The Reluctant Rancher

by Leigh Riker

  Sam scowled. “Just because you don’t know what you’re doing doesn’t make them difficult, Flyboy.”

  Logan’s gaze homed in on her. “You can’t leave. There’s no one to replace you.”

  “Not that you haven’t tried,” she said. “I know you still call the agency. So why does it matter if I leave in a month, a week or tonight?” Sam’s health didn’t seem to be an issue. Earlier, he’d simply gotten worked up.

  “You’re not leaving me with Sam.”

  “Hey,” his grandfather said, “I’m right here.”

  “And you’re more than a handful.”

  “See?” Sam eyed her. “I told you. He needs you.”

  “So do you,” Logan said. “Are we done with this conversation? I have a ton of bills to deal with before I can get any sleep.” Logan pushed past her and out into the hall.

  Blossom’s gaze followed his tall, broad-shouldered frame. He was probably much better with the bison than Sam claimed. He was certainly the very picture of a cowboy. Her pulse was still running riot, and Sam wasn’t done yet. His eyes were shooting sparks. Yet she saw the underlying sorrow she’d detected before. He missed his wife. He also missed his grandsons.

  “He loves you, Sam.”

  “Stubborn cuss. Why I ever had those hospital folks call him, I don’t know. Should have asked Sawyer to come help me when I got tossed by that cow. Until he decided to turn tail and run from the Circle H, he was better with the stock anyway.”

  “You got that right,” Logan called from down the hall.

  “Go, then! Back to those fancy jets you fly. Keep trying to kill yourself.” Sam fell back against his pillows. The dented tray slid to the floor, beef and gravy, carrots and potatoes oozing onto the wood. “See if I care.”

  Oh, dear. Apparently, Blossom’s work here wasn’t done. She needed to stay for Sam’s well-being, yes—but now for Logan’s, too. She picked up Sam’s napkin then scooped up the spilled food—twice in one day.

  Before Blossom left, Sam and Logan would admit how much they needed—and loved—each other.

  At least Sam hadn’t mentioned her pregnancy or thought she was Olivia.

  * * *

  SAM KEPT HIS eyes shut until those two had disappeared. When he no longer heard his grandson’s voice saying You got that right in his head, he sat up straight, opened his eyes then looked around.

  Nothing had changed. Why did he expect it to? Or fear it would?

  He’d been sleeping in this room for many years, nestled into this old feather bed that fit his bones just right. But in what he now called the old days, he’d had Muriel beside him. Sam and Muriel. He’d always liked the sound of that.

  Sometimes, as Blossom had seen, he ached with missing her. All afternoon he’d drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming of her.

  When they’d married, long after Sam had thought he was fated to be a permanent bachelor, she’d insisted on changing the name from the McCord Ranch—after her first husband’s family—to the Circle H for Hunter. That was his Muriel, and a serious sign of her love and acceptance of Sam. Yet now that he’d become practically an invalid, he worried. Worried all the time.

  If only illness hadn’t taken her from him. And here he was, laid up with a bum leg—the cast was starting to itch—and his head messed up by a concussion. Powerless. He’d turned his back on the bison cow that day and paid the price. She’d only tried to protect her calf. Sam could relate to that.

  He had an orphaned boy to fret about now, too.

  Logan had always been a kid with other things on his mind, sometimes more than one at a time. When Sam had first come to the ranch, Muriel’s new diamond ring sparkling on her hand, Logan had been a grieving boy. Both parents gone, and Logan and his brother not much older than Nick was now. Sawyer seemed to take things easier. If he’d been married to Olivia, Sawyer would never have let her go. He’d have found a way. Instead, Logan had traded her and his son for some fancy jet plane. He’d turned his back on the ranch—and Sam.

  He sniffed. That needed to change—and he usually got his way. Maybe Blossom could help with that. She seemed to like it here.

  But first, he had to get on his feet again. Prove to himself and Logan that he could still run the Circle H.

  * * *

  LOGAN SAT BACK in Sam’s old desk chair. He remembered when his grandfather had bought it, not long after he’d moved in to take over the Circle H. The worn leather seat was now permanently shaped to the curve of Sam’s rear, which didn’t fit Logan’s larger body. The chair seemed like a metaphor for their prickly relationship.

  Still regretting his words earlier that night, he tossed a pen down on the scarred wooden desktop. He closed the ledger then the checkbook. He’d paid half the bills tonight, but there were plenty more, several of them overdue. Maybe he’d have to sell some stock before fall to cover the rest. The Circle H, even with the market price for bison higher than beef, was no longer as profitable as it had once been. Why didn’t Sam sell and divide the profit with Logan and Sawyer? Move to Wichita? Logan’s one-bedroom apartment wasn’t that big, but he could sleep on the couch and give Sam his room. They could manage until Logan got his promotion and could afford the custody suit and then a larger place where Sam wouldn’t be able to get himself in trouble again.

  Logan’s cell phone rang and he glanced at the display. It was his boss.

  “Yeah, Joe,” he said, both happy and not to hear from him.

  “Got a sweet new baby for you.” Joe sounded excited. “You gotta see this. Eighteen-karat gold trim everywhere. Bedroom. Fully stocked kitchen...” He named the latest model his company made. Sweet, all right.

  Logan’s hands twitched. “Avionics?”

  “State of the art. You won’t believe this thing. It’s less than a year old—and we just redid it nose to tail for the new owner.” He paused. “When can you be here?”

  Logan glanced upward. He hadn’t heard a peep from Sam’s room in the past hour. His grandfather must be asleep by now. Logan’s guilt was keeping him awake. And then there was Blossom... She’d almost left. For some reason, that still tied him in knots.

  “Tell you what,” Joe said. “Let me send Garvey for you.”

  Logan groaned. “He’d probably fly us into a building on the way just to get rid of me. You know that.”

  “He’s here, you’re not,” Joe said. “Unless you can sprout wings, I’ll have to use Garvey. Short trip and he’s a good pilot.”

  “We’re up for the same promotion, Joe. In case you haven’t noticed, we barely speak to each other. And that’s how I like it.”

  “You don’t have to talk. You just have to get here.”

  Sure. No problem. All he had to do was leave Sam with Blossom—and hope the ranch didn’t fall apart, hope she didn’t take off in that rattletrap sedan. Logan had known she was planning to leave from the minute she’d arrived.

  “Sorry, Joe. I’m not free right now.”

  “Your grandfather doing any better?”

  “Some,” he said, “but the concussion still has him a little loopy. I wouldn’t feel good about leaving him alone just yet.”

  Joe’s voice cooled. “Thought you were going to hire a male nurse.”

  “Caregiver,” he said, which wasn’t the same thing. Sam wasn’t sick. “The woman who’s here can’t handle him plus everything else.”

  As if anyone could.

  “Forget it, then. I’m going to have to go with Garvey instead for the test flight. He’s already champing at the bit—notice the cowboy term you might understand—to get his hands on this corporate baby.”

  Logan was no cowboy, and didn’t want to be one, but Joe’s underlying message seemed as clear as Libby had been about the black toy Ford F-150. “You’re saying I’m putting my promotion at risk.”

 
“If the client likes Garvey’s work, their influence will be critical.”

  “You’re killing me.” Logan knew he might be signing away his chance for a new job title with better pay, better assignments. Joe had just offered him one. “Keep me in mind for the next job, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Joe didn’t answer. At first, he’d seemed to understand Logan’s dilemma, but apparently his patience had run out. “Good luck with your grandfather.”

  He hung up without saying goodbye.

  Damn.

  If he didn’t win that promotion, he’d have to wait even longer to take Libby back to court. He wouldn’t have a proverbial leg to stand on because nothing would have changed. He doubted the judge would go for letting Nicky sleep on his sofa in Wichita on a regular basis.

  Interrupting his thoughts, Blossom appeared in the office doorway. She looked hesitant—which she hadn’t earlier. “I don’t want to disturb you...”

  “Where’s the kitten?”

  Her chin went up. “I put her in the tack room.”

  “Sam asleep?”

  “Fighting it, but on his way,” she said.

  They exchanged a look as if they were a couple with a mutual concern for a family member. Sam was crusty but lovable. Logan liked it that Blossom also cared about him—not that she’d be here much longer.

  “Come on in.” Logan spun the desk chair. “We need to talk.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  BLOSSOM EDGED BACK into the hall. The overhead light shone on her red hair. She didn’t wear a trace of makeup, but to his mind she didn’t need any. “I only wanted to let you know that Sam is resting now.”

  Logan waved a hand. “Take a seat. It’s time we got to the bottom of this.”

  “The bottom of what?”

  “You.” He rubbed a tension spot between his eyes. He kept hearing Joe’s words on the phone moments ago, fearing he’d lost his chance for a promotion. “I’ll find out sooner or later.” He paused. “I prefer now.”

  Her shoulders rounded. Her gaze slipped to the floor between them. Her lips pressed tight. Logan recognized the posture.

  “Who are you running from, Blossom?”

  She smoothed a hand over her stomach. “Maybe I have a dozen creditors looking for me. Or I robbed a bank in Kansas City—”

  “Is it that father of yours? Or some boyfriend?”

  Blossom didn’t sit. She drifted over to the window. She stared out at the black night sky, at the security arc lights in the barnyard, at nothing. Maybe she was seeing some even darker part of her own past. The one she wouldn’t share.

  He shouldn’t care.

  She was temporary help, as she’d pointed out herself, and in the morning—as she’d also said—he would call Shadow again on the off chance she’d found a male caregiver.

  Was he that determined to replace Blossom? Or to save himself from getting involved any deeper in her life, her problems? From letting the unwanted attraction he felt for her become even more? With Sam and the ranch, his troubles with Nicky and Olivia, he didn’t need another responsibility. And yet...

  She turned from the window. “His name is Ken.”

  “Go on,” he said when she didn’t continue. He could hear her swallow.

  “He’s a big-deal developer in Philly. We met at a cocktail party. I’d finally moved out of my father’s house only the week before. I was excited to be on my own, and that afternoon I’d gotten my first job.” Her eyes were wide pools with what he could only call hurt in them. “I guess you could say I was an easy mark. That night I wanted to celebrate. I had a new life. A new job.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I worked for the caterers.” She sent him a rueful smile. “Yes, I was the hired help then, too. I didn’t wear a fancy gown like the other women who were guests at the party. I wore a black-and-white uniform and a little white lace cap. Dark shoes with rubber soles.” She shook her head. “Not a pretty picture.”

  He didn’t know where the words came from. “You’re a pretty woman, Blossom. Whatever you wear.”

  She eased onto a chair. “I’ve never thought so. My father didn’t like me dressing up or wearing makeup—‘making yourself look cheap,’ he always said.”

  Logan’s mouth tightened. “I can’t imagine that.”

  “He had a point, of sorts. We did live on military bases. There were young guys everywhere. I didn’t blame him then for wanting to protect me.”

  She still wore the baggy pants and loose shirt she’d had on the first day. Or similar ones. She was probably the least available-looking woman he’d ever met, even when he suspected that underneath those shapeless clothes she had a more than decent figure. What she didn’t have was a scrap of self-esteem.

  “Your father was wrong,” he said. “So then, you got involved with this developer. Ken.” Already he didn’t like where this was going. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. Or insisted she tell him. None of my business.

  “He had his pick of women. I’ve never understood why he chose me except that I must have looked...naive.”

  “Blossom.”

  “I sure fell for his charms. He gave me a real rush, like some Don Juan, called me every day, woke me in the morning and tucked me in at night, so to speak, with his voice in my ear on the phone. He took me nice places. I’d never been...courted before—that’s such an old-fashioned word, but that was how it felt—and it was a heady experience.”

  “Some guys do that. But once they’ve got you under their spell—”

  “You mean, dependent on them.” She nodded. “Before I knew what had happened, I was living in his high-rise condo. In a building he’d actually built, or rather his company had. It had the best of everything, from the furniture in the living room to the bathroom fixtures. It had towel heaters, a heated floor. There was a gourmet kitchen where I hardly knew how to turn on the eight-burner stove. For a girl who catered parties, Ken told me, I wasn’t very good in the kitchen.” She hesitated. “Or anywhere else, really, as it turned out.”

  Her gaze fell.

  Logan could understand why, because of her dad, she’d been such a target for Ken. That kind of denigration, humiliation, was all she knew.

  And her mom was his second in command, she’d told him. There hadn’t been anyone to stand up for Blossom. She sure hadn’t learned to defend herself. In effect, both of her parents had beaten her down. She had a real tendency to excuse everyone else.

  In a different way, she reminded Logan of himself. He’d lost his mother and father then set himself up to fail with Libby, who’d been the wrong person for him from the start. Another pattern that had only led to more loss with Nicky. Because, except for Sam and his grandma, that was what he’d known.

  “None of that was your fault,” he said. “How old were you then?”

  “Twenty.”

  “You were with him how long?”

  She thought for a moment, as if she’d forgotten. “Eight years—no, almost nine.”

  “Kids?”

  Her gaze fixed on a point above his head. “No kids.”

  “Well, that’s something,” he said. “I can’t recommend having a family when I’m still fighting my ex for Nicky. Or I will be.” In the meantime, he intended to speak to Libby. She wouldn’t use Grey to deliver her message the next time. “Blossom, were you and...Ken ever married?” He didn’t even like saying the guy’s name and he’d never met him.

  “I wanted to get married at first, wanted to start a family. But he always had some reason why we should wait. He wanted children but he was too caught up in his new project, or we’d already bought tickets to spend Christmas in Barbados and what if I got morning sickness and ruined the trip? Or we’d have to build a house first...” She shrugged. “Well, you know.”

  “He
strung you along. Since you weren’t legally bound, why did you stay with him?”

  Her voice lowered until it was almost a whisper. “I couldn’t leave. Ken controlled everything, gradually, until I had no choice but to stay. I’d quit that first job—not that it paid much—and he saw no reason for me to look for another. Or to enroll in college classes. Or to get job training of any kind. He needed me at home—and why be unhappy there? I was living in a palace. Other women would envy me, he said. Most would jump at the chance to trade places.”

  “All lies.”

  “He gave me a strict allowance. I had to explain any purchase—even though he bought me designer clothes. Beautiful things. I’d never dressed like that before. I didn’t need anything else, he said. All the accounts were in his name. So was ‘my’ cell phone.” She cradled a hand to her stomach. “After a while even my parents stopped calling, or I stopped calling them. We never went to visit, and he always had a reason for why they shouldn’t visit us. My friends drifted away. They didn’t like Ken and he didn’t like them. He got angry when I saw them on my own—until I didn’t see them anymore.”

  “You’re a stronger person than you think, Blossom. You finally left.”

  “I’m trying,” she said with a familiar glance out the window.

  Logan’s blood chilled. “You think he’s looking for you.” So that was why she checked the driveway, jumped when the ranch phone rang, why she’d asked Shadow for cash on payday. “That’s why you packed your bags.”

  “Yes.” She wrung her hands.

  “What makes you think he can find you?”

  Blossom shrugged.

  “The first few days after I left, I let the only friend I had by then know where I was. Otherwise, she’d think something had happened. That Ken had really...hurt me.”

  “Did he?”

  “Only...a few times. Nothing serious. He’d shove me or put his arm around my neck, pretend he was teasing then tighten his hold so I couldn’t get away. He’d laugh but his words were always a warning.”

  “Verbal and physical abuse. Escalation.”