The Rancher's Second Chance. Brenda Minton
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He didn’t want to save the whole world. But saving Grace was something he had to do. He couldn’t turn her away. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t care.
“Doesn’t she have family she can turn to?” Duke asked as he unlocked the back door of Oregon’s, which led to the small apartment at the rear of the shop.
“They’re all out-of-pocket right now. Parents and grandparents are in the mission field and her aunt is in Florida.”
“Gotcha.” Duke flipped on lights and turned on the air conditioner. “I hate to ask, but are you sure you want to do this?”
“I don’t have a choice.” But if he was being honest with himself, getting tied in with Grace was the last thing he wanted.
“Right, okay.” Duke didn’t question him further. He went upstairs and came back with a blanket and a pillow. “I’d put her on the sofa for now.”
Brody agreed. He walked out the door and down the sidewalk to his truck. She was still sleeping. She’d pulled her legs up in the seat and her arms hugged her waist. He opened the door and said her name. She murmured something soft that ended on a sigh.
“Great.” He shook his head and reached in to wake her. She leaned toward him, her eyes still closed. Brody slid an arm around her shoulders and another under her legs. There wasn’t much to her. He pulled her against him and stepped out of the truck, holding her tight as he made his way back up the sidewalk.
Blond hair lifted in the breeze and brushed his face. He inhaled the sweet apple scent of her shampoo. She smelled good. And she was easy to hold.
But he’d do himself some favors by remembering who she was, what she had done to him. Duke had the door open as Brody made his way back to the apartment. He shot a big-brother look at the woman in Brody’s arms and then noticed the left leg that Brody couldn’t quite manage to lift. Duke shook his head but didn’t say anything.
Brody eased the sleeping woman to the sofa and covered her with the blanket. She curled on her side and her hand reached out. He stepped back away from her. A good five feet between them made him feel a lot better.
“Well, that looks like one hundred pounds of serious trouble,” Duke chuckled. He pounded Brody on the back. “Go with God, little brother. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”
“Thanks.” Brody sat down in the easy chair and propped his booted feet up on the coffee table. He ignored the warning look Duke gave him.
“What are you going to tell Lincoln when he comes looking for her?” Duke leaned against the door frame. He glanced out, toward the restaurant, then back at Brody.
“I guess I’ll tell him she doesn’t want to see him.”
“Well, call if you need anything.” And by anything, he meant help handling Lincoln Carter.
Hard to believe he and Lincoln once had been best friends. They’d both been working toward the same goal: to be world-champion bull riders. They’d won a lot of money. They’d traveled the country together. Last fall it all had changed. One year ago, Brody realized.
“Thanks for the help, Duke. I appreciate it.” Brody tipped up his hat, making steady eye contact with his brother, who still stood in the doorway watching him.
“That’s what family is for. I’d best get back to the breakfast crowd or Ned is going to hunt me down.”
Brody smiled. Ned, short for Nedine, was a big lady with graying auburn hair and a gruff demeanor, but she was all heart. Duke said she was the best waitress in the state. He told her that often. Especially after he’d ruffled her feathers.
Duke left, and Brody leaned back in the chair and tried to relax. Unfortunately he was all too aware of the woman just feet away from him. Aware of her soft breathing. The quiet sob in her sleep. It all pulled him toward her in a way he hadn’t expected and didn’t want. He just should have called the police when she’d shown up. He should send her to friends. There were other people she could have gone to.
So why him?
To torment him, he guessed. The only one who could control that was him. He would take control now before he got too far in. He’d keep her at a distance. He’d remember how it felt to have his heart trampled. Memories resurfaced, and not the ones he wanted. Of course he didn’t remember the night when he’d rounded the corner of his trailer and saw her with Lincoln. Instead, he remembered how it had felt to hold her in his arms.
He rubbed his hands down his cheeks and shook his head. Heartache, pain, disillusionment—he drew all the memories in and let them simmer as he looked at the woman asleep on the couch, her face bruised by the fist of another man.
He waited until he heard Oregon show up, then he made his way into the section of the building where her store was located. Oregon had a talent for making things. She made clothes, hand-painted Christmas ornaments and jewelry. He didn’t know much about her art, but he knew enough to be impressed.
When he walked through the door, she turned from the shelf she was straightening and smiled at him. She was a tiny thing with dark hair and big gray eyes. And her daughter, Lilly, was the spitting image of Duke.
“I heard I have a visitor.” She moved some things around, then settled her serious gaze on him. “You okay?”
“I’m good. She isn’t. Do you mind if she stays here for a while?”
“Of course not.” Oregon pointed to the coffeepot on the shelf behind the counter. “Need a cup?”
“No, I thought I’d go help Jake.”
She narrowed her eyes to study him. “Really?”
“What?”
“You’ve avoided horses like most people avoid snakes.”
He shrugged and didn’t offer explanations. He hadn’t offered an explanation to anyone about anything. He’d lived his life that way, because from the time he’d been a kid everyone had told him to put on his big-boy jeans and get over it. He’d gotten over his mom walking out on them. He’d gotten over his dad drinking his life away. And whatever he was feeling inside, he kept it to himself. For the most part.
As Duke had told him a long time ago, they all had stuff they had to deal with.
“He asked me to help him out today. I know Duke is at the restaurant. I don’t want to leave Jake shorthanded.”
She dropped her gaze to his leg the way Duke had. “Should you be riding?”
“Yep. So can you let her know where I’ve gone?”
“Yes, I’ll let her know.”
Brody started to walk away but stopped. “If a guy with straw-colored hair and a big grin shows up here asking for her, tell him you don’t know who he’s talking about.”
Worry clouded her features. “I will. Brody, are you sure you should...”
“Yeah, I should.”
He walked away before she could guess he wasn’t as sure as he acted.
* * *
Lincoln chased her through the dark, his face a mask of anger and cruelty. Grace ran but her legs were tired and heavy, and it was hard to breathe. Then suddenly they were in a clinic, and Lincoln told her in quiet, reassuring tones that it was the right choice. She shook her head, knowing he was wrong and that she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t take the life growing inside her. It was her baby. Hers to love. Hers to protect.
Grace woke up with a start. She wasn’t in a clinic. She was—she didn’t know where she was. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered being picked up from Brody’s truck, his arms around her. It was the first time she’d felt safe in months.
It was true. A person always wanted what they knew they couldn’t have. She happened