The Cowboy’s Rescue (McCall Ranch Brothers Book 2)

by Leslie North

“Hey, guys!” she called, smiling at the unlikely trio. “What do you say we finish up our dancing, get dried off, and I’ll make us something to eat?”

  “Am I included in that invitation?” Randy asked, one eyebrow raised.

  “Of course,” Heather said, shrugging defensively. “What are friends for?”

  7

  Randy reached the front door ahead of the kids and Heather, laboring away on her crutches, a goofy grin still plastered across his face as he opened it. He would never have expected to be having the time of his life with this woman, but he was. Heather's kids had made nice little places for themselves in his heart, to his surprise, and the way they'd been dancing around in the rain brought to mind memories of himself and Carson, the McCall Irish twins, as young boys.

  Then there was Heather. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she went and did something to throw him off his game and make him question his assumptions. First was her attitude toward her ex and then the conversation that followed. While he might have come to the conclusion that she was bitter or vengeful, Randy didn't get that vibe at all. Her defensiveness when she mentioned her past made him wonder about the man she had fled from. Then there were all the phone calls and texts, and the look on her face when she turned her phone over so that she didn’t have to look at the screen.

  Randy knew something about bad men, too, unfortunately. Not a lot, but enough to be sensitive to the signs. Though he’d sworn off relationships since, he’d dated one girl pretty seriously between college and veterinary school. He’d been head over heels for Sacha, but she’d pushed for more than he was ready to give, and he’d gotten spooked and bailed. Through mutual friends, he’d heard that things hadn’t gone so well for Sacha afterward. On the rebound, hurting and shaken, she’d picked a bad dude who’d ended up hurting her in more ways than one, something that still made Randy’s blood boil when he thought about it. He got the vibe that Heather had been through something similar.

  But he’d seen an entirely different side of Heather when it had started to rain in earnest. Turning her face up to the rain, laughing with delight, she’d shown none of the standoffish, prickly person he’d thought he knew. Instead, Randy had seen a passion for life, an undeniably contagious vitality that crackled like electricity, flooding him with desire. God, he wanted her like he’d never wanted a woman before. It didn’t help that she was also the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  And that kiss? The mere thought had him breaking out in goosebumps as he stepped over her threshold.

  “Down, boy,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head before entering the living room, only to stop short in consternation. Aloud, he said, “Aw, man. Okay. Everybody hold on for a minute.”

  Randy surveyed Heather’s front room, doing his best to perform a quick assessment of the watery damage spreading out before them. The twins paid his warning zero mind, slipping past him and making “ooooh” sounds as they took in the copious amounts of water on their living room floor. Next thing he knew, they were splashing happily. The gasp behind him, however, told Randy everything he needed to know about how Heather was going to handle the news.

  "Oh my God," she said in a strangled voice, her face draining of color as she stopped beside him. "Oh, my God! How can there be this much water, Randy? It hasn’t been raining that long. I don’t understand!”

  "From the looks of it, it rained earlier, too," he said slowly, not wanting to upset her any more than she already was. "And coming down as hard as it is out there?"

  “But it’s everywhere!” she exclaimed, her eyes growing wider by the second as she limped further into the room. “I mean, is it just in here, or is it—?” He saw her swallow hard, obviously too upset to finish the thought.

  "I can check if you like," Randy replied, careful to use soothing tones. The kids were already throwing curious glances their mother's way, though the water was still enough to distract them for the moment. He knew already how quickly their giggles could turn to howls, and he didn't want them getting any more agitated than absolutely necessary. They'd had an eventful day, and something told him it wouldn't take much to send them straight over the edge.

  “Okay,” Heather faltered, too shocked to offer any of her usual protests at the mention of help. “Thanks. That would be great. I—I just can’t believe this.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Randy said, glad to have something useful to do as he stirred himself to help her over to the couch. “Just hold tight. It might not be as bad as you think. All right?”

  Except that it was. Randy knew that by the time he got to the kitchen. Even if he’d found no further damage in any of the other rooms, he'd seen enough to realize the roof must have been more holes and patches than actual roofing.

  The rooms upstairs were even worse, if that was possible. The twins' duvet covers were soaked, and water was coming out of the light fixtures. Randy was by no means an expert on electrical work, but he knew that wasn’t a good thing by any stretch of the imagination.

  He slowly headed back to the stairway, dreading having to be the one to deliver the news. Heather was really trying here, it didn't take a genius to see that, and it was clear how much she loved her children. She hadn't been in this stupid house for any time at all, had hardly had time to catch her breath and learn the first thing about running a strawberry farm, and yet the hallway was lined with pictures of her children. They looked to be some of the best-documented three-year-olds on the planet, a thought that brought the ghost of a smile to his face even in the middle of this disaster. She was a good mom, and she was trying hard to give her kids a real life here in Winding Creek. Wasn't she due for a break?

  “Apparently not,” he muttered to himself.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” Heather called up from the bottom of the stairs where she stood leaning heavily on her crutches. “How bad?”

  “Well,” he sighed, trying not to look as defeated as he felt as he descended to meet her. “It’s not the best news. I’m guessing nobody mentioned the roof when you bought the place, did they?”

  “No,” she answered with something that sounded halfway between a laugh and a sob. “That definitely never came up. The kids’ rooms?”

  “They won’t be sleeping in there for a while,” he said as kindly as possible.

  He was at the bottom of the stairs now, and she was standing so close, he could feel the warmth coming off her in waves. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her in and tell her that everything was going to be okay. He wanted to take care of her and her children somehow, at least to the extent that he was able, no matter how many good reasons his brain was throwing at him to keep his distance.

  For one thing, a nasty, nagging voice in the back of his head kept bringing up the way he’d failed Sacha. But this would be different. Wouldn’t it? He wasn't trying to date this woman—he only wanted to help her out. After all, Heather's house was flooded, and the storm wasn't showing any signs of letting up. It was even possible that whole sections of the roof might collapse. It wasn't safe for the little family to stay here. He only hoped Heather would admit that fact and wouldn’t be too stubborn to accept help.

  "This is unbelievable," she sighed, sinking down to sit on the bottom step. He sat down beside her, keenly aware of how close they were to touching. She looked at him through glassy eyes and shrugged, a gesture so full of defeat that he found it painful to look at. "It's like no matter what I do, things just keep getting harder. Every time I think I might be starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, something else happens."

  Seeing her in such deep distress made his heart physically hurt. He wanted to put his arm around her, pull her in close, hold her against his chest until she felt safe again. He wanted to kiss her on the top of her head and tell her that everything was going to be okay. He’d say it until he made her believe it, and then he would make sure that it came true.

  He took a deep, steadying breath, thinking furiously. “I know it must feel that way,” he said
at last, keeping his voice low and reassuring. He didn’t want her to sense what he was really thinking, knew that it was important to keep himself under control if he had a hope of not scaring her off. In his head, he was already talking to Trevor about making sure Heather would have the best roof in Winding Creek, and at a family-discount price, too. “Honest to God, I do, but this can be fixed. I—I happen to have some connections in construction. I think you’ll be surprised at the deal I can get you.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said miserably, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. “This isn’t your problem.”

  “I know that,” Randy said, putting on a smile as he took Heather’s chin gently in his hand and turned it so that she was forced to look at him. “And I don’t care. How’s about you just let me help you this once?”

  She pulled away. “I’ll be honest,” she sighed, and he could tell how low her spirits were by her lackluster protest. “I don’t love the idea.”

  “Ha!” Randy gave a single bark of laughter that drew curious looks from Amelia and Andy. “I’ll bet you don’t.”

  "But," she continued, giving him a look that could kill. "I don't know what else to do. It's going to be bad enough figuring out what we’re going to do until the roof gets fixed. If it was just me, I'd gut it out here, but I can't do that to them. They've been through enough already this year, which is something you shouldn't have to say about three-year-olds."

  “Yeah, about that,” Randy said, sitting up straighter and popping his back. He wasn’t sure why, but it seemed important to come off as nonchalant as possible as he introduced his next idea.

  "What about it?" she asked suspiciously, taking his lead and straightening up herself. She was watching him out of the corner of her eye now, one side of her mouth twitching. It was one of her tells, that twitching. It was a sign that she didn’t trust what she was seeing. Randy thought he would have paid handsomely to know where that level of distrust had come from. "Do you know of someplace cheap we could stay?"

  “I sure do,” Randy nodded. “The cheapest.”

  “Where is it?”

  “At my parents’ place. For free. You can’t get any cheaper than that.”

  Randy watched her face as she tried to work out what he'd said. He was trying to be cute, he supposed, but he thought he had confused her more than anything else. Meanwhile, he was sitting there feeling like an idiot. Why exactly was he so nervous, anyway? It wasn't like he was asking her to prom. He was only trying to help her out. He would have done the same for anyone in her position, wouldn’t he? His offer concerned Heather and her kids. It had nothing to do with wanting to touch her, to brush her hair out of her face and intertwine his fingers with hers. At the moment, he was simply waiting on an answer.

  “Seriously, Randy, you don’t have to do that,” Heather said, hugging herself tightly and shivering ever so slightly. “I mean, you really don’t. It’s too much.”

  "Too much?" he said, waving a dismissive hand. "What are you talking about? It's not like I'm offering you a kidney or anything.” He put on a pained look, groaned, and pressed a hand to his side as if they were ripping one of his kidneys out then and there, laughed at her expression, and then shook his head and said in reassurance, “It's a place to stay, that's all. And believe me, there’s plenty of room at the ranch. When I was growing up, we had loads of space even with my parents and three boys tearing around those halls. There’s more than enough room for guests without anyone getting in anyone else’s way."

  "It's not about that, though," Heather said, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly agitated. "It's about you giving me so much and me giving you nothing in return.” She put a hand on his arm, adding earnestly, “It's not a fair trade, and I'm not comfortable with that. I can't do it, Randy."

  “All right,” he said, climbing to his feet slowly and glancing into the front room to make sure the little ones weren’t catching on to the tension between them. “I guess I can understand where you’re coming from. But what would make you comfortable? It’s gotta be something that doesn’t include you guys sleeping here. If it’s this bad after a little cloudburst, I wonder about other potential damage. You might want to get the place checked for mold. For starters.”

  “Awesome,” she groaned, thrusting her hand into her hair like she wanted to yank it all out. “Another thing to worry about.”

  “That’s another thing my connections can help with,” he pressed, wanting to kick himself for having worried her even further. “But first we need to deal with the problem of where you guys are going to lay your heads until everything gets sorted out.”

  In what felt like a sudden change of subject, she asked, "Do you have a housekeeper?" Her hands were on her hips in a classic gesture of defiance, but the spark of hope in her eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago gave him a warm feeling.

  “What?” he laughed uncertainly. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Just answer the question,” she commanded. The insistent look on her face almost made him laugh again—what his mom had liked to call an “I want” line showed between her knitted brows, and the last thing he wanted in the world was to disappoint her.

  "Okay. No," he said, giving in to her demand, "I don't have a housekeeper. That's kind of an interesting story, actually. Long story short, my brother… he married the woman who used to do the housekeeping for my parents.” He realized he was babbling and cut to the chase. “So, no. There's no housekeeper at the moment."

  "Okay," she said, one eyebrow raised. "Well, don't expect any funny business, but I can fill in some as a housekeeper. I'll do the cooking and the cleaning, that sort of thing. I'm not professional-level, but I can make do. And my ankle is getting better every day, so that won’t be a problem."

  “You don’t need to do that,” Randy said, his stomach lurching at the idea. He was trying to help Heather out, for God’s sake, not put her to work. As another factor, the implications of his suggestion were starting to sink in, and he wasn’t so sure about being in such close proximity to her, day in and day out. That was more temptation than he liked to think about.

  He might as well have saved his breath. Her head was nodding, the “I want” line in her forehead deepening. "That's the only way I can take you up on your offer," she insisted. "It's either that, or point me in the direction of the cheapest motel, because those are the only two viable options."

  “Okay, okay,” he said, throwing his hands up and forcing a chuckle that was a combination of humor and irritation. “You win. Now, will you come and stay so the mess with the roof can get sorted out?”

  “What about my animals?” she asked, frowning. “I can’t just go off and leave them to fend for themselves because I’ve got a faulty roof. What about Honey?”

  He nodded his appreciation at her newfound understanding of the responsibilities involved in taking on animals. “I’ll take care of them,” he answered gently. This, at least, was a point on which he felt no hesitation at all. He never felt more like himself than when he was with animals, and he welcomed the chance to help Heather in a way that came as naturally as breathing to him.

  “But only until I’m back on my feet enough to do it myself,” Heather added, as determined as ever to stand on her own two feet.

  “Of course,” he nodded. “Just until you’re back on your feet.” Meanwhile, the little voice of caution in the back of his head was still yammering. Are you sure about this, bro?

  “Okay,” she said with a smile that looked to him about as fake as his own smile felt. “I guess we’re coming to stay.” She raised her voice to address the twins. “Kids? We need to pack some bags. We’re going to have a little vacation at Randy’s house.”

  8

  “Hey, bro, thanks again!” Randy said, greeting Trevor with a handshake and getting pulled in for a hug. He thumped his older brother on the back, thinking as always how good it was to have Trevor so close. There had been a time when he’d thought the
brothers would never be close again, not in location nor in friendship. Now, he was grateful on a daily basis for the way his parents’ deaths had brought the three of them together again, even at extreme personal cost.

  “No worries, baby brother,” Trevor said, pulling away and glancing up at the sky. “Although I have to warn you, it might be rough going at the start. Looks like we’re in for a string of storms that’ll saddle us with delays before we can even get things off the ground. I want to make sure you don’t give that girl any false hopes about the timeline, now, you hear? That’s not the kind of ship I run.”

  "Yeah," Randy snorted, unable to resist laughing the way he always had when his oldest brother got good and serious. "I'm aware."

  “Okay, funny man,” Trevor growled, although he was smiling as well. “Just remember, you’re the one who asked for my help.”

  “Which you can give, right?” Randy asked, more anxious than he wanted to admit and hoping that Trevor couldn’t see it.

  “Sure can,” Trevor answered automatically, nodding his head. “Not a problem. But you’ll want to talk to her about the cost.”

  “Right,” Randy said. “About that,” he added, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and planting his feet more firmly on the ground. “I was hoping you might—”

  “Give her the super family discount, right?” Trevor interrupted, squinting through one eye as if taking a careful survey. “Is that what you’re trying to get at?”

  "It is indeed, brother," Randy said, trying not to shift his weight from foot to foot the way he sometimes did when he was nervous. "I know it's a lot to ask with everything you've got on your plate these days, but she's definitely a good candidate for that kind of help.” He cleared his throat. “You heard how the mayor and her cronies donated my labor to her, right?”

  Trevor guffawed and slapped him on the back. “Who hasn’t heard about it?”