The Rancher's Prospect

by Callie Endicott

  Carefully she arranged the white roses in an empty pickle jar and put them on the coffee table. Curling up on the couch, she gazed at the blooms. They were beautiful, the bare blush of color reminding her of innocence. She couldn’t remember ever feeling innocent, full of hope and expectation for the future.

  The world had serious problems that needed to be fixed, but surely children should have as much carefree joy as possible. She’d want that for her own kids, if she ever had them.

  Josh would want a family, and Tara had a feeling he’d be a good dad. And Walt would be around, too, making sure his great-grandchildren were raised right, along with grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins. They’d have everything she’d lacked growing up—an extended family that would shower them with love and attention.

  Tara smiled. With so many McGregors and Nelsons around, a mother would have to fight for her children’s independence, to keep their lives from being planned out the way Josh’s had been. Though on reflection, there were worse things that could happen.

  Before meeting Josh she’d figured children weren’t part of her future. After all, what sort of mother could she be? She couldn’t bear for her children to think they weren’t loved the way they deserved.

  Her cell phone rang. It was Josh, but she didn’t answer, just as she hadn’t answered the last two or three dozen times. After a while she listened to the message.

  “Hey, it’s me,” said Josh’s strong voice. “I’ll be around the ranch center all day. As I’ve mentioned before, I didn’t say a lot of the things that need to be said. I’m not going away, Tara. I love you.”

  Tara’s finger hovered on the screen, but she didn’t delete the message the way she’d deleted all the others, saving it instead. Hearing Josh say “I love you” made her knees go weak.

  He was right. She did have the ability to love; it was her courage to do it that was in question.

  She sat up and swung her feet to the floor. The scent of flowers was really getting to be too much, and the place looked like a flower shop.

  It was time to sort things out with Josh, if only to keep from drowning in irises, roses and orchids. Besides, she wanted to see Walt.

  A half hour later she experienced an odd sense of déjà vu as she turned off the main road and drove under the Boxing N sign. Or perhaps it was a sensation of homecoming, which was absurd. Pulling into the spot where she’d always parked gave her the same sense, and she almost left immediately. She wasn’t going to be seduced by either sentiment or sentimentality.

  She went to Josh’s house and rapped firmly.

  No answer.

  Then she went to the large house and knocked.

  Still no answer.

  Wishing Josh had been at home so they could have met privately, she picked her way slowly to the foaling barn, then to the large barn where the dance had been held. From the outside she could hear voices, and one of them was definitely Walt’s.

  Inside, Josh and Walt were standing with their backs to the door, chatting, clearly on good terms. It was an amazing contrast to the days when she’d first come to the Boxing N.

  Walt said something and Josh threw back his head, laughing.

  Tara swallowed, unsure why a man laughing should get her by the throat.

  * * *

  JOSH HAD NEVER realized how well his grandfather could tell a joke. Actually, two months ago he would have sworn Grandpa didn’t know any jokes.

  All was going smoothly, except for the thing that mattered most of all—settling things with Tara. He’d delivered flowers to her door every day for three weeks and was prepared to keep it up as long as it took. If she left the country again, he’d follow her.

  He was almost ready. He’d applied for a passport and hoped to get it soon. Once it came, he’d keep it in his pocket as a reminder that his horizons had expanded beyond the borders of the Boxing N.

  He had something else in his pocket, as well.

  Suddenly, his grandfather turned, and his face lit up.

  Josh swiveled to see Tara standing just inside the barn door. She wore casual clothing, a sign she wasn’t working that day. But he could tell nothing from her face.

  Walt hurried forward. “Hey, Tara. I’ve missed seeing you every day.”

  “Me, too, Walt.”

  Josh just stood, drinking in the sight of her.

  “Right now, I’ve got some phone calls to make,” Walt said, casting a knowing glance at his grandson. “You’ll come up to the house later, won’t you, Tara?”

  “Sure. I still haven’t seen the famous sapphires on the kitchen windowsill.”

  Walt chuckled. “We’re leaving them there as a reminder not to get too cocky.” He left the barn with just the bare suggestion of a limp.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Josh suggested when they were alone, aware that one of the ranch hands could appear at any moment.

  “I... Sure.”

  As they strolled toward a grove of trees, Josh decided to take Tara’s hand in his. She didn’t pull it away, and a small flicker of hope went through him.

  Once they were out of sight among the trees, he whisked her close and did what he’d been dreaming of for weeks.

  * * *

  THE SENSATION OF Josh’s lips moving against hers threatened to dissolve any resistance Tara had left. She could hardly breathe and didn’t want to; having his arms around her was the only thing that mattered.

  After an endlessly pleasurable moment, Josh pulled back a fraction of an inch.

  “Have you been thinking about it?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Yes,” she managed to answer. “But I don’t have an answer.”

  Tara stepped away and began walking again. Josh fell in beside her.

  “There’s something I want to show you,” he said.

  She knew that from the cryptic notes he’d left with each bouquet of flowers—“We can work it out,” “I have something important to show you,” “Our future is more than Montana” and the last saying simply, “Anywhere.”

  Josh dug in his pocket, and Tara decided she’d slug him if he showed her a condom. Instead he handed her a photocopy of a passport application.

  The air whooshed from her lungs.

  “I’ve changed my ways,” Josh said. “I don’t want a life bound by Boxing N property lines, no matter how many sapphires might be here. I know you don’t want to stay in Schuyler full time, so I’ll find a way to come with you part of the year. In fact, I’m not sure you should try staying. It’s a big world out there, and I want to see it, too. Not learning from Grandpa’s regrets would be a terrible waste, so no waiting for us. No putting off hopes and dreams and adventures.”

  She stared. It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. An argument to convince her to remain in Schuyler, that she could find work here, that nothing was as important as love...that’s what she’d expected. But she’d never thought he would leave Schuyler if she wouldn’t stay.

  “I was thinking, maybe it’s possible for you to work here part of the time,” Josh continued. “When you need to be gone, I’ll get a ranch manager to consult with the foreman. But even if you want to live on the ranch for extended periods, we’d still plan long trips every year, whether we have kids or not.”

  “You want to have children?” Tara managed to ask.

  “If you want them, too. I think we could make beautiful kids together. Besides, they’d be so lucky to have such a wonderful mother, they might not mind having a dolt for a dad.”

  Tara choked back a laugh. She couldn’t picture how the plan would work, and she didn’t care. He was saying he would put her first, ahead of everything. It was an extraordinary promise and more than she’d ever expected. He meant it, too. Josh wanted to embrace a life that went beyond his ranch, and he wanted to live it with her.
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  She turned and surveyed the Boxing N land. As much as she had loved the many countries in which she had lived, she had also always wanted to have a place she could call home.

  Josh slipped his arms around her, tugging her against his chest.

  “This is the only home I care about,” he whispered, and her heart sank a moment. “For me, home is where you are.”

  She looked up at him. She’d never thought of it before...that home didn’t have to be a place. It could be a person. At the same time, she’d fallen in love with Montana, along with Josh. She loved him so much that the thought of going anywhere without him was unbearable.

  * * *

  JOSH RECOGNIZED THE conflict in Tara’s face and knew what a huge leap of faith he was asking her to make.

  “I believe we can do it,” he said. “And together, maybe we can get Grandpa to Italy after all.”

  A small smile danced on her lips. “Surely you aren’t talking about taking him along on a honeymoon...”

  Hope beginning to bubble inside, Josh grinned. “Much as I love my grandfather, that isn’t happening.”

  He groped in his pocket and took out the small box he’d been carrying. “This was Grandma Evelyn’s engagement ring. Grandpa said he had a feeling it would fit.”

  Her quick intake of breath and the ragged way she let it out was a sign of the emotion she was always so reluctant to show. He didn’t know how he could have thought she was cool and unemotional; she was the most caring person he’d ever known, even if she didn’t show it well.

  “I love you,” Josh whispered, slipping the ring onto her finger, “forever and forever.”

  The ring fit perfectly, and the gold glittered in the sunlight, but the joy growing in Tara’s eyes shone even brighter.

  “Forever,” she agreed and kissed him.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from PRINCE CHARMING WEARS A BADGE by Lisa Dyson.

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  Prince Charming Wears a Badge

  by Lisa Dyson

  CHAPTER ONE

  A FEW DAYS ago Callie James was planning a romantic surprise for her boyfriend.

  Now she found herself in front of a judge who held Callie’s future in her hands.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat that held back the bile churning wildly in her digestive tract. Her folded hands on the defense table were damp as she waited for the judge to speak.

  Callie never got into trouble. Sure, she’d received a speeding ticket once and had the occasional library book fine, but that’s as far as it went. She’d never come close to the possibility of jail time.

  The judge turned her attention from the papers in front of her to the scattered observers in the courtroom. She cleared her throat and looked over horn-rimmed reading glasses to focus on the prosecution side of the room. “The charge is malicious destruction of property?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Her now ex-boyfriend, Andrew, who happened to be a Maryland Assistant State’s Attorney, rose from his seat at the prosecution table and straightened his conservative navy-and-white diagonally striped tie, which he wore with his equally conservative navy suit.

  “You’re prosecuting the case on your own behalf?” The female judge’s wizened eyes narrowed in disapproval.

  “No, Your Honor,” he said quickly and looked down to his right.

  A much younger but similarly dressed man seated next to him stood up. “ASA Ross, Your Honor.”

  Was this guy even out of law school yet? He had the haircut of a six-year-old and the lanky build of a fourteen-year-old who was wearing his father’s suit.

  When the judge smiled at ASA Ross, Callie figured this was it. They were all conspirators in her downfall. They were going to lock her up and throw away the key.

  “Harvey Goodman for the defense, Your Honor.” Callie’s lawyer was her financial firm’s house counsel and the only person she could think of to call. Harvey was nearing retirement age and she just hoped he wasn’t out of his league. His expertise was in mergers and acquisitions—he probably hadn’t litigated since law school. Which was likely about the same time he’d bought his suit, whose buttons strained over his middle.

  “Thank you, Mr. Goodman. I understand your client rejected the state’s plea agreement?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Andrew interjected, and Harvey nodded.

  “Mr. Slater. If you’re not prosecuting the case,” the judge admonished, “then please allow Mr. Ross to speak.”

  “Yes, Your Honor. I apologize.” Andrew played the admonished attorney well.

  ASA Ross spoke. “The plea was rejected.”

  The judge wrinkled her nose as she looked over the papers on her large, wood-paneled desk that placed her a few feet higher than everyone else in the courtroom. “Mr. Slater, you’re claiming Ms. James came into your apartment, lost her temper for no apparent reason, and then threw your Dresden vase—value forty-five hundred dollars—on the floor and left?”

  “That’s correct.” Andrew’s tone was sharp but deferential.

  “No apparent reason?” The whispered words were out of Callie’s mouth before she could stop them, earning her a stern look and a shush from Harvey.

  “You’ll have your chance, Ms. James,” the judge told her then turned to Andrew. “How would you classify your relationship with Ms. James?”

  Andrew glanced quickly at Callie before answering. “A romantic one.”

  Callie coughed and immediately lowered her head when the judge glared at her.

  “Keep quiet,” her lawyer whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

  “How long have the two of you been involved?” the judge asked Andrew.

  Too long, Callie realized, but hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

  “A few months” was Andrew’s answer.

  Except that the incident had taken place on their six-month anniversary. The reason Callie had been taking Andrew a romantic dinner when he’d had to work late. Or so he’d said that’s what he was doing.

  “Do you have anything else to add?” the judge asked.

  “No, Your Honor.” Andrew took his seat.

  The judge turned to Harvey and Callie. “Ms. James, you’ve rejected the sta
te’s plea agreement?”

  Callie rose, displeased when her voice was shaky. “That’s correct, Your Honor.”

  Sounding incredulous, the judge stared straight at Callie. “May I ask why? You do know that if you don’t accept the plea that consists of paying restitution, then you can be subject to not only reimbursement but also a fine of twenty-five hundred dollars and up to three years in prison if found guilty?”

  Callie inhaled, straightening her spine. “I understand, Your Honor.” Her lawyer had explained in depth. “I didn’t lose my temper, and I can’t admit to causing damage when I’m not sure I did it. If I did break the vase, then it was accidental and happened because Mr. Slater—” She stared at Andrew, narrowed her gaze, and said calmly, “Because Mr. Slater is a lying ba—”

  “Objection!” Andrew was on his feet so fast he nearly toppled over the table in front of him.

  The judge banged her gavel at the sudden commotion in the gallery. “Order!” Bang, bang, bang. “Order!”

  When everyone quieted, the judge first reprimanded Andrew in a no-nonsense manner. “Your objection is moot, Mr. Slater. This is an arraignment, not a trial. And I’ll remind you for the last time that you’re not the one prosecuting this case.” Her gaze went to ASA Ross.

  “Of course, Your Honor.” Andrew had the decency to lower his head in deference before taking his seat.

  Then the judge addressed Callie. “Ms. James, please keep your personal opinions to yourself and stick to the facts.”

  Callie nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  The judge straightened her back and folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “Why don’t you tell me your version of what happened and why you won’t accept the plea agreement?”

  As Callie began to explain how she’d been going to surprise Andrew with dinner because he said he’d be working late, the anger rushed through her as if she were reliving it. She unclenched her fists, relaxed her shoulders and blew out a breath, techniques she’d always used successfully to diffuse the first signs of anger.

  “So you brought him dinner. Then what?” The judge’s smirk said she didn’t want to hear about some lover’s spat.