The Rancher Next Door

by Betsy St. Amant

  It must be bad if she was holding him back from his mission. He quickly joined her in front of the dining room. Then his jaw slacked open. The formal table was set with the floral-print heirloom china passed down from his mother-in-law, multiple pieces arranged carefully around each place setting. Tall stemware glasses sat at the ready beside a pitcher of iced tea, and a jumble of candles rose above a crowd of carefully arranged dried flowers that served as a centerpiece on the table.

  A table set for two.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sneaky little matchmaker.

  Caley wiped her fingers on the linen napkin in her lap, torn between wanting to smirk at Brady attempting to figure out which fork to use for his lasagna, and cry with frustration over the situation Ava had put herself in—and consequently, Caley, too. Talk about one step forward, three steps back. If only Ava had seen the pride in her dad’s face, heard the wonder in his voice when he realized how much she’d accomplished that day. How much the effort had meant to him personally.

  Ava had clearly decided her new, bow-and-heart-shaped-arrow mission was more important for the moment than winning over her dad.

  A futile mission, at that. She thought Brady had been about to—well, she didn’t know what, but he’d had intentions in his eyes in the kitchen that went beyond busting her for sneaking a taste of the lasagna before dinnertime. Then with the first sign of Ava’s deceit, he’d reverted back into overprotective dad on the warpath. The look on his face when she’d stopped him from storming after Ava had resembled nothing short of accusation. As though this whole stunt was her fault.

  Men.

  Caley stole a glance at Brady, who had shoveled half his salad into his mouth before bothering to speak to her. Apparently she was now paying some sort of silent price for convincing him to eat before making any rash decisions about Ava. He’d broken the awkward quiet only once, when he’d gruffly asked her to pass the garlic bread. She’d been tempted to lob it at his head.

  She’d beat him at his own game, except she was pretty sure he could stay silent for a lot longer than she could.

  With a sigh, she turned her attention back to her dinner, trying to convince herself it didn’t matter what Brady thought—or what he did. Because every time she felt a connection between them, a breakthrough, something like this happened that morphed him straight back into a present-day, cowboy-hat-donning version of her dad.

  No, thanks.

  She speared a tomato with her salad fork, impressed Ava had known the difference in size. She must have been paying attention during her home-economics class at school. Caley shook her head in wonder at the elaborate table setting. She’d even found crystal napkin rings that Caley felt fairly certain had never been used.

  Or at least, had not been used since Mrs. McCollough died.

  Her frustration at Brady’s dramatic reaction to Ava’s shenanigans sobered. Was that part of the explanation for the shadows in his expression? The dark bags under his eyes? Maybe sitting here, surrounded by floral-print reminders of the past, just made him miss his wife.

  Something stark and cold—something a lot like jealousy—pressed a fist into Caley’s stomach. She set her napkin on the table, through eating despite the half stick of bread still on her plate. Scooter would eat it. She’d lost her appetite, and refused to try to acknowledge why. Not tonight. Not with grumpy ol’ Papa Bear still gobbling his porridge across the table.

  Not with the touch of his finger against her mouth still burning her lips.

  Brady’s dark eyebrows rose as Caley pushed back from the table and began to clear her plates. “You’re done?”

  So he could speak. And those simple words pressed a red warning button deep inside her system. “Oh, I’m done all right.” Done with his mood swings, done with the unwanted chemistry—apparently unwanted both ways—and done with his ignorance of his daughter’s needs. The dishes clanked as she stacked the salad bowl on top of the dinner plate, punctuating her anger. “Do you even have any idea why Ava did this?” She gestured around the dining room, suddenly, irrationally hating the fact that Brady hadn’t bothered to light the candles.

  Brady stopped midchew, then swallowed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. The crisp linen looked totally out of place in his callused hands, somehow making Ava’s gesture seem all the sweeter. Her method of delivery might have been wrong, but the heart behind the entire plan had been intentional. Considerate, in its own way. Yet Brady only saw the broken rules.

  He picked up his tea glass, the amber liquid already appearing watered down. “I think it’s clear. She’s matchmaking.”

  He didn’t meet her eyes when he said the words, and she didn’t blame him. It was awkward—but only because they both refused to name the undercurrent between them.

  One problem at a time. Caley planted her hands on her hips, her level of indignation on Ava’s behalf—and if she was honest, her own—rising to dangerous heights. “She wasn’t thinking about misleading you. She was concocting a surprise.”

  “It wasn’t just misleading me. It was a bald lie.” His cheeks flushed red and he stood, Ava’s carefully decorated table separating them.

  “She had tonight all planned, Brady. She’s been trying to think of ways to impress you and earn your trust. Earn more responsibility.” Caley grabbed the stack of dishes and left the room with them, giving Brady no choice but to follow or end the conversation. Either way worked for her. She didn’t want to fight, but couldn’t let him believe the worst about his daughter just because of surface appearances.

  Just like that night her and her dad’s relationship was ruined for good—the night she told him she had signed up for the Peace Corps and wouldn’t be going to the local community college. While she knew he’d be caught off guard, she hadn’t expected the blowup that had ensued. Or Nonie’s lack of interference. If Nonie had spoken up, defended her, would her dad have changed his mind? Would the entire past decade of her life have been written differently?

  She couldn’t sit by and let Ava suffer in silence. The girl definitely needed to be reprimanded for the way she carried out her plan, but more than that, Brady needed to see the truth behind her motives.

  “Earn responsibility?” Brady’s voice called from the dining room, where the clanking of plates indicated he was clearing his spot, as well. “I don’t see how pulling a sudden move like this one was going to win her that particular prize.”

  She raised her voice to be heard in the next room. “You’re right. You don’t see anything at all.” Then she whirled around to get the next batch of dishes from the dining room, but ran into Brady’s hard chest instead. She put her hands up to cushion the impact, but his free hand immediately went to the counter next to her, blocking her escape.

  “What don’t I see?” His breath, warm and spicy, tingled the fine hairs at the curve of her neck.

  She fought back a shiver, determined not to reveal his effect on her. “You don’t see what’s right in front you.” She refused to look up and make eye contact at such close proximity, focusing instead on the muscular curve of his shoulders beneath the smooth lines of his shirt. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, either, because she was starting to forget why she was so mad.

  “I see plenty.”

  She risked a glance, and his hair, free of its typical hat confinement, fell across his forehead and flirted with his strikingly blue eyes. Big mistake. “Like what?” She looked away before daring to glance back, curiosity—and despite knowing better, a rogue flash of hope—getting the best of her control.

  “I see you’re a woman who knows what she wants.” He brushed a tendril of hair from her forehead before anchoring his arm back to the counter beside her. “A woman who cares deeply about others. Maybe too much at times.”

  Her breath caught in her throat at the smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.


  “I see you’re a woman who can drive me up the wall crazy one minute...” His hand found hers on the countertop, his work-roughened fingers grazing her own. “And the next...” He leaned in closer, and her resolve weakened. Was he going to kiss her? Did she want him to? Yes. No. A thousand contradictions ran through her mind in an exhausting race, finally ending with one truth.

  She refused to start something neither of them could finish.

  “I was talking about Ava.” She pressed against his shoulders, and he hesitated only a moment before stepping out of her way. She avoided his gaze, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes—or worse, see that there wasn’t any.

  They cleared the rest of the table in silence, and Caley began to load the dishwasher before realizing those china plates should be hand washed. With a sigh, she turned on the hot water and began filling the sink.

  Brady turned from putting the salad bowl back in the refrigerator. “I’ll get those later.”

  “In a hurry to get rid of me?” The words slipped out, tasting as bitter as they sounded. She clenched her lips. What was she doing?

  His eyes darkened as he studied her. “Sometimes you seem in a big hurry to leave.”

  She pressed her fingers against her temples, remaining silent while Brady reached around her and shut off the water.

  “Come sit with me.” He took her hand and led her to the front door. She was too drained to argue.

  They settled on opposite ends of the dusty porch swing, and Brady pushed them off with his feet. Around them, late-evening crickets chirped from the trees. An autumn breeze rustled her hair, and she turned her face into it, allowing the caress to cool her flushed cheeks and release the tension gnawing at her shoulders.

  Brady’s quiet voice broke through the squeaking of the swing’s rusty chains. “What do you need to say about Ava? It’s obviously important to you.”

  Ava. Was that why she felt a lead weight in her chest? Partially. But not completely. She took a deep breath, trying to dislodge the stone of regret, hating how distant she felt from Brady all of a sudden. From God. From her entire life.

  But it was her fault. She’d pulled away from Brady—and from God. Turned them both down in various ways. She didn’t have enough of herself anymore to give. But even though it was for their own good, it hurt. Feeling so disconnected was beginning to wax old.

  She tensed, struggling to keep her focus. She was here for Ava, on all counts. God approved of that. And whether Brady approved or not, she couldn’t help it. She had to intervene. “Ava messed up tonight, Brady. We both know that. But you don’t see what she sacrificed.”

  “What do you mean?” He shifted slightly toward her, the evening shadows casting hard planes across his profile.

  “The original plan was to surprise you. She’s desperate to show you how responsible she can be. Desperate to show you she can pull her weight around here and be a real help to you.” Caley lowered her voice despite their being the only two outside. “She just wants you to notice her.”

  “So how did she go from that plan to the stunt she pulled tonight?” Brady pushed with his feet, rocking the swing harder as if emphasizing his lingering frustration.

  “Because there was something she suddenly wanted more.”

  He snorted. “What in the world would that be?”

  Caley planted her feet on the ground to stop the swing, reaching up and grabbing the chain as she met Brady’s gaze with her own. “Us.”

  * * *

  Brady’s head spun, and not from the sudden jolt of Caley stopping the swing. He knew Ava had been playing matchmaker—that was clear, with the not-so-subtle table for two and some of the teasing comments he’d heard between Ava and Max. But that was banter. This was legit. Ava wanted Caley to be a part of their family badly enough that she’d risk his and her relationship even further?

  He didn’t know how he felt about that. He’d obviously had his own feelings for Caley, and to be honest he still struggled with them. It was sort of nice to know Ava was on the same page he’d been on.

  Been. Past tense.

  Right. Who was he kidding? He still felt the same way for Caley, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t what he needed in a wife, if he even needed one at all. And he would only hold her back. That much was clear.

  Hopelessness stirred inside him—along with a hearty dose of jealousy. Caley thought she was helping, but how could she, when Ava preferred Caley to him in every situation? Sure, she saw Caley more often, but that wasn’t in his control. He was a rancher. He had to provide for his family, not let Ava’s inheritance slip down the drain because he was inside playing paper dolls. And he couldn’t risk Ava tagging along after him.

  If he hadn’t kept Jessica safe, how could he keep Ava safe? Losing his wife had cracked his heart open once. He couldn’t risk losing his daughter, too, or he’d shatter completely.

  “I thought her plan was more obvious than that.” Caley’s soft voice broke through the white noise in his head, reeling him back in. “I didn’t mean to completely shock you.”

  “You didn’t. I mean, well, you did.” Brady bent forward on the still swing, bracing his forearms against his thighs. “I knew she had entertained thoughts of you and me, but not to that extent.” Not to the extent of Ava practically shoving them toward a justice of the peace. Did she just want Caley around 24/7? Was he even involved in the equation at all?

  “She’s a good kid.” Caley shifted beside him, turning sideways and pulling her jeans-clad legs up on the swing underneath her. A brief shimmer of moonlight shone above the tree line before disappearing behind a bank of gray clouds. “Do you want my advice?”

  “Would it even matter if I said no?” He was kidding. Sort of.

  Caley smirked, then her eyes grew serious. “Don’t be too hard on her for this one. Her actions weren’t thought out very well, but...it’s important to me that you see her heart here.”

  “Are you suggesting that I don’t punish her?” That was out of the question. If he didn’t pony up some consequences, what would Ava try to get away with next?

  “I didn’t say that. Just talk to her first. Make sure the punishment fits the crime. She’s not a perpetually sneaky or misbehaving child, is she?” Caley raised her eyebrows, tilting her head toward Brady with expectation, as if she already knew the answer.

  And she did, because he did, too. “No. She’s not.” Caley was right. He needed to think this one through before he set them even further back. But that didn’t explain Caley’s cryptic attitude about the whole thing. “Why is this so important to you? I mean, I know you care about Ava, but you’ve only known her a few weeks.” Known him, too, though in many ways it felt like a lot longer. He shifted on the swing to face her, pulling one knee up and pushing them off with his other foot.

  She rubbed her hands up her bare arms, and he wished he had a jacket to give her. “It’s personal.”

  “I’m a person.” He nudged her booted foot with his, and a smile crept up the corners of her mouth.

  “I was actually thinking of you more like a grizzly bear a little while ago.”

  “Touché.” He’d been closer to growling than he’d liked, especially at Caley. He sobered. “I’m sorry for how I acted at dinner.” He averted his gaze to the moon, but it had yet to reappear behind the cloud cover. “I tend to overreact.”

  “Never would have guessed.” The teasing light in her eyes flickered, then slowly faded as she stared across the dark porch. “It’s important to me because in a lot of ways, I’m Ava.”

  He didn’t get it, but he let her take her time explaining, giving her his full attention. He had a feeling he didn’t need to miss this.

  “I grew up here in Broken Bend.” Her words, so soft they were almost carried away by the breeze, floated between them.

  “Broken Bend doesn
’t have the best memories for me. My mom left us for another man when I was little.” She tilted her chin toward him. “And like a certain fifth grader you know, I had an overprotective dad myself.”

  Brady started to argue, then clamped his jaw shut. He was overprotective. But no one else had a story like his. This, however, was Caley’s turn to share.

  He still didn’t know if he’d take a turn or not.

  He cleared his throat. “Go on.”

  She wrapped her arms around her drawn knees. “Growing up, Dad and I fought all the time. I was the square peg, and he was the round hole. We just didn’t fit. Everything I wanted to do he thought was dangerous, and everything he wanted just felt like a trap. I wanted to get out of Broken Bend since I was in junior high.”

  “Why was that?” Brady loved everything about Broken Bend, from the land his family had sweated and bled over for generations, to the small-time feel of the town, where everyone knew everyone. Sure, the gossip had its disadvantages, as did the unsolicited advice that came from everyone acting like everyone else’s mama. But Broken Bend was home. Always would be.

  “Nonie said I was born a gypsy.” She shook her head, a wry grin briefly lifting her cheeks. “I just wanted more. Wanted to travel, see the rest of the country. Do something that mattered. So I joined the Peace Corps and immediately got a taste of World War Three, but not overseas. Here on the home front.”

  “Because your dad wanted to keep you nearby.” He nodded in understanding. Who could blame Mr. Foster? Brady was starting to want Caley nearby all the time, too, but look where that notion had gotten him. Completely lost, arguing over fancy dishes and having heart-to-heart talks on the porch swing.

  As though they were already married.

  He shook off the idea. “There are worse things than a caring father, you know.” He drew in a tight breath, wishing Caley could see his point of view. He didn’t know why Mr. Foster had been the way he was, but Brady knew from experience that being overprotective usually came with a reason. A good one.