The Rancher's Secret Son. Betsy St. Amant

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The Rancher's Secret Son - Betsy St. Amant


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time to figure out how to say it in a way that wouldn’t put Brady on the alert to Max’s not-so-dormant feelings for her.

      Brady tied Nugget’s reins to the hitching post and Max led the way inside, blinking to adjust his eyes to the dimmer light. He opened the supply room door. “Here it is.” The wire puller lay on the top shelf, just where it should be. He never imagined in his years of working for Brady that one day he’d have his own spread—and that it would be organized, no less.

      “Top shelf. I trained you well.” Brady helped himself to the tool and stepped back, grinning as he shut the door. “Seriously man, this is awesome what you’ve got going here. As much as I hated to lose your help at the Double C, you’ve done well.”

      “You gonna need a tissue?” Max joked, but the compliment sank in deep. Praise from Brady always meant a lot. They’d seen each other through some rough times.

      Hopefully that wasn’t an omen of what was coming along with Emma.

      Brady clapped his shoulder as he passed him in the aisle. “Maybe marriage made me a little soft, but whatever. I still recommend it.”

      “I hear you.” They walked in silence back toward Nugget. Max was running out of time to talk before the teens descended on the barn. It was now or never. He drew a deep breath, fighting to keep his voice casual. “So, turns out Nicole went into labor a little early. Guess who’s filling in with the female campers?” Not that Brady could ever actually guess.

      “Someone from church?” Brady turned at Nugget’s side and handed Max the wire puller so he could mount.

      “Not exactly.” He hesitated. “Someone who recently came back to town.”

      Brady’s brows lifted. “I’d guess one of your exes, but there’s too many to keep up with all their geographical locations.”

      Max passed the puller to Brady in the saddle. “Ha-ha-ha, very funny.” Yet true. So what if Max had dated a lot—or more than a lot—back in the day? Including the local veterinarian, which hadn’t gone over well with Brady when Max had been in his employ. It didn’t matter—he wasn’t like that now, despite his former reputation. Besides, all those women had just proved one fact to him over and over again.

      They weren’t Emma Shaver.

      “So it’s not an ex.” Brady gathered the reins and turned Nugget toward the road.

      Max rolled in his bottom lip, stepping back to give the horse room. “I didn’t say that.”

      “I really need to get this fence repaired, man. What’s with the guessing game?” Brady shifted his hat back on his head as he peered down at Max. Nugget snorted his own impatience, and Brady’s eyes slowly narrowed. “Unless it’s—”

      Gravel crunched as an SUV parked a few yards from where they stood. Brady’s head swiveled to look just as Max recognized the vehicle. Emma was early. They’d agreed for her to show up first thing the next morning, Wednesday, yet here she was. And from the way she grudgingly heaved her suitcase from the backseat and blew her hair out of her eyes, she was tired. Maybe even grumpy.

      This wasn’t good. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Cody or do more than text the other counselors the news of the fill-in help. Hadn’t had a chance to tell Brady the turn of events.

      Hadn’t had a chance to wall up what was left of his heart.

      “I’m here.” Emma set her wheeled suitcase on the dusty ground at her feet, looking as if she thought simply being there would have to be enough. Good thing Max had turned off the idea of more a long time ago. Somewhere around the time she disappeared from his life, maybe. But no, it’d taken a lot longer than that.

      Still was taking time, if he were painfully honest.

      He shot a glance at Brady and let out a long sigh. The inevitable had arrived, right on time. “Welcome back.” He focused his smile on Emma, hoping he successfully hid the nerves wringing his stomach. “This is Brady, a neighbor and friend. And, Brady, this is the temporary counselor I was telling you about—Emma.” He swallowed, darting a glance as Brady automatically reached down a hand to shake hers. “Emma Shaver.”

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