Their Rancher Protector

by Sasha Summers

  He waited until the knot in his throat eased enough for him to go on. “Frank seems less than enthusiastic over Jet.”

  “But he’d be welcome on your ranch?” she asked.

  “I’ll even build him a doghouse myself.”

  “I’m sure the girls would help.” She eyed the clubhouse.

  He could picture it. He wasn’t sure he’d get a lot of help, but it’d be fun nonetheless. “Plus, my mom would love having the kids around. She only had boys so, these three? She’ll be making them princess dresses before Christmas.”

  “Kyle.” She took a deep breath. “You make it sound so easy. But there’s a lot of us. Stuff. Car seats...” She broke off, a frown returning to her face.

  “What?” he asked, turning in the direction she was looking. The car seats sat on the ground where he’d left them the night before.

  “Frank left.” She glanced to the house, back at the girls, her frown growing.

  “He left? And didn’t tell you?”

  “He does that sometimes.” But she was blinking harder now.

  “Talk to me, Skylar. Let me help.” If she didn’t give him something to do, he might just go after Frank Kline and teach him a lesson or two.

  “It’s just, normally there’s enough food in the house when he takes off like this. And I’m low on diapers.” She glanced his way, blinked again, then drew in an unsteady breath.

  Like this? Meaning this wasn’t the first time Frank had left her, stranded, in the middle of nowhere. At the end of his last tour, he’d decided to live the rest of his life without violence. But he was willing to make an exception for Frank Kline. “I’ll take you into town.” He let go of Greer’s foot and clasped Skylar’s shoulders. “We can get the girls an ice cream.” He was having a hard time breaking eye contact. Under the morning sun, her eyes were brown and gold with flecks of mossy green. The longer he studied them, the more pronounced each hue became. Her lashes were long and thick. If he had a romantic bone in his body, he’d have said her eyes were mesmerizing. But he wasn’t a romantic so beautiful would have to work.

  “Thank you. For everything.” She was breathing harder than before.

  “You’re welcome.” His hands slid from her shoulders, the rapid thump of his heart echoing in his ears. “Besides, the drive in will give me time to come up with something else.”

  “Something else?” She stooped, picked up the ball Jet had dropped at her feet, and offered it to him.

  “Another reason—the reason—for you to come with me.” He cleared his throat and threw the ball. “Take the job.” He was selling her hard and they both knew it. What choice did he have? If she didn’t come with him, he was stuck in Flat Brush, Texas, for who the hell knew how long. He’d told Chad he’d make sure his family was okay. They weren’t—not here. But it wasn’t just about keeping his word to Chad now. Skylar deserved to have an ally—to have someone on her side, someone to listen to her, support her, and help her succeed. He wanted to be there for that. For her. If she needed more time to make up her mind, he’d wait.

  “Okay.” It was a whisper, so soft he wasn’t sure he’d actually heard it.

  “Please tell me that was an okay about the job—not the ice cream?” He smiled down at her, holding his breath until he heard her answer.

  “Okay about the job. I’ll take the job.” Louder this time. Determined. Like she’d made up her mind. “And the ice cream, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He knew this was the best thing for her—for all of them. Not just Skylar and the girls, but for him, too. Having them around reminded him of the joy to be found in even the little things. Playing fetch with Jet. Cookies in clubhouses. Nonsense songs in the car. And the way the sun bounced off the green specks in Skylar’s beautiful eyes.

  Chapter Four

  As soon as she said it, she’d committed. Even though a laundry list of all the things that could go wrong began scrolling through her head, it wasn’t enough to make her change her mind. It didn’t matter that this was the only home Greer had ever known. Kyle’s home was close to the resources Mya desperately needed. It didn’t matter that they’d be starting over, completely on their own. They were already on their own—with the added bonus of Uncle Frank’s mood swings and lies.

  Her gaze swept the mostly dirt yard, watching her girls laugh as Jet bounced back and forth between them—the ball still in his mouth.

  One thing was certain. If they could be happy here, they’d be happy...

  “Where are we going?” Skylar asked. “The name of the town?”

  “Granite Falls,” Kyle said, tipping his cowboy hat back on his head.

  “Granite Falls.” She pressed a kiss against the top of Greer’s head.

  “It’s off the Colorado River—we have a creek that runs through the ranch. We’re lucky, too, since drought can hit the Hill Country pretty hard.” Kyle took in their surroundings. No matter how hard he tried, it was clear he wasn’t a fan of Flat Brush. “Well...nothing like this. It’s nowhere even close to this.”

  “No.” She had to laugh. “It’d be hard to top this.”

  Kyle’s smile was warm and natural.

  She liked that about him—he was up-front. Chad had said as much. Needle—Kyle—kept things on the level and always honored his word. It was a quality she’d all but given up on out here.

  “So.” Kyle nodded at the trailer. “We hauling it along?”

  She eyed the listing trailer and shook her head. “It’s Uncle Frank’s.” If she took it, he’d likely accuse her of stealing. And while she didn’t think he’d ever put her behind bars, she’d never thought he was capable of what he’d already done. Better not test him. “I guess I should start packing.” Packing. As ridiculous as it was, she didn’t want him to see where she and the girls slept. The trailer was... Well, it wasn’t like she’d had options.

  “I know I sprung this on you.” His forehead creased. “There’s no rush. On my part.” But the glance at Frank’s house suggested otherwise.

  She said what he was thinking, “I’d like to be gone before he gets back. No knowing when that will be so...” She shrugged. “The last thing the girls need is another one of his episodes.”

  “We can all pitch in?” he offered. “The more hands, the better.”

  She almost said no. Pride cometh before the fall. It was something her mother used to say, followed by several disapproving tongue clicks. Right now, she could almost hear her mother’s voice in her head—and the tongue clicking, too. But that didn’t make it easy for her to say, “Yes, thank you.”

  “Girls,” she called out, giving them her brightest smile. Change was hard, no matter how old you were. But this was good change—a necessary change. It was up to her to make this an exciting adventure versus something unknown and worrisome. “I have some wonderful news.”

  Mya grabbed Brynn’s hand and pulled her across the patch of dirt, Jet at their heels.

  “What, Momma?” Brynn asked.

  Mya stared up at her expectantly.

  “Well, we are going to go with Kyle and Jet to his ranch where it’s green and pretty.” She paused, looking to Kyle for reassurance.

  “It has hills and a creek and, when you’re a little older, we can go swimming by the waterfall not too far from our ranch.” Kyle nodded. “We have horses and cows and more dogs, too.”

  Brynn was wide-eyed. “More dogs?”

  Skylar did the best she could with sign language, keeping it simple. “Go with Jet and Kyle.” She finger spelled Kyle’s name, then placed her hand on his arm. But he’d turned toward Mya so her hand landed square in the middle of his chest. His very hard and well-muscled chest. His T-shirt was soft—soft enough that she could feel just how hard and well-muscled his chest was. “Kyle,” she repeated, fully aware of how odd she sounded.

  “Go?” Mya repeated.

  Skylar
nodded, removing her hand from Kyle and clearing her throat. “Go home with Kyle and Jet.”

  Mya stared up at Kyle.

  Kyle squatted in the dirt before Mya, his hat casting a shadow over him and Mya, no less huge but far less intimidating. “Please, come,” he said—and signed—then pointed between all of them and did the sign again.

  Mya smiled and nodded.

  But Skylar hadn’t moved beyond the fact that Kyle had used sign language. “Do you know sign language?” she asked, trying not to stare down at the man making her little girl smile.

  “No.” He stood, winking at Mya. “But I figured I better learn.”

  The sting in Skylar’s eyes was sharp and sudden. “You did?” There it was again, that tight—breathy voice that didn’t sound a thing like her.

  Those mismatched eyes fixed on her face. Whatever he was looking for, he was in no rush to find it. Eventually, he nodded, the tightening of his jaw muscle leaving her puzzled over what he might be thinking.

  “Now?” Brynn asked, pulling on her hand. “Go now?”

  The little hand frantically tugging on her was just what she needed to stop overanalyzing Kyle Mitchell and start dealing with the herculean task of moving while avoiding as much embarrassment as possible. “First, we need to pack up our things. From our room and the big house.”

  “Okay.” Once again, Brynn grabbed Mya’s hand and, together, they sprinted across the dirt and weeds toward the metal door of their travel trailer.

  “What can I do?” Kyle asked, watching the girls disappear into the trailer—their excited giggles audible in the quiet of the place.

  If she sent him into the house and Uncle Frank came home, there was a high likelihood that her uncle would use his right to shoot a trespasser. He might not actually shoot Kyle, but threaten and wave his pistol around and make more drama than any of them wanted to deal with. But sending him into the trailer meant revealing just how deplorable her sleeping conditions were.

  “The sooner everything is packed, the sooner we can get on the road.” Which was true. It wouldn’t take long. She wasn’t exactly sure what had happened to the boxes of things she’d had from Fort Pendleton but there wasn’t much to pack. Uncle Frank had said something about a rental storage unit and not being able to pay the bill and the things had been donated to a thrift shop before she’d known about it.

  Luckily, she’d kept—and hidden—the few things she’d deemed worth anything. The laptop was old and out here there was no internet, but it held pictures and videos she treasured. Besides her photo albums, the quilt her mother had passed on to her, and every note and letter Chad had written to her, were the shoes and clothes that hadn’t been stored and lost with the contents of the storage unit.

  She grabbed several black plastic yard bags from the dilapidated shed and headed toward the trailer, Kyle at her side. It was when they reached the door that she paused. There was no way to talk away the reality of her world. No way to make light of it...but she wanted to.

  “Well.” She cleared her throat. “It’s not the Ritz.” With a smile glued in place, she cradled sleeping Greer close, and took the three steps up and into the trailer. “Here’s a bag.” She handed the trash bag to Brynn.

  “Room for our boxes, too?” Brynn asked, holding her treasure box—a shoebox they’d decorated with glitter and pictures cut out from cereal boxes and newspapers and magazines.

  “Of course.” Skylar nodded. She’d never questioned what made her daughters choose the items they put in their treasure boxes. It didn’t matter if it was a flattened metal bottle lid, a shiny copper washer that looked like a magical ring, a special rock, and every toy they’d collected from the cereal boxes Skylar bought them whenever they were in town, if it fit in the box and they wanted it, into the box it went.

  She risked a glance at Kyle then—and regretted it. He was doing his best to keep a blank expression but there was no denying his shock.

  He was well over six feet, so he’d had to hunch to come inside. Now that he was inside, he was still hunched over. A hailstorm that had come through had left holes in the ceiling. Uncle Frank said the place looked like it had been shot up—not that he’d offered to do anything about it. But Skylar had found a few boards and a somewhat weatherproof tarp and done the best she could to keep the elements out.

  During the day, the window air-conditioning unit stayed off, so now that the trailer was full, it was rapidly getting miserably hot.

  “Kyle.” Brynn waved. “See my treasures?” She held out her box, so proud it tugged at Skylar’s heart.

  “That’s something,” he said, his voice as sweet and soft as ever.

  Skylar took a deep, wavering breath. “You can show him later, Brynn. Let’s get all of your and Mya’s clothes into one of these bags.”

  Kyle took his cue from the girls. When he saw where their clothes were, he helped fill their trash bag up. The child-sized sleeping bags were rolled up and stowed away, revealing the outdoor-patio-furniture cushions she’d bought to place on top of the plywood and upturned milk crates she’d wired together for a bed. Between the snakes and mice and scorpions, she’d had to come up with some way to keep the girls off the floor. At the time, she’d felt accomplished. Now...she felt like a horrible mother.

  You do the best you can with what you have. Another saying her mother had used over and over again. One she’d used herself, over and over, since the day Chad had died.

  When that was done, Kyle helped her collect the odds and ends that belonged to Greer. Her crib was the only piece of actual furniture they owned so she was extra careful taking it apart, putting each bracket and rod and pin into a baggie for safekeeping. Kyle used some straps from the toolbox on the back of his truck to secure the pieces in place for their trip.

  She didn’t let him help with her things though. She couldn’t. Instead, she told the girls to help him put everything in the truck. Not that it took very long. She’d just folded up her last pair of jeans when the three of them came back inside.

  “She going to be okay in that?” Kyle asked, nodding at Greer in the thickly padded carrier. “In the heat?”

  Skylar nodded. “We’re done.” She held the half-full bag in her hand.

  “That’s it?” He eyed the bag.

  She nodded. “And that.” The plastic tote with the computer and letters and quilt.

  He grabbed the tote. “Nothing else?” He was staring around the trailer again, his jaw getting more and more rigid.

  “Bye-bye,” Brynn said. “Bye, roof that Momma fixed. Bye, beds that Momma made. Bye, squeak-squeak air ditioner.”

  Mya imitated Brynn, waving as she spoke.

  “Yes.” Skylar nodded. “Bye-bye, squeaky air conditioner.” She followed them down the steps and, with a deep breath, she closed the door to the trailer. Were they really leaving? Was this truly the last time she’d ever step foot in that horrible little trailer? If she didn’t have such faith in Kyle—faith that Chad had instilled—she’d never agree to such a thing. But it was Kyle. So she’d hold on to that faith and know that they were going on to bigger and better things.

  “Let’s go,” Brynn said, spinning. “Let’s go to Jet’s home.”

  “We will.” Skylar smiled. “But first we need Mya’s posters and your princess cup.”

  “Oh, right, Momma.” Brynn’s eyes went round.

  It didn’t take long to remove the laminated posters from the wall. Carefully, she rolled each one up, slid a rubber band around it, then gave them all to Kyle—who packed the posters, sippy cups, and her few utensils into another trash bag.

  “All that’s left is the portable crib inside Frank’s house.” Skylar stood, hands on her hips, to look around. “Just let me change Greer first?” She was already unwinding Greer from the front pack and laying her onto the waterproof pad when she glanced his way. “I’ll be quick,” she said, noting
how rigid his jaw muscle was.

  He nodded. “That’s everything?” He didn’t sound so sweet and soft now. If anything, he sounded upset.

  Skylar finished changing Greer, watching her tiny daughter yawn and smile before her little eyelids drifted shut. Another look at Kyle told her he was struggling. “Girls, can you take Jet a bowl of water, please?” She reached for one of the empty plastic margarine tubs she used for leftovers and filled it with water. “I bet he’s thirsty.”

  “’Kay, Momma,” Brynn said. Mya nodded.

  They each took one side, walking with painstaking care out the door and to the ramp.

  Skylar watched as they sat, one on either side of the dog, while he drank water. “You’re angry?” she asked. “The trailer? I know it’s not much.”

  “Not much?” His voice was brittle.

  “It was the best I could do, Kyle.” She was torn between apologizing and feeling defensive. “We had no—”

  “Angry with you?” He looked incredulous. “How could I be angry with you?” He shook his head, tipping his hat back before resting his hands on her shoulders. “Skylar, I have nothing but respect for what you’ve done here. You’ve made a home for these girls out of... Well, you’ve done miracles.”

  His praise rolled over her, leaving only relief. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “I would.” He was staring at her again, that same slow exploration that put that lump back into her throat—the lump that made her sound not like herself. “Chad would be proud of you.”

  The stinging was back, ten times stronger than before, making her blink. “He would?” she whispered.

  With a deep sigh, he pulled her into his arms. “He would.” His voice was deep and thick and gruff. “At the risk of sounding condescending, I’m proud of you, too.”

  It had been so long. So, so long. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been held close. For the last year, all of her hugs had been from her girls. Sweet, tight little hugs that filled her heart with love and gratitude. But being held this way was an entirely different thing. She melted into him, soaking up his strength and giving in—for a few moments—to the urge to let him support her.