“Positive. I might even claim a dance myself, seeing as you have this thing for old men.”
That earned him the smile he’d been waiting for. As her mouth curled up, her eyes began to sparkle. “I consider humoring the elderly my good deed for the day.”
“When have you humored me? Weren’t you the one encouraging insurrection with my horse just a few minutes ago?”
“Hardly.” Her humor faded a little. “Are you or Tex going into town in the next few days? If either of you are, I need a ride. I have to buy a couple of things.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Rita. I should have thought of that. You’ve been trapped out here on your afternoons off.”
“I don’t mind,” she said quickly. “I like being on the ranch. A couple of the cowboys have invited me to ride in with them, but I didn’t feel comfortable doing that. Until now, shopping hasn’t been an issue, but I’d like to buy something for the dance.”
So much for being a thoughtful employer, he thought grimly. He paid her in cash, as he did all his employees. The people who worked for him often didn’t have bank accounts. But he hadn’t considered that she might want to spend some time in town. And maybe not alone.
He’d told her not to make trouble with the men and she’d listened. “You don’t have to avoid all social contact with the men,” he said, careful to keep his voice neutral. “If you would like to see one of the cowboys off the ranch, no one will interfere. What I’m trying to say is when you’re on your own time—”
She cut him off with a wave. Faint color stained her cheeks. “I know what you’re saying. That’s not what I meant. There’s no one that I want to see that way. I mean, they’re all very nice men and I appreciate the time they’ve taken to befriend me, but it’s not anything else.”
Did that include him, too?
The thought came out of nowhere, and Brady wished it back to that spot. “Okay,” he said slowly. “That’s clear. I have to go into town day after tomorrow. You’re welcome to take the afternoon off and ride in with me. My business will keep me busy for a couple of hours. Is that enough time?”
“More than enough.” She rose to her feet and smiled. “Thanks, Brady.”
He watched her walk out of the office, trying to ignore the sensation of being sucker punched. It had just been a smile. Nothing more. So why had it hit him like a blow to the gut? And lower?
* * *
Randi Howell, a.k.a. Rita Howard, tried to dispel the butterflies dancing in her stomach, but however much she imagined calming pictures and words, those darned butterflies just kept acting up. It was as if they moved to a wild music only they could hear.
Nerves, she thought in disgust. When would she be able to control her emotions? They were just going to town, yet she was as tense and nervous as she’d been when she’d first run away from her wedding to Hal Stuart.
Maybe it was that all small towns looked alike, she thought as she stared out the side windows at the stores lined up on the single main street. This one could have been any of a dozen she’d driven through as she’d hitched rides to escape from Grand Springs. Familiar yet unfamiliar, reminding her that she’d chosen to run instead of stand up for what she wanted.
Don’t think about that now, Randi told herself. She didn’t want to ruin her afternoon. So as Brady pulled the truck into a parking space, she took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind.
“Everybody knows everybody,” he warned as he turned off the engine. “You’re going to get a lot of questions and be the favorite topic at dinner for the next couple of days. Think you can handle that?”
“As long as what they’re saying is nice.”
“A pretty girl like you? What else would they say?”
She laughed. “You’re as bad as McGregor. All hot air and flattery. Here I was thinking you had substance.”
He winked. It was all just a game. Harmless conversation. Yet she couldn’t help but be pleased by his words. No one had ever told her she was pretty, not even in jest. Whether or not Brady meant the compliment, she was going to hang on to it with both hands.
She slid out of the seat and slammed the door behind her. Brady paused on the sidewalk and pointed up the street.
“We have a general store on the corner. Some folks call it a department store, but that’s stretching things a little. There’s clothes, shoes and other female kind of stuff.”
“Gee, what would that be?”
Confident Brady looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You know. Creams and junk.”
“Makeup?”
“That, too.”
“Creams and junk. What a way you have with words.”
He shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Just because I’ve brought you into town doesn’t mean you have the right to say anything you want to me.”
“Sure it does. Here you’re not my boss. You’re just a guy who’s terrified of female stuff.”
He rocked back on his heels. “I’m not afraid.”
Wondering what it was about this man that made her want to have fun, she stretched out her hand and touched his cheek. “You ever have a facial, Brady? You could use something to tighten those pores.”
He jerked his head away as if she’d burned him. “My pores are just fine.”
“And those little lines around your eyes. They have stuff to prevent that.”
He turned toward the storefront next to them. The large plate-glass window reflected the street. Brady frowned, then smiled, as if checking his wrinkle quotient.
Randi covered her mouth to hold in her laughter. Who would have thought this big, tough cowboy would be so easy to tease?
“I don’t know what you’re—” He glanced at her and drew his eyebrows together. “You’re laughing!” His voice accused her of an unforgivable crime.
“No, I’m not.” She swallowed hard and forced her expression to stay neutral.
“You’re mocking me. I don’t have a problem with my pores, or my eyes.”
She gave in to humor and chuckled. Brady grinned. “I’ve been had,” he complained. “You should warn a man when you’re going to take advantage of him.”
“You love the attention.”
“Hey, I’m the strong, silent type. You want to continue to make fun of me, or do you want to shop?”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Tough decision. Can I really pick either one?”
“Why do I put up with you?” He placed his hand on the back of her neck and pushed her forward.
“Because there isn’t another alternative.”
She was proud of herself for managing a relatively long, coherent sentence. It was hard enough to keep breathing, let alone talking, while Brady was touching her neck.
She told herself it was an impersonal gesture at best. That it didn’t mean anything. He was treating her like a little sister. Funny, though. She didn’t feel like his little sister. She felt strangely alive and happy. Being here with him—she couldn’t explain it, it just felt so right.
When they reached the store, he released her neck and grabbed the door. As he pulled it open, he motioned for her to go first. Polite, charming, funny, sensitive, amazingly good-looking. Her original question still stood. Why wasn’t he married? Were all the women in the county blind, or was there something she couldn’t figure out? Some flaw he’d kept hidden, or maybe something from his past?
He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the center aisle. “Female clothing to your right. Creams and junk to your left. Shoes are upstairs. I have a meeting with my banker, so I’ll be gone for about an hour and a half.”
She turned her head so she could see him. “I’ve shopped before. Amazingly enough, on my own. So far I’ve avoided major disasters and shoplifting. I’ll be fine.”
“You have enough money?”
The question touched her, mostly because his concern was involuntary. He was the last of the good guys.
“My boss just gave me a raise. I’ve got plenty.”
“Have fun.”
He disappeared out onto the street. Randi looked over the store, then started toward the racks of dresses against the far wall. She needed something for the dance. Maybe she would pick up another pair of jeans and some T-shirts, too.
An hour and fifteen minutes later, she stepped onto the escalator to the ground floor. She’d bought a simple summer dress, on sale, along with a pair of jeans and two shirts. In the shoe department, she’d found an inexpensive pair of pumps. Everything she’d purchased had cost less than the cheapest dress in her closet in Grand Springs. If it didn’t have a designer label on it, her mother didn’t want it in the house.
Those clothes weren’t her, she thought as she moved down the center aisle, glancing left and right, looking for Brady. It had taken her a long time to finally figure out she didn’t care about who made the clothes as long as they fit and were comfortable. Keeping up with the latest styles didn’t interest her, nor did she worry about a trendy haircut. Thank goodness, because with her unruly curls, she was destined to always look a little messy.
She reached the front door, then turned back to face the store. On the far side, in the middle of the “creams and junk” department, she saw Brady talking with an older woman. From the way they chatted and laughed, they must be old friends. That made sense. Growing up near a town this small, Brady probably knew just about everyone.
As she crossed the store, she tried to ignore the flickering in her stomach. The butterflies had returned. She sighed. She wanted her nerves to be about coming to town, not about Brady. While he was nice and handsome and a lot of good things, he wasn’t for her.
She paused in the middle of the teen department and stared at him. He was so different from Hal. Not just in looks, but in temperament and style. Hal was the kind of man who measured every action based on how it would look and how many votes it was worth. So different from his mother, Olivia, the beloved mayor of Grand Springs. Hal was more like Randi’s mother—cold and always calculating. One the other hand, Brady acted a certain way because he believed it was right, regardless of who might or might not be watching. Hal was a politician down to his bones. Brady was just a man.
She’d known her ex-fiancé for years, yet, looking back at their courtship, she could easily admit she’d never known him at all. Brady had been in her life two-and-a-half weeks, yet she felt that she understood him and the code by which he lived.
Brady looked up and saw her. “You about finished?” he asked.
She nodded and held up her bags. “I’ve bought as much as I can carry. That’s when it’s time for me to leave.”
He walked over and relieved her of most of her purchases. “I thought we might stop at the ice cream shop on the way out of town. I’ve got a taste for a hot fudge sundae.”
Randi raised her eyebrows. “It’s nearly four o’clock. You’ll spoil your dinner.”
“I know. You have to promise not to tell Tex.”
Ice cream and hot fudge? How could she resist? “I’d love to join you,” she said. “If we try really hard, I’ll bet we can eat just as much dinner, too.”
“Deal.”
They shared a conspiratorial glance, then headed toward the street. Even though it was a temporary situation, Randi enjoyed fitting in. Brady was different off the ranch. Freer. Or maybe it was both of them. She’d been worried about coming into town, but she was having fun. Somewhere in the past couple of weeks, Brady had become a friend. Even if he didn’t know the truth about her, even if she needed to keep her secrets, she believed that he would be there for her if she ever needed him.
For the first time since running away, she didn’t feel alone.
Chapter Seven
Randi stretched and rolled over to look at the clock. It was nearly one in the afternoon. She would feel decadent at being in bed this late in the day if she hadn’t already worked six hours in the barn. Her late-morning nap was what allowed her to stay up until ten at night and still be able to function at four in the morning.
She’d been at the ranch three weeks today. It was the longest she’d been anywhere since leaving Grand Springs. Before, she’d always felt a restlessness after a few days, a nagging sensation that she had to keep moving. It was the only way to feel safe. But here that wasn’t necessary. If anything, she was going to have to force herself to press on. It would be far too easy to make this a permanent home.
She stood up and reached for her clothes. After slipping on jeans, a T-shirt and boots, she walked into the bathroom to wash her face and tame her hair. As usual, the braid looked tidy for about thirty seconds before the curls worked their way loose.
She went downstairs, then stepped outside to head for the barn. The men came in for their midday meal around eleven-thirty. Tex packed a lunch for anyone working too far away. For the first couple of days, she’d joined the cowboys, but she’d found it difficult not to nod off during the meal. Tex had taken pity on her and offered to keep a plate warm until the early afternoon.
Peter, the littlest kitten, sat on the porch railing. When he saw her, he meowed.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked, and picked him up. He curled against her shoulder and began to purr. “Is Princess taking the afternoon off? Or did you sneak away from her?”
Usually Princess herded her charges into the shade of the barn for their afternoon nap. Playtime didn’t start until around four.
“You want to join me for lunch?” she asked the kitten. “I bet Tex would give you a treat.”
The kitten kneaded her shoulder, his eyes closed in contentment.
She walked into the dining room, crossed the linoleum floor and moved toward the kitchen. Tex sat at the small table in front of the window. There was a mug of coffee in front of him, along with a slice of strawberry pie. Across from him was a single place setting. Two sandwiches under plastic wrap, a green salad, some cut-up raw vegetables.
She set Peter on the floor, then headed for the refrigerator. After grabbing the pitcher of cold water on the top shelf, and a bowl with a single, albeit generous, serving of potato salad, she walked to the table and took her seat.
Tex looked up from the paper he read. “‘Afternoon.”
“Hi.” She glanced at her plate, then at him. “Tuna sandwiches and raw veggies? Why do I know you didn’t feed the guys that?”
He grinned. “Five-alarm chili. I didn’t think you’d want any.”
She pressed her hand to her stomach, remembering pain from the last time she’d indulged. There weren’t many things that upset her stomach, but that was one of them. “While I appreciate the thoughtfulness, you didn’t have to make me a special lunch.”
He shrugged. “No bother.”
“You guys are all alike. Tough on the outside, and complete marshmallows on the inside.”
Peter stood up on his hind legs and pressed his front paws against Tex’s shin. The kitten meowed plaintively. “Damn cat,” the former marine muttered as he picked him up and set him in the crook of his arm.
Randi spread her napkin on her lap and laughed. “I believe that proves my point.”
“Uh-huh.”
She unwrapped her sandwiches and pulled the cover off the potato salad. “Tell me about this dance Saturday. Do you go?”
“Sure. Everyone’s there.” The older man grinned. “They’ll dance your feet off.”
“Fortunately I bought comfortable shoes when I was in town yesterday.”
Tex frowned. “You two thought I didn’t know you stopped for ice cream, but I could tell.”
Randi had raised the fork halfway to her mouth. She froze. “How’d you figure that out?”
“You both looked so damned guilty. Like kids caught stealing from the cookie jar. I hope you had a bellyache from all the supper you ate, hoping I wouldn’t notice.”
“Sorry, no.” She chewed the potato salad and swallowed. “I have the most unladylike appetite. At least that’s what my mother always told me. She ate little tiny portions of everything. It made m
e crazy. I can stand just about anything but being hungry. Heaven help me if I ever have to go on a diet.”
“You’re strong. All that muscle needs fuel.”
“A nice way of saying I’d never make it as a model.”
“Why would you want to?”
“Why indeed.” She thought about Brady. About how he’d made her heart beat faster and her stomach quiver with nerves. What kind of woman did he find attractive? Skinny blondes with big boobs? Sultry redheads? She doubted he had a thing for sturdy women with uncontrollably curly hair. Just once she would like someone to think she was pretty. Her father had been kind and generous with compliments, but they hadn’t been enough to counteract her mother’s brutal honesty.
She still remembered dressing for a dance when she was sixteen. She hadn’t wanted to go, but her mother had arranged for a friend’s son to be her escort. A mercy date. She’d been standing in front of her mirror, trying to convince herself she didn’t look horrible when she’d heard her parents in the hall. Her father had been excited about taking her picture, but her mother had stopped him.
“She’s nothing to look at. Why do you want to remember that?”
“She’s my daughter,” her father had protested. “She’s beautiful.”
“Oh, please. Randi’s plain at best. That hair. I’m at my wit’s end with it. At least she has decent skin. With those features, if she had blemishes, too, we’d have to put a bag over her head.”
Eight years later, the words still hurt. She knew she wasn’t pretty, but she’d come to grips with that. Some days she thought she was actually okay-looking. Time had taught her that her mother’s overly critical remarks had little to do with physical appearance and more to do with the older woman’s general dissatisfaction that her daughter wasn’t a perfect clone. The two of them had nothing in common, save a blood relationship.
“You gonna eat that, or are you just going to stare at it?” Tex asked.
Randi glanced down and realized she was holding half a sandwich in her hands, but hadn’t taken a bite. “Sorry, I was lost in thought.”
“Judging from the look in your eyes, somewhere far away.”
The Rancher and the Runaway Bride Page 8