Sarah's Legacy (Home on the Ranch)

by Brenda Mott

  Bailey folded her arms in front of her. “I’d be happy to sell the truck back to you whenever you can come up with the money to buy it. But there’s no way I can give you a loan, Lester. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  “Then how the hell am I supposed to get the Chevy back?” he all but shouted.

  “Please lower your voice,” Bailey said. “Shouting at me is not going to help your situation.”

  “Is that right?” Lester rose from his chair and leaned against the desk with both hands. “Look. Just loan me the money and I’ll pay you back in installments. Hell, this bank’s got plenty of it.” He gestured at the surrounding furniture and office equipment. “All this fancy-schmancy stuff you’ve got, and your fine clothes.” He raked her with a gaze from head to toe. “It won’t hurt you a bit to help me out. I already told you I’m good for the money. I’ve got a job.” He tapped his chest proudly. “I just need’ta get on my feet a little, that’s all.”

  Not willing to waste another minute trying to get through to him when he obviously wasn’t coherent enough to listen, Bailey rose and walked around the desk. “I have to ask you to leave, Lester.”

  “Nope.” He shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not budging until you say yes.”

  “I’m not going to stand here and argue with you.” She moved toward the door. “I don’t have time for this.”

  Lester grabbed her roughly by the arm, his fingers biting into her skin, and yanked her backward. Startled, Bailey gaped at him.

  “Why won’t you help me?” he demanded. His face scrunched with drunken fury.

  “Let go of me.” Furious, Bailey jerked her arm from his grasp, and Lester responded by shoving her. Staggering backward, she fell against the filing cabinet and banged her elbow on the corner of it.

  Fear mingled with anger. In his drunken state, Lester could be far more dangerous than she’d bargained for.

  “You don’t hear too good, do you?” Lester’s eyes darkened, and he took a threatening step toward her, his hand clenched at his side.

  Bailey stood her ground, determined not to let him see she was frightened. “I’d say you’re the one who doesn’t hear very well.”

  The door swung open at that moment, and two police officers stepped over the threshold, Jenny right behind them. “Is there a problem?” One of the officers, tall and slim, fixed Lester with a stare. The second one, shorter and stocky, kept his hand on his hip near his pistol.

  Jenny glared at Lester. “I heard him shouting, Bailey. He’s violent when he’s drunk.”

  Lester’s eyes shot daggers at Jenny. “This is none of your business,” he grumbled.

  “Sir, step outside with me,” the first officer said, beckoning Lester to come forward.

  Instantly, the fight went out of him. Lester held up his hands, palms out. “I don’t want any trouble, Officer.”

  “Neither do we. Now, just step outside.”

  The policemen escorted him to their waiting patrol car.

  Shaking, Bailey stepped into the lobby to address the half-dozen customers who stared at her. “I apologize for the commotion. There’s nothing to worry about, just a bit of a misunderstanding.” She lowered her voice and spoke to Jenny. “I’ll be in the break room if the police need to talk to me.” She had to calm down before the auditors arrived.

  Jenny nodded, her face pale. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about Lester’s drinking problem before, Bailey. I truly thought he had it under control.”

  “It’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Did he hurt you?” Jenny spotted the mark on Bailey’s arm. Her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh.”

  “It’s nothing,” Bailey said. “Lester grabbed me and shoved me, that’s all. But it’s probably a good thing you called the police, Jenny. Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  Bailey went to the break room and closed the door. After pouring a cup of coffee, she sat at the table and rubbed her bruised elbow. She’d had some experience with violence as a foster child, under the care of a woman whose brother-in-law often got drunk and caused a ruckus. Still, he’d never raised a hand to her or anyone in the family. Then there’d been Ruth, the foster mother she lived with when she was eleven. Ruth had never hit her, but she’d had a habit of grabbing Bailey by the arm and shaking her whenever she wanted to get a point across.

  Bailey ran her hand over the place where Lester’s grip had pinched into her flesh. Angry, red-hued fingerprints stood out against her skin. She felt violated, and hated that what he’d done brought unhappy childhood memories rushing back to her.

  Minutes later, one of the police officers came in and questioned Bailey about what had happened. Though furious with Lester, she declined to press charges, not wanting to make more of the incident. Lester would be hauled to detox for an overnight stay. Hopefully, the experience would shake him up enough to make a difference. Maybe he would seek professional help.

  Once the policeman left, Bailey returned to her office and waited for the auditors to arrive. But the incident with Lester had upset her more than she cared to admit. Her elbow smarted where he’d slammed her into the filing cabinet, and the red fingerprints on her arm promised to turn into a bruise.

  What a jerk. And here she’d tried to help him out. Well, no more. Let people in town think of her as the hard-core banker woman if they wanted to. This would be the last time she’d bend over backward to help anyone.

  The auditors arrived promptly at one o’clock and spent the rest of the day poring over the bank’s records. It took Bailey’s mind off her problems. By the time the audit was over, she was tired but elated. Everything had gone smoothly, and the bank had received a score of ninety-five.

  Bailey headed for home. She fed the animals, prepared a light supper and thought about calling Trent. But she was simply too exhausted to do anything more than eat and fall into bed. It was just as well. She’d resolved to leave him alone for a while, and she meant to stick to that resolution.

  So why was it she couldn’t keep thoughts of the kisses they’d shared by the river from running through her mind? Flopping onto her side, Bailey punched her pillow into submission and closed her eyes.

  The next morning, she woke up feeling sick to her stomach. Not sure if it was due to the excitement with Lester the day before, combined with the stress of preparing for the audit, or if she had a flu bug, she telephoned Jenny.

  “I’m not feeling well. I think I’ll stay home today and rest. But if anything urgent comes up, call me.”

  “Never mind that,” Jenny reassured her. “You just get some sleep. After what Lester did to you yesterday, it’s no wonder you don’t feel well. I’m telling you, he shook me up, and I wasn’t even the one he attacked. Lord, he’s a mean drunk!”

  Bailey thanked her, then crawled back under the covers. Maybe a little extra sleep wouldn’t be such a bad thing, provided she could get her mind to shut down long enough to cooperate.

  But thoughts of Trent whirled through her head anew, and only with effort was Bailey at last able to fall back asleep.

  TRENT HAD SPENT the past week contemplating just exactly where things were headed with him and Bailey. He’d foolishly wished upon a falling star, as though that would solve all his problems. If only it were so easy.

  He hadn’t called Bailey or gone to her house because he wasn’t sure he should. The more he was around her, the more he found himself wanting to be with her. No matter how much he’d enjoyed their moonlight ride a week ago, or how tempted he was to get to know her on a much deeper level, it wasn’t what he’d planned.

  Still, he missed her more than he’d ever thought he would, and he wanted to see her. It wasn’t her fault that his emotions were a mass of confusion. He had no idea what he would ultimately do about the situation, but he knew for certain that he didn’t want to burn any bridges right now. Maybe he could keep seeing Bailey, provided he took things slowly.

  He had to stop thinking ab
out taking her to bed. Hell, he’d even purchased a box of condoms on impulse the last time he was at the grocery store. When he’d gotten home, he’d held the box in his hand, sure he’d lost his mind. He’d started to heave it into the trash. Instead, he’d shoved it into the drawer of his nightstand. Just in case.

  Disgusted with his actions—those of a silly, love-sick fool—Trent climbed into his truck and headed for town. He’d heard the bank was offering high-interest-rate certificates of deposit, and logically, it made sense for him to transfer some of his money into one. But more important, it would give him a good excuse to see Bailey on neutral ground. Maybe talking to her at the bank would be better right now than seeing her alone at his house or hers.

  He searched the lobby as he entered Colorado Western National but didn’t see Bailey anywhere. She was probably in her office. Spotting Jenny, he walked over to her desk.

  She beamed a smile at him. “Hello, Trent. What can I do for you?”

  “Is Bailey in?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably beneath Jenny’s knowing gaze. He couldn’t help wondering how much Bailey had confided in her. Did she know he’d kissed Bailey on more than one occasion?

  Jenny’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you hear about our excitement yesterday?”

  Apprehension twisted his stomach as he glanced toward Bailey’s closed office door. “What excitement?”

  “Lester Godfrey came in drunk off his butt,” Jenny said. “It was awful.” She clutched her hand to her chest. “He jumped all over Bailey for not giving him a loan, and then he grabbed her and shoved her. Bruised her up a bit. I had to call the police, and they hauled Lester off to detox. Poor Bailey woke up not feeling so good this morning. And who can blame her, after all that. She didn’t come to work today.”

  Trent clenched his hands. Deep black fury filled him. “Lester hurt her?”

  “Well, not badly, but still…” Jenny let the words trail away.

  Trent barely heard her. He was already on his way out, torn between the desire to find Lester Godfrey and beat the hell out of him and the need to go to Bailey and make sure she was all right.

  After slamming the door of his pickup, Trent headed out of town to Bailey’s house. Why the hell hadn’t she phoned him?

  Both her car and truck were parked in the driveway. Buddy lay on the porch, and he thumped his tail at Trent before trotting out of reach. Trent knocked on the door. It was a minute or so before Bailey answered. She wore a tank top and shorts, and her hair was mussed, as if she’d just woken up. A large bruise in the shape of a man’s fingers marred the golden-brown skin of her left arm above the elbow.

  Concern mingled with the anger that pooled in his stomach.

  Bailey appeared surprised to see him. “Trent. Come in.” She held the door wide, and he stepped into the kitchen.

  Already, the day was warm. Bailey left the door open and moved toward the kitchen counter. “I was just fixing some tea. Would you like a cup?”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  She faced him, not even bothering to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. “You heard what happened.”

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice tight. “I heard. And I damn near drove straight to the gas station to knock some sense into Lester. What the hell got into him?” Unable to hide the feelings that had gripped him the moment Bailey opened the door—fear that she could’ve been hurt far worse than she was, and anger that he hadn’t been there to protect her—Trent reached out to her. He wanted to hold her, but instead, he simply ran his hands gently up and down Bailey’s arms. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, shivering beneath his touch. “If you’ll sit down, I’ll tell you exactly what happened.”

  He sat, and Bailey pulled out the chair next to him, leaving her empty teacup on the kitchen counter. Her violet-blue eyes hid her emotions, but not so much that he couldn’t tell something was bothering her. “I started to call you, but I wasn’t sure I should.”

  “Why not? Bailey, I’d hope by now you know I care enough about you that you can call me anytime you need to.” The admission was out before he was scarcely aware of what he’d said.

  She gazed apprehensively at him. “I’d like to believe that. But frankly, I’m not sure how to read you sometimes, Trent. One minute you’re kissing me and the next you’re pushing me away.” Hurt clouded her gaze for the span of a heartbeat, followed by a flash of irritation.

  Guilt stabbed him. She was right. But how could he make her understand how he felt? Short of opening up the floodgates to his emotions and letting them all out, he simply couldn’t make her see where he was coming from.

  He wasn’t ready for that.

  He folded his hand over hers on the table. “Bailey, I’m sorry. I’m not playing mind games with you. It’s just that ever since Sarah died and Amy left me, things have been hard. Can you understand that?”

  “I’m trying.”

  He set his jaw. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything but emptiness inside me.” Gently, he squeezed her hand, not wanting to admit that she’d stirred that emptiness into something he couldn’t define. “I’d like to know I can see you, Bailey, and spend some time with you.” No matter how confused he felt, there was no way he could simply walk away from her. Though his better judgment told him he should, his heart simply wouldn’t let him.

  He wondered which inner voice he should listen to. He was far from ready to make a commitment, to her or to anyone, but he also wasn’t willing to stay completely away. Maybe he’d feel differently in time, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to turn his back on Bailey.

  She held his gaze for a long moment. His gut twisted as he waited for her answer, and a part of him wanted to run.

  “I don’t know if I can give you what you want, Trent,” she said. “But while we’re busy trying to figure each other out, I’m not opposed to seeing you.” The hard-core businesswoman was back, ready to negotiate, and he sensed she used her tough facade as a shield. Hell, he knew she did, just as he used his seclusion on the ranch as one.

  Bailey graced him with a firm stare that said she wasn’t about to let any man walk all over her. He had no doubt about that. It was one of the things he liked and admired about her. Still, a part of him longed to take care of her. But that was impossible, for more reasons than one.

  Tamping down his emotions, Trent slowly let go of her hand. “I’m glad to hear that. Now, tell me exactly what happened with Lester.”

  She took a deep breath and explained. When she told him about buying Lester’s truck simply to save the man’s pride, it was all Trent could do to keep control of his temper. Now he really wanted to tear Lester in two. Bailey had been kind enough to help him out, and the creep had repaid her with violence.

  “I’d wondered how in hell you’d talked him out of that pickup.” He shook his head, and his anger faded as he looked at Bailey. On the outside, she was steely. But on the inside, she was a cream puff. A sucker for a hard-luck story, a caregiver to needy animals. A chuckle rose in his throat.

  Bailey’s eyebrows arched. “May I ask what you find so amusing?”

  The situation was far from funny, but Bailey always made him see through the darkest moment to the lighter side. “You’re something else,” he said. “Looks like the coldhearted banker woman really has a heart of gold.” He leaned toward her. “What would the townspeople think if they knew you were just a big ol’ marshmallow inside?”

  Her eyes sparked as she rose to the challenge. “I am not.”

  He fought the urge to kiss her senseless. Every aspect of Bailey made him lose his mind. “Yes, you are. And I have a feeling it’s a side of your personality you don’t often let people see.”

  She pursed her lips and held his gaze. “Maybe. Could be I’m a lot like a hardheaded cowboy I know, who doesn’t let anyone into his heart or his life very often, either.”

  “Touché,” he said. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind
his head to keep from pulling Bailey into his arms. “So, should I go find Lester and pound him senseless? Or did you have him thrown in jail?”

  She shook her head. “No on both counts. A—he’s not worth it, and B—I didn’t press charges because even though he made me mad, I can’t help but feel sorry for him.”

  “Sorry?” It wasn’t what he’d expected her to say.

  She nodded. “Mmm-hmm. The man’s been down on his luck, and apparently he has a drinking problem. That’s an illness. He shouldn’t be condemned for it.”

  “He tried to hurt you.”

  “If he’d really wanted to, he would have. Lester’s not my favorite person at the moment, and he’s a bit of a bully. But he needs help, not a jail sentence.”

  Trent chewed his bottom lip. “I swear, I don’t know what to make of you. Just hearing what he did to you made me want to have a piece of his hide.”

  “Why?”

  The simple question struck him speechless. “What do you mean, ‘Why?’”

  She folded her arms and stared back at him. “Normally, that’s the type of reaction a woman might get from a lover or a big brother, or even a very close friend. You’re sure not my brother, so which of the other two choices does that leave us with?”

  Trent’s pulse thundered.

  If she wanted a choice, he’d give her one.

  His resolve forgotten, he leaned forward and drew her toward him until their lips were all but touching. “I’d say we’ve gone a step beyond friendship. Shall we see where it leads?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he kissed her hungrily. She groaned and kissed him back, bracing her hands against the table as though to refrain from touching him. Then, slowly, she ran her palms across his shoulders until her arms circled his neck. He lost himself in her kiss, knowing he shouldn’t but unable to stop.

  When he pulled back, he saw fire in her eyes. “I’ll wager it leads to trouble,” she said.

  He held her gaze for a long moment, then rose from his chair. “You may be right. But then, I’ve never been one to shy away from trouble. Why start now?” He headed for the door, then faced her as he held the screen open. “Don’t ever hesitate to call me if you need anything, Bailey. I can’t figure out what it is you do to me, but I’m damn well afraid I like it. I’ll see you later.”