This Place Called Home: Includes Bonus Story! (Forget-Me-Not Ranch)

by Sara Richardson

  Praise for Sara Richardson

  The author's compassion shines through her beautifully flawed and earnest characters and takes readers on an emotionally wrenching journey to the elusive goal of love.

  Publishers Weekly on Something Like Love

  A must-read contemporary romance! ... Vivid characters and a few great twists. The ending was a perfect, lovely and sigh-worthy happy-ever-after…

  USA Today on Something Like Love

  "Charming, witty, and fun. There's no better read. I enjoyed every word!"

  Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author on No Better Man

  This Place Called Home

  Forget Me Not Ranch Book 1

  Sara Richardson

  Wisar Publications

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Sara Richardson

  Excerpt from First Kiss With a Cowboy Copyright © 2019 by Sara Richardson

  Excerpt from This Thing Called Love Copyright © 2019 by Sara Richardson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For my dear friend and reader, Toni Lineneberger. You are a gem!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  THIS THING CALLED LOVE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  18. First Kiss With a Cowboy Sample

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Sara Richardson

  Chapter 1

  Mackenzie Benson had never considered how difficult it would be to pump gas while wearing an extra-length organza white rosette gown. But, then again, she hadn’t planned to run out on her wedding either.

  Hiking up the many layers of her dress, Mack swung her legs out the driver’s door of her father’s luxury SUV—which she’d technically stolen—and gingerly landed her baby-blue stilettos (her something blue) on the crumbled asphalt.

  For the last three hours, she’d managed to stay on autopilot. Driving. Just driving. Outrunning the scenes she’d barely had time to glimpse when she stepped into the cathedral’s sanctuary back in Denver. Now that she had her feet on solid ground again, the images blurred together in a nightmarish montage. Plumes of ornate flower arrangements reaching for the gold-plated ceiling. Heavy golden candelabras holding up flickering candles. At least eight hundred family members and friends and acquaintances and strangers dressed in black-tie attire. Evan—oh God, poor Evan—standing with the priest under an arbor of lilies at the end of that long, stone aisle. The aisle she couldn’t seem to walk down.

  Instead, she’d turned around, yanked her father out of the sanctuary and pleaded for his car key—finally digging it out of his tuxedo pocket before he knew what was happening.

  Her chest burned like her heart was going up in flames. Now that she’d stopped, reality set in and filled her with a strange mixture of sorrow and relief.

  She’d run out on her wedding.

  The wedding her parents had been planning for well over a year. The wedding her father had spent at least fifty grand on, although it was likely more given the way her mother kept changing things around at the last minute. The wedding Denver’s most exclusive social scene magazine called the event of the summer.

  Leaning into the car, Mack staggered, her knees knocking together. If only she could’ve kept driving. If only she hadn’t nearly run out of gas. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to think about the disaster she’d left in her wake. What had happened anyway?

  She raised her hand to her head and squeezed at her temples, alleviating the headache that had started to pound between her ears. It had been instinct—a gut reaction.

  For months, doubts had been bubbling below the surface, but, when she’d tried to bring them up, her mother told her it was normal pre-wedding jitters. It will all go away when you walk down that aisle and see Evan standing there, she’d promised. But it hadn’t. Oh, no. Instead of going away, those doubts had exploded into sheer, gut-wrenching panic, and she knew she had to run.

  But now what?

  Steadying one hand against the car, she hiked up her dress with the other and shuffle-stepped her way toward the gas pump, carefully navigating the severely damaged asphalt.

  Mack looked around, trying to get her bearings. Mountain peaks stood off in the distance, dusted in a coating of snow from the early-season storm that had passed through Colorado. The hard angles of the steep granite slopes would look imposing if it weren’t for the carpet of brilliant gold aspen leaves shading the cliffs and crevasses.

  She’d started out on the interstate in Denver but had exited on some two-lane highway after she’d gained elevation and had seen a sign for River Haven. Haven, she’d thought. She needed a haven. But this gas station looked more like Hicksville.

  The building itself had a symmetrical square simplicity with white peeling paint and a crooked wooden sign that simply said Gas. There were four pumps, and they were the only thing around here that had been updated. At least they had the credit card slot so she could pay outside and spare herself the humiliation of facing a cashier.

  Wait. She eyed the pump again. She needed a credit card…

  Mack slumped against the SUV, the weight of her current predicament slowly crushing her. She didn’t have her purse. She didn’t have anything except for her dress and her shoes and her father’s car. She was completely stranded.

  Good lord, she didn’t even have her cell phone so she could call her parents to come and rescue her. “Okay.” Mack stood upright again. “Everything’s fine.” She would simply have to go into that convenience store and ask to use their phone.

  Calling her parents had always been a last resort but she had no choice. She’d probably been driving for a good four hours or more, and she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since the celebratory breakfast with her bridesmaids early that morning.

  Now, the numbness that accompanied her on the drive started to wear off, making her all too aware of the dryness in her mouth, the hunger pains rolling through her stomach. Well, it was either hunger or anxiety. She couldn’t tell.

  Trying to outrun both, she started across the parking lot in a brisk, unsteady gait, but her left heel caught in a crack and pitched her forward, sprawling her across the dirty ground. A sharp tearing sound confirmed she wouldn’t be returning the wedding gown for a refund.

  Groaning, Mack winced at the stinging pain in her knees and shifted to sit up. Blood stained the white organza ruffles, some of which now hung in tatters. She stared down at the mess of her dress, at the scra
pes visible on her knees, and something broke loose in her chest, sending a sob straight up her throat. Everything was not fine. Evan was heartbroken and her parents were probably humiliated and she really had to pee.

  The sobs came faster, now accompanied by hot pathetic tears, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care how she must look sitting here in the parking lot of a decrepit gas station in her dirty ruined dress. She was a horrible person.

  Behind her, the door of the convenience store swung open. Mack turned her head, still bawling, and looked up through the blur of her tears.

  An old woman stepped off the curb. Though Mack couldn’t see her face, she glimpsed the faint outline of stringy white braids hanging on either side of the woman’s head.

  “Oh my.” The woman crouched down next to her and set a paper cup of back coffee up on the curb. “You poor, poor dear. Are you hurt?”

  “Not really,” Mack blubbered. Now that the woman had come closer, Mack could see she had a lovely round face, tanned skin that seemed to have soaked in years of sunlight, and striking blue eyes. But it was her clothes that intrigued Mack the most. She wore a pair of tattered denim overalls and bright yellow rubber boots with cheerful polka dots.

  “I think I’m okay.” It would’ve sounded more convincing if she could’ve managed anything other than a sad whimper. “I mean…I ran out on my wedding all the way back in Denver and I’ve just been driving and driving and now I’ve run out of gas.”

  Why stop there when she was on a roll? “And I’ve ruined my dress, so I can’t take that back and I’m sure my parents are still going to have to pay for the reception and all the food and all the alcohol. And Evan. Oh, dear God. Poor Evan.” The words spilled out of her as quickly as the tears. “I haven’t eaten or had anything to drink for hours and I have no phone and no money and I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “Well now.” The woman gently pressed three fingers under Mack’s chin, lifting her head. The sun seemed to cast a halo behind the tufts of her white hair. “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do, honey.” A comforting smile set deep lines around the corners of the woman’s mouth. “You’re going to come home with me and we’re going to get you all cleaned up. Then we’ll feed you a nice hot meal. After awhile, things’ll look better. Things always look better after a some time and care.”

  How long had it been since Mack had let someone take care of her? She couldn’t remember. As the daughter of a luxury resort mogul, she’d insisted on working her way up in her father’s company where she now served as VP of marketing, publicity, and brand development. She’d put herself through college and business school and she’d worked for two other companies before finally fulfilling her father’s dream and joining the family business.

  But she’d done it her way, taking only half the salary and signing bonus he’d tried to offer her. The only reason she’d let her parents pay for her wedding was because they’d told her it would break their hearts if she didn’t.

  Mack reached for the hem of her dress and used it to mop up the mess on her face. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t some needy heiress. She didn’t have nervous breakdowns at gas stations in the middle of nowhere. “I couldn’t impose,” she said, striving for an air of dignified resilience. “I can call my parents. They’ll come pick me up.” If they were still speaking to her, that was.

  The woman sat all the way down on the ground across from Mack, gazing at her with an amusement that seemed to light her eyes. “If you’re from Denver, it’ll take your parents a good four hours to get here. You might as well get a nice rest and a good hot meal while you wait. I’ve got some stew leftover from the week. And I made fresh biscuits this afternoon too.”

  Hunger made Mack’s empty stomach grumble again, but what kind of person invited a random stranger to her home? Trying not to be too obvious, she studied the woman sitting on the ground across from her. She seemed harmless enough. Kind, even.

  Everything about her, from her faded overalls and frayed white T-shirt, appeared simple and down-to-earth. An invitation like this would never be offered back in the city, but she wasn’t in the city anymore. She was somewhere near River Haven. Maybe this place was more of a sanctuary than the gas station made it seem.

  “Or I could simply pay to fill up your car with gas,” the woman suggested. “Then you could drive yourself home. If that’s where you really want to go.”

  It wasn’t. Mack didn’t want to go home. Not yet. She couldn’t. Raising her shoulders in the practiced pose of composure, she tried to smile. “I suppose I could use a place to get cleaned up before the long drive. If you really don’t mind.”

  “Mind?” The woman scrambled to her feet, those yellow rubber boots squeaking. “Don’t be silly! I’d love the company. It’ll be nice to have someone around who talks back to me for once.”

  Mack decided not to ask what that meant.

  The woman reached out a hand that appeared much stronger than her small frame would have had anyone believe. “I’m Agatha.”

  “Mackenzie,” she said, taking the woman’s hand so she could stand. It took some effort but she somehow managed to get the dress out of the way and her feet beneath her. The sting in her knees had lessened into more of a distant ache but it still brought on a wince. “Everyone calls me Mack.”

  “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mack.” Agatha slipped a supportive arm around her waist. “Trust me. You’re going to love the Forget-Me-Not Ranch. Something tells me it’s exactly the kind of place you need to be.”

  Chapter 2

  “Easy there, big fella.” Nash Campbell finished administering the Vitamin B12 shot into Moonstruck’s hindquarters. The bull seemed too busy enjoying a pile of premium hay to care much about getting his daily dose of vitamins, but Nash had learned the hard way you couldn’t be too careful.

  As one of the lead veterinarians on the rodeo circuit, handling a fifteen-hundred-pound bull was just another day on the job, but after being stepped on and slashed by a horn, he’d developed a wary respect for these bovine athletes. They could turn on you in less than a second.

  Easing out of Moonstruck’s stall, he tossed the syringe into a disposal box and checked the last patient off his list. Trying to stretch the tension out of his shoulders, he pulled off his gloves and threw them in the trash. He might be done seeing his bovine patients, but he still had a whole pile of paperwork to fill out before the night was over.

  He had to go over the lab reports for the bulls they’d randomly tested for steroid use—though he didn’t expect to random selection of the bovine athletes to test in an attempt to crack down on steroid use. After a few years, they’d made a lot of strides in convincing the handlers that doping the bulls wasn’t worth the trouble.

  “Hey, man.” Kyler Donovan appeared from behind one of the trailers. Typically, Nash didn’t hang out with the competitors, but as far as bull riders went, Kyler wasn’t so bad. He was one of the few who came in to check on the bulls after the competition.

  No matter what they did to him out in the arena, Kyler always wanted to make sure the animals had come through unscathed. Without meaning to, Nash had developed a friendship with him over the years.

  “We’re all heading out the local watering hole in about an hour,” Kyler told him, giving Moonstruck a soft pat over the fence. The bull didn’t even look up from his dinner. “You want to come with us?”

  The first few years he’d had this job, Nash had taken Kyler up on plenty of invitations, but this had been a tough stretch of travel for him, adding up to too many long days and long nights.

  When he’d first started his career on the circuit, he’d never dreamed he would get tired of living out of a suitcase, but it was starting to get old. “Can’t go tonight,” he said, pulling an envelope with the lab results out of his bag. “I have a lot to finish up here. I’ll grab something to eat on the way back to the hotel.”

  That pretty much summed up his life lately: working all day, grabbing something for dinner in w
hatever town he happened to land in—sometimes he couldn’t even remember the name—and then crashing early.

  “Partying is good for you every once in a while, you know.” Kyler left the fence and walked over to where Nash stood, obviously not satisfied with his answer. “It helps with that whole work-life balance thing.”

  “So you’ve told me.” Nash would be the first to admit he had no balance. But he wasn’t someone who needed balance. Or at least he never had been before.

  “Rumor is it’s ladies night at the bar we’re headed to.” Kyler loved himself a good ladies night.

  Nash didn’t want to burst his bubble, but this Wyoming town they were staying in likely wouldn’t have a huge selection. “Like I said, I’ve got—” his cell phone rang from his back pocket, giving him the perfect excuse to bail out of the conversation. “Excuse me,” he said to Kyler, stepping away. He brought the phone to his ear. “Nash Campbell.”

  “Mr. Campbell, this is Brian Wellers with Peak Bank.”

  Well, damn. Peak Bank was the lender that had mortgaged his aunt’s ranch. This couldn’t be good news. He stepped even further away from Kyler, who seemed determined to hang out and finish their conversation. “What can I do for you, Mr. Wellers?”

  “Well, I’ve been trying to get a hold of your aunt but she’s not answering her phone.”