This Time for Keeps

by Rochelle Alers

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  When You Least Expect It

  by Helen Lacey

  Chapter One

  Branding was backbreaking work, Mitch Culhane thought as he instructed two of his newest wranglers to head off a particularly bad-tempered steer who was trying in vain to escape the inevitable. But it needed to be done to ensure the cattle didn’t end up getting lost or rustled before it was time to head to auction.

  The animal wailed for a moment, and then, once it was released, raced around the corral and headed down the cattle chute. Mitch straightened, dropped the Triple C branding iron back into the embers and walked through the gate, grabbing the bandanna hanging from his back pocket to wipe his brow. He’d been up since dawn, planning to finish most of the branding before eight.

  It was one of the coldest Octobers on record, but the clear blue South Dakota sky still had him thinking that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. He’d lived in Cedar River, a small town that sat in the shadow of the Black Hills, all of his life. About a forty-minute drive south of Rapid City, it had once been a busy mining town. Now, with its three thousand or so residents, it catered to tourists and commuters heading for the state line. A few of his neighbors had turned their places into dude ranches or farm-stay vacation destinations for curious city folk wanting to learn to milk cows or “get in touch with the land,” or so he’d hear them say around town. But Mitch was determined to make the ranch viable and profitable, despite fluctuating beef prices and competition from import traders. The Triple C was his legacy, and he wasn’t about to let the place go under...not on his watch.

  He headed for the barn and made a path through the chickens pecking at the ground around the doors. His foreman, Wes Collins, was barking out orders to one of the ranch hands. He didn’t interfere, since Wes was very capable of handling the crew. Instead, he headed for the far stall and leaned over the door. Dolly, the paint mare he’d bred and raised, was stomping around the stall impatiently, clearly in the late stages of labor. It wouldn’t be long, he figured, maybe a couple of hours, before she gave birth to her first foal.

  “You look worried.”

  Mitch swung around and spotted his younger sister, Ellie, striding toward him. He managed a half smile. “I’m fine,” he assured her. “It’s not the first foal to be born on the Triple C. Nor will it be the last.”

  “It’s the first of the Alvarez foals,” she reminded him, and raised her brows in her annoying way. “And I know you want everything to go off without a hitch.”

  “I want every foal to be born without complication—this one, too. You’re the one who looks worried.”

  “Because we’ve got so much invested in this,” she said, and sighed, swinging her brown ponytail. “And I still don’t know why we had to go all the way to Arizona to get a stud. There are plenty of quality local stallions who could—”

  “Because we needed something different,” he said, harsher than usual. “You know that, Ellie. Local bloodlines aren’t cutting it at auction anymore. And Alvarez has some of the best quarter horses in the country. We’re lucky to get this deal. Don’t blow it by being a hothead just because you don’t like the guy.”

  “He called me a boy,” she reminded Mitch indignantly, hands on her hips.

  “Two years ago,” he said, and grinned. “Let it go, okay. We both know that Dolly’s foal will be a winner.”

  She nodded a little more agreeably. Whatever their difference of opinion when it came to the Alvarez deal, they both understood what the outcome meant for the ranch.

  “I miss Rocket,” Ellie said and sighed.

  Mitch had been raising and training quality quarter horses for over a decade—but so were half a dozen other ranchers in the county. When his foundation stallion, Rocket, had died a few years earlier, he knew he had to make some changes so the ranch could stay solvent in the long term. The Alvarez deal was one part of that plan. And Dolly’s foal, sired by Volcán, Ramon Alvarez’s champion reining stallion, was the first of its progeny to be born outside of Arizona.

  “I miss Rocket, too,” he said and smiled. “But he’s gone and we need this deal. We all worked hard to get Alvarez to agree to this, remember. Dolly’s foal will be the start of something good for the ranch.”

  “Unless it’s a filly and Alvarez gets to keep her,” she reminded him.

  Mitch shrugged. “That was part of the contract. Besides, we need a colt, you know that.”

  Ellie made a face, the way she used to as a child, and it made Mitch smile. In some ways he suspected he still treated her like a kid even though she was twenty-four. But old habits were hard to break. He’d raised her since she was eight and couldn’t help his feelings sometimes. Even though he knew it irked her.

  “You coming to the house for breakfast?” he asked.

  “Not today,” she replied. “I’ve got a mountain of reading to catch up on.”

  Ellie, who lived in the largest of the cottages behind the main house, was studying business and accounting as well as helping him on the ranch. She’d moved out of the ranch house at twenty-one, as part of her determination to be independent and away from his scrutiny, he figured. But she was still close enough for him to keep a watchful eye on his baby sister. A job he’d been doing for sixteen years, since their father, Billie-Jack Culhane had walked out on his family and left Mitch to raise all five of his siblings.

  They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Mitch whistled for the dogs to follow and headed up to the house. Shanook, a tall wolfhound cross, was at his side immediately, and the smaller dog, Tubby, a border collie, wasn’t far behind. He circumnavigated the house and strode through the back, leaving the dogs to laze on their beds by the entrance to the mudroom. Mrs. Bailey, the sixtysomething housekeeper who had been on the ranch for over a decade, greeted him in the kitchen with a smile.

  “Fried ham and eggs,” she said. “Your favorite.”

  Mitch patted his belly and glanced at the plate sliding across the countertop. “You spoil me, Mrs. B.”

  Her crinkly face looked earnest. “Well, someone has to, the way you always look out for everyone else.”

  Mitch grabbed the plate and sat at the table. On the surface, his day-to-day routine seemed uncomplicated and on an even tempo. But that was just the surface, the facade he clung to and showed the world. As the eldest of the Culhane siblings, he was the glue that had kept the family from being broken up and farmed out into social services and foster care. But
the truth was that he lived his life very much alone.

  And had done so since his wife had walked out on him four years earlier.

  Tess...

  With her warm brown eyes and long blond hair. Tess, with her tender touch and soft smile.

  Just thinking about her made his insides ache, and he quickly pushed the memory of her from his thoughts. Tess was his past and was best left exactly there. Only...sometimes he hurt all over remembering all that they had been and everything they had lost.

  Once he finished breakfast, Mitch helped Mrs. Bailey clean up before heading upstairs. He stalled at the top of the landing and glanced at the photographs on the wall. Six generations of Culhanes stared back at him. The old sepia snapshots of great-great-grandparents and next to them, his grandparents. He couldn’t help thinking how much he missed them. He glanced sideways and spotted a picture of his parents in happier times. Before his mother had died. Before his father had become consumed by grief and lost himself in liquor and run out on his six children. Mitch had been granted guardianship of his five younger siblings once Billie-Jack signed over his parental rights, and he was happy to forget the old man even existed.

  His gaze dropped to the more recent photos, and his feelings shifted to both melancholy and a good dose of pride. His siblings had matured into fine adults, all of them good people who lived rich and fulfilling lives. They were, he figured, his greatest achievement, and he loved each of them dearly and was grateful most of them still lived in town. Except for Jake, his brother closest in age by less than two years, who’d only been back to Cedar River a couple of times since joining the army when he was eighteen. Joss, who was a single dad, owned an auto repair shop in town, and Joss’s twin, Hank was the chief of police. His youngest brother, Grant, had moved to Rapid City several years earlier and worked in IT, and Ellie lived on the ranch. They were a tight unit, bound together by blood and the echoes of the past.

  Mitch kept walking and headed toward the master bedroom suite, which was spacious and offered a spectacular view of the ranch from its wide windows that opened onto a balcony. He entered the room and looked around. He hadn’t slept in the room for years, preferring one of the smaller guest rooms down at the end of the hall, since Tess had walked out. Since Ellie had moved into one of the cottages and Grant had left, Mitch rattled around in the main house like a ghost. Not that he couldn’t find company if he wanted it. A night out at the Loose Moose Tavern or the bar at the O’Sullivan Hotel would have been an easy option, and he had plenty of friends in town. But he was simply too busy for socializing. The ranch didn’t run itself, and he had too much invested in the place to waste time on personal pursuits. Like dating. Or sex.

  Well, except for that one time—five months, three weeks and four days ago.

  With Tess.

  He’d been in Sioux Falls at a conference and had bumped into his ex-wife at the hotel. At first it had been a surprise. And then awkward. And after that something else. And, somehow, one thing led to another, and after sharing coffee and some stilted conversation, they had ended up in his hotel room for a crazy few hours. It was one last fling, he figured. A way for the both of them to finally exorcize the other from their memories and move past their complicated history. He hadn’t spoken to her since and didn’t expect to ever again.

  They were done. Over. He had to move on.

  And he would...one day. Maybe he’d even get married again. He was only thirty-four. He still had time to find someone to share his life with.

  I can forget her.

  I have to.

  Mitch took a long breath, rounding out his shoulders. He was about to leave the room when he spotted a small white car turning into the gate at the end of the long driveway. He wasn’t expecting a visitor. Fridays were generally quiet on the ranch. The Triple C was several miles off the highway so a lost tourist was unlikely. He left the room and headed back down the stairs, figuring he find out who was intruding on his morning soon enough.

  * * *

  I must be out of my mind.

  That’s all Tess Fuller kept chanting to herself as she steered her car in the direction of the large ranch house that loomed ahead. The place was impressive and one of the biggest homes in the county. With its wide verandas and shuttered doors, the white two-story home sat against a backdrop of white fences and pastures that went as far as the eyes could see. Tess had been in awe of the place a decade ago, when she’d first begun dating Mitch, and then less than a year later when they’d married. And she loved the ranch house, with its spacious rooms, timber staircase and polished floorboards. Her memories of the five years she’d spent as Mitch’s wife at the Triple C were suddenly acute as she drove up the long gravel driveway.

  Her stomach knotted the closer she got to the house, and she fought every instinct she possessed—instinct that told her to turn around and forget the crazy idea she had that seeing Mitch was the next obvious step.

  Then she briefly placed a hand on her belly.

  The baby fluttered beneath her palm and Tess experienced a heady surge of emotion. After spending so much time believing she’d never be a mother, Tess felt a deep and abiding love for her unborn child. Of course she’d been shocked to discover that the few hours she’d spent between the sheets with her ex-husband so many months ago had left her pregnant, but she didn’t have one iota of regret for the way things had turned out.

  She pulled up to the left side of the circular driveway in front of the house and switched off the ignition. The house looked huge, an intimidating structure against a backdrop of green pastures and blue skies. It had been in the Culhane family for several generations.

  Tess took a breath and pulled out the keys, grabbing her tote with her free hand. She looked toward the house, and within seconds the front door opened.

  Mitch Culhane.

  Six feet two inches of green-eyed, broad-shouldered swaggering handsomeness. The kind of man that women dreamed about. Perfect in every way. And her husband.

  Ex-husband.

  Tess made the mental correction immediately.

  She had done the leaving. The divorcing. Mitch had wanted to work things out...to try to get past their differences. But on his terms. That’s when his consideration had turned into arrogance and into a one-eyed belief that he was right...about everything. And a marriage with conditions wasn’t something she was prepared to endure.

  Four years later she had believed they were done. She lived in Sioux Falls; he lived in Cedar River. She had a job teaching high school English. Mitch had the Triple C Ranch. She hadn’t expected to bump into him at the hotel in Sioux Falls. She hadn’t been prepared for the way he made her feel. She hadn’t believed they had anything left to say to each other. And in the end, it wasn’t conversation that drew them back together for those few brief hours. It was pure and unadulterated attraction. Desire. Sex. And it had been good. Amazing. Heat and sweat and pleasure, and then reality had set in and she’d left after a brief goodbye, flippantly wishing him a happy life, trying to hide the fact she was suddenly desperate to remain in his arms for the rest of eternity. Because his arms weren’t hers to long for anymore. They were a memory. Their marriage was over and they both needed to move on. And she had intended to do exactly that.

  Except for one tiny hiccup—now she was pregnant.

  She watched him stride across the wide veranda, saw him come to a halt at the top step and place his hands on his lean hips. In worn jeans and a regulation chambray shirt, sheepskin-lined jacket, a bandanna hanging out of one pocket and his Stetson at a rakish angle, he looked like the postcard image of a Midwestern cowboy. And utterly gorgeous. Her insides did a silly flip-flop and she cursed herself for being so predictable. She’d known it wasn’t going to be easy facing him again, particularly in light of her situation, but it had to be done. Mitch had every right to know he was going to be a father. Other than that, Tess didn’t have any real expec
tations. She knew him, knew he was honorable to the core and certainly would step up and be a father, even if it were only part-time. She didn’t anticipate any real problems arising.

  The dogs came around the veranda and he immediately called them to heel. They obeyed instantly, sitting on their haunches, watching Mitch’s movements with keen and loyal eyes.

  She got out of the car, clutched her tote against her belly and closed the door. He was down the steps in three seconds flat, his handsome face furrowing into a tight frown more apparent with each step he took.

  When he was on the other side of her car, he greeted her suspiciously. “Tess.”

  She swallowed hard. He didn’t look pleased to see her. In fact, he looked downright annoyed. She should have expected it. Should have known he wouldn’t want her back on the ranch, intruding in his life. For all she knew he could have moved on. There could well be a new mistress on the Triple C. It wasn’t something that bore thinking about. And she couldn’t explain why she ached inside just considering the possibility.

  “Hello, Mitch.”

  He tipped his hat back a little and glared at her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “What about?”

  Tess went to take a step, realizing he’d figure out exactly why she was at the ranch the moment she moved from around the vehicle. And then she decided there was little point in avoiding the inevitable. She took a deep breath and walked around the hood, her long-sleeved smock top and unbuttoned jacket doing little to disguise her protruding belly.

  He stared incredulously, jaw adrift, eyes narrowing with a kind of gathering disbelief. And he hadn’t moved an inch, she realized, as the seconds ticked by. He simply continued to stare, his attention moving downward and lingering on her abdomen for a moment before returning to meet her eyes.

  “I’m pregnant,” she said quietly, inhaling a steadying breath.