Kia Cochrane - A Rugged Ranchin' Dad

Stone watched him join Rocky and several of the ranch hands, and he suppressed the urge to strangle his brother. Blade, of all people, should understand that he only wanted the best for his son.

He tipped the bottle of beer to his mouth and took another long swallow. It looked as though this day was never going to end.

Dahlia watched Blade walk away from Stone, and she wondered what they had been talking about so intently. Blade was not an easy man to know, but from the beginning he’d always been kind to her and made an effort to make her feel part of the family.

Had they been arguing? About what?

Oh no, over her? Usually when Stone and Blade disagreed, they did so in private. Never within earshot of the men who worked for them. And never at a party.

The two men were close in age, and it was natural for them to be at odds on a regular basis. Stone had dropped out of college after two years because their father had died, and he believed Blade had needed him at home.

Stone handled the business end of the ranch, all the accounting, which included taxes, contracts, loans and payroll, leaving Blade free to run the ranch. But, even though Blade had been appointed Flint and Rocky’s legal guardian after their dad was killed, Stone had always been actively involved in every decision concerning his two younger brothers as well as the ranch.

So conflict had always been part of Stone’s relationship with Blade.

But Dahlia didn’t want them arguing over her.

She stole another look at the man who was her husband, and took a deep, hard breath. Stone hadn’t changed much over the years. His straight, dark hair still brushed the collar of his denim shirt. He still had the same lean face and prominent cheekbones, his gray eyes wary and watchful when he was troubled.

It had been love at first sight—for both of them—and they’d been married three months later. Dahlia had loved being a sheep rancher’s wife, and mother to his fifteen-month-old son. And thirteen months later Brooke had been born, making their lives complete.

Dahlia was quietly happy as she remembered the birth of her first child. If Stone had felt trapped by the idea of becoming a father again, he had certainly never shown it.

He had absolutely adored Brooke from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. And Dahlia would never forget the joy she’d felt holding Stone’s child in her arms.

Her child.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to find Stone standing next to her chair. “Flint and Shannon are here. Suppose we go and greet them.”

“Of course.”

An assistant professor of English lit at UT in San Antonio, Flint was the only brother who didn’t make his living from ranching. But you’d never know it to look at him, Dahlia thought with a smile as she rushed to hug him. He had the same lean, dark, good looks as his brothers. Dressed in boots and jeans, he could easily pass as a cowboy.

“You didn’t wait dinner on the two of us, did you?” Flint asked, holding her away from him to take a good look. But he seemed satisfied that she was okay.

“We certainly did.” Dahlia smiled back at him, then knelt to say hello to his little girl. “Shannon, how are you?” she asked the tiny six-year-old, with the dark brown ponytail and huge gray-green eyes.

Dahlia felt the pain, swift and sharp, as she gazed upon the little girl who looked so much like Brooke. The same dark hair, heart-shaped face and sweet, crooked little smile.

“I’m fine. How are you?” Shannon asked her shyly.

Dahlia hid a grin. “Did your daddy tell you not to hug me?” When Shannon nodded, she said, “I sure could use a hug.”

Shannon tumbled into her arms almost before the words left Dahlia’s mouth, holding Dahlia tightly around the neck, a short little sob escaping from somewhere deep inside the little girl.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Dahlia whispered, loving the solid feel of her. And she felt a sense of shame, deep within, for neglecting one of her most favorite people in the world.

She hadn’t spent much time with Shannon since Brooke had died. Tightly wrapped up in her own pain and grief, she hadn’t been able to be around the child who reminded her so much of all that she’d lost.

How was Shannon handling life without Brooke to share everything with? Dahlia wondered uncertainly. The two little girls had been very close. More like sisters than cousins.

More to the point—how was Shannon handling Dahlia’s apparent rejection of her all these months? Flint’s wife had died when Shannon was a baby, and Dahlia was the closest thing to a mother the child had ever known.

This was another situation she had to correct as quickly as possible. She’d been told that Flint and Shannon were spending the weekend at the ranch, so she hugged the little girl again and suggested, “What do you say to a picnic tomorrow—just you, me and Field?”

“Really?” The child’s gray-green eyes were shining with happiness. “A real and true picnic with you and Field? Just like we used to?”

Dahlia swallowed slowly and nodded. She managed a smile, but tears filled her eyes as she felt the tug of love coming from her little niece. But she had to stay focused on her mission to restore Stone’s faith—so she could get into heaven.

It was the only way she could ever be with Brooke again.

Even so, she couldn’t help but revel in the fact that she had been the only woman on the ranch for years. Even the cook was a man. And up until a year ago, she’d loved playing mom to her extended family, as well as to her own child.

But without Brooke...

Dahlia felt wrenched in two. She’d forgotten how much she loved everyone here tonight—and how much they loved her.

Except for Stone.

Dahlia couldn’t look up without finding his gaze pinned on her tonight. Sometimes she didn’t even need to look up. She’d always been able to sense his presence. Now, she caught Stone watching her with that cool, expressionless gaze that masked his emotions, and her stomach tightened in anguish.

It tightened even more when he spoke to her.

“Would you like to take a walk in the rose garden?” Stone’s voice was low and for her ears alone. “I know how much you like to look at the roses in the moonlight.”

Surprise couldn’t begin to explain the way she felt inside. How long had it been since he’d asked her to go for a walk with him? And alone in the moonlight?

Not for a year, at least.

Dahlia nodded and they moved around the crowd of family and friends, until they reached the path that led to her garden. The first year she married Stone, Dahlia had planted ten yellow rosebushes. And each year after that she’d planted ten more, until now she had ninety rosebushes of all colors, bordered by neatly trimmed hedgerows—a living testament to the way their marriage had thrived and bloomed over the years.

She stared in silence at the ten rosebushes she’d planted this past spring. The magnificent yellow roses, with their delicate pink shadings at the edge of the petals, reminded her of Brooke.

Stone led her to the bench and she sat down to gaze up at the stars. Music filled the air, and she had a sudden, vivid memory of dancing out here on summer nights. She could almost feel Stone’s arms around her, close and warm, the scent of roses drifting through the air.

The night sky dark and soft.

The million stars slowly appearing one by one.

And the two of them so much in love it hurt even to think of being separated for a night.

They would dance for hours, alone in their own, private little world. A world built on love and trust and sharing more than a bed. They’d shared their lives with each other, both the good and the bad.

Until last year.

Dahlia watched Stone as he seated himself next to her and wondered what he was thinking by dragging her away from the party this way. She didn’t mind, it was something he used to do all the time—but why now? And why tonight?