Jennifer Faye - Rancher to the Rescue

“I…ah…”

“Why did you abandon the groom at the altar? Do you want him back?”

She glared at Cash. “I’m not ready to talk about it. Why are you being so mean?”

“Because that is just a small taste of what’s waiting for you. In fact, this is probably mild compared to the questions they’ll lob at you.”

“What would a cowboy know about the press?” she sputtered, not wanting to admit he was right.

“Trust Cash,” Martha piped up. “He knows what he’s talking about—”

“Gram, drop it. Meg obviously doesn’t want to hear our thoughts.”

Meghan turned her gaze to Cash, waiting for him to finish his grandmother’s cryptic comment. She’d already had her fiancé dupe her into believing he was going to marry her—that he cared about her. But if he had he wouldn’t have uttered those words at the altar. Everything she’d thought about their relationship was a lie. And she wouldn’t stand for one more man lying to her.

“What aren’t you saying?” she demanded. “What do you know about the press?”

His jaw tensed and a muscle twitched in his cheek. His hands came to rest on his sides as his weight shifted from one foot to the other.

“I’ll let you two talk,” Martha said. “I’ve got some things to do.”

The front door to the little house swished open, followed by a soft thud as it closed. All the while Meghan’s gaze never left Cash. What in the world had made her think coming here was a good idea?

“I’m waiting.” The August sun beat down on her in the layers of tulle and satin, leaving it clinging to her skin. Perspiration trickled down her spine. She longed to rub away the irritating sensation, but instead she stood her ground. She wouldn’t budge until this stubborn cowboy told her what his cryptic comments meant.

Cash sighed. “I overheard your fiancé talking to the press and it sounded like you’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”

He’d turned the conversation around on her without bothering to explain his grandmother’s comment. But Meghan didn’t have time to point this out. She was reeling from the knowledge that Harold had not only gone to her family and blamed her for the wrecked wedding, but he’d also gone to the press with his pack of lies too. The revelation hit her like a sucker punch.

“Why would he do that?” she muttered. Her public persona was her livelihood. Was he trying to wreck her career?

“Maybe if you talked to him you could straighten things out.”

She shook her head. At last she was seeing past Harold’s smooth talk and fancy airs to the self-centered man beneath the designer suits. “He doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. Not after what happened.”

Cash’s gaze was filled with questions, but she wasn’t up for answering them. Right about now she would gladly give her diamond ring just to have a shower and a glass of ice-cold water.

“Could we get out of the sun?” she asked.

Cash’s brows rose, as though he’d realized he’d forgotten his manners. “Sure. My house isn’t far down the lane.”

Alone with this cowboy. It didn’t sound like a good idea. In fact, it sounded like a really bad idea. She eyed him up. He looked reasonable. And his grandmother certainly seemed to think the sun revolved around him. So why was she hesitating? It wasn’t as if she was moving in. She would figure out a plan and be out of his way in no time.

“You’re safe,” he said, as though reading her thoughts. “If you’re that worried about being alone with me, you heard my grandmother—you can sleep on her couch. Although, between you and me, it’s a bit on the lumpy side.”

His teasing eased the tenseness in her stomach. He’d been a gentleman so far. There was no reason to think he’d be a threat.

As she stood there, contemplating how to climb up into the passenger seat again, Cash said, “Let me give you a hand.”

She knew without having any money or her own transportation she was beholden to him, but that didn’t mean she had to give up every bit of self-reliance.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.” She took her time, hiking up her dress in one hand while bracing the other hand on the truck frame. With all of her might she heaved herself up and into the seat without incident. While he rounded the vehicle she latched her seatbelt.

“The lane,” as he’d referred to the two dirt ruts, contained a series of rocks and potholes, and Meghan was jostled and tossed about like a rag doll.

“Did you ever consider paving this?” She clutched the door handle and tried to remain in her seat.

A deep chuckle filled the air. The sound was warm and thick, like a layer of hot fudge oozing down over a scoop of ice cream—both of which she could easily enjoy on a regular basis. Ice cream had always been something she could take or leave, but suddenly the thought of diving into a sundae plagued her, as did pulling back the layers of this mysterious cowboy.

In the next instance she reminded herself that she didn’t have the time nor the energy to figure him out—not that she had any clue about men. She’d thought she’d understood Harold. The idea of being a parent must have scared him—especially since he’d never planned on having kids. It scared her too. They could have talked about it. Supported each other. But for him to cut and run at the last minute, leaving her all alone to deal with this…That was unforgivable.

She’d been so wrong about him.

And that was the real reason she found herself at this out-of-the-way ranch. If she’d been so wrong about Harold she didn’t trust herself to make any more big decisions.

She glanced over at Cash. Had she been wrong to trust him?

She smothered a groan. This was ridiculous. She was overthinking everything now. She wondered if this cowboy had ever questioned his every decision. She studied the set of his strong jaw and the firm line of his lips—everything about him said he was sure of himself.

He turned and their gazes connected. His slate-gray eyes were like walls, holding in all his secrets. What kind of secrets could this rugged cowboy have?

CASH PULLED TO a stop in front of his two-story country home and none too soon. Meg was giving him some strange looks—not the kind he experienced from the good-time girls in the local cowboy bar. These looks were deeper, as though she had questions but didn’t know how to phrase them. Whatever she wanted to know about him, he was pretty certain he didn’t want to discuss it.

This ranch had become his refuge from the craziness of the rodeo circuit, and now he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Here at the Tumbling Weed he could be himself and unwind. Though the house had been built a few years ago, he’d never brought home any female friends. He didn’t want any misunderstandings. He made it known that he was a no-strings-attached cowboy. Period.

“Thanks for everything,” Meg said, breaking into his thoughts. “If you hadn’t helped me I don’t know what I’d have done.”

“I’m certain you would have made do. You don’t seem like the type of person who goes long without a plan.” When she didn’t say anything, he glanced over. She’d bitten down on her lower lip. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by the comment. You’re welcome here until you feel better.”

“I don’t want to get in the way.”

“Have you looked at this house?” He pointed through the windshield. “I guess I got a little carried away when I had the plans drawn up. Tried to talk Gram into moving in but she flat-out refused. She said all of her memories were in her little house and she had no intention of leaving it until the good Lord called her home.”

“Your grandmother sounds like a down-to-earth lady.”