by Marin Thomas
Instead of heading for the door, Rachel detoured, stopping to give her father a hug. The gesture surprised P.T. but a few seconds later she felt his arms surround her. Tears burned her eyes and she scurried from the room, allowing Clint a private goodbye.
“Everything okay between you and my daughter?” P.T. asked.
Startled by the question, Clint dropped his gaze to the tips of his boots. “We’re fine, P.T.”
“You haven’t been the same since Rachel showed up at the ranch.”
“What do you mean?”
“We used to talk about everything, but you barely have two words to say to me now.”
Clint opened his mouth to deny the charge then changed his mind.
“If not for you I would never have had the courage to ask my daughter to help me this summer.”
“Why did you ask Rachel to run Five Star Rodeos and not me?”
“I didn’t know how else to show my daughter that I loved her.” P.T. held Clint’s gaze. “There’s no way I would have put Rachel in charge if you hadn’t been there to watch over her and fix her mistakes.”
“You could have made things easier on everyone if you’d told Rachel that you loved her.”
P.T. quirked an eyebrow.
Okay, so they both sucked at communicating their feelings to those they cared about.
“What happens between you and Rachel after this summer?” Clint asked.
P.T. shrugged. “I don’t know, but the one thing that’s keeping my hope alive is you.”
“Me?”
“If Rachel decides to never see me again at least I know I have you.”
Clint’s throat swelled with emotion. He and P.T. kept their feelings close to the vest. Clint preferred to show how much he cared through his loyalty and hard work, but P.T.’s confession reassured Clint that he’d always have a place at Five Star Ranch if he wanted.
“Make no mistake, Clint. You saved me more than I saved you. I might have taken you in all those years ago but you gave me a reason to go on when I’d believed Rachel was lost to me for good.”
“Now you have your daughter back, so—”
“I need you even more.”
Damn. Clint’s eyes stung.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re both my children and I love you equally.”
Unable to speak, Clint walked over to the window and willed his emotions to settle down. “I’ve always wished you were my real father.”
“I reckon that’s a good thing seeing how I’ve always wished you were my real son.” P.T. cleared his throat. “You’d better get going. Rachel’s probably champing at the bit in the lobby.”
Clint cut across the room but stopped short of the door. “I’m sorry I never told you how much I appreciate you being there for me through the years.”
“Same goes for me, son.”
Feeling better about his relationship with P.T., Clint left the room, closing the door softly behind him. He stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the lobby. If only he felt better about his feelings for Rachel.
“HUNGRY?” CLINT ASKED when the elevator door opened in the lobby.
“Starving.” Even though she’d done nothing physical today, Rachel’s emotions had undergone a strenuous workout. She followed Clint across the parking lot.
“There’s a diner at the edge of town. Everything on the menu is homemade.”
“I’m game.”
At five in the afternoon Hot Mama’s Café was slammed. “You won’t be disappointed,” Clint said when they stepped inside the restaurant.
A large woman behind the lunch counter called Clint’s name. “Can’t get enough of Mama’s cookin’?” Pointing to the stools in front of her, she said, “Sit your handsome face right here.”
As soon as they were seated, the woman asked, “You got a new girlfriend, Clint?”
“Rachel, I’d like you to meet Maybelle Patterson. She owns Hot Mama’s Café. Maybelle, this is P.T.’s daughter, Rachel Lewis.”
“Nice to meet you,” Rachel said.
“Likewise.” The café owner spoke to Clint. “The usual?”
“What’s his usual?” Rachel asked.
“Fried Spam patties with a side of homemade potato salad.”
“Eew!” Rachel laughed.
“I ate a lot of Spam as a kid.” Clint grinned. “Guess it grew on me.”
“What’s the special today, Maybelle?” Rachel asked.
“Chicken pot pie. Pastry shell’s made from scratch.”
“I’ll have the special and a diet cola.”
Maybelle glanced at Clint. “Water’s fine,” he said. After Maybelle walked off, he said, “You’ve never eaten Spam.”
“God, no. What’s in that stuff anyway?”
“Pork shoulder and ham.”
“You said you ate a lot of it as a kid.” Rachel wanted to talk about someone else’s childhood instead of thinking of her own.
“Most of the foster homes I lived in stockpiled Spam because it was cheap.”
“You mentioned that you’d never searched for your birth parents, but don’t you want to know why they gave you away?” Shoot, she’d wondered most of her life why P.T. hadn’t wanted to keep her with him.
“My parents didn’t want me—what more do I need to know?”
“There might have been special circumstances or—”
“My mother was seventeen. My father sixteen. I had health issues.”
“They were awfully young to take care of a baby, especially one with medical needs. Maybe neither of them had family willing to help raise you.”
“You don’t have to defend my birth parents, Rachel. I don’t harbor any animosity toward them. I’m sure they had valid reasons for giving me up, but it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t feel any deep need to have a relationship with them.”
“What if they want to get to know you?”
“If you’re so insistent I reach out to my birth parents what’s your excuse for keeping your distance from P.T. until now?”
Touché.
“Here you go.” Maybelle set their meals on the counter then stared expectantly.
Rachel sampled her pot pie. “This is tasty.”
Maybelle beamed. “It’s my daddy’s recipe.”
“Spam’s as good as ever,” Clint said.
“Stop by Mama’s more often. I only see you once or twice a year.”
“You open a Hot Mama’s Café in Yuma and I’d be there every day.” Clint grinned.
“I’m too old to run more’n one business.” She smiled at Rachel. “He’s been comin’ on to me for years, honey, but I swore off cowboys when one broke my heart.” Maybelle sashayed back to the kitchen.
“Do you think P.T. knows about the women’s rough-stock events?” Rachel asked between bites.
“He would have raked me over the coals if Mayor Ross had mentioned it during their phone call.” Clint swallowed a bite of food. “Did you and P.T. settle things this afternoon?”
“I learned why he sent me away after my mother died.” She believed her father would never have found the courage to contact her if he hadn’t come down with cancer.
“You going to tell me or is it a big secret?”
“My mother had worried about me growing up on the ranch isolated from other kids. P.T. wanted to fulfill my mother’s wish that I be raised in a city where I’d have the opportunity to make lots of friends.”
“That doesn’t explain why he didn’t raise you.”
“He was afraid I’d reject him if he tried to become involved in my life.”
“Sounds like P.T. asked you to return to Stagecoach because he’s trying to make amends for the past. You should give him a chance.”
“Who are you to tell me what to do when you won’t give your birth parents a chance?”
They finished their meals in silence.
Chapter Thirteen
Thank God.
Rachel sighed in relief when Clint turned the truc
k onto the gravel road leading to the Five Star Ranch. After they’d left Hot Mama’s café, he’d become quiet and withdrawn. She worried that she’d pressed him too hard about his birth parents. What had gotten into her? Rachel stared at the brown desert whizzing by and wished with all her heart that she and Clint had met under different circumstances.
She yearned for a chance to discover if what she felt for Clint was strong enough to survive whatever lay ahead for her and her father. Making love to Clint had been an incredible experience—one she believed she’d never find with any other man. The explosive feelings Clint’s kisses and caresses triggered in her went beyond explanation. They’d shared more than their bodies on the houseboat at Lake Powell, and her heart insisted that Clint had been as moved by their lovemaking as she’d been. When their gazes had connected, the warmth in his brown eyes had reached deep into her soul. There was no doubt in her mind that he cared about her.
If he cares why isn’t he helping more with the rodeos?
Until now Rachel had ignored the tiny voice in her head that insisted Clint hoped she’d disappoint P.T. What would he gain if Rachel failed in her duties to her father?
“I apologize if I was out of line this afternoon. I didn’t mean to stick my nose into your business,” she said.
Clint’s grip on the wheel tightened. “Don’t worry about it.”
How could she not worry when he’d given her the silent treatment the past thirty miles? “You haven’t said more than ten words since we left Yuma.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Are you concerned about the Piney Gorge Rodeo?”
“No.”
“Lauren?”
“No.”
She hated playing the guessing game. “P.T.?”
“Leave it be, Rachel.”
Not possible. “Then I must be the reason you’re upset.”
He slammed on the brakes and the truck skidded to a halt. He shifted into Park and stared out the windshield. “I owe you an apology.”
“You do?”
“I overstepped my bounds at the Boot Hill Rodeo.”
She understood why he’d canceled the bull riding—there hadn’t been enough women to compete. But she didn’t understand… “Why didn’t you confer with me first before you spoke to the rodeo officials?”
Seconds passed and Clint remained silent.
“Talk to me, Clint. Tell me what’s going on with you. I thought our time on the houseboat—”
“P.T. would be madder than a hornet if he knew I took advantage of you.”
“Took advantage of me? I’m a grown woman capable of deciding who I have sex with.”
“P.T. expected me to look out for you.”
The conversation was getting sidetracked. “I don’t need a protector. Besides, my father’s concern comes a little too late in the game.”
“P.T. did what he believed was best for you.”
“Yes, he did, but that doesn’t excuse him from not reaching out to me until his cancer diagnosis.” Hurt that Clint took P.T.’s side, Rachel lashed out. “You’re making excuses for P.T. because you’re looking for a way to justify your bad parenting.”
Clint’s gaze clashed with hers, but Rachel was on a roll and refused to stop. “At first I was jealous that P.T. had taken you in and treated you as a son. Once I learned about your tough childhood in foster care, I conceded that you deserved to have someone care about you.”
The muscle along Clint’s jaw pulsed with anger. “And this relates to my relationship with Lauren how?”
“Your fear of losing P.T.’s love is keeping you from being the kind of father you should have been to Lauren through the years.”
He stared at Rachel as if she’d grown two heads.
“You made a token effort to see Lauren because P.T. rode your back, not because you wanted to.”
“Not true. Lauren’s my daughter. I love her.”
“Of course you love her. But you’re scared she won’t love you back. Like all the other foster parents you were forced to live with, you believe Lauren will find you lacking.” Clint’s face glowed red and his chest heaved with anger.
Rachel had come this far, she might as well put everything on the table. “P.T. accepted you, faults and all.” And Rachel suspected Clint would do everything in his power to keep his relationship with P.T. from changing, which included turning his back on her and what they’d shared on the houseboat.
“What happens when P.T.’s gone, Clint? What if he doesn’t survive his fight with cancer? Who will be there for you after you’ve kept everyone else at arm’s length?”
A full minute passed before Clint shifted into Drive and eased his foot off the brake. The truck lurched forward, spewing gravel into the air. At least Rachel had found out now—before she’d made a fool of herself and confessed she’d fallen in love with Clint—that no matter how much he insisted he cared about her, there was only one person he would ever trust with his heart: P.T.
She had to accept that Clint, Lauren and P.T. were a family—Rachel was the outsider. In the end, she’d have to be satisfied with making peace with her father and leaving his family intact—a family she yearned to be a part of.
“Something’s up,” Clint said as he pulled into the ranch yard and Rachel watched his daughter race toward the truck. Clint opened the driver-side door. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s Dixie.”
“What about Dixie?” Rachel unsnapped her seat belt.
Lauren’s gaze swung between her father and Rachel. “She can’t ride in the Piney Gorge Rodeo.”
“Why not?” Rachel asked.
“Dixie’s pregnant.”
Pregnant? Rachel stared at her broken fingers. She was in no shape to take Dixie’s place. Even if she was, Rachel wasn’t sure she had the courage to ride another bull—not after she knew what to expect when the chute door opened. “I’ll call Shannon, although I imagine she’s already looking for a replacement.” There had to be a rancher’s daughter in the area willing to take Dixie’s spot.
“I’ll ride,” Lauren said.
Clint’s mouth sagged open, then snapped shut with a decisive click. “No, you won’t.”
“I’m eighteen. You can’t tell me what to do.” Lauren turned to Rachel. “Put me on the roster.”
“The hell she will!” Clint roared.
Rachel had witnessed Clint’s face turn white more than once this past week as his daughter honed her bull-riding skills. His reaction reminded Rachel of P.T.’s fear that harm would come to her if she’d remained at the ranch after her mother had died. Rachel didn’t want history to repeat itself. If Lauren got injured, Clint would blame himself then keep Lauren at arm’s length because he didn’t trust himself to do what was in her best interests. Clint and Lauren’s relationship had come a long way this summer and Rachel refused to allow the final rodeo to ruin their progress.
“Let’s discuss this as rational adults,” Rachel said.
“Even Rachel acknowledges that I’m an adult.” Lauren flashed a smug grin.
“You don’t have enough experience.” Clint removed his Stetson and banged it against his thigh.
“I’ve been practicing for weeks. Look how much I’ve improved on Curly.”
“Curly is old and docile. The rodeo bulls are meaner and quicker.” Clint shook his head. “Doesn’t matter how I feel, your mother won’t—”
Lauren stomped several feet away. “You and Mom can’t stop me from competing.”
“This isn’t your father’s decision to make, Lauren.” Rachel hated being the one to disappoint the teen, but in good conscience, she could not allow the eighteen-year-old to put herself in danger. “I’m in charge of the rodeos.”
“What are you saying?” Lauren asked.
“I won’t allow you to ride. I’m sorry.”
“This totally sucks!” Lauren raced to the cabin, slamming the door behind her.
“Thanks,” Clint said.
“No
problem. I’m used to being the bad guy.” Rachel was determined not to allow a setback this late in the game ruin the overall success of the rodeos. “I’ll be in the house if you need me.” Though Clint had already made abundantly clear that he didn’t.
“LAUREN’S IMPROVED A LOT,” Shannon said. The female bull rider stood with Rachel watching Lauren climb onto a bull. Shannon and her friends had made a pit stop at the ranch to practice for the Piney Gorge Rodeo tomorrow.
No matter that Rachel and Clint had told Lauren she wouldn’t be competing, the stubborn teen had trained all week then had worked out on the bucking machine in the barn. Lauren had left Clint no choice but to remain by her side while she practiced. Not even his permanent scowl had deterred his daughter.
The chute opened and Curly vaulted into the pen. Lauren hit the dirt after three seconds.
“Wrangler called me,” Shannon said.
“Wrangler as in the jean company?”
“Yep, they said if I win tomorrow they’ll sponsor a bull-riding tour for me next season.”
“That’s fantastic.” The pressure on Rachel intensified. She had to find a way to keep the women’s event from being canceled. “Did you hear from the girl in Nebraska?”
“She’s not interested in taking Dixie’s place.”
Great. Rachel stared into the distance at the swath of pink cutting across the evening sky. Her back was against the wall. She didn’t want to fail the town of Piney Gorge or Mayor Larsen, or ruin Shannon’s chance at a Wrangler sponsorship. And Five Star Rodeos needed another record-setting attendance event to put enough money in the bank to support the sanctuary ranch for the upcoming year.
Lauren came out of the chute on a different bull. This time she clung to the animal for six seconds before landing on her fanny. She staggered to her feet, wincing as she brushed the dust from her backside. Enough was enough.
“Clint! Lauren!” Rachel shouted. “Can I have a word with you two?”
Father and daughter cut across the pen.
“We haven’t found a replacement for Dixie, so I’ve decided to ride,” Rachel said.
“No way.” Lauren propped her hands on her hips. “I’m better than you. I should ride.”