The Ranger

by Julia Justiss

  “What is it?”

  “It might be too soon to tell you this, but . . . I’d ask you out, if I didn’t think you’d turn me down. I don’t want to pry and I sure don’t want to be threatening. But . . . I like you, Mary. A lot.”

  An eddy of warmth and attraction filled her. “I like you too.”

  “I’m glad. But don’t worry. I’m a patient guy. We can take this as slowly as you want.”

  She felt tears sting her eyes. “I appreciate that. I . . . I don’t know where I want this to go. It’s been so long . . . that part of me . . . seemed to have died.”

  “You lost someone.” A statement, not a question.

  Nodding, she wiped away a tear.

  “You don’t want to talk about it.”

  Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head.

  He smiled. “Dang, girl, most women I’ve known can’t wait to talk about everything, including a lot I’d rather not hear. But I’m still a good listener, if and when you ever do want to talk.”

  “Okay. I’ll remember that.” After a moment of panic when she feared he’d start to press her, she felt a rush of relief. He was understanding—not threatening. He wouldn’t push her further than she was ready to go.

  He drained the rest of his coffee. “Before I leave, I think you need one new Texas expression.”

  “Since your job as a native Texas is to educate me,” she said, amused.

  “That’s right. After that fabulous meal, ‘if I felt any better, I’d drop my harp plumb through a cloud.’”

  She laughed. “I must admit, I’m feeling pretty good too.”

  “I’m glad.” He looked for a moment like he might say more, but didn’t.

  Once again, she was relieved he was so forbearing, not asking questions she wasn’t ready to answer or pushing for something she wasn’t yet ready to give. Even though she felt a little guilty; he’d been so open about his own life, and she’d not reciprocated at all.

  But not guilty enough to divulge what she wasn’t ready to talk about.

  “I better hit the road. You’ll be up early with a little girl eager for pancakes and bacon.” He walked with her to the door. “Thanks again for a wonderful evening.”

  She laughed. “You must be one of the few single men who could say that about sharing the evening with a six-year-old.”

  “I’ve always loved kids. Who could resist Bunny?”

  “No sane person. Good night, Brice. And . . . I had a wonderful evening too.”

  The smile that lit his face sent little ripples of delight, attraction—and alarm—through her. “Good. Hope to see you soon.”

  She watched him walk out to his truck under a night sky spangled with stars, just a hint of coolness in the air hinting of fall to come. His stride was confident, purposeful, a man at ease in his own skin, content with himself. Large, commanding, but not dominating or threatening. A big man who could sit on the floor playing card games with a little girl.

  Yes, she thought she might enjoy seeing more of Brice McAllister. As long as he was content not to take things too far, too fast.

  And if she could ever get beyond the knowledge that he was a cop.

  Chapter Eight

  Ten days later, Brice left Austin after finishing a week of intensive refresher training with his SWAT team. He usually enjoyed the break from his normal routine, the chance to hone skills and learn the latest changes in tactics and restrictions—always changing restrictions. This time, he’d been impatient for the training to end so he could get back to his official investigation into a case of bank fraud—especially since tracking down potential suspicious deposits in small community banks meant he could base his operations out of the Scott ranch house in Whiskey River, rather than his condo in Austin.

  It meant he got to see his brothers and his friends more often.

  Friends like Bunny, whom he promised during the spaghetti dinner at Mary’s to take exploring around the ranch the next time he returned to Whiskey River—so, hopefully, he could persuade her lovely neighbor to come along.

  Slow at it was, he was making progress with Mary. She hadn’t retreated completely when he’d mentioned dating . . . eventually. He had teased out the fact that she’d lost someone, probably a boyfriend or maybe a husband, and wasn’t over that loss yet. Which might explain why she never talked about her past or her family.

  If that was the reason for her reticence, it might mean she hadn’t run from some form of abuse, but had needed to start over again in a place that didn’t remind her of what she’d lost.

  He told her he’d be patient, and he intended to be. Initially, he’d wanted to get closer so he could figure out whether she was under some sort of threat. He still did, though with her seeming more mournful than scared, that now seemed less likely. But now . . . he wanted more.

  He wanted to get closer because he found the time he spent with her so fulfilling.

  He’d always enjoyed being around his family and he loved kids. Time spent that Saturday afternoon and evening, just doing simple things, like picking produce from the garden, cooking, and playing games with Bunny, had created within him a warm, expansive contentment. He’d given Mary the quote about dropping his harp because it was so apt—so apt it shocked him into realizing that he could envision, even anticipate, having a future like this. A wife like Mary to cook and garden with and tease, to sit with over a candlelit dinner table sharing wine and conversation. Playing with, raising, and cherishing a child, like Bunny.

  Though he shouldn’t have been too shocked. Much as he liked his independence, by the time he met Ashley, living the idle single lifestyle had already started to pale. He’d begun to envision the possibility of settling down with one special woman, although he’d still pictured living that life in the city. After dating Ashley on and off for about a year, he’d believed it when she claimed to love him and promised she wanted only him—until she’d inadvertently texted him a message to “her darling Kurt,” arranging to meet the man at a hotel for the weekend during a time when Brice was going to be out of Austin on a case.

  Thank heavens he hadn’t yet made her the proposal he’d been contemplating.

  Her betrayal had soured him on dating for sure, but even once he got over the hurt and anger—fortunately, he’d never gotten to the point of believing himself completely in love with her—he found he just didn’t have the enthusiasm he used to have to go back to hooking up at a bar with a hot babe interested in a short, sex-fueled relationship.

  Maybe it was his brothers’ obvious happiness in their new lives as married men that had him thinking about long term again, or how much he appreciated the witty, smart, creative women they’d married. Women with whom, as the day at Abby’s shop and the night at the football game demonstrated, Mary fit in perfectly. She was already besties with Abby and Katie.

  Maybe it was just the sexy, complex puzzle that was Mary Williams, who captivated him more than any woman he’d encountered before—even Ashley.

  She certainly attracted him, which was both a plus and a problem.

  Sitting beside her on the couch, supremely aware of her lovely body and luscious lips so close, he probably could have used a dowsing in that ice-water bath they’d used for the tomatoes. He was a simple male, not always as sensitive to female signals as he’d like, but he knew without a doubt that if she was not yet ready to talk to him about what she’d lost, she was definitely not ready for kissing.

  No matter how much he ached to hold her, breathe in her rose perfume, and kiss those tempting lips.

  All he knew was he was eager to see her again, glad the requirements of his job and on-again, off-again investigation into the harassment against the Triple A allowed him to return to Whiskey River.

  Maybe one day soon he’d win both her confidence—and that kiss.

  But . . . he couldn’t help noticing, unlike almost everyone else he’d met who, when they found out he was a Texas Ranger, expressed admiration and awe, Mary never asked him anyth
ing about the job. Quite the opposite; she seemed to grow chilly or even . . . hostile whenever he alluded to it. What was it she’d said? Just make sure you don’t reshape the facts to fit your theory of who might be responsible for the actions against the Triple A?

  He suspected she’d had some sort of unpleasant run-in with the law. Or, if not personally, then someone close to her had. She sure didn’t look at lawmen as protectors and seemed to struggle to accept that aspect of who he was.

  As he grew to like her more and more, he was glad he wasn’t usually uniformed when he saw her. He suspected that if he were still a regular cop wearing police blue, it would have snuffed out anything between them before it could begin.

  But why?

  Pressing her for the reason wouldn’t help—what was it she had said? I’m . . . very private myself, so if I see someone pestering people with questions, I tend to feel that they are being . . . harassed.

  He’d just have to add that question to the other mysteries about her he wanted to solve.

  He would go slow and steady, just like he’d promised. But eventually, he vowed to himself, he would convince her it was safe for her to tell him everything.

  After checking out some bank branches in San Marcos and Blanco today, he’d stop by Elaine and Tom’s to set a time for that weekend excursion with Bunny before heading back to the ranch. Who, if she didn’t suggest it before he did, probably would be delighted to add her next-door, “bestest” friend to their outing.

  *

  In the late afternoon, Brice pulled up in front of Elaine and Tom’s Victorian. His knock at the door brought Tom, who welcomed him with a one-armed guy hug. “I know, you came to set a time for Bunny’s ranch trip. Can you linger for a while? We’re having a little happy hour on the back porch—with Bunny’s favorite neighbor,” Tom added, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

  Despite the immediate spike in his pulse, Brice tried to act nonchalant. “Yes, I have time.”

  “You seem to be getting along really well with Miss Mary—according to Bunny,” Tom probed.

  “How hard is it to get along with a woman who loves kids, cooks like a master chef, and looks like a model?”

  “Point taken. You . . . developing an interest there?”

  “I agreed with Elaine that there might be something threatening in her past. The only way to find out for sure if there is some danger somewhere is to get to know her better. But I have to take it very easy. Because she’s still wary.”

  “If she’s still resisting you, there must really be something going on. Normally women go after you faster than a prairie fire with a tailwind. What can I fix you?”

  “Better make mine soda water with a twist. I have to drive up to the ranch afterward.”

  “Boring, but responsible. But then, you are a Texas Ranger.”

  Brice walked out toward the back porch, where he could see Elaine laughing as Bunny sat on Mary’s lap while they played a bouncing game. Brice halted, just watching, thinking what an appealing picture they made—the laughing, exuberant little girl and the dark-haired beauty whose concentration was focused solely on the child.

  Bunny looked up first and spied him. “Uncle Brice!” she cried, hopping off Mary’s lap to run over and give him a hug. “I’m so glad you’re back!”

  “I’m glad to be back, too, peanut.”

  “I see you survived your SWAT refresher,” Elaine said, motioning him to a seat on the bench beside her. “I don’t even see any cuts and bruises.”

  “The worst ones are hidden,” he deadpanned.

  “Brice isn’t just a Ranger, he’s a sharpshooter,” Tom said as he joined them. “Gets called out whenever there’s a hostage situation or an active-shooter incident.”

  “Fortunately, that doesn’t happen too often,” Brice said, watching Mary’s face to see if the comments would arouse the subtle negative response any mention of police work usually elicited.

  But she seemed to be wholly concentrated on Bunny, who’d hopped back onto her lap for more bouncing games.

  “In between times, we don’t know what he does,” Tom said.

  “Very hush-hush,” Elaine teased.

  “If you’re finished abusing me, let me have some of those snacks.”

  “We made cheese nests, Uncle Brice,” Bunny said.

  He took one, winking at Mary as he took a bite. “Delicious. I wish you were close enough to Austin to make me cheese nests every time I came home from work.”

  “Why don’t you just stay here?” Bunny said. “You could come over to Miss Mary’s every day and we’d make cheese nests for you.”

  “Bunny, you can’t volunteer someone else’s house and time,” Elaine reproved.

  “She’s also volunteering her own, and that’s very generous,” Mary said.

  “I appreciate it,” Brice said. “And I may take you up on it more often. So what’s it to be at the ranch, Bunny? Rock collecting? Visiting the cows?”

  “Riding Moondust!” she cried. “While we visit cows and collect some rocks.” Her eyes lit with sudden interest. “Miss Mary, can you come too? We can find some pretty rocks for your garden.”

  Silently thanking Bunny, Brice said, “Please do come along, if you can spare the time. The Triple A offers a great selection of rocks for your garden. Besides, I’d like to show you around the ranch. Show you the legacy we’re preserving. Grant will be mowing, but we could probably meet Abby at the cabin on her lunch break, and she could show you through. Abby could bring Katie along to play with Bunny. I can grab us something for lunch, so Abby doesn’t feel like she has to feed us.”

  “You should go see the cabin,” Elaine recommended. “Abby’s renovation is amazing! We got to see it when she and Grant got married—they held the wedding there.”

  “The Triple A is a beautiful spread,” Tom added.

  Having tossed in Abby and Katie as extra incentives, Brice held his breath, knowing Bunny was sure to add more persuasion if needed.

  But instead, Mary shrugged. “With so many stellar recommendations, how could I not go see it?”

  “A ride, collecting rocks, a picnic on the heights—how could you resist?” Brice teased.

  “I would like to see the ranch and the cabin. Abby’s told me so much about it. But . . . I don’t know how to ride.”

  “We have a nice, easy mare for you. I can even lead her if you like. Traveling by horseback is the best way to see the ranch, since not all parts of it are accessible by road and some of the roads we do have are pretty rough. I’d rather not take my truck on them if I don’t have to.”

  She paused, looking uncertain. “You’re sure the mare would be suitable for someone who’s never ridden?”

  “Like sitting in a rocking chair, I promise.”

  “You’ll love it, Miss Mary! I get to ride Katie’s pony, Moondust, and it’s so much fun. We can take buckets to collect rocks and we’ll see pretty birds and lots of cows. Miss Harrison’s special cows even have names! But Uncle Brice won’t let me pet them. You’ll come, won’t you?”

  “How could I pass up meeting cows who have names?” she said with a smile.

  “The named animals are my sister-in-law’s herd bulls,” Brice said. “Her late father was a top breeder. A retired Navy man, he named the bulls after famous sea captains. Halsey, Nimitz.”

  “I really have to see them now. Although I have no idea what a ‘herd bull’ is. I’m afraid I know almost nothing about ranching.”

  “Don’t worry, Brice will give you the short version,” Tom said. “Better not ask Duncan—ranching’s in his blood, and he’s so enthused, he thinks everyone should be. He’s likely to give you an hour’s lecture if you give him the least encouragement.”

  “Great!” Brice said. “I’ll set it up with Abby to visit the cabin. We’ll have our picnic on the deck there, overlooking the hills and the creek. I’ll have sunscreen and bug spray, but bring your own if you require anything special.”

  She nodded. “Bug spray. Anythi
ng biting loves me.”

  Brice bit his lip to keep from adding he could understand that. He’d love a taste of her himself.

  “I’ll pick you and Bunny up here before lunch Saturday, then.”

  “Yeah!” Bunny said, giving Mary a hug and then coming over to hug Brice. “Riding, and rocks, and a picnic. And I get to play with Katie!”

  “It’s settled then,” Brice said, setting down his empty glass, delighted with how things had turned out. He’d been smart to count on Bunny. “Thanks for the drink, Tom. I’d better head out. I texted Harrison that I’d arrive in time for dinner.”

  “If you’ll be doing the touring, donating the rocks, and making sure I don’t kill myself my first time on a horse, I can at least bring the picnic lunch,” Mary said. “Tell Abby I’ll fix enough for all of us.”

  “I’m certainly not going to pass that offer up.”

  “If it’s okay with your mommy, you can come over Saturday morning and help me put together the lunch,” Mary said to Bunny. “We’ll make enough to leave some for your mommy and daddy too.”

  “Can I, Mommy?”

  “Of course,” Tom answered for her. “A man would have to be a certified fool to pass up a chance to eat Mary’s cooking. Not that my darling wife is any slouch in the meal-preparation department.”

  “Good save,” Elaine said, giving her husband a speaking glance. “Sure, honey, you can help Miss Mary make lunch for us.”

  “Thanks again for the offer,” Brice said. “See you all Saturday, then.”

  Bunny grabbed his hand and walked him out to his truck.

  “Thanks, Uncle Brice. It’s going to be so much fun! I can’t wait.”

  Since she’d been responsible, as he’d hoped, for persuading Mary to accompany them, he was much more thankful to her. “You’re very welcome, peanut.”

  After giving her a toss in the air, making her shriek with delight, he sent her back to the house and drove off.

  A whole day with Mary, showing her the places he loved. Yeah, he couldn’t wait either.