Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Unexpected CowboyHis Ideal MatchThe Rancher's Secret Son

by Debra Clopton

  But Max had done wrong. A lot of wrong.

  Images flashed through her mind. Weapons stashed under truck seats. Rolled up baggies of white powder stuffed in the glove box. Beefy fists banging on the window of her car, muted threats assaulting her ears as they made out down by the lake.

  Yeah, once upon a time, Max Ringgold had been trouble with a capital T. All the more reason Cody needed help, now—before the darkness in his genes had a chance to fully take over.

  Before she lost her son the way she’d lost his father.

  A familiar finger of regret nudged her, sending an icy shiver down her back. Choosing not to tell Max she was pregnant had been the best choice at the time—make that her only choice. After she went to college and two pink lines on a stick had determined her fate, she returned to Broken Bend, panicked and unsure how he’d react. He’d made promises about his behavior before she’d left, so many promises. But a baby didn’t fit into Max Ringgold’s bad boy style any more than the promiscuous role she’d temporarily adopted fit into hers. Would he even accept her—them?

  After catching Max unaware in the middle of another drug deal, with one of the county’s slipperiest and most dangerous gang leaders no less, the decision was made for her. Max wouldn’t get a chance to reject them.

  She never looked back.

  Approximately thirteen years later, Cody didn’t know the difference. She’d made a home for them, a loving home, despite the sacrifices and hard work required of a single mom putting herself through college, avoiding her hometown and keeping the details a secret from her parents. She didn’t want the shotgun wedding her father threatened. Not with Max Ringgold. She might deserve to pay for her mistakes, but her kid deserved better.

  Yet despite all those logged miles on the treadmill, Emma had never quite been able to outrun the guilt.

  She shut her car door and steered Cody toward the front porch of the main house, where she assumed registration would take place. “Let’s go.” Time to shake off the past—that’s why they were there, after all. To get a fresh start, a second chance. Maybe for both of them. Secrets long buried were best left buried, and just because she was back in Broken Bend didn’t mean they’d all be resurrected.

  The front screen door squeaked open on its hinges, and boots thudded onto the wooden porch. She glanced up at the approaching cowboy with a smile, relieved that someone was finally there to take charge. She could relax, take a much-needed break. Cody would be in good hands.

  The cowboy lifted the brim of his black hat, and her smile slipped away as shock gripped her in a cold, unrelenting vice.

  He’d be in Max Ringgold’s hands.

  * * *

  Max Ringgold always figured his past would one day come back to taunt him. He just never dreamed it’d latch around his ankle and knock his feet right out from underneath him.

  He stared at the blonde woman before him as if she might have two heads. Two identities, for sure, because she looked exactly like Emma Shaver. Yet there was no way. No way. Emma hadn’t been back in Broken Bend in a decade. Maybe longer. He used to know the weeks to the day but eventually stopped counting. Hard to heal from an injury when you kept poking at the wound.

  But this woman was looking at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, too—so maybe it was possible after all.

  Her mouth opened and closed, then pressed into a tight line. Red dotted her cheeks. Yep, that was her. He’d always been able to make her blush. Part of the problem. He’d been inexplicably drawn to the Good Girl, her to the Bad Boy—and the chemistry that resulted could have blown a crater throughout most of the town. Why did something that happened a lifetime ago suddenly seem like yesterday?

  He knew he should say something, anything, to break the awkward silence, but his years of training in dealing with troubled teens didn’t cover how to deal with moms who were ex-girlfriends.

  He took off his hat, then regretted it. He probably had hat hair, and now he felt even more vulnerable under her laser-sharp gaze. “I’m Max.”

  Emma’s fair eyebrows lifted, and he winced. She knew that. But he had to say something. Besides, the kid didn’t know who he was, and that’s why they were there. He turned his attention to the teen standing beside Emma and offered his hand. Man to man. “Max Ringgold.”

  The boy grunted, reluctantly offering a quick, limp shake. They’d have to work on that. A man was known by his handshake. “Cody Shaver.”

  An alarm sounded in Max’s subconscious. Shaver. So Emma wasn’t married. He darted a glance to her left hand to make sure, and wanted to kick himself with his own boot as she caught him, well, red-handed. He slammed his hat back on his head.

  “Come on inside. We’ll get you signed in then catch up with the rest of the tour.” Max held the door and motioned them forward. Cody clomped inside, dragging his duffel behind him on the floor. Emma followed, gaze lowered, the scent of her peppermint perfume lingering long after she squeezed past.

  Max checked his watch, partly to know the time and partly to resist the urge to touch her hair, silky and shiny as a shampoo commercial—the kind that definitely didn’t belong on his ranch with all the dirt, dust and horse sweat flying about. Good thing she wasn’t staying.

  His heart seconded that idea as she flashed wary azure eyes at him—the same eyes that peeked at him from the photo he still had stashed in his sock drawer.

  The photo didn’t do them justice.

  He let the screen door snap behind him as he directed them to his office off the dining room, which he’d converted from an old closet. He didn’t spend much time there, except for the occasional paperwork, prayer time or private conversations with the kids.

  The other nine campers, three girls and six boys, had arrived and checked in half an hour before and were being given a brief tour by the live-in counselors, Luke and Nicole Erickson. He’d noticed the increasing size of Nicole’s stomach beneath her maternity top earlier and had raised an eyebrow at Luke, who’d assured him she wasn’t due for another month. Just in time to finish this camp. Then he’d have to find a replacement for her while she took maternity leave.

  The stress of that significant problem suddenly dimmed compared to the throbbing in his temples at Emma’s proximity. He slipped behind the desk to give himself space, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded under his work shirt like a runaway horse.

  “Here we are. Cody Shaver.” He ran his finger over the printed name and made a check mark in the column—and a mental note not to let Nicole handle the precamp paperwork anymore. If he’d seen Emma’s name as Cody’s guardian on his forms earlier, he’d have had a heads-up. All he personally received was the list of the kids’ names two weeks prior to camp, so he could pray for them.

  Then again, the odds of another ex-girlfriend popping up seemed a little slim.

  “Is there a problem?” Emma’s voice sounded as strained as the muscles in his neck as he jerked his head up to look at her, realizing he’d been staring at the document for far longer than he should have. Emma Shaver. Wow. When did she have a son? How old was Cody? He’d have to check the full file later. But apparently Emma hadn’t wasted a lot of time pining over Max after leaving for college.

  Though she was supposed to have come back.

  The thought burned his stomach and he licked his suddenly dry lips. “No, there’s no problem. No problem at all.” The past was the past. The important part now was that Cody was here, and he needed help—regardless of who his mother was. Max had to get his priorities in order, quick, or he’d do more harm than good. These kids counted on him, and he wouldn’t let them—or God—down.

  Not again.

  He found his warmest smile, despite the cold expression in Emma’s eyes attempting to freeze his heart. “Welcome to Camp Hope, Cody. It’s going to be a great month.”

  The kid grunted, as if he didn’
t believe him. Emma didn’t look as if she particularly believed him, either.

  Which was fine, because at the moment, he didn’t fully believe himself.

  Chapter Two

  Luke led the tour of the campus, the scripted words falling naturally from his mouth. Good thing, because Max was having a terrible time paying attention.

  As they crossed the worn path from the dorms to the barn, Max glanced up at the white letters painted on the rustic red sign, hanging ten feet above the cattle guard at the end of his long gravel driveway. Camp Hope. He’d painted the sign himself last year, acquired three splinters trying to hang the thing and almost toppled off the ladder on his way back down. But nothing worth doing was easy, the main point he was trying to prove at his ranch for troubled teens.

  He knew—he’d been one.

  He shuffled behind the group of nervous parents and disgruntled teens as Luke led them into the barn, trying not to let his gaze keep resting on Emma. But that was a little like trying not to glance at a lit candle while standing in a pitch-black room.

  God, a little direction here? I’m lost. Max was confident he’d followed the Lord’s guiding when he opened Camp Hope over a year ago and received the training necessary to minister to teenagers. He’d already watched almost seventy teens graduate the month-long program, many of whom had come to know God in the process. For a lot of them, Camp Hope was the last stop before juvenile detention, or worse. Max knew how to smell contraband cigarette smoke a mile away, knew the current gang loyalty colors, and now, after trial and error, knew the vents in the dorm could be pried open and made into a hiding spot.

  He just didn’t know how to look at Emma Shaver without bursting into flame.

  Max rested his back against the door frame of the barn and inhaled the comforting aroma of horses. One by one, the teens perked up as Luke went over the rules of horsemanship and what chores would be expected of them in the stables. Funny how they’d give endless grief over making their beds, but most had no trouble shoveling manure or grooming a colt. Something about horses reached deep inside and brought out the good in folks.

  A stirring of anticipation returned, and Max fought to hold on to it. He’d been so excited about this particular camp a few weeks ago as the planning process wrapped up. Somehow, he just knew this session would be the best one yet. He felt it in his spirit during his morning Bible readings in the sunroom, heard it in the excitement in his own voice when he shared his plans with his best friend and former boss, Brady McCollough.

  Brady had just slapped his hat against his leg to free it of dirt, and heartily agreed. He could feel it, too, and Max trusted his friend’s judgment. Brady lived several miles down the road, but the back of their two properties joined at a barbed wire fence. Max had saved for years to be able to buy one hundred acres near his friend and finally start his own spread. Brady’s wife, Caley, said he and Brady argued more than an old married couple, but that was just because they knew each other so well and remained friends anyway. Max had been there for Brady through the tragic death of his first wife, while Brady had been responsible for hauling Max out of the muck and into a church pew. If Brady felt that same prompting, Max could bank on it.

  It was just that so far, he didn’t have a clue how Emma Shaver and her kid showing up at his camp could possibly be a God thing. Maybe more like a cosmic joke.

  Brady would definitely get a kick out of this one. Would probably rattle something off about God working in mysterious ways. Max usually agreed—but this went a little beyond mysterious. Still, he’d do his best to help Cody like he would any other teen there, and thankfully would have little to do with Emma. After all, it wasn’t Cody’s fault Max knew his mom from another lifetime ago. He refused to let that fact filter through in any of his interactions with Cody. Another month and Emma would be right back out of his life forever.

  Apparently like she’d always wanted.

  “And that’s the tour.” Luke clapped his hands, jerking Max back to reality and causing two boys to jump. “Boss?”

  His mind raced. He really had to get it together or he wouldn’t be a very good example. He took a deep breath and tried to center his head on anything other than Emma. Tour over. So, time for dinner. Then the inevitable parent-teen goodbyes, which was his least favorite part of the camp. He shot a glance at Emma. But today, that part might be a good thing.

  He found his smile and gestured toward the main house. “Time for grub, everyone!”

  A few teens murmured their pleasure; others kept their hollow expressions as they filed out of the barn and toward the house like a chain gang. Max fought a grin. The campers always started out the same, and with God’s grace, usually ended with an 180-degree change. Hopefully this session wouldn’t be an exception. It just took faith, perseverance—and a huge dose of patience.

  He ended up at the back of the line, Luke in the lead, with Cody lagging in the middle. The humid Louisiana wind ruffled Max’s hair and loosened his sweaty shirt from his back. Late October still boasted afternoon temps in the seventies, though the nights and mornings were downright chilly. It was the perfect time of year for a camp—the summer sessions made everyone grumpy, and the ice storm that hit last January had holed them up inside for far too long. This would be the last session he offered until next year. He needed a break for the holidays, though he usually just crashed Brady and Caley’s Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations.

  A thought stirred. Had Emma ever come home for the holidays? Or her father’s funeral, for that matter? Max had been on edge for the entire week after reading the obituary in the newspaper, half afraid and half hoping he’d bump into her in town.

  He never did.

  As if she could sense his thoughts, Emma glanced at him over her shoulder, then hung back until she fell in step beside him. He fought his surprise and hoped his shock didn’t register on his face.

  “I know this is weird—us showing up like this.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, the familiar gesture from his memories strangely comforting. Except it made him want to do it, too, so he looped his thumbs in his belt loops. “When we got the assignment, I didn’t know—I mean, I didn’t realize that you were...” Her voice trailed off.

  “Not weird. Surprising, definitely.” He kept his gaze straight ahead as the campers neared the main house, watching as Luke instructed them to wipe their shoes on the mat before going inside. Sort of pointless on a ranch, but Nicole insisted, so Luke had picked up the habit. “One of the other counselors handles the paperwork, so I only ever saw Cody’s name. Didn’t have a chance to put two and two together.”

  Her expression paled, and he wondered what he had said. But she pressed on before he could ask. “Cody is a good kid. He just...” She bit her lip, making him glance away again. She always did that, and it’d always been his undoing. Did she have any idea the effect that lingered after all this time? Did she feel it, too?

  It didn’t matter. That was a different lifetime, and clearly, they both had other priorities right now.

  “He just what?”

  She lowered her voice as they neared the cabin. “He just needs some time. Got caught up in the wrong crowd and made some mistakes. I think we caught him early.”

  “We?” The word blurted from his lips before he could censor. A boyfriend? Cody’s dad? Was he still in the picture?

  Her expression tightened. “Cody’s judge and I.”

  Ah. Not a boyfriend. He didn’t want to acknowledge the relief he felt creeping through his stomach.

  He held the screen door open for her to enter behind the stream of teens, but she resisted, stepping in front of him so her back was turned to the rest of the crowd. “Just so you know, I’m taking a leave of absence from work and staying at my mom’s while Cody is here. I wanted to be nearby—just in case.”

  Max frowned. Just in case what? She changed h
er mind about the camp? Or was she that worried about Cody making it through the program? So many questions. Yet only one escaped his mouth. “What do you do?” It’d been years since he’d looked her up on the internet, at the start of the social media hype, but her pages were all set to private. Not surprising. Even less surprising—he didn’t have any of those pages for himself.

  She shot him a look he couldn’t quite interpret, her voice lowering to a near whisper. “I’m a child psychologist in Dallas.”

  He almost snorted. Child psychologist. And yet Cody... He didn’t have to state the obvious. If Emma was anything like he’d remembered, she’d probably beaten herself up about that enough. She was good at emotional pummeling.

  Just ask his heart.

  * * *

  Max Ringgold had done well for himself. Emma almost didn’t even recognize the muscular, smiling cowboy that had greeted her and Cody on the front porch and now sat across from her at the dinner table. Hard to reconcile this Max with the one she’d known years ago, as a naive teenager about to head for college. That’d been a daredevil, moody, flirty Max. This was a successful Max. A contented, living-for-a-purpose, fulfilled Max.

  Scared her to death.

  The shock that had racked her body when he lifted that hat brim earlier had almost knocked her in the dirt. How did someone like Max come to lead a camp for troubled teens? He was a troubled teen. Apparently he was drawing water from the “been there, done that” well. Had he really transformed so completely? It seemed that way.

  Yet for all his success, there was something in his eyes when he looked at her that didn’t seem all that complete.

  She knew the feeling.

  She winced as Cody stabbed at the green beans on his plate with more force than necessary. The campers and parents were sharing dinner together in the main house before the adults left for the night. During their tour, she’d seen a large working kitchen with a temporary live-in cook Max affectionately dubbed Mama Jeanie, a dining room with a picnic bench–style, carved wooden table big enough for everyone to eat together, and a bathroom that surprisingly smelled like peaches and cinnamon. Max’s quarters were upstairs, the only part of the house he deemed permanently off-limits.