Brenda Minton - The Rancher's Secret Child

After a minute he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck where it hurt the most. Slowly he became aware of a couple of things. First, the horse he’d been attempting to ride had moseyed on over to the fence. The traitor had his head down like a big old puppy dog so the kid could pet him. The woman’s gaze left the boy and the horse and shifted his way, nervous and a bit guilty.

Considering she was partially to blame for his bad exit off the horse’s back, she could have at least asked if he was okay. But, no, she only managed to look sheepish as she ran her hand down the horse’s neck. The little boy seemed more curious than anything.

“No, don’t worry, I’m fine,” he muttered as he came to his feet.

He limped across the arena and grabbed the horse’s reins because he was a little jealous of the attention the animal was getting. He moved the gelding away from the fence and away from the hands of the visitors. The woman moved her sunglasses to the top of her head and narrowed her blue eyes at him. He must be getting better at offending the fairer sex. It had taken only two minutes for him to earn her displeasure. “Did he break your leg?” the little boy asked.

Marcus glanced at the kid. He was maybe five, with big eyes. Those eyes widened a bit, the normal reaction to Marcus’s face. Because it was a kid, not an adult staring at him, Marcus had sympathy. He half turned, giving the little boy his good side.

“No,” he answered roughly. “It would take more than that to break me.”

“I bet it would,” the boy said in awe.

Marcus hoped the woman and kid weren’t fans with the misplaced idea that he welcomed uninvited guests to the ranch for sightseeing. But the woman didn’t appear to be an admiring fan. She didn’t look like the type of woman who had ever witnessed a professional bull ride, let alone knew who the champions might be.

“Is there something I can help you with?” He looked down at the little boy and back at the woman, because there was something familiar about her.

She was taller than average, with long, dark hair, and had high cheekbones that made him think she had Native American ancestry. But she had startling blue eyes. The blue of a winter sky. Those eyes were boring into him like he was a bug and she couldn’t figure out what kind. So obviously not a fan.

Fine with him. He didn’t need fans. In fact, he didn’t need much of anything or anyone. Which was exactly why he’d picked this property, several miles off the beaten path and far enough away from his siblings that they wouldn’t always be in his business.

“Are you Marcus Palermo?” she asked, her hand protective on the boy’s shoulder.

“That would be me.”

“Then we need to talk.” She squatted to look the boy in the eye. “Sit and don’t move.”

“By myself?” For the first time, the little guy looked unsure. And Marcus had to admit to getting his hackles up when a kid looked unhappy.

“By himself?” he echoed. The question earned him an answering look from the female. She straightened and met his gaze head-on, those blue eyes once again penetrating him. He didn’t like feeling as if he was five and about to get in trouble.

He also didn’t like the fact that his gaze landed on cherry-glossed lips that were far from smiling, yet were still cherry. As if that bright gloss was the only frivolous thing she allowed herself.

“He’ll be fine,” she answered. “We’re going to head to the barn and talk for a few minutes. I’ll be able to see him from there. Correct?”

“Sure thing,” Marcus whispered.

“Do you ever talk loud?” the boy asked, looking up at him from the spot where she’d told him to sit. He had a small car, and as he stared at Marcus, he pushed the car through the dirt.

“No, I don’t.” Marcus walked off, leading the horse behind him. He heard the gate creak on its hinges and the footsteps hurrying to catch up.

He entered the side door to the barn and she followed him.

“Say what it is you came here to say.” He ground the words out. He didn’t mean to sound gruff, but it couldn’t be helped. Added to that, something about this woman put him off-kilter. And not in a totally bad way.

He gave her another long look and saw the wary shift of her gaze from his face to the door. She had bad news. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach.

She stood by the door, watching first the boy and then him.

“My name is Lissa Hart. Sammy Lawson was my sister. Well, foster sister.”

Sammy. He unsaddled the horse and led the animal to a stall to be dealt with later. He wouldn’t put a horse out to pasture without giving it a good brushing and grain. Even a horse that had tossed him in the dirt.

It had been about six years since he’d seen Sammy. The mention of her had taken him back to a time and place, a version of himself, he’d rather forget. He needed a minute to collect his thoughts, so he made sure the horse had plenty of hay and fresh water. Finally, he turned to face Lissa Hart.

“Sammy? I haven’t heard from her in a long time.”

Pain sparked in her eyes and she blinked a few times. “Marcus, Sammy passed away. A little over a year ago. I thought you would have heard.”

He walked away from her. Now he needed more than a minute. His heart constricted, reminding him he did indeed have one. Sammy gone. It didn’t make sense. The two of them had dated for a few months until she broke it off with him. He hadn’t loved her, but he had cared for her. They’d been a bad fit, in different places, rubbing each other wrong. She, like so many women in his life, had wanted more than a broken-down, dysfunctional bull rider with an alcohol problem.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Emotions in check, he faced her again. “What happened?”

“She had an accident. Her injuries were serious. I made it to the hospital, but...”

She closed her eyes and he understood.

“I’m sorry,” he said more softly than normal, and his eyes misted with unwelcome dampness. “I tried to call her after she ended it with me. She let me know she didn’t want me around.”

“She had ideas about what she wanted in life.”

“And it wasn’t a rough bull rider from Bluebonnet Springs, Texas.” He couldn’t keep the resentment from his voice.

“She told me she was afraid together you’d be combustible and you’d self-destruct. She needed peace.”

“Yeah, I get that. That brings us to why you’re here, and then you can leave.” He got the sneaking suspicion it wasn’t going to go that way.

She swallowed hard, and he felt a pang of something resembling guilt or regret. She’d lost someone she considered a sister. Sammy had been young and so full of life. She’d had dreams. And now she was gone. He muttered under his breath and wiped his eyes. Contrary to how he was acting, he wasn’t heartless.

“I’m here because she wanted me to find you.”

“Find me why?” He took a step toward her and then changed direction so that he could look out the door, needing to check for himself that the boy was okay.

“He’s your son.” The words sprang from her lips, and for a minute he couldn’t make sense of them.

The boy sat where they’d left him. He was making motor noises for his car and intent on building a ramp. Marcus watched him for a moment and then turned to face the woman who had just upended his entire world.

“No.” He said it again. “No. She would have told me.”

“She knew you weren’t ready to settle down or ready for a family. She wanted to protect him the way she hadn’t been protected as a child.”

“Then why are you here now?”

“Because I promised.” Her words were soft, sad. She shrugged. “She had heard you were changing, getting your act together.”