by Leslie North
"I want to talk about the job," she said firmly. In that moment, Bran knew he was in trouble.
"I think we covered that yesterday—"
"Please hear me out."
He studied her for a moment and had to admit he admired the determination. That kind of persistence was the only thing that kept his ranch going, and it was probably the only thing that had kept Ava Pearson and her little boy going the last few months as well.
"Ok, I’m listening." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desktop.
"I’m not sure how much you know about what I’ve been doing the last few years?"
Bran took a deep breath, inhaling a hint of cinnamon that roused in him a sudden yearning for hot chocolate and warm cookies, things he hadn’t tasted since his mother had passed away. "Hoyt’s given me the occasional update. I know you knocked their socks off at UT, and that you were going gangbusters at the Dallas Star when Nathan had the accident."
He watched that look come over her face, like when he’d mentioned her husband yesterday, and immediately, he wished he could take the words back.
"I was up for a promotion when he was killed in the fire.” She dropped her gaze for a moment, quickly pinching her eyes shut. "But I couldn’t accept the new job once I was alone with Cam. We’d never planned on having Cam so soon, but after he came along, it was Nathan who made it so I could keep working. His schedule as a firefighter meant he was home twenty full days a month and working ten days round the clock. He spent a lot of time with Cam. We hardly had to pay for any childcare."
"But then Nathan died," Bran said, an ache blossoming in his chest where his heart lay.
"Right." She smiled weakly. "I put Cam in daycare. I kept going to work, but I could only do the regular eight to five—if a story broke after hours, I was out of luck, and someone else got the lead. And Cam wasn’t used to being around all those other kids…"
"With all their other germs."
"Exactly. My boss wasn’t sympathetic. I was under so much stress, and things just spiraled. By the end of six months, I’d lost the job, and while Nathan’s life insurance was great, I’ve committed to saving that for Cam’s college. I had to come home."
He nodded. She was tough, little Ava was. Fierce and smart. Life had dealt her a crappy hand, and he wished there were something he could do to fix it, but he knew damn well he couldn’t.
She wound a lock of hair around her finger, and Bran couldn’t help gazing at the silky length as it twisted until she sat up straighter and released the tortured strands.
"I’m sorry about all of that, A," he told her softly. "But I don’t see how shoveling manure and fixing fences is going to solve your problems."
"Here’s the thing—I’ve spent nearly half my life working to be a journalist, and before all this, I was a darned good one. I can’t let go of my dream because life threw some bad stuff my way."
Branson’s lips tightened in a brief smile. "Sweetheart, working at my ranch will never help you reach your dreams. Trust me on that one."
Ava’s expression only became more mulish. "But it will. Let me tell you how."
Bran waited, watching those intense green eyes that sparked with purpose.
"I talked to Hoyt, and I know you’ve asked him to invest in your new breeding program. But I also know he’s found some discrepancies in your financials."
Dammit. Bran swore to himself, heat crawling up his neck. "And you’re going to use that little tidbit how?" he asked, a sharp edge to his voice.
"I want to help you find out what’s going on," she answered. "Let me work here. Give me and Cam a cabin like the other ranch hands, and I’ll start investigating while I’m here. I can do a story on modern ranch life, something I can submit to the Dallas Morning News to get myself a position there—"
"But while you’re at it, you’ll snoop around the financials and see what you can find out?"
A grin lighted her face, and her eyes gleamed. "Yes. It’ll help you, it’ll settle Hoyt’s concerns, and it’ll get me out of my parents’ house and back to Dallas where I belong."
Bran leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his chin. "You really think you can figure out what’s happening to my money?" he asked.
"I wasn’t lying when I said I was good at my job."
He thought about it, even as a little warning light was blinking in the back of his mind—danger, danger, it flashed.
She stood up and leaned over his desk, one palm on the smooth wood surface, her silky hair falling around her shoulders and the scent of cinnamon subtly stronger.
"I can do this, and we’ll all win, Bran. Let me help."
"How’s this going to work with Cam?" He’d never met the kid, but he knew Ava’s son wasn’t very old. There was no way he’d be safe following her around as she was doing ranch work.
"My mom will pick him up every morning, and I’ll go get him when I’m done at the end of the day."
"I’ve never had a hand with a kid before,” he said with a frown. “We’re not really set up—"
The passion in her voice sliced through all his objections. "Don’t be that man, Branson Beckett. Don’t be the guy who thinks everything has to be the way it’s always been—a world where only men can succeed. I can do this. I can do this with Cam. I just need you to give me the chance."
And so it was, on what was supposed to be an ordinary Saturday afternoon, in his ordinary office, at his ordinary desk, Branson Beckett did a very unordinary thing. He went against his instincts, he let someone else make the call, he folded like a bad hand of poker in a backroom game.
"Ok, A," he told her, standing and holding out his hand. "I’ll give you a shot, but you’re going to have to do all the work my other hands do. It won’t be easy."
She shook his hand firmly, then grinned and lifted her smooth, toned arm and flexed an impressive bicep. "CrossFit," she answered.
He couldn’t help a chuckle. The woman was unbelievable. "All right then, you get your investigating, reporting, crossfitting behind here first thing on Monday, and we’ll set you up in one of the hired-hand cabins and get all the paperwork processed."
Ava gave a little hop of joy. "Oh my God, thank you! Thank you so much, Bran!" She darted around the side of the desk and threw her arms around his neck, giving him a quick smack on the cheek with silky lips. Then she was bouncing back out the door, chattering about seeing him Monday and giving a little fist pump at the same time.
Branson stood frozen behind his desk, his cheek still tingling where she’d pressed her lips against it. He realized he’d forgotten to breathe for a few moments and let out a giant whoosh of air. The scent of cinnamon lingered, and he shook his head slowly, even as a smile he couldn’t control broke out over his face.
All Branson could think was, what the hell had he just done?
3
Her mother had ironed her underwear. No matter how Ava tried to look at that, it was…wrong. And not just because it was an invasion of her privacy. Pat apparently hadn’t been able to figure out a way to iron thongs, however. Ava couldn’t stifle the smile that the image brought.
"All I’m saying is, it sounds like very hard work, and then you’ll be trying to deal with Cam as soon as you’re done each day. When will you ever have a chance to take care of yourself?"
Ava folded a plaid flannel shirt and laid it on the stack in the suitcase. She ran a hand over the worn fabric, her mind flashing back six years to the first time she’d worn it to take Nathan two-stepping. He’d come to Texas from Illinois for college and hadn’t known the first thing about country music or dancing. She could almost see the smile he’d worn as he stumbled around the dance floor, other couples laughing with them as she tried to teach him not only how to do the steps but how to lead.
It had been their third date, the night she’d known he was a keeper, the kind of man who would always be there for her. She stifled a bitter chuckle. How naive she’d been. Poor little Ava with all her romantic ideals,
thinking you could rely on anyone to stick with you, no matter what. It was why her independence was so important. She’d learned the hard way that ultimately, she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself. It was a lesson all grown-ups understood, sooner or later.
"Ava?" Her mother’s voice brought her back to the present moment.
"Mom. It’s all going to be fine, I promise. You and Dad really don’t need to worry. Cam and I will be just up the road, and you know Branson. He’ll be fair and decent." She hoped.
Her mother started laying Ava’s underwear out in a lingerie bag, smoothing each pair several times before placing another on top. Ava gritted her teeth and tried not to snatch the panties out of Pat’s maternal claws.
"Sweetie, you’ve just come off six months of so much struggle—it hasn’t even been a year since Nathan’s accident—we just feel you deserve some rest, a little pampering."
Pat stopped fussing with the lingerie and sat on the edge of the twin bed Ava had been occupying since she’d come home. The same twin bed she’d slept on every night until she was eighteen.
"Ava." Her mom’s eyes teared up, making Ava want to throw something across the room. "You’ve been through a lot, and we couldn’t be more proud of you. We worry because no one your age should ever have to endure what you have. And Cam…" Pat’s voice broke as she swiped at her eyes.
It had been like this ever since Nathan’s death. Ava knew they didn’t mean to be a greater burden, but her parents were so distraught for her, she felt like the one doing the propping up. Their sadness over her fate became one more thing Ava had to try to handle, another item on her to-do list: get a job, sign Cam up for preschool, make George and Pat feel better.
"Mom." She pushed the suitcase aside and reluctantly sat next to Pat, putting her arm around the older woman’s shoulders. "I’m okay, I really am. This is going to give me a chance to have some independence while you and Dad are there to help with Cam. I’ll earn the money I need to get back on my feet, and I’ll feel better if I can do that for myself."
Pat sniffed slightly. "You won’t change your mind about using the insurance money to take care of things until you can get another newspaper job? I know Nathan wanted that money to be there for whatever you might need."
Ava sighed. "And it will. It’ll pay for Cam’s college and maybe a little left over for him to buy his first house. I need to know his future is taken care of. I’ll handle his present."
Her mother wasn’t done. "And having Cam there, too. Farms can be dangerous places for curious little boys."
From down the hall, Ava heard Cam screech as her father chased him, growling like a monster.
Ava stood and looked down at her mother. "Mom. Really? You raised two kids on this farm. Hoyt and I climbed trees, swam in the pond, got our feet stepped on by horses—I think he even fell out of the hayloft once—we survived just fine."
Pat jumped up, walked to the closet, and began to pull items off hangers and fold them over her arm as she spoke. "Yes, you did. And you both turned out wonderfully, but times were different then."
"They were," Ava agreed, "and Cam’s been a city boy all his life. It might be good for him to get a little of the country experience. We won’t be here forever, so this will be a great memory for him to grow up with."
"Ok, then." Pat took a deep breath, and Ava saw her mother’s plastered-on smile become genuine in mere seconds. "I can see your mind’s made up, and you’re my smart, beautiful girl.” She chuckled and added mischievously, “…so I’m sure you’ll own that ranch before it’s all over."
A screech sounded from down the hall followed by the thundering of small feet. "Mom-mee!" Cam cried as he careened around the corner into the bedroom.
"Whoa, dude," Ava said, catching him as he leaped across the room into her arms. "What’s going on?" She gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek.
"Gran’pa’s being a tiger, and I’m Mowgli in the jungle."
Ava had shown Cam her favorite cartoon from childhood, The Jungle Book, and he’d been obsessed ever since.
"Well, Mowgli, Grandma and I are packing up so you and I can move to the ranch. Did you and Grandpa get all your things packed?"
Cam wiggled to get down, and Ava let him slide out of her arms, an ache settling in her chest as his warmth left her. He was only three, but Ava had already begun to suffer the affliction of all mothers—the awareness that day by day he was leaving her. Tiny bit by tiny bit, her baby was pulling away, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
"We packed, but I don’t wanna go!" Cam protested, hands on his hips.
Oh great, just what she needed him to say in front of her mother.
Pat’s lips pursed, but she didn’t comment.
Ava squatted so she was eye to eye with her son. "I know new stuff is hard, buddy."
He nodded, a stubborn scowl settling on those features that looked so much like Nathan’s.
"And there’s been a lot of new stuff lately."
"I wanna go home," Cam whispered, his lower lip trembling. "I miss my room, and the park and my school."
Ava lifted him and sat on the edge of the bed, placing the sturdy preschooler on her lap.
"Well, I have some great news for you, buddy. We’re going to go stay at the ranch where the animals are, and then on the days I go to work, you’re going to go to a new school and hang out with Grandma and Grandpa." She infused her voice with the excited quality that meant this was a great, exciting thing.
Cam wasn’t buying it. "But it won’t be my school."
"Sure it will. It’s your new school, and it’ll have all the things your old school did—friends, a playground, nice teachers—"
"Miss Emily is the nicest teacher in town," Pat interjected. "Her mommy was your mommy’s teacher, and her family has owned the school for thirty years."
Cam didn’t seem impressed.
"It’s all going to be good, buddy," Ava said softly. "I promise." She meant it. Her promise was her word. She was going to do whatever it took to make everything good for Cam. She couldn’t bring his father back, so she’d make sure everything else in his life was absolutely perfect. He would get to go back to Dallas, back to his school, back to his friends, back to the life he knew.
Until then, he’d get to learn about life on a ranch, and he’d get to know his grandparents.
Ava kissed Cam once more and then set him on the floor. "I have a job for you, buddy."
Her heart melted at his serious expression as he answered, "What is it, Mommy?"
"I need you to go pack all the cookies Grandma made us to take along to the ranch."
"Yay, cookies!" Cam yelled and ran from the room, shouting for his grandfather.
"I knew those cookies would come in handy," Pat murmured.
Ava smiled. Sometimes moms did understand. Sometimes they knew just what you needed.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Bran’s youngest brother Scout snapped as he hosed down the large water cistern he was returning to Bran. Scout managed a dairy operation south of town, and rarely visited Bran on the ranch—or at all—but he’d apparently really needed this cistern, and a week later, he was bringing it back. Scout was reliable in that way, at least.
“Probably not, but what are you jawing about now?” Bran answered. He cringed as the words slid out of his mouth. Since their parents had died, he and Scout hadn’t had much of a relationship, and damned if that didn’t make him feel guilty, somehow.
“I overheard you talking to Hoyt’s little sister in your office when I was picking up this tank last week. You’re really giving her a job?”
Bran clenched his jaw. He really didn’t need this right now, and especially not from Scout.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Why? I mean, last time Hunter mentioned it, you were about to ask Hoyt to invest in something here. That’s a huge disaster waiting to happen. You do one thing she doesn’t like, and she’ll go crying to big brother. Since when do you get sloppy like that? I thought
you were perfect.”
Scout continued to spray the enormous plastic tank, while Bran wondered if he could still beat the crap out of his baby brother or if Scout’s youth would be too much of an advantage.
“Look, she’s an old friend, she’s had a really rough year, she needed a job and a place to stay where she isn’t being managed by her parents. It’s not a big deal, and I’m sure it’ll only last for a few weeks. Couple of months, at most.”
Scout turned off the hose. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. And make sure to tell Hoyt, too, when he wonders why you fired his sister because she has zero experience as a ranch hand and dragged her kid along with her.”
Bran stopped being frustrated and started being angry, something that happened frequently when he was around Scout. “I’m not sure why you even care about any of this. Last time I checked, you wanted nothing to do with the family business. I offered you the foreman’s position here, but you made it very clear you’d rather do just about anything than work with me. In fact, I seem to remember you hauling ass out of here with nothing but your wallet and a bedroll.”
Scout scowled at him as he put the hose back on the rack attached to the barn wall. “All I’m saying is you’re the one who’s constantly lecturing about smart business practices, and this wouldn’t seem smart in anyone’s book.”
Biting down a scathing answer, Bran turned to the cistern and began closing the various drainage spouts.
“So you don’t have a response for that?” Scout asked, pulling his car keys out of his jeans pocket.
Bran glanced at his younger brother but kept working. “I’ve run this place for seven years. I haven’t gone under yet. I think I can manage one ranch hand for a few weeks.”
Scout made a sound of disgust, twirled the keys around one finger, then stomped off to his truck.
“Nice talking to you, too,” Bran muttered as his brother’s truck tore off down the drive.
4