Debbi Rawlins - To Trust A Rancher

Eyes widening, she gasped. “Ryder.”

“Hello, Becca.”

“Hi.” Her gaze darted briefly to the boy. “This is a surprise.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Right.” She cleared her throat. “I planned on calling you and your mom later.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“You know, after we settled in. We just got to town an hour ago.”

Okay, maybe she was telling the truth and she had intended to get in touch. But why look so nervous? “Where’s Amy?” he asked, holding Becca’s gaze.

She shook her head. Sadness flickered in her hazel eyes before she blinked and looked away. “I think she had other plans for the—” She pressed her lips together and swallowed.

“What? For Thanksgiving? Let’s see, that makes seven of them that she’s missed now?”

“I’m not her keeper,” Becca said, her voice barely a whisper. “Amy does what she wants.”

“Aunt Amy gave me a neato truck.” The kid grinned up at him. “You wanna see it?”

“Noah.” Becca tugged at his hand. “It’s not here.”

“It’s in the car.”

“No, it’s not...”

Ryder felt a surge of relief. He didn’t know what had given him the sick feeling that something had happened to his sister. If that were true, she wouldn’t be buying the kid toys. “Hey, sport, when did your aunt buy you the truck?”

“Sport?” The boy wrinkled his nose. “My name is Noah.”

“Ah.” Ryder knew Becca was watching them closely, and something sure was making her jumpy. What the hell did she think he was going to do to her kid? “Sorry. Noah.”

“What’s your name?”

“Ryder.” He stuck his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Noah.”

The little guy just frowned at his hand at first, then looked at Becca.

She smiled at him. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she said, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “Ryder just wants to shake your hand.”

His mouth formed an “oh” but without the sound, then he slapped his palm against Ryder’s and started giggling.

In spite of himself, Ryder smiled. Whatever was up with Amy wasn’t the kid’s fault. “That’s quite a grip you’ve got there,” he said as his hand swallowed Noah’s.

“Becca! Oh, my goodness!”

At the sound of his mom’s voice, Ryder flinched. Why now? Dammit.

Becca jumped.

He turned and watched his mom, gripping the cart with one hand and her cane with the other, hurrying toward them.

“Hello, Mrs. Mitchell.” Becca’s gaze flew to the cane.

She looked as if she didn’t know how she should greet his mom, which really pissed him off. Becca had spent most of her teens at their ranch, eaten a lot of dinners with the family. He was seven years older than Amy and hadn’t paid much attention to her and her friends, but he remembered that Becca loved horses. Always wanted to hang around the stables. She’d been close to her grandparents, but the Hancocks weren’t ranchers.

Becca finally stepped forward and embraced his mom in an earnest hug. When she moved back, he saw the tears in her eyes before she blinked them away.

The relief he’d felt over Amy disappeared. Something was wrong. And damned if he wouldn’t wring every last detail out of her.

Chapter Four

Becca shouldn’t have been surprised to run into Amy’s mom and brother. Less than twenty-five hundred people lived in the county and half of them ended up in town for one reason or another most days.

“So when did you arrive?” Mrs. Mitchell asked, her hopeful gaze sweeping the area. “Amy didn’t mention you all were coming. She’s here with you, isn’t she?”

Becca felt terrible over the woman’s attempt to sound casual when she was anything but. She swallowed and made the mistake of glancing at Ryder. The contempt in his eyes startled her. While he hadn’t jumped for joy over seeing her, he’d been okay a few moments ago.

She refocused on Mrs. Mitchell. “No, I’m sorry,” Becca said, saddened by the woman’s obvious disappointment. A mother never gave up hope. Becca understood that now. “Amy wanted to come, but the trip was a last-minute decision on my part and she already had plans.” Becca paused. “She sends her love, though.”

The ensuing silence couldn’t have been more awkward. Becca wanted to disappear. Gail Mitchell had always been so kind to her. Becca could’ve tried to sound more convincing.

Mrs. Mitchell gave her a resigned smile. “Well, I’m very glad to see you, Becca. You look all grown-up, and so pretty,” she said with a brief glance at her son. “Isn’t she pretty, Ryder?”

Heat stung Becca’s cheeks. She tried not to look at him. He hadn’t responded, which was more than okay with her. Except then she had to look, couldn’t stop herself.

He hadn’t changed all that much in the seven years. His chest and shoulders looked a bit broader, but then ranching tended to breed muscular men. His sandy-brown hair was longer now, waving just above his shirt collar very much like—

Stricken by a sudden realization, she jerked her gaze up and met Ryder’s dark blue eyes.

Why hadn’t she seen the resemblance before?

“Mommy?” Noah frowned up at her. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”

She held back a sigh. “Nothing, sweetie,” she said, giving him a smile.

Gail blinked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. “And who is this adorable young man?” She bent down to Noah’s level, and Ryder was instantly at her side, holding on to her arm while she leaned heavily on the cane.

Becca’s gaze went straight to the stubborn wave in his hair in the exact spot and angle as Noah’s.

At one point in her teens, she could’ve described Ryder down to the very last detail. She’d been such a pathetic cliché, crushing on her best friend’s older brother. “Noah, this is Mrs. Mitchell. Answer her, please.”

“I’m Noah.” He grinned big. “You wanna see my truck?”

Mrs. Mitchell laughed. Even Ryder smiled.

“Of course I do. Where is it?” She pretended to look around for it. “Is it in your pocket?”

“No.” Gurgling with laughter, he leaned into Becca. “It’s too big.”

Mrs. Mitchell beamed at him, her glow of delight taking years off her face. How had she aged so much since the last time Becca had been home? Her short dark hair had streaks of gray and there were new lines on her face that Becca doubted were from laughter. And a cane? What could have happened?

Becca resisted the urge to pull Noah closer. Cling to him for all she was worth. How could she have forgotten...

This woman was Noah’s grandmother.

“So, where did you put it?” the older woman asked him.

He shrugged his shoulders. “It might be in the room,” he mumbled, distracted by a child sitting in a cart passing them. The little boy was licking an orange pumpkin-shaped sucker and eyeing Noah.

“The room?” Clearly puzzled, Mrs. Mitchell looked at Becca. “Where are you staying?”

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Noah whined, and Becca couldn’t have been happier for the interruption.

“I know. But you need to keep your voice down, and what have I told you about interrupting grown-ups when they’re talking?”

Noah muttered an apology, though he was far more interested in keeping track of the lollipop.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Mitchell, but it was a long drive and I really should go feed him so he can take a nap.”

“Don’t you worry. I understand all too well. This one here,” she said, inclining her head at Ryder as he helped her straighten, “he would’ve eaten twenty-four seven if I’d let him. I doubt he ever went long enough between snacks to be hungry. And mind you, it lasted until he left for college.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me that,” Becca said, laughing. “My food bill is already more than my rent.”