup. We’re gonna be cowboys. Just us guys.”

Sierra frowned. “Us guys?”

Dylan hesitated. He hadn’t wanted to tell her this way. Not that there was a good time and place to discuss the state of his marriage—make that his former marriage. Sierra had the most at stake in wishing his relationship with Claire failed, yet he didn’t think she would be happy they’d divorced. In her mind, he’d abandoned her for another woman. Knowing her the way he did, he knew she would have expected him to at least have had the common decency to leave her for someone he would stay with for a lifetime.

“Claire and I are divorced,” he said quietly.

Sierra’s frown faded. Her expression turned neutral. “I’m sorry,” she said, in a polite tone that was supposed to tell him the news had no meaning for her. Was that true? Had he come back for nothing?

Not nothing, he reminded himself. With or without Sierra, he wanted the ranch. It would be a place to which he could retreat. A place where his son could grow up surrounded by horses, cattle and wide-open spaces. What could be better?

“The ranch is going to be my new base of operations,” he told her.

“You’ll practice law from there?” she asked.

“No. I’ll have an office in town. But I am going to be involved with the ranch as well. The buildings are in good shape, but the herd needs work. I want to start a breeding program. That’s why I’m here.”

Sierra shrugged. “I don’t know what’s for sale. You’ll have to talk to the boss about that. I’m just one of the hired hands.”

“I know. Don’t you ever want more than that?”

Her gaze turned icy again. “No one here is interested in your opinion of my life.” She glanced at Rory and closed her mouth. He knew that if his son hadn’t been standing there, listening to everything being said, she would have had a lot more to tell him.

“You’re good, Sierra. You’ve lived on ranches, you understand what has to be done. I’m not here to buy livestock. I need a foreman. I’d like to offer you that job.”

Something flickered in her hazel eyes. A flash of longing maybe—or was it regret? He couldn’t tell. Then the light faded and her lips curved into a bitter smile. “Gee, thanks. That would really be a move up for me. I’m a fair judge of livestock, but I’ve never been much of a judge when it came to men. Still, even those of us who are slow learners eventually catch on. Thanks, Dylan, but I’ll pass.”

“I know what you’re thinking but it’s not true,” he said quickly. “There were extenuating circumstances. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“I know enough.” She raised her chin in a proud gesture he remembered so well. Deep in his chest, his heart tightened painfully. He would sell his soul to go back in time to change what had happened—but that wasn’t an option. And she didn’t know enough. But this wasn’t the time to convince her of that.

“Dad says you’re a barrel racer,” Rory said and grinned. “That you’re pretty good—for a girl.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I went from being a superhero to just a girl in the space of ten minutes. Talk about fickle. I wonder where you get that trait from.”

“What’s fickle?” Rory asked.

Dylan ignored Sierra’s dig and answered his son. “Fickle means not being able to make up your mind about someone. Liking them and then not liking them.”

“I like you,” Rory said instantly to Sierra. “I think you’re great. Dad promised that I could learn how to ride, but I haven’t started lessons yet. Can you teach me?”

“Me?” Sierra shook her head. “Look, kid, I’ve got a lot of responsibilities around the ranch and not a whole lot of free time. I…”

Rory’s slight body seemed to shrink. His shoulders fell forward and his mouth drooped at the corners. “Yeah. Okay. You’re too busy. I understand.”

Dylan silently cursed his ex-wife. The woman had never worked a day in her life. She’d had a live-in housekeeper and a nanny, and she’d still managed to make her son believe she was too busy to deal with him. Rory had learned early on that his mother considered him a burden. Dylan continued to work hard to make the boy feel special and wanted, but he knew that nothing he would ever do could make up for the maternal rejection. The boy had translated that into an expectation of rejection from all women.

“I’ll teach you,” Dylan said and was rewarded with a slight smile.

“Really?”

He nodded. “Assuming I remember how. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a horse. I guess we can fall on our rears together.”

Rory laughed at the thought.

Sierra rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You were never much of a horseman, Dylan. You’ll hurt yourself and do Lord knows what to your son.” She glanced at Rory. “All right, pip-squeak, I’ll teach you to ride. But there’s more to it than just taking a wild gallop. You’re going to have to take care of your horse. That means feeding it and cleaning up after it. If you think a dog makes a mess in the backyard, wait until you see what a horse can do.”

Rory grinned broadly. “I promise to do everything you say.”

“You’re going to, whether you promise or not. I’m a tough teacher, but you’ll learn.”

“When can we start?” Rory asked.

Sierra nodded to her arm. “Give me a couple of days to heal. I’ll be in touch.” Before Rory could ask, she crouched down so they were eye to eye. “I promise,” she told the boy. “I won’t forget.”

Rory flung his arms around her. Sierra didn’t respond to the impulsive hug and when the child released her, she stood up and cleared her throat.

“About the foreman job,” Dylan began.

Sierra didn’t bother saying goodbye. She spun on her heel and headed for the barn. He stared after her for a long moment, wondering how long it was going to take to convince her that he wasn’t one of the bad guys. What would happen if he couldn’t?

“Is Sierra mad at you?” Rory asked.

“Not exactly,” he answered, then ruffled the boy’s hair. “So you’d rather she taught you to ride than your old man?”