Karen Rock - Bad Boy Rancher

“What are you doing here?” Then—“Was the door unlocked?”

For some contrary reason, her hostile tone slapped a wide smile on his face. He swept off his hat and bowed slightly, all old-school, country-boy charm. “Yes, it was. And it’s nice to see you, too.”

“Can’t say the same, but come in. Doreen, please contact maintenance to have them check and reset the security keypad,” she called then turned back the way she came.

He followed her into a small, sterile-looking room, admiring the sway of her trim hips beneath a modest skirt that flowed nearly to her ankles. Today, the silky lavender material of her shirt buttoned at each wrist and twisted into a bow at her neck. With all this covering up, maybe it was a wonder he found an inch of her to be attracted to. Yet his eyes stuck to her like she was flypaper. He stroked his beard, his own form of concealment.

“Please. Sit.”

He folded himself into a chair and watched as she strode behind her desk and sat, her back so straight, he bet he could plumb an entire building off it. A hectic red colored her cheeks and brought out the mint of her magnetic eyes.

“What can I do for you?”

“It’s more what I can do for you.”

Her lips quirked, and he found himself mesmerized by the fuller bottom lip, imagining its softness...its taste...

“And what would that be?”

“Heard about the town hall meeting next week, and I wanted to help.”

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Seemed like you thought the clinic was a waste of time last time we talked.”

He dropped his eyes at her piercing gaze. With one look, she turned him into glass, see-through and potentially breakable. It was a damn uncomfortable feeling.

“It is for me. But other people...”

“If you don’t believe in what we do, how can you convince others?”

“I—I do believe you can make a difference. Just—you know—not with me.”

“And you’re in the habit of pronouncing judgments on things you know nothing about?”

His mouth dropped open. No. That was know-it-all James. “Look. I’m just beyond help is all.”

Her expression softened. “No one’s beyond help unless they put themselves out of reach.” He followed her eyes to a set of dog tags stowed in a paper clip tray.

“Are those yours?”

Suddenly she hurried from the room, rubbing her eye as if she’d gotten something in it. He glimpsed the anguish, the inner torment he’d spotted the night of the accident. It stirred his protective instincts. What kept her up at night?

Curiosity overruled politeness, and he leaned forward, grabbed the metal discs and read the inscription.

Pelton

William R.

4763888912

O Pos

Protestant

A brother? Friend? The need to know seized him.

“Who’s William?” he asked when she returned, blowing her nose.

“No one.” She snatched the tags from his hand, yanked open a drawer and dropped them inside.

“My brother Jesse died almost four years ago,” he heard himself say.

What was he doing? He knew better than to talk about Jesse. Yet something about Brielle’s pain made him want to share his.

Her stiff expression slackened. “I’m sorry. I heard he was your twin?”

“Identical. We even liked the same mustard. The brown spicy kind, not the yellow stuff.” He nearly kicked himself. Why was he telling her this nonsense?

Her smile revealed two enchanting dimples on either side of her mouth. “I hate the yellow kind, too. Much too watery. What else did Jesse like?”

“Kids. No mother was safe around him.” His shoulders lowered as he relaxed into the tale. No one ever talked about Jesse except in tragic terms, if they spoke of him at all. His family tiptoed around Justin’s grief like it was a land mine.

Yet undaunted Brielle waded right in without hesitation. It felt good to have an unbiased ear, someone who’d let him focus on positive memories, unfiltered by the bad. “Jesse begged to hold babies every time he came within fifty yards of them, and he had to be bribed to give them back.”

“He sounds like a special guy.”

Justin’s eyes burned for a moment. How long since he’d cried over Jesse? He hadn’t allowed himself tears at Jesse’s funeral nor a day since, and he’d be damned if he was going to start now, in front of a beautiful woman whom he never wanted to view him as broken. “He wasn’t a bad element like they’re saying.” He jerked his head toward Carbondale, visible through her window.

She nodded. “I know.”

Two words. Simple and direct. They carried such conviction that they reached inside and stirred his heart.

“So that’s why I want to help you.”

“You won’t be able to do that from jail.”

He let that sink in. She was right. He’d be behind bars when the meeting took place and couldn’t speak up for Jesse.

“Unless...”

He leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Unless?”

“You came here instead.”

When he opened his mouth to object, she held up a hand. “Hear me out. I know you don’t think we can help you, and maybe we can’t, but you could do us a lot of good. I haven’t found someone to lead the patients’ ranch activities yet. You could take that over temporarily, as a volunteer, while you’re staying here to fulfill the court ruling. It’d help my case and impress the local ranchers at the meeting. Plus, I’d have more time to recruit another cowboy to take on the job permanently. What do you say?”

The room spun around him for a moment. “I—I’d have to think on it.”

“What’s to think about?” she challenged with that same give-no-quarter directness that backed him up and kept him off balance. “What are you afraid of?”

That snapped his spine straight. “Nothing.”

“Then prove it. I dare you to spend the next six weeks here.”

“Dare?” Was she joking? This wasn’t kid stuff...it was life or death. And the way Brielle got under his skin, opened him up, was downright dangerous. If he accepted, he’d need to keep his distance. “I’m not going to any group talks.”

She pondered that a moment then sighed. “Fine. Go only if you want to, which I’m betting will be plenty.”

“You’re pretty sure of yourself.”

“I am.”

He found himself smiling. When was the last time he’d smiled for no reason? He liked Brielle’s gumption.

“So,” she pressed, looking so flushed and vibrant he wagered touching her would be like grabbing hold of an electric fence. He could feel the spark from where he sat. “Do we have a deal?”

He shoved back his chair and held out his hand. “Dare accepted.”

As he left the facility to meet his sister for a ride home, thoughts ran through Justin’s head. He hadn’t been able to save his brother, but perhaps it wasn’t too late to make some sort of amends and help others, even though he had little faith it’d make a difference with him.

And deep down, he had to admit that the choice between spending the next one-plus month with Brielle Thompson versus Sheriff Travis Loveland wasn’t exactly hard to make.

His lips curved as he pictured her fired-up expression.

Nope.

Not a difficult decision by a long shot.

CHAPTER FOUR

“HE’S HERE. HE’S HERE!” Doreen stage-whispered, fluttering in Brielle’s office door the following day. Her gravity-defying bangs quivered like antennae.

Brielle cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Him... Justin Cade. He’s filling out his contact and insurance information.” Doreen waved a hand before her scarlet face. “And he’s wearing his dark leather jacket and black cowboy hat with the brim low over those eyes of his and...”