36 Hours Serial
As a devastating summer storm hits Grand Springs, Colorado, the next thirty-six hours will change the town and its residents forever….
The Rancher and the Runaway Bride Part 2
Since Randi Howell fled her own wedding—and sinister gunmen—and made a new home at Brady Jones’s Texas ranch, she knows this is where she belongs, with the work, the horses and especially Brady.
Randi doesn’t know who the gunmen were planning to kill, but she heard enough that they’re still after her. She’s safe for now far away in Texas. But she hasn’t told Brady about her past. The strong, handsome rancher is everything she has ever wanted in a man. He’s a man of honor—how could he accept her if he knew she’d left her fiancé at the altar?
Read the conclusion in The Rancher and the Runaway Bride Part 3.
Dear Reader,
In the town of Grand Springs, Colorado, a devastating summer storm sets off a string of events that changes the lives of the residents forever….
Welcome to Harlequin’s exciting new digital serial, 36 Hours! In this thirty-six part serial share the stories of the residents of Grand Springs, Colorado, in the wake of a deadly storm.
With the power knocked out and mudslides washing over the roads, the town is plunged into darkness and the residents are forced to face their biggest fears—and find love against all odds.
Each week features a new story written by a variety of bestselling authors like Susan Mallery and Sharon Sala. The stories are published in three segments, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and the first segment of every three-part book is free, so you can get caught up in the mystery and drama of Grand Springs. And you can get to know a new set of characters every week. You can read just one, but as the lives and stories of each intertwine in surprising ways, you’ll want to read them all!
Join Harlequin E every week as we bring you excitement, mystery, fun and romance in 36 Hours!
Happy reading!
Malle Vallik
Director, Editorial Digital Initiatives
About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery has entertained millions of readers with her witty and emotional stories about women. Publishers Weekly calls Susan’s prose “luscious and provocative,” and Booklist says, “Novels don’t get much better than Mallery’s expert blend of emotional nuance, humor and superb storytelling.” Susan lives in Seattle with her husband and her tiny but intrepid toy poodle. Visit her at www.susanmallery.com.
The Rancher and the Runaway Bride Part 2
Susan Mallery
Contents
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
The average runaway bride doesn’t have hit men after her but Randi Howell does. Calling herself Rita Howard and working on Brady Jones’s ranch, everything is going great for Randi. She loves her job, the animals, her coworkers…and (gulp!) her boss, Brady. She has created her own family. But they don’t even know her real name. It’s all a charade. The situation is a ticking time bomb and it’s about to explode, sending all of her secrets into the open before she is ready.
Chapter Six
“Cooperate, damn you,” Brady Jones muttered when the large gelding took an unexpected side step and bumped him. Brady scrambled back to keep from falling on his butt. “I own you,” he reminded the horse. “Keep this up and I’ll sell you for glue. Or dog food.”
Rita laughed. “That’s telling him, boss. Remind him who’s in charge and how you hold his life in your hands.” She stroked the horse’s head. “Are you scared, big fella? Don’t be.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s all bark and no bite. Yes, it’s true. Cheap talk. Can you say cheap?”
The horse snorted.
“She’s got a way about her, that one does,” McGregor said as he finished shaping the shoe and returned to the horse’s side. “Come on, laddie. Don’t be givin’ an old man trouble.”
The farrier bent over and deliberately bumped the gelding’s right front shoulder. The horse obligingly shifted his weight to the other three legs and allowed the man to pick up his hoof.
“Good boy,” the Scotsman crooned. “Stay steady just a wee bit longer. We’ll be gettin’ you a nice new shoe. The ladies will be impressed.” He set the shoe over the hoof and grabbed a handful of nails from a pocket in his oversize leather apron.
A few minutes later the shoe was in place, the edges filed to insure a perfect fit. McGregor released the hoof and straightened.
“I do fine work, if I say so myself. No doubt you’ll be thinkin’ the same, Brady.”
“You’re the best, McGregor. I appreciate you taking the time to see to my horses.”
Rita giggled. Brady shot her a quick look and winked. The old Scotsman was the best farrier in the business. He was also the only one close enough to come by on a moment’s notice. The gelding had thrown a shoe the day before. Until it was replaced, he couldn’t be worked.
The horse stamped his foot as if checking the fit. He tossed his head, then blew out air.
“See,” McGregor said. “He approves. You’ll be wantin’ me to look at the other three?”
Brady nodded. “I think that back shoe is coming loose.”
“Shoddy workmanship, and not mine. Who have you had around pretendin’ to shoe these horses?”
“Your nephew. Remember? You took off for a cruise.”
“Aye. I remember.” McGregor looked at Rita and smiled. “The Caribbean, it was. Very lovely. You ever been?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“You’d like it. Lots of pretty girls, but not as pretty as you.”
“Aren’t you sweet?”
Brady held in a sound of disgust. Not only was McGregor old enough to be her father, but his lines weren’t that good. Yet women everywhere always fell for him. “It’s the accent,” he muttered under his breath.
“What did you say?” Rita asked, but the glint in her blue eyes told him that she’d heard his comment.
“Nothing.”
“Gee, I could have sworn you said—”
“Rita.” Brady cut her off with a look designed to remind her he was her boss. She wasn’t the least bit intimidated, either.
She turned her attention to McGregor and said, “I adore your accent. It’s very charming.”
“Accent? Me?” McGregor moved around the gelding and lifted his left rear hoof. “You’re the one who sounds funny, lass.” He tapped at the shoe. “This one’s loose, like you said. I’ll be havin’ a talk with my nephew. I taught him better than this. The boy’s lazy. You know how young men are. Still, that’s a lame excuse for bad work.” He smiled at his pun, then set the hoof down and headed for his truck. “Let me get another shoe and I’ll replace it.”
The gelding shifted, again bumping into Brady. He pushed back. Unfortunately, the horse didn’t budge. “What’s your problem?”
“He’s establishing dominance,” Rita said.
“I thought we’d taken care of that already.”
“Not really.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think the basic problem is that he doesn’t understand enough English to know that you’re threatening him. Otherwise, I’m sure he’d be terribly respectful.” She spoke seriously, but the corners of her mouth twitched.
“Right,” he said, fighting a grin of his own. “Sort of like you.”
“I’m very respectful.”
“To whom?”
She laughed.
The gelding took another step. Brady saw it coming and du
cked under the animal’s head. The horse was just as quick. He shifted back, catching Rita unaware, pulling her forward and making her stumble. As Brady moved to keep her from falling, the gelding stepped between them. Rita hit the ground, knees first.
Her shoulders were shaking. Fear darted through his chest. Had she hurt herself? He grabbed the halter and forced the gelding back two steps, then crouched down beside Rita.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She rolled onto her rear, and looked at him. Tears streamed down her face, but they weren’t from pain. She was laughing. “He’s so bored,” she said, motioning to the horse. “He’s been bugging me ever since you brought him in. I think he hates not being outside with the cattle.” She brushed the moisture from her face. “No horse has caught me so off guard since I was fourteen.”
Her reaction surprised him, then he reminded himself that it shouldn’t. Rita wasn’t like other women he’d known. Working on his ranch for only a few weeks proved to him that she was tough and sensible. Competent, not that she would consider his assessment much of a compliment, however he might mean it that way.
“You fell pretty hard,” he said, and touched her left leg. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
He squeezed her knee, trying to feel for swelling or tenderness. As he slid his hand a few inches down her shin, then up her thigh, he watched her face, looking for a hint of pain. He ignored the pleasure touching her brought. This wasn’t about desire, it was about making sure she was all right. Even so, it was difficult not to let his hand linger on her knee.
When he paused in his actions, she shrugged. “It’s a little sore from the fall, but I’m fine. I’m tougher than I look.”
“I know.” He stood up, then held out his hand to help her to her feet.
As she straightened, they were standing very close. He was once again reminded of their brief hug last week when her trial period was over and he said she could stay on. He swore under his breath. Every time he was close to forgetting that hug, along with the kiss he’d stupidly given her, something happened to make him remember. He didn’t want to remember. He wanted to take the whole thing back. It had been inappropriate behavior, and not his style at all. He’d had female employees before and had never once been tempted.
He couldn’t explain the impulse that had made him kiss her, and he couldn’t forget.
Rita didn’t seem to be having the same problem. She stepped up to the gelding and took his large face in her hands. “Don’t do that to me again,” she told the animal. “You know better.”
The horse snorted gently, as if apologizing.
“Like I believe that,” she said.
“Believe what?” McGregor asked as he entered the barn.
“Anything a man says to me. You all tell wonderful stories that don’t have a lick of truth.”
“I’m wounded, lass. At least let me share a story or two before you start accusin’ me of somethin’. In fact, I’ll think up a good one to tell you at the barn dance next week. What do you say? Surely an old gent like myself deserves a wee bit of your time.”
Rita blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know about any dance, but I don’t think—”
McGregor made a noise of disgust and glared at Brady. “Did you mean to be keepin’ the lass to yourself?”
“No. The subject never came up in conversation.”
“Typical. These young men. They don’t know what’s important in life.” McGregor moved to the gelding and lifted the animal’s rear hoof. “Next Saturday night there’s a barn dance in town. Everyone’s invited. It’s at the lodge, so it’s not really a barn, but it’s called that. There’s lots of music and food. Perhaps a wee bit of drink, too.” He held the metal shoe against the hoof, then lowered the animal’s leg.
Brady, who hadn’t been to one of the town dances in months, found himself suddenly eager to go. To dance. Specifically with Rita. Down boy, he warned himself.
“They’re a lot of fun,” Brady said, hoping he sounded casual. “You’ll know a lot of people there.” At her questioning look he added, “The cowboys all go. Even Tex. You don’t need a date.”
“But you will need a few dancin’ partners,” McGregor said, then pounded the shoe into the right shape. “I believe I’d like to claim one dance for myself.”
Rita bit her lower lip, then nodded. “I’d like that,” she said, sounding hesitant.
Brady wondered why. Was it going to a place where she didn’t know many people, or was it attending the dance itself?
“A two-step?” McGregor asked.
Rita smiled. “Perfect.”
Brady turned away, annoyed to find himself wanting to claim his own dance. Dammit, he wasn’t jealous of McGregor, he wasn’t jealous of anyone. He had no claim on Rita. She was just an employee. A young employee, he reminded himself, thinking of the nine years between them.
“And maybe a waltz,” the Scotsman teased.
Brady stepped around the gelding and headed for the back of the barn. “I’ll write you a check for the shoeing,” he said.
“Just for the one,” McGregor called after him. “The second one is repairing a bad job. No charge for that.”
Brady grunted in reply. He knew what the problem was, but knowing it and fixing it didn’t seem to be the same thing. If he was jealous of someone who wasn’t the least bit interested in Rita, what would happen if someone who was came sniffing around?
He crossed to his desk and jerked open the upper right drawer. His checkbook lay on top. As he sat down, he told himself to get over it and fast. So what if Rita got to him in a way that left him hard and wanting? So what if no one had affected him like that in years? So what if she wasn’t Alicia? She was still a woman with secrets. A woman with a past, and he of all people knew the danger in that.
He scrawled out the amount, then signed the check. Ten minutes later, the farrier came in to collect it. They chatted for a short time. When McGregor left, Brady tried to ignore the sounds from the barn. He didn’t want to think about Rita with the horses, of her doing her chores, of the way she would look bending over to spread straw or raising her arms high to grab a feed sack.
He rested his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples. He had it bad.
“Brady?”
He glanced up and found Rita standing in the doorway to his office. Her long braid hung over one shoulder and down the side of her right breast. He forced his gaze to her face. Some dark emotion flickered in her eyes. “Yes?”
“I, um…” She twisted her hands together in front of her waist. Worn jeans emphasized her round hips and shapely thighs. He told himself not to notice. “Would you rather I didn’t go to the dance?”
He leaned back in his chair and motioned for her to take the seat across from his. “No. Why?”
She sat down. “I’m not sure. You seemed a little put out by my conversation with McGregor. He was just joking. I knew that. I don’t want you to think I took his flattery seriously.”
Brady winced. Bad enough to act like a jerk, worse to be caught. “I’m sorry, Rita. That wasn’t it at all. You’re welcome to go to the dance or anywhere else. Your free time is just that. Yours. I think you’d have fun, so I hope you’ll go. McGregor is a great dancer, if you don’t mind some theatrics along the way.”
“Are you sure?”
“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.
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