The Sleigh on Seventeenth Street (Three Rivers Ranch Romance Book 14)

by Liz Isaacson

  He took a few precious seconds to smooth his beard, thinking it had come in quite nicely despite what his brothers said. Then he swiped his cowboy hat from the dresser in his bedroom and headed downstairs.

  He shared the homestead with his oldest brother, Shane, and his wife, Robin. They’d been married for about three months now, and everyone had worked out a system to keep from stepping on each other’s toes.

  Dylan had taken over Robin’s tiny house, a two hundred and eight square foot home that she’d parked way down on the end of Cabin Row, where Dylan spent most of his time anyway. He’d built one new cabin already, and had the skeleton of another going up. He worked with the cattle on the ranch the brothers had bought six months ago, and he was halfway through remodeling the home Austin would eventually move into.

  Austin grabbed his keys from the hook by the door in the kitchen. “Goin’ to church,” he called, not really sure where everyone else was at the moment. Someone yelled back to him, and he skipped down the few steps in the garage to one of the trucks they owned.

  He was happier than he’d ever been since being forced to leave his family’s ranch just outside of San Antonio. He’d just celebrated his thirty-third birthday. By all accounts, Austin should be laughing while he counted his blessings.

  But a vein of anger existed in him he didn’t know how to deal with. Always there, always just seething right below the surface, the negativity felt like a black plague on his soul. He’d been trying to get to church every week, and sometimes that helped. But he was starting to suspect that it wasn’t enough, that nothing would able be able to cure him from this darkness he felt inside himself.

  He kept the music off as he drove, using the thirty-minute drive to mentally run through his upcoming week. He craved this solitude, as he’d been working with the three ranch hands that had come with Triple Towers when he and his brothers had bought it.

  Oaker and Carlos were friendly enough. They’d educated all the brothers about where things were and how things were done. Shane had changed almost all of it, because the ranch was in complete disrepair, both physically and financially.

  Dylan had taken care of the outbuildings. Together, he and Shane were working on the pasture rotations, getting more hay planted, and dealing with all the legal rights with the water on the ranch. Austin had been tasked with all the horse care—which wasn’t much, considering they had four horses.

  Shane had brought one over from Grape Seed Ranch, where the brothers used to work, and Dylan and his fiancée, Hazel, and Austin had purchased a horse each from Levi Rhodes. Austin loved horses and didn’t mind the time it took to care for them. Robin, who was a professional farrier, did quite a bit to keep them shod and healthy too.

  Austin’s real love, surprisingly, came with the huge hen house that had come with the ranch. Shane had wanted to sell the chickens and knock down the coop in favor of something else. But Austin had taken a liking to the clucking, the methodical gathering of eggs, and the seemingly constant need to feed the beasts.

  With one hundred and four chickens to care for, Austin spent a lot of time in that coop. It had become his sanctuary of sorts, and he wasn’t sure if he should chuckle at that or take the fact of the matter to his grave.

  When he wasn’t doing those tasks, he worked with Shayleigh in the equipment shed, thus the grease stains in his fingerprints. She’d been an Army mechanic, and while she was as beautiful as an angel, she had the disposition of a cornered wildcat.

  He got along best with her out of anyone, so he’d been enduring hours with her in the afternoon, under her rough hand of correction, his patience thinning by the day. She went to the same church as him, but he deliberately didn’t ask her to drive in with him, nor did he sit by her. He’d asked—once.

  The look of disdain she’d given him had been scathing enough to remind him each week that she was not interested. Fine by him. He needed the thirty minutes in and the thirty minutes back to re-center himself anyway. And her presence was anything but centering.

  He arrived in plenty of time to park where he wanted and sit on the far right side the way he liked. Sometimes a couple of cowboys he knew from other ranches and farms surrounding the town of Grape Seed Falls sat by him, but today, the crowd was thin.

  Didn’t matter. Austin needed to be there, even if it was just him and the minister.

  Pastor Gifford got up and said, “Everyone must be home baking pies today,” and Austin remembered that it was nearly Thanksgiving. His mother would be joining them on the ranch on the Wednesday before the holiday, and he’d be the one to make sure she got settled. He always was, though Dylan and Shane took care of their mom too.

  The pastor spoke about being grateful, accepting help when it was offered, and offering service at this time of year to those who might need it. “Pray for opportunities to serve others,” he said. “The Lord can use you. He will use you.”

  Austin felt like he could barely keep his head above water most days. He didn’t get a chance to interact with many people outside the ranch, but he supposed there were still plenty of opportunities to help the ranch hands or his brothers with something. Wasn’t there?

  After the service ended, Austin stayed in his seat while everyone else filed out. Pastor Gifford would be busy for several minutes, and Austin needed a few minutes before their meeting anyway.

  He’d finally plucked up the courage to ask Pastor Gifford for help. Was that why the minister had focused his speech today about accepting help or looking for ways to serve? What if that was all Austin needed to hear?

  He closed his eyes and prayed, asking God for guidance, for a way to cleanse himself from his dark thoughts. No definitive answer came, not that Austin was expecting it to.

  When there was little noise left coming from the foyer, Austin stood and made his way there. Pastor Gifford saw him and finished saying good-bye to the last couple. “Austin,” he said warmly, a smile on his face that felt one-hundred percent genuine. “Let’s go talk in my office.”

  He led the way down a short hall and around the corner before pushing through a thick door and into a decent-sized office. He pulled his tie loose around his neck and sighed as he sat.

  “What can I help you with today?” He folded his arms on his desk and looked at Austin expectantly.

  Austin removed his cowboy hat and worried his fingers along the brim. He sat too, wishing the words would magically align themselves. “Well, I’m not really sure….”

  “What’s bothering you?”

  Austin looked at the man, probably close to his father’s age. The thought of his father clarified things. “I’m angry,” he said. “About a lot of things that shouldn’t make me angry. I don’t feel…normal. It’s always there, and I don’t know how to get rid of it.”

  Pastor Gifford nodded. “Go on.”

  “I think…I just need to know what to do.”

  The minister shook his head, though a smaller version of the smile he’d worn in the foyer returned. “I can’t tell you what to do.” He opened a desk drawer and turned his attention to that. “Let me see…I think I have something you might try.”

  Austin wanted a pill, maybe some magic beans, anything that would take this feeling away. He leaned forward as Pastor Gifford placed a simple business card on the desk.

  “Anger management?” Austin read the card. “Classes, meetings, and more. Thursdays at seven p.m.” He looked at the pastor. “You think I should go to anger management classes?”

  “I’ve had several patrons who’ve attended,” he said, nudging the card closer. “They speak highly of the program.”

  Austin took the card, but it felt too heavy to take home with him. “All right. Thanks.” He stood, disappointed, not quite expecting the minister to give him more to do. That well of anger he barely kept contained started boiling, and Austin needed to leave. Now.

  He stuffed the card in his back pocket and left the office, then the church. The wind tried to steal his hat from right off the top
of his head—another thing to make him angry. The blasted wind. Who got angry over wind?

  Time seemed to move slowly, but Thursday eventually came. He didn’t want to tell anyone where he was going, because then they’d want to know why. And he didn’t want Shane or Dylan to A. worry, or B. ask him questions, or C. give him advice.

  Sure, he knew Shane spoke with a therapist regularly, using an app called Talk To Me. It had done amazing things for Shane’s own pent-up anger and feelings of abandonment. Dylan didn’t seem to have quite as many problems, but Austin had noticed that he’d stopped talking to their father about a year ago. He seemed happier for it too, and Hazel had really helped in that department as well.

  Austin, the youngest, still unattached, was lonely. Angry about being lonely. Sad. Angry about being sad. And most of all, he was completely done with being duped by his dad. That was what made him the angriest, and he decided while he put his horse away on Thursday evening that he would go to the anger management meeting.

  He met Robin on his way out of the stable, and seized the opportunity. “Hey, I’m heading into town tonight. Can you tell Shane?”

  “Sure.” She didn’t give him a funny look or question why he’d go into town on a Thursday. Now if he could just get the keys and get out of there….

  He managed to do both without seeing anyone except Shay, who had her two German shepherds engaged in some sort of training exercise. Her dogs were beautiful and well-behaved, and she spent serious time making sure of both.

  It was barely five-thirty when he arrived in Grape Seed Falls, so Austin bummed around town, got dinner, and finally parked at the library a few minutes before the meeting was set to start. Maybe he could sneak in the back and just listen.

  With only two minutes to spare, he got out of the truck and went inside the lower level of the library, where all the meeting rooms were located. Low-level chatter met his ears from a room at the end of the hall, and he slicked his palms down the front of his jeans.

  His heart pounded, and he felt like he was walking the plank, heading right for a watery grave. The door stood open and a patch of brighter light fell onto the carpet. The scent of chocolate and something fruity met his nose, but it wasn’t comforting the way it had been when his mother had baked cookies for the boys after school.

  He paused a few strides away from the door, his mind still warring with itself. He hadn’t seen anyone yet, and he could just walk on by. Pretend he’d come to the wrong room. Anything. Something.

  Just go inside.

  The words entered his mind, erasing and silencing the jumbled mess his thoughts had become.

  So he straightened his shoulders and marched toward the room, deciding once and for all that he was not going to let his anger rule his life. Not anymore.

  His first step in the room and someone moved right in front of him. He couldn’t slow. Couldn’t stop. Couldn’t dodge.

  His instinct kicked in and he had a half-second to brace before he collided with another body. A softer body than his, but still hard in specific places. He grabbed onto her arms—it was a woman with streaked hair. Pink tips.

  Something cold and wet seeped through his shirt, and he looked down at his chest.

  Punch. Red punch.

  “Let go of me.” The woman spoke in a near-growl, and Austin hastened to obey her, unsure of when he’d clamped his fingers around her biceps.

  Another step back, and all his senses started working again. Eyes. Nose. Ears.

  A hush had fallen on the room, and he glanced around to find at least a dozen people in attendance, including the woman he’d barreled straight into

  “Shay?” he asked.

  She accepted a handful of napkins from another woman and started mopping up her own ruined shirt. She wore a pair of jeans that hugged every feminine curve, the same pair of cowgirl boots he’d seen countless times, and a pretty sea foam green shirt. Well, it used to be pretty. Now with the red stain, it looked like a Christmas nightmare.

  “What are you doin’ here?” she asked, and not kindly. Her hazel eyes flashed with annoyance, but she didn’t look fully at him until she’d thrown away the wad of napkins.

  She folded her arms and cocked her hip, and Austin should not have found her so attractive. After all, this was going to be an argument, and he wouldn’t walk away the winner. He rarely did with Shayleigh Hatch.

  But she was gorgeous, and strong, and feminine all at the same time. He’d sensed a softer Shay under the hard armor she presented to the world, but he hadn’t cracked it. Hadn’t even tried. Wasn’t sure it was worth the effort.

  But now, staring at her in this new environment where she couldn’t boss him around and couldn’t make him feel two inches tall, Austin wondered if the spark he’d always felt between them was really as one-sided as she’d claimed it to be.

  So he’d asked her to dance at his brother’s wedding. He could admit it. She’d turned him down by laughing in his face and saying she’d never be interested in him. His place with her had been made very clear, and he hadn’t tried to move from the corner she’d put him in.

  But now…. Now something started to buzz in his bloodstream. Whisper fantasies through his mind. Fan that dormant flame into something brilliant and hot.

  “Let it go, Shay,” the woman who’d brought her the napkins said, stepping between her and Austin. “It’s time to start.” She cast a nervous look at Austin that said, Please just go sit down. Or leave. Something.

  Shay drew in a deep breath through her nose, her glare miraculously dropping in intensity. “Time to start. Right.”

  She turned away from him, and then twisted back to say, “I think the meeting for men who steal women’s ranches is upstairs,” in a cold, dismissive tone that made all the parts of Austin that had started to hum quiet.

  Especially when Shay rounded the few rows of chairs that had been set up, took her position at the front of the room, and said, “All right, everyone. Welcome to our weekly meeting. It’s time to begin.”

  Read CHEERING THE COWBOY now. Available in Kindle Unlimited.

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  Read more by Liz Isaacson

  Love holiday romance? It’s seriously my favorite! Try the Whittaker brothers and travel to Wyoming for some cold, Christmasy winters in HER COWBOY BILLIONAIRE BEST FRIEND.

  Or want to stay warm during the holidays? Read CHEERING THE COWBOY, Book 7 in the Grape Seed Falls Romance series, which takes place in the Hill Country of Texas.

  Love small towns with fantastic charm? Great! Read all the books in Liz’s Amazon #1 bestselling Brush Creek Brides series.

  About Liz

  Liz Isaacson is the author of the #1 bestselling Three Rivers Ranch Romance series, the #1 bestselling Gold Valley Romance series, the Brush Creek Brides series, the Steeple Ridge Romance series (Buttars Brothers novels), the Grape Seed Falls Romance series, and the Christmas in Coral Canyon Romance series (Whittaker Brothers novels).

  She writes inspirational romance, usually set in Texas and Montana, or anywhere else horses and cowboys exist. She lives in Utah, where she teaches elementary school, taxis her daughter to dance several times a week, and eats a lot of Ferrero Rocher while writing.

  Learn more about all her books here. Find her on Facebook, twitter, and her website.

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  THE SLEIGH ON SEVENTEENTH STREET

  Book Fourteen in the Three Rivers Ran
ch Romance series

  by Liz Isaacson

  Copyright © 2018 by Elana Johnson, writing and doing business as Liz Isaacson

  Published by AEJ Creative Works

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

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  Interior Design by AEJ Creative Works