Romancing Redemption

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  They reached the park and claimed the bench they’d shared only a few days before.

  Turning toward her and draping an arm behind her back on the bench, Michael removed his hat and rested it on his bent knee. Running his fingers through thick hair that Rosie couldn’t look away from, Michael sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to offend you or anything.” He looked into her eyes, his dark, deep, and hooded. “I’m constantly fixing things that I’m not sure how I broke with you. That’s the last thing I want to do, break anything of yours.”

  He licked his lower lip, sunlight glinting off the stubble of his face. Like gold flecks in a sea of black.

  Rosie scrunched her nose. “Do you know you have blond in your stubble?”

  “Really? Where?” Michael leaned closer to her, lifting his chin and jaw.

  Rosie matched him, leaning close, her fingers reaching for the face she desperately longed to touch. Thick but soft, the short hair on his jawline gave easily under her touch. She caressed it slowly, reveling in the rough, silky texture. Even if she wanted, she couldn’t stop.

  His eyes hooded, and he focused his gaze lower, on her lips. Rosie didn’t care if anyone saw them. In that moment, she couldn’t say why, but she’d slap him if he didn’t kiss her.

  And he leaned closer.

  Lowered his lips... closer.

  Closer.

  Then they touched hers. Rosie couldn’t focus on much more than breathing and his lips. Her fingers rubbed back and forth along his jawline to the soft skin of his earlobe. Her nails making a scratching sound as they tickled over his skin.

  It was the briefest kiss, just enough to touch, taste, promise more, before it ended.

  Michael didn’t pull away a full inch before speaking. “I’m sorry. That was too forward of me. I should’ve asked first.” His hot breath puffing on her chin and pushing the cooling afternoon air around them. “We need to go on a proper date, first.”

  Rosie didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She’d be hanged before she’d apologize for the kiss. So drastically different from Phillip’s assault, the kiss left Rosie dangling for more and no relief in sight.

  Unless... “I thought our horse ride counted.” She whispered on a sigh.

  Still grazing his face with her fingers, she softly clawed at the under curve of his jaw and pulled him toward her, cutting off his apologies and regrets.

  This time, they both deepened their connection. Angling their heads and opening their mouths for tighter contact, Rosie and Michael kissed like it was their first and their last.

  For Rosie he was her first kiss by the river. He’d claimed that small part of her and, since it was paired with her heart, she couldn’t help but fall hard and fast.

  At that point in time, she’d consider his kiss to be her last, if she couldn’t kiss him again.

  Parting another inch, Michael took Rosie’s hand in his. “I have to be honest with you, Rosie. I’ve known who you are for a while now. You’re all I’ve been thinking about. Seeing you at the Salish fair seemed too lucky to pass up.” He leaned his forehead to hers, softly bumping her nose with his. “I like you. I have for a while.”

  “Really?” How did she tell him she’d watched him as well? How did she disconnect the Rosie he wanted and thought she was from the Rosie who hid from her past, wrapped in silence and sullenness? She couldn’t. Not if she wanted a future with him. Asking him to accept her without knowing any of her secrets didn’t seem to be fair. She couldn’t be completely honest with him. Would she ever be able to?

  But between her Caracus past, working in a whore house, and the fact that she’d never been with a man – she’d take it like a coward and not speak of them, but be honest about everything else. That had to be some kind of service project.

  Her wristwatch beeped. Glancing down, she blinked and tried focusing once more. “Oh, no. I didn’t realize the time. I need to get back to work.” Minutes passed like seconds with him.

  She scooted to the front of the bench and checked her bag for the familiar stiffness in the lining that came from the sewn in money.

  He touched her arm. “I have to see you again. Can you meet me for breakfast? Two days. I don’t have to report until afternoon for the later shift introduction and roping of the calves. We need to brand them this weekend before the barn raising.” He grabbed her fingers with his, his touch overwarm, like a fever. “Please. I have to see you again. Meet me at the Cavendish’s. We can dance and have hopefully-spiked punch.”

  She nodded, equally intent about seeing him again. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  But how long would he be interested in her when he found out her terrible secrets? How long could he care about her when Phillip Nelson was intent on keeping her all to himself?

  How long would anyone?

  Michael

  Chapter 13

  RETURNING TO LACEY Caverns and filled with a sense of excitement, Michael couldn’t wait for the dance.

  Barn raising events and the get-togethers afterward were like proms for adults. Not the fancy part, but the anticipation part. And since he got Rosie to agree to go with him, Michael’s interest in the celebration awoke with fervor.

  He parked the ranch truck beside the others normally used alongside the barn. On days when he didn’t have as long to enjoy the ride into town on a horse, he borrowed a vehicle. Today was one of those days.

  After exiting the truck, he approached the doors to the barn to return the keys to their hook inside the office. He stopped and turned when his name was called out from behind him, from the direction of the house.

  Ronan walked toward him. “Michael, a second, please.”

  Facing his boss, Michael nodded, holding out his hand. “Of course, Mr. James. I wasn’t expecting to meet with you until this evening. What can I do for you?”

  “I know, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait.” Accepting the hand, Ronan pumped it perfunctorily and clasped Michael’s opposite shoulder. “Come this way, I’d like to speak to you about something and I think it would behoove us to be in a more private setting.”

  Ronan’s formality worried Michael. He’d only known the rancher and bank owner to be formal in times of extreme seriousness. Once when a foal was breeched in its mother’s stomach and another when one of the ranch hand’s had been caught stealing. Michael didn’t know what he’d done, but a trickle of worry and doubt dripped down his spine.

  Following Ronan onto the porch, Michael took a seat on one of the Adirondack chairs facing the mountains away from the driveway. He rubbed his clammy palms on his denim-clad thighs. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  Ronan leaned back in his chair and studied Michael. Finger to chin, he didn’t say anything for a long drawn out minute, maybe two. The time was irrelevant because it felt like three hours to Michael who waited for the torture to end.

  “I like you, Michael. I think you’re a hard worker. You always put in overtime and you’re a team player. That’s hard to find in this business. I also know you’re not a wanderer, which to be honest is another trait that is not as common as whiskey flasks among ranching men.” Ronan lowered his hand to dangle off the armrest and turned to look out over his fields.

  “Thank you, sir. I enjoy working here.” Michael swallowed. What was going on? Was he being let go? What had he done? He racked his memory for something that could’ve been the cause of the concerning conversation. Sweat gathered between his shoulder blades. His heart rate picked up and his breathing shallowed. If he failed with Ronan James, his grandfather would never let him back onto Rourke land.

  Ronan leaned forward, poking the armrest of his chair and peering at Michael hard, as trying to pin him down with his gaze. “The problem I’m facing right now is a conflicting one.” He lifted his hand, raising a finger for each point he made. “You’re a local boy, which makes sense for me to keep you on. I know your family – your granddad – and couldn’t have more respect for them. More importantly, I know you, and couldn’t think of a better choice
for Head Foreman for Lacey Caverns.” He dropped his arm with a thunk. “Having said that, I’m sure you can understand my situation.”

  Head Foreman? Michael couldn’t be more confused about what was going on. Ronan listed reasons to keep him on at the ranch, even to promote him, but then said he had a problem with that decision?

  Michael waited for the bad points to get ticked off on Ronan’s fingers. He didn’t reply, just waited in silence, dread pooling in his gut.

  “My situation, Michael, is I know you’re just here until your grandfather decides you’re ready to return to Rourke Ranch and take over. I know this. The other hands know this. Hell, all of Colby and Clearwater County knows this.” Ronan pointed his finger toward Michael’s chest. “You’re a damn fine worker and a helluva terrific man. I want nothing more than to promote you to Head Foreman, but I know you’re going to be leaving Lacey Caverns soon. This is where my problem is.”

  Sighing in relief, Michael couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, sir, you had me scared you were going to fire me or something there.” He jokingly clutched at his chest where his heart would be. “I’m still not sure whether I should feel flattered or alarmed.”

  Donald Rourke stepped around the corner of the house on the porch. “You’re a fool, if you feel anything but honored at words like those from a man like Ronan James.”

  Ronan and Michael stood from their seats. Ronan thrust out an arm and shook the older gentleman’s hand. “Mr. Rourke, it’s an honor to have you at Lacey Caverns. My father always spoke highly of you.”

  Nodding, the movement enhanced by the silhouette of his vintage Stetson, Donald tucked his thumbs into the tops of his pockets. “Yes, your father was an ambitious man, Ronan. I admired that about him. He worked hard and didn’t accept circumstances as they stood. He always changed things he despised.” He arched a silvered eyebrow. “I don’t suppose he’s rolling over in his grave at your choice in a wife. Not that I blame them. But the Blackbird family is of good standing in Clearwater County and that’s not easy to come by.”

  Ronan’s face tightened. He clipped his words with brisk finality. “Kelsey is an amazing woman. Had my father taken the time to get to know her, he would’ve discovered just how tremendous she is for the James line. I’m blessed to have her in my life.”

  Face reddening, Donald pursed his lips and thrust his wizened jaw to the side. Looking from Ronan to Michael, his eyes narrowed. “Well, I was going to ask to speak with you privately, Michael, but since you’re obviously so frank with your boss, I’ll include him in this conversation so he can rethink anything about you. Once he finds out what kinds of company you keep, he might not want to keep you on.

  “I think you should know, Michael, your little girl friend isn’t as sweet and innocent as you’d like to believe. I did some digging and she’s a daughter of that no-good Caracus.” He held up his hand when Michael opened his mouth to deny it. “No, let me finish. She worked at the Mare Ranch for five years. I’m not sure what she did, but they aren’t a restaurant and she’s easy on the eyes. After that, she worked for Phillip Nelson from town.” He nodded curtly, crossing his arms, as if waiting for praise and gratitude over delivering the news.

  Michael couldn’t figure out where to start with his grandfather’s accusations. That’s what they were. Truth or not, he’d shown up to defame Rosie. But to gain what? “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Why? Because you can’t be with a good-for-nothing, classless, floozy like her. Not if you want Rourke Ranch to be yours. I’m not going to stand by while my heir throws everything away – again.” Spluttering, Donald thrust his finger toward the floor, his face hard and unyielding.

  Ronan stepped between Michael and Donald, he held up a hand in the universal sign to stop. He spoke calmly but with authority that only a James could carry off. “I’ve known about Rosie’s past since she arrived in Colby and, despite its existence, I’ve offered her a contract recently. She’s a hard-working, honest young lady with outstanding respect in the community. She’s raising her sister and doing everything on her own. I’d say she’s earned more than class.”

  Ronan opened his hands in front of him and continued. “I suggest slinging mud elsewhere, Mr. Rourke, unless you’d like me to tactlessly mention the thieving vocation of your own grandfather and your own questionable gestation period. I mean, really, how many preemies born at eight weeks survive?”

  Michael drew in a ragged breath. Tossing the Rourke family shame onto the wooden slats of the deck was one way to irritate Donald, but bring up his almost-bastard title and Donald got downright nasty.

  Donald’s smile carried zero warmth. “Don’t bother coming back to the ranch, Michael, if you choose that girl over respectability and your family. She’s no good and I won’t have her at my ranch.” He turned to leave, tossing over his shoulder as he left. “Ronan, your father would’ve been ashamed.”

  Ronan’s shoulders heaved, his fists clenched at his sides.

  Michael had no idea what had just happened. Had he been kicked out of the family? Was he just wasting his time on Lacey Caverns? If he couldn’t go back to Rourke Ranch, where would he go? What would he do?

  The harsh consequences of what had just happened crashed over him and he sank on the handmade chair. He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. What was he supposed to do? He had to choose Rosie for himself. He cared so much about her. He was finally just getting to know her.

  How could he let her go when the promise between them was so strong, so full of potential.

  But on the other hand, what did he do about his family? He owed them loyalty. He knew them, grew up with them, worked alongside them for all of his life. If he gave up everything he’d ever known for a woman he knew almost nothing about, what then?

  And he didn’t know enough about her. If what Donald said was true, Michael didn’t know anything about her. Michael looked up when Ronan’s boots shuffled on the painted wood.

  “Don’t let him get you down.” Ronan moved to stand beside the deck post, staring toward the tree line off in the distance. “You know, I chose my family over Kelsey a long time ago. Dumbest thing I ever did. Ruined parts of her life that she can never recover. Looking back, I would’ve been smarter to just tell my dad to go to hell when he gave me the ultimatum, but I can’t. He’s dead.” He rested a closed fist on the wooden railing, not looking at Michael. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this, I really am.” He glanced at Michael, his gaze penetrating. “But I’m going to be honest. I wasn’t strong enough to do it and now I have to shoulder the regret. You’re stronger than I was. If that’s the decision you choose, then you can handle everything attached to it.”

  Nodding, Michael dropped his hands. “Looks like I’m going to need that job, if that’s where you were going with this conversation.” He stood and met Ronan’s gaze with his own. “I’ve wanted Rosie Scott for so long, I can’t imagine not at least trying to be with her. I’d be lying if I said her past doesn’t bother me, but it doesn’t make me want to walk away from her. If anything, I want to know more about her, understand her, help her in any way I can.”

  Turning to face Michael, Ronan smiled partway. “Glad you proved me right about your character. Let’s discuss your new responsibilities and where we can take Lacey Caverns in the future.”

  Michael followed Ronan inside the house to his office. If anything, his resolve had solidified to stand by his own independence. What was he doing, if not living his own life?

  But a twinge of unease tingled in his chest. He’d been raised on Rourke Ranch. The family land and name was all he’d worked for after messing up so bad. How would he get the desire to live up to it out of his blood? Out of his mind? Out of his soul?

  He might have strong feelings for Rosie, but she didn’t necessarily feel the same. And if he chose her over his family and she dropped him, he’d have nothing. No family. No love. No land.

  And that right there made him sick just thinking about it.
/>   Rosie

  Chapter 14

  WORK COULDN’T BE SLOWER. She hadn’t seen a customer in thirty minutes.

  Using the restroom, she pulled her hair back off her shoulders. Maybe she’d cut the long strands. She couldn’t remember the last time she wanted to make a change in how she looked. With nothing consistent in her life, she’d counted on her image staying the same for that steadiness she needed. But she needed to break free from the girl she used to be and become the woman she hid inside – away from Phillip’s threats and the gossips of the town.

  Plus, if she changed her looks, it’d be harder for people to identify her from Madam’s or the picture the Feds were passing around. Honestly? She didn’t know why she hadn’t done it earlier.

  Twisting her hair into a tight French braid, Rosie winced from the strands tugging at her temples. She washed her hands in the sink and made note to bring in extra hand soap from the employee closet.

  Sighing, she pushed through the door and ran smack! into Sara Beth whose red and blotchy face dripped with tears.

  Steadying her sister with a hand on either upper arm, Rosie shushed her and held her still. “Take a breath, Sara Beth. What’s going on? Are you okay?” If any of those dang kids from the school were bothering her again, Rosie would go down and forget that she shouldn’t beat up minors.

  Gasping and clutching the V-neck of her T-shirt, Sara Beth shook her head. “No. Madam. In. Town.” She pulled from Rosie’s hands and bent at the waist, her shoulders heaving with each breath.

  Glancing quickly around the empty restaurant, even looking for Tom, Rosie grabbed Sara Beth’s arm and pulled her into the bathroom. She locked the door.

  Not possible. Phillip always said comments about her being there in Colby, but Rosie had never believed him. He wasn’t the type to be honest about anything and he would try to scare her for more control.

  Sara Beth wasn’t the type to lie about something – heck, anything – and her words slammed into Rosie’s chest as if made from physical objects.