Cowboy in the Extreme. Rita Herron
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chin and nodded.
Brandon’s heart melted. “Well, then let’s go.” He tweaked Lucy’s nose. “Think you can crawl into your seat and go back to sleep?”
“I don’t know,” she said, still clinging to Kim.
“Sure you can,” Kim said with a smile. “And when you wake up, we’ll be at Brandon’s ranch.”
Brandon gently stroked Lucy’s hair. “I have a big bed your mama can tuck you into, and you can sleep as late as you want, and then we’ll have my famous cinnamon toast and look at the horses.”
Lucy studied him for a moment, her pale green eyes so like his own and his sister’s that he couldn’t drag his gaze away.
He’d protect her or die trying.
KIM WAS AFRAID Lucy might not fall back asleep, but she must have been exhausted because in minutes she was curled up with her blanket and stuffed animal again.
She wished she was as resilient. Between the break-in, hit-and-run and the tension between her and Brandon, she doubted she’d sleep another wink all night. Thankfully, Brandon hadn’t pressed for more yet, but a confrontation was inevitable.
She stole a glance at him, and noticed his rigid posture. He kept checking the mirrors, and she realized he was staying alert in case that truck returned. The thought made her sit up straighter, and she stared out the window at the passing scenery searching the darkness.
As they passed long, flat stretches of wilderness dotted with desert cacti, creosote flats, yucca and cholla, then other ranches and farmland, her mind wandered to the day she discovered her pregnancy. She had only been eighteen, but she’d been so in love with Brandon that she would never have considered doing anything but raising her baby. She’d loved their child from the moment she’d found out she had conceived.
But Brandon had broken her heart a couple of months before and was on his honeymoon.
That had hurt the worst. To know that he was celebrating his love for another woman while she faced having a child alone. A child she’d desperately wanted to raise with him.
Her thoughts stayed scattered in the past as he veered onto a long winding road that looked at if it led nowhere. Moonlight streaked the horizon, painting a golden glow over the hills and valleys, and soon she saw cattle roaming and grazing in lush pastures.
He wound down a paved drive lined with billowing oaks that created a canopy above them, and she noted several barns, stables and riding pens.
Her pulse throbbed as they reached a stone wall, carved into an arch that held a wooden sign that said The Woodstock Wagoneer.
Brandon had talked and dreamed about owning his own spread when they were growing up, and she couldn’t help but be proud that he’d accomplished it. And the name…something about it tickled her memory.
A romantic wagon ride they’d taken after prom…
No, he wouldn’t have named the ranch The Wagoneer because of that ride. Would he?
Tears pricked her eyes again, but she blinked them away. Then she spotted a sprawling white farmhouse with gigantic wraparound porches, a white picket fence and dormer windows, and her heart stopped. Flower beds filled with pansies flanked the front porch and ferns hung from the awning, swaying in the breeze. Rocking chairs created a seating area near a porch swing like the Bucking Bronc Lodge, only not as rustic. This one was painted white with blue shutters.
Like the old abandoned farmhouse where they’d played as children.
Except this house wasn’t old or abandoned. It looked exactly like the house she’d pointed to in a magazine one time when they’d been daydreaming.
She swung her gaze to Brandon’s as he cut the engine, and for a moment, their gazes locked. Memories of all the times they’d laughed and loved and dreamed together flooded her. She’d fantasized about having a home like this.
But Brandon had built it for another woman.
Pain wrenched through her as if someone had driven a knife into her chest. She threw the door open, stumbled outside the car and gasped for air.
How could she stay here on Brandon’s ranch knowing he had left her pregnant and alone while he built her dream home for another woman?
BRANDON GRITTED HIS TEETH as Kim climbed out. He hoped to hell she didn’t remember the picture of the house she’d shown him years ago. If she did, she’d know that he’d built this house for her.
That he’d never gotten over her. That he’d regretted breaking her heart and marrying Marty.
That he’d blindly hoped that one day he might win her love and trust again. He’d even contemplated asking her to let him be a father to Lucy when he’d thought she was Carter’s daughter.
How pathetic had he been?
All that time he’d tried to love another woman when Kim had been in his heart, and she had kept his child from him. Kim should have known that he would have moved hell or high water to come back to her if he’d known. That he would have sacrificed everything—the money, the job, the hopes of his own spread—just to have a child when he thought that was the one thing he’d never have.
He glanced in the backseat and saw his sleeping daughter, and the anger over his loss nearly overpowered him. When he looked up at Kim, her face was ashen in the moonlight.
A myriad of emotions flashed across her face; then she opened the door to get Lucy.
“I’ll get her,” he said, knowing Kim was exhausted and he had a flight of stairs to climb to carry her to one of the guest rooms.
Kim shook her head. “No, just get the luggage.”
“Stop arguing, Kim,” Brandon said between clenched teeth. “You’re dead on your feet. Just grab your purse and follow me.”
He opened the back door to the car, then unfastened Lucy’s seat belt and scooped his little girl into his arms. Love swelled in his chest as she snuggled up against him.
He swallowed hard, then led the way up the cobblestone steps to the wraparound porch. How many times had he sat in that porch swing and imagined Kim cuddled up beside him?
Fool. That’s what he was.
When he reached the front door, Kim hesitated, and he juggled Lucy to one side and unlocked the door, then stepped inside. He wasn’t much for decorating so the place seemed bare as he flicked on a light. It definitely needed a woman’s touch.
But it was home, so he strode up the winding staircase. Kim followed, her sigh indicating her fatigue.
He shoved open the first door to the right and gestured inside. “There are two guest rooms,” he said. “You can stay in the first one nearest the stairs. I’ll put Lucy in the one beside you. There’s a bathroom in between.”
Kim nodded, then walked with him to the second room, where he flipped on a lamp and headed toward the white four-poster bed. Foolish again. He’d let the store clerk talk him into it, saying female guests would like it. He’d thought of Joanie, who would have loved it, then a little girl that he’d never have, but he’d bought it anyway.
Kim rushed to the bed and turned down the lavender comforter, and he helped ease Lucy onto the bed. For a moment, he simply stood and looked at her, soaking in the fact that she was his child. Memorizing her face again as if he feared she was a mirage and might disappear in the night.
Finally he dragged himself away, then strode down the steps and returned a few minutes later. He dropped Kim’s bag off in the first room, then took Lucy’s little rollaway and bunny backpack and put them on the window seat in front of the dormer window in her room.
He hesitated, soaking up the sight of his daughter again, then watched Kim bend over and kiss Lucy on the forehead and tuck her in tight. He’d never thought