A Chance for the Rancher

by Brenda Harlen

  “And rushed over here because you missed me?”

  “Because I heard that Ranger was hurt,” his sister clarified.

  “How could you possibly have heard that?” he wondered aloud. The only person he’d told about the horse’s injury was his grandfather, in the hope that he would have been available to come out to take a look at the stallion. Unfortunately, one of Jesse Blake’s own horses at Crooked Creek Ranch had been ready to foal for the first time and he hadn’t been willing to leave her. Instead, he’d suggested that Patrick call Dr. Langley.

  No doubt his grandfather had been referring to Bruce, but Patrick wasn’t at all disappointed to find his beautiful daughter on his doorstep instead. “Gramps told Spencer, who of course told Kenzie, who asked me how the stallion was doing when I ran into her at The Daily Grind,” Sarah said, explaining the source of her knowledge to him now. Spencer being their cousin and Kenzie his wife, who lived with their kids in the main house at Crooked Creek Ranch, where Gramps resided in the old bunkhouse.

  “And you came right away to put your secret veterinarian skills to work?” Patrick teased his sister.

  She punched him in the shoulder—playfully but not exactly lightly. “Maybe I did think I might be able to do something to help.”

  “There’s not,” he told her. “It’s a coronary band injury that the vet has examined and treated.”

  “Is Ranger going to be okay?” she asked, sincerely concerned about the animal’s welfare.

  “Fingers crossed,” he said. “But if you wanted to do something more...”

  “Of course I do,” she immediately replied.

  “Great. You can make lunch.”

  Not surprisingly, his sister rolled her eyes at that suggestion. “You still haven’t hired a cook?”

  “I didn’t see any point in hiring a cook before I had guests to feed.”

  “The point is that you’d have someone to make lunch for you rather than trying to manipulate your sister.”

  “That is a good point,” he acknowledged. “But it seems kind of indulgent to have someone around to prepare meals only for me.”

  “It’s not as if you can’t afford it,” she said.

  “You’d think so, but most of my money has been invested in the property you’re standing on.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “And you claim you’re not a gambler.”

  “I know most of the family doesn’t approve of what I’m doing here, but I thought you and Jenna would at least pretend to be supportive.”

  “You know we’ve always had your back,” Sarah said.

  And he did know it. As much as he’d always looked out for his sisters, they’d done the same for him. Gramps had dubbed them The Three Musketeers from an early age because they’d always had an “all for one and one for all” philosophy. Of course they’d had to rely on one another, as they’d often been left to their own devices while their parents spent most of their waking hours at Blake Mining, diligently adding to the family fortune.

  Poor little rich kids.

  “But having your back doesn’t mean we don’t worry about you,” Sarah said to him now.

  “You’re worried because I chose to walk away from Blake Mining?” he guessed.

  She shrugged. “You are a little young to be going through a midlife crisis.”

  “It’s a simple career change, not a midlife crisis,” he assured her.

  “It’s a big gamble,” she said again.

  “Speaking of which, how was Vegas?” he asked.

  She let him get away with shifting the topic of conversation—at least for now.

  “It was okay,” she replied, with a half-hearted shrug.

  “Did you lose all your money on the roulette wheel?”

  “Blackjack,” she told him.

  “So what prompted this impulsive trip?” he asked.

  “I didn’t want to be stuck here, alone, on Valentine’s Day,” she admitted.

  “Was it better to be alone in Vegas?” he asked. Then another thought occurred to him. “Or maybe you weren’t alone—in which case, you can spare me the details.”

  “I wasn’t alone,” she said. “I went with a friend who was getting over a recent breakup and who decided that hooking up with a random guy was a better idea than hanging out with her also single friend.”

  “That sucks,” he said.

  She shrugged again. “It wasn’t the worst Valentine’s Day ever.”

  “I’ve never understood why there’s so much focus put on a made-up holiday.”

  “If you think about it, all holidays are made up,” she said.

  “But only Valentine’s Day was a conspiracy between the florists and candy makers who wanted an excuse to jack up the prices of their wares.”

  “So who did you buy flowers and chocolates for this year?” Sarah asked.

  “No one.” In fact, the date might have slipped right past without him even realizing it if he hadn’t gone into town that night.

  “Hmm... I thought you might have celebrated the occasion with Trinity, considering that she broke up with Christopher a few weeks back,” Sarah said.

  “We did have a drink at Diggers’ Friday night.”

  “Which was Valentine’s Day,” she reminded him.

  “Right.”

  “And after the drink?” she prompted.

  “There was no ‘after,’ just a drink,” he told her.

  “Hmm...” she said again, somehow making the single syllable sound as if it was filled with meaning.

  “So who is she?” Sarah pressed, when he didn’t respond to her musing.

  “Who is who?” he asked.

  “The woman who inspired you to turn down a sure thing like Trinity?”

  “Isn’t it possible that I just wasn’t in the mood for a hookup?” he countered.

  “Possible,” she allowed. “But not probable. I’m guessing it’s the redhead who was getting into her truck as I drove up.”

  Yep, there were those uncanny instincts again.

  “She must be someone special,” Sarah continued. “Because you don’t usually allow your...female companions...to hang around so late the next day.”

  “Brooke didn’t spend the night,” he said.

  She nodded. “I should have realized. You’re usually in a much better mood the morning after.”

  “Why are you here again?” he asked.

  “I came to check on Ranger,” she said. “And...I’m bored.”

  “You could get a job,” he suggested.

  “I have a job—Associate Director of Occupational Safety and Health at Blake Mining.”

  He snorted. “You have a paycheck.”

  “Yep,” she agreed. “And one that I happily spend as fast as I earn it.”

  “Don’t you want to actually do something with your life?” he asked, genuinely concerned that she was aimlessly going through the motions with little regard for her own happiness. Not unlike he’d done for far too long.

  “Like what? Open a dude ranch?” Her skeptical tone left him in no doubt about what she thought of that idea.

  “The Silver Star is a vacation ranch,” he corrected automatically.

  “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” she said.

  “And you know, maybe that’s not such a bad idea,” he decided.

  “What?”

  “You working here.”

  She waved her hands in front of her, clearly dismissing his suggestion. “Oh, no,” she said. “You’re not roping me into participating in this questionable venture.”

  “You’re a people person, Sarah. You shouldn’t be stuck in an office reading reports all day.” Though his intention had been to turn the topic of conversation away from the sexy vet—and thank goodness Brendan had already been buckled into his booster seat, so his sister had
n’t caught a glimpse of Brooke’s son—his remark was nothing less than the truth. Sarah was good with people, sincere and empathetic, always willing to soothe and reassure others. Unlike Jenna, who liked to light the fuses and then sit back to watch the fireworks.

  “We both know I’m only in my office a few hours a week,” she said. “And you still haven’t answered my question about your female visitor.”

  “Brooke is the vet who’s been looking after Ranger’s injury.”

  “What happened to Dr. Langley?”

  “She’s another Dr. Langley—his daughter, who works with him in his practice.”

  “This is all starting to make sense now,” Sarah mused.

  “What’s starting to make sense?”

  “When I saw Kenzie, I asked her about Buttercup’s new foal, but apparently she hasn’t had it yet, and Kenzie guessed it was going to be at least a few more days.”

  “And?” he prompted.

  “Gramps has been a rancher his whole life. He’s probably witnessed more livestock births than he can count.”

  “True,” he acknowledged.

  “So doesn’t it seem a little strange that when you asked him to come out here to check on Ranger, he was too busy watching over an expectant mare who wasn’t anywhere near ready to foal?”

  “Obviously he misread the signs,” he said, with a shrug.

  “He didn’t misread anything,” Sarah denied. “He made an excuse about why he couldn’t come out here so that you’d have to call the new vet.”

  Patrick couldn’t imagine Jesse Blake going to such lengths in the vague hope of striking a romantic match for one of his grandchildren. “Our grandfather is hardly the type to play Cupid.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so, either,” his sister agreed. “But he’s had romance on his mind—and a definite spring in his step—since he’s been dating Helen Powell.”

  He shuddered. “Aside from the fact that I don’t want to think about Gramps and Helen, there’s a major flaw in your theory.”

  “What’s that?”

  “There’s no way Gramps could have known it would be Brooke who showed up instead of her dad.”

  “Sure there is. Gramps knows everyone in this town, and if he talked to someone who mentioned having a problem that required the vet, then he’d know the senior Dr. Langley would have been occupied and that another call to the clinic would result in his daughter coming out here,” Sarah theorized.

  The convoluted explanation left Patrick unconvinced.

  But on the off chance that his sister was right, he’d have to talk to his grandfather about meddling in his personal life—and maybe say “thank you.”

  * * *

  “I thought you might be waiting for Brendan to get home from school so you could bring him with you,” Patrick remarked, when Brooke showed up at the Silver Star just before 4:00 p.m. the following day.

  She shook her head. “I’d planned to be here around noon, but I got caught up at the Wallace farm, vaccinating the new kids.” And then chatting with Howard Wallace about his potential plans to expand his cheese offerings at the local farmers’ market. As a result of that lengthy conversation, the vaccine cooler in the back of her truck now also contained samples of several new varieties that Howard had given her to try.

  “I was riding fence with Levi and Dean and only got back a while ago myself, so I’m glad I didn’t miss you,” he said. “But if you ever do come by when I’m not around, feel free to do what you need to.”

  “I will,” she assured him. “But I have no doubt you could handle Ranger’s care yourself. It’s not that complicated.”

  “But not my area of expertise, either,” he told her.

  “So what is your area of expertise?” she asked curiously.

  “Market data analysis.”

  “A skill that will no doubt serve you well on trail rides and at cookouts,” she remarked wryly.

  “No doubt,” he agreed with a grin.

  When she’d finished with her task, instead of immediately packing up and heading out, she turned to him and said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am free for dinner.” He winked. “And breakfast.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to know,” she assured him.

  “But still valuable information.”

  Though Brooke rolled her eyes, Patrick thought he saw a spark of amusement in their depths.

  “Did you tell Brendan that you wanted him to be a consultant?” she asked him.

  “Junior consultant,” he clarified.

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “It turns out he’s got some pretty good ideas about the kinds of things kids might like to do when visiting a guest ranch, and since I didn’t really have any ideas, it made sense. And I’m happy to pay for his time—unless you object to me spending time with your son?”

  “You’re not going to pay him,” she said. “And I don’t have any objections. I just want to be clear that spending time with Brendan isn’t going to score any points with me.”

  “I’m not asking to spend time with him to score points with you,” he said. “I happen to think he’s a great kid.”

  “I didn’t think you liked kids.”

  “I didn’t think I did, either,” he confided. “But it seems that I like Brendan. And I really like his mom.”

  “I’m flattered,” she said. “But I’m not interested in having an affair, a fling or a one-night stand with you.”

  “I noticed you didn’t dismiss the possibility of a relationship.”

  “I didn’t think it was necessary, because everyone knows you don’t do relationships.”

  “And you’ve been listening to gossip,” he chided.

  “So it’s not true that you’ve never dated the same woman for more than three months?” she challenged.

  He mentally reviewed his most recent romantic involvements. He’d dated Trinity for about five months altogether, but never for more than a few weeks at a time. Dana? No, that relationship hadn’t lasted any more than six weeks. Kristie? About six weeks again. Shayla? Almost three months—until she’d asked him to accompany her to Flagstaff, Arizona, for Thanksgiving to meet the family. He’d taken a hard pass on that invitation.

  Brooke was watching him, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  He wanted to kiss the smile off her face. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to kiss her. Because after only one taste, he was addicted to her flavor, craving not just another sample but a feast.

  But she was still waiting for a response to her question, so he finally said, “I dated Kimberly Ellis for almost two years.”

  “High school doesn’t count,” she told him.

  He frowned, once again struck by the certainty that they’d both attended Westmount but unable to grasp any solid memory of her from back then. “How do you know that was high school?”

  “Because I was in the same grade as Kimberly’s sister, Emily.”

  Which meant that she would have been a freshman when he was a senior, and definitely not on his radar. “Okay, so I don’t have a lot of experience with relationships,” he conceded.

  “Which is probably one of the few things we have in common,” she said.

  “You don’t date a lot?”

  “I’ve been on a total of three dates since Brendan was born and none at all in the past three years.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I don’t know why you sound surprised,” she said. “The idea of dating a single mom sends most guys running in the opposite direction.” She stared at him pointedly. “Or at least taking a big step back.”

  As he’d done, when she’d first told him that she had a child. But now that he’d spent some more time with her and met her son, the idea of dating a single mom didn’t seem so s
cary. Instead, the prospect of spending more time with Brooke and Brendan was oddly appealing.

  Chapter Seven

  Over the next week, Brooke showed up at the ranch daily, if not on any particular schedule, squeezing in visits to the Silver Star around her other commitments. Sometimes she came on her own, and sometimes she brought Brendan with her. On the latter occasions, Patrick tried to make a point of spending some time consulting with his junior consultant.

  Brendan really was a great kid, and Patrick had to give full credit to Brooke for raising a well-spoken and confident son on her own. Yeah, the boy was a little outspoken at times, but Patrick quite enjoyed their frank conversations.

  Today after their consult, Brendan had asked if he could build a snow fort—a reminder to Patrick that the fresh fall of snow that had been a hassle for him to shovel off the walks that morning was a glorious world of opportunity for a child.

  “Since you’re here, I wondered if you might have time to check something else,” Patrick said, as Brooke returned Ranger to his stall.

  “What something else?” she asked.

  He gestured to the animal that was curled up in the vacant stall across from Ranger’s.

  Brooke followed the direction he was pointing, her eyes widening when she spotted the curly-haired dog tucked in the corner. “You got a dog?”

  “I didn’t get anything,” he denied. “It just suddenly appeared.”

  “When?”

  “This morning—or maybe last night. But I didn’t see it until this morning.”

  She cautiously stepped through the open gate. Watching her approach, the dog thumped its tail a few times, even as it ducked its head, as if anticipating a scolding—or maybe worse.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Brooke murmured softly. “I just want to see if you’re wearing a collar.”

  But she paused a few feet away, respecting the animal’s space, and lowered herself to her haunches. “Look at you, pretty girl,” she said, in the same soothing tone. “Or are you a pretty boy?”

  The dog rose to a crouched position and slowly crawled toward her.

  “Pretty girl,” Brooke decided. “She looks like a labradoodle to me.”

  She held herself still, letting the animal sniff her, and was rewarded with a swipe of tongue over her knuckles.