The Rancher Next Door

by Betsy St. Amant

  Brady frowned as he drew closer. “You never park in the back. What’s wrong?” His expression paled, and he yanked off his cowboy hat. “Is it Nonie?”

  “Nonie’s fine. Better than ever.” She wished the same could be said for herself. It felt like her dad had died all over again, and this time, it was on her hands. She stifled a sob. “I just got some news, and—I’m sorry, I can’t work for you anymore.”

  She started to open the door of her truck, but Brady quickly stepped in her way. “What are you talking about? What news?” Shock flickered through his eyes before his jaw set. “Did the fire department call? Are you hired?”

  It would be easier to let him think that. But she wouldn’t lie outright. “I just can’t do this anymore, okay?” She reached for the door handle but he once again stepped between her and her means of escape. “Move. Please.”

  “Caley. I don’t understand.” He stepped aside, but only a half inch, while his voice, heart-wrenchingly soft, threatened to dissipate her resolve. “What’s this really about?” He hesitated. “Was it the kiss?”

  Yes. But not in the way he feared. She shook her head. “This is about me. Not us.” She averted her eyes, willing herself to hold back the tears until she could make it safely to her own pillow. She couldn’t tell him the truth, hated admitting it even to herself. Besides, what she was supposed to say? I’m more like my mom than I realized? Save yourself while you still can?

  He beat his cowboy hat against his leg. “You’re just going to walk away? Quit, just like that? We had an agreement.”

  Was that all he was concerned about? Losing his laundry folder and less-than-stellar cook? They didn’t need her. After the breakthrough he’d had with Ava, they’d be fine on their own. The way Brady had always preferred it.

  The way it had to be.

  She swallowed everything she wanted to say but couldn’t, and gritted her teeth. “Please move.”

  He held her gaze for a long time, and she wondered which of her own emotions were reflected in his searching stare. Regret. Confusion. Hurt. He finally stepped aside, gesturing grandly to her truck. “Fine. I won’t stand in your way.”

  Oh, but he already had. In all the ways that would permanently brand her heart. She wrenched open the door and climbed into the cab just as Ava jogged out of the barn.

  “Miss Caley!” She ran over to them, breathless and grinning, hair flapping in the wind. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay for supper?” Her smile vanished as she looked from Caley to her father and back again. “What’s going on? Are you crying?”

  On the inside, and soon to be on the outside if she didn’t get out of there. Caley swallowed back the tears building in her throat. “I’ve got to go home.” Her heart cried a protest that she already was home. From the bed of the truck, Scooter barked, and Caley flinched. Time to go, before the traitorous dog leaped to the ground to stay with Ava. She started the engine.

  Ava crossed her arms over her chest, the move appearing more protective than defensive. A frown furrowed her brows. “Will you be back later?”

  Caley just shook her head as the first of the tears began to drip. Who had she been kidding? This Band-Aid stuff didn’t work at all.

  “It’s all my fault, isn’t it?” Ava’s voice rose in pitch and cracked. Tears of her own slipped down her cheeks as she shook her head wildly. “I knew I shouldn’t have pulled that stunt with dinner. I tried to set you guys up, and this is what happened.”

  “Ava, no.” Caley reached for her from the open door of her truck, but Ava ducked away.

  “I ruin everything.” She pressed a shaky hand against her mouth and, with a muffled sob, turned on her heel and rushed toward the pasture.

  Caley started to slide from the cab to go after her, but Brady held up one hand, effectively stopping her. “You’ve done enough. Just leave.” His mouth pressed into a straight line. “That’s apparently your specialty.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hadn’t he said Caley Foster was going to be trouble the first day he met her? And now look. She’d somehow not only managed to tear him and his daughter further apart, she’d managed to put them back together again. Shuffle the pieces into a new puzzle and connect them just right. Then up and leave with a moment’s notice, keeping one puzzle piece in her pocket as she went.

  The one containing his heart.

  Brady stared across the pasture in the direction Ava had run, torn between giving her that newfound space and trusting her with responsibility—and wanting to go after her to make sure she didn’t get lost in the back woods or stumble too close to Spitfire’s pen. But physical safety or not, he couldn’t let her go on thinking she’d been the reason for Caley’s sudden departure.

  He still wasn’t even sure what that reason was.

  He braced one booted foot on the rail of the fence and rubbed the weathered wood with his palms. Caley’s words replayed in his head. I just got some news. This is about me. In hindsight, it was clear she was hurting, and reacting from that hurt like an injured animal would. And he certainly hadn’t made things better, spouting off about how leaving was her specialty. Man, how could he have said that?

  He bit back a groan and leaned down until his forehead touched the top rail. What a mess. Did he go after Caley or give her the space she thought she needed? Earlier he told Max he was backing off after that kiss, for their own good. But that didn’t mean he wanted things to end like this. Not when he had yet to get a solid grasp on his own plan of staying friends only. Maybe a fast break of their relationship—employer/employee, friends or more, whatever it was—would be for the best.

  But it felt so wrong.

  Watching Caley drive away, knowing that might be the last time he saw her, threatened to rip him in half. He wasn’t ready for this. No, she wouldn’t get away that easily. He at least owed her an apology.

  He slowly stood, dragging his boot off the bottom rail, and trudged toward the barn as though his feet had been replaced with anvils. Time to saddle up and go after Ava. Put out one fire, so to speak, before figuring out how to douse another.

  And figure out how to douse the love for a certain blonde firefighter still stubbornly igniting in his heart.

  * * *

  Caley lay beside Scooter on her mattress in her room, absently stroking his back. He whined his appreciation and curled up tighter against her torso. “At least I haven’t run you off.” She tickled his ears the way he liked, half smiling at his responding leg thump.

  Her pager beeped, and she pulled it from her pocket and glimpsed the scrolling text. A reminder of the burn ban enforcement. She scrolled to the previous message, and winced. She’d never responded to the page she’d received hours ago on her way home from visiting Nonie, and it’d been a big brush fire not far from the Double C Ranch. Great. Her good standing at the station might have just downgraded several notches. If she didn’t get hired on at the department, what would she do?

  Was it time to go again?

  She glanced at her empty suitcase standing guard near the closet door, which held several boxes leftover from moving that she’d folded and stashed inside. Within minutes, the boxes and that suitcase could be full and she could be on her way again. Just her and Scooter and the open road, leaving behind a failed adventure.

  Leaving behind the relentless hurt.

  But did she want to be that kind of woman again? The kind who ran when things got hard? The kind who stayed away when love demanded a fight?

  An image of Brady and Ava flashed through her mind, and she knew without a doubt it was love—for both of them. She hadn’t known their mismatched twosome of a family for long, but she loved them. Despite their quirks and failures and baggage, she knew her feelings as surely as she knew the water ratio of the local fire hydrants based on color. She also knew she’d been put in their lives for a r
eason.

  But was it really only temporarily after all?

  She closed her eyes, snuggling Scooter closer. Nonie had told her that putting down roots could be her greatest adventure yet. But how could she be sure she wouldn’t turn out even more like her mother than she already was? Wasn’t it best to leave Ava and Brady now, rather than realize she couldn’t handle Broken Bend indefinitely and leave later, hurting them deeper?

  She tried to imagine herself staying in Broken Bend permanently. Staying close to Nonie. Close to Brady and Ava. And even Max, who’d grown on her.

  Close to her father’s grave.

  A fresh wave of pain washed over her, and she shifted on the mattress, nearly knocking Scooter off the side. He barked and repositioned himself, his shuffling legs disturbing the pile of books she kept on the floor by the mattress. Her Bible lay on the bottom.

  She gently stroked the leather cover, running her finger over her name that Nonie had engraved before giving it to her in her senior year of high school. She hadn’t read it much after college, and maybe that was part of her problem. Maybe that’s why she felt so aimless. When she was a senior and studying God’s word on a regular basis, she felt led to the Peace Corps. Led to make a difference. It rose above her simple desire to get out of Broken Bend, meant more to her heart than just leaving. It meant being a part of something bigger than herself, meant letting go of the past that kept her chained and setting her free on a worthy adventure.

  Maybe that was why she’d been so crushed her dad hadn’t reacted as she’d hoped. Not expected, but hoped. And Nonie—well, after watching Brady and Ava, she knew why Nonie had stuck to her son’s side. She didn’t want Caley to go any more than her dad had. But deep down, Caley knew she’d had Nonie’s support, vocal or not, her entire life. She shouldn’t have needed it in writing to feel it, believe in it. Nonie had said weeks ago that she never saw an invitation to the graduation ceremony. She’d have come. Caley knew better. Whether it was a mail mix-up or her father had purposefully kept it from her, that wasn’t Nonie’s fault.

  She let the silky-edged pages of the Bible fan through her fingers. Her grandmother had been her rock her entire life—and introduced her as a child to the only sure foundation she’d ever have.

  It was Caley who left the solid rock to go sink in

  quicksand.

  She couldn’t keep doing this—running from the past, hitting job after job and city after city in hopes the guilt over her unreconciled relationship with her dad wouldn’t catch up to her. It’d caught her, all right, and gripped her by the throat.

  She could struggle and run again—or she could let it go. Give it to the one who promised in His word He would never leave her nor forsake her. Even if her mother had. And even if Caley had sort of, however unintentionally, done the same thing to her father.

  Her dad had let her down, and vice versa. But one thing remained different about her relationship with God compared to that with her earthly father—she would let God down, but He couldn’t do the same to her. He was consistent. Forever. Unchanging.

  She just had to stand still long enough to let that truth wash over her.

  Caley closed her eyes, one hand on Scooter’s back, the other resting on top of her Bible. She still didn’t have all the answers. But she knew the one who did, and somehow, it would all work out.

  She slept peacefully for the first time in years.

  * * *

  Once again, Brady couldn’t sleep because of Caley. He paced his bedroom, then the kitchen and finally his barn before wandering outside to roam under the stars. He couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d taken a late-night walk and found Caley on her roof. At the time he thought she’d been crazy. Now, the image of her sitting on her roof under a nighttime sky felt right. Natural. That was Caley.

  It didn’t scare him nearly as much as it had that evening.

  And that fact scared him most of all.

  He ran his hand over his hair. At least Ava was safe in bed. He’d rounded her up from the pasture, where he’d found her crying at the base of an old oak near the spot where they’d had their picnic with Caley. They’d sat and talked for half an hour before he’d finally convinced Ava that Caley’s leaving wasn’t her fault. He still wasn’t certain she fully believed it.

  After what felt like forever trying to convince Ava her matchmaking schemes hadn’t turned Caley away, Ava finally sagged against his chest and said she’d handle it. He assumed that meant she’d talk to Caley herself, which actually wasn’t a bad idea. One way or another, he had to figure out what had set Caley off. What could have possibly happened at the nursing home or on the way back to send her into emotional hysterics? Caley wasn’t prone to overreacting. Prone to risk taking, yes, but not unmerited drama.

  The dry grass crunched under his feet, and in the distance, a hazy fog hung against the black sky, remnants from the brush fire they’d had a few miles away earlier that afternoon. He’d assumed Caley had worked it after seeing it on the news, but she’d shown up at the ranch not long after it’d made the evening report. He had to admit, seeing her rush out of the barn in civilian clothes and not covered in ash gave him more relief than he’d imagined.

  One thing was certain—whether Caley left or not, it was far too late to stop caring about her.

  He looked in the direction of her rental house, wondering if he should go knock on her door and apologize now. If he woke her up, he’d just apologize for that, too. He couldn’t take the constant conversation in his head with her much longer. He needed to speak to her in person, now. Before he lost the courage to make one last stand.

  He purposefully started in the direction of her house, then drew up short as the wind shifted. Smoke assaulted his nostrils, and he frowned. The brush fire had been over for hours, and he hadn’t smelled it when he’d come outside. This smelled fresh. Hot.

  Like the flames dancing in Caley’s front yard.

  Fire.

  He stiffened as if electrocuted, panic marring his senses. Caley. He had to warn her. Did she know? But how could he reach her front door with the flames already in her yard? He ventured closer, the flickering strips of orange and gold hypnotizing him with their dance. Suddenly he was a preteen again, stuck in that basement as the walls seemed to melt before his eyes. Trapped. Sweating. Doomed.

  The wind changed again, and a rush of cool breeze drifted across his neck, coaxing him out of the past and back into the present. Where Caley needed him. He grabbed his pocket for his phone but only came up with lint. Why hadn’t he grabbed his cell? He had to warn Caley, but he also had to call the fire department before the fire reached her house.

  He hopped the fence separating their properties as the fire inched closer to the structure. Running wide, he circled around the fire and banged on her front window, unsure which one led to her bedroom. “Caley!” He yelled as loud as he could. “There’s a fire! Wake up!” He pounded again even as the back of his shirt warmed. The fire was close. Too close. “Caley!” He beat until he thought the window would shatter.

  He heard scuffling inside, followed by loud thuds. She was up. Moving. “I’m coming out the back!”

  Her responding yell nearly melted his insides with relief. He backed away from the flames just as they latched on to the house. Like a greedy monster, the fire crept up the wooden trim and toward the roof.

  He had to call the fire department and he had no way of knowing if Caley would have her phone on her when she came out. He looked toward the backyard, where she had yet to emerge, hesitating. He didn’t want to leave her. But her house was about to be a complete goner. Caley was a firefighter. She knew what to do to take care of herself. Now he needed to do what he could to take care of the rest. Brady made a quick decision.

  And ran as fast as he could back to the ranch.

  * * *

  Standing away f
rom the fire at a safe distance down her driveway, Caley crossed her sweatshirt-clad arms over her chest and stared at the flames engulfing her house. She almost laughed from the irony of it all. It was either laugh or cry. A firefighter’s house on fire. Wonder what the chief would say about that? She couldn’t imagine what they thought when they received her 9-1-1 call and realized whose address it was. How embarrassing.

  Then reality sucker-punched her in the stomach. Everything she owned was about to be fried. She didn’t have many possessions in the world, but everything she did have was now burning to a crisp. Nonie’s blankets. Her favorite firefighter art. All those Christmas ornaments.

  Frustration balled in her throat and she clenched her hands into fists. If only she had her gear, she could rush back in before it was too late and grab a few mementos. Suddenly Chief’s rule about volunteer gear staying at the station didn’t make nearly as much sense as it had before.

  “Caley!” Brady’s panicked voice echoed across the yard, above the crackle of the flames. He rushed toward her, eyes wide with fear beneath his cowboy hat. “Caley! Where’s Ava?”

  “What do you mean?” Her heart stammered a half beat before stopping completely. Then it crashed against her rib cage with adrenaline-laced fury. Only this time the familiar rush wasn’t welcome. It flat out hurt. “She’s at home. Right?” Even as she spoke the words she knew they must not be true, or Brady wouldn’t be freaking out.

  He held his phone against his ear even as he spoke to her. “I called the fire department in case you couldn’t, then went to wake Ava so she would know what was going on. But she wasn’t in bed. I’m calling the house phone now over and over. She’s not there.”

  Caley’s stomach flipped. “That’s impossible. Where else would she go?”

  They both stared in dismay at the house, and Brady shook his head. “No way. Ava would never run into a fire.”

  Sudden, frenzied barking filled the air, and Caley gasped. “Scooter. Where’s Scooter? He was right behind me when I left the house!” She searched the ground around her in vain. Despite the nighttime shadows, the fire provided plenty of light. Scooter wasn’t there.