Making Room for the Rancher

by Christy Jeffries

  Dahlia’s aunt, who insisted he call her Freckles, set up a little cushion beside a water bowl for Goatee. And then she gave Amelia an apple to take outside to Private Peppercorn in the trailer.

  Rider had been right. The fried chicken really was amazing. And Mrs. King had also been right in asking what was one more person added to the mix. Besides Dahlia mouthing the word sorry to him several times, he wondered if anyone else noticed his presence. But that didn’t stop him from enjoying the teasing and bickering and liveliness of it all. Having eaten most of his meals the past few weeks with just Goatee, Connor sat back and took it all in.

  There was so much going on at the table and not even all of the family was here. Nor did everyone present make it through the entire meal. When Amelia and Marcus’s twin sons went into the kitchen to help Freckles with dessert, Mrs. King declared she had a headache and excused herself. Not wanting to wear out his welcome, Connor said, “I should be getting my horse home.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Dahlia rose from her seat so quickly she nearly knocked over her upholstered chair. Judging by the way her eyes had alternated between rolling in annoyance at the upscale but rustic-looking chandelier above and glancing at the clock on the mantel all throughout dinner, she had to be eager to see his taillights disappear.

  For a second, he thought Goatee would prefer to stay on as a house dog at the Twin Kings, lounging on his plush pillow and eating the table scraps Amelia kept sneaking him. But the dog proved to be slightly loyal when he stretched before reluctantly following Connor toward the open entryway and the monstrosity of a front door.

  They were on the front porch before Dahlia exhaled a ragged breath. “Sorry for all the drama tonight. My family can be pretty overwhelming. And that’s if you know them. I can only imagine how we must look to outsiders.”

  “I actually enjoyed it,” Connor said honestly. “One of my favorite things about living in the barracks was going to the mess hall to eat with everyone. For the most part, when I was growing up, it was just me and my mom. And on the nights she worked, I only had the TV to keep me company.”

  “What about your dad?” she asked. “Did he ever visit?”

  Connor didn’t like talking about his father’s criminal record under normal circumstances. And standing on the front porch of a prosperous cattle ranch surrounded by Secret Service agents was anything but normal. “He was in and out of the picture. Out of it more often than not. Whenever he’d get released, he’d make all the usual promises about changing for the better, but it never lasted more than a few weeks.”

  Her full mouth opened, then closed again. He could tell that she wanted to ask him all the questions, and maybe he owed her that, considering many of her family secrets had pretty much been revealed now.

  Since he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye, he asked her a question instead. “So Rider and Freckles are divorced, I take it?”

  “Correct. Freckles owns a café over in Sugar Falls, Idaho, but she came out for my dad’s funeral. We all adore her, but as you witnessed, she and my mom don’t get along very well. They never have. I once asked my dad if it was a power struggle thing, with both of them being married to twins, and he told me that they each wished they could be more like the other. I know,” she added when Connor tilted his head in confusion. “It’s crazy since they’re complete opposites. But my dad and Rider were complete opposites, too. Kind of like me and Finn.”

  “Finn definitely takes after your aunt more.” He chuckled, thinking about both women’s colorful personalities and irreverent humor.

  Dahlia crossed her arms over her chest, which served to lift her breasts higher against her soft gray sweater. “Does that mean you think I take after my mom?”

  She looked so adorable when her eyes narrowed at him like that, he couldn’t help the chuckle escaping his lips. “Not exactly. Your mom seems very... How do I say this tactfully?”

  “Controlling?” Dahlia prompted. “Overly concerned about appearances? Calculating? Almost mob boss–like in her ruthless attempts to keep everyone under her thumb?”

  This time Connor did laugh. Loudly. “No, she just seems very intent on holding her family together no matter what.”

  “She is.” Dahlia sighed before running her fingers along her scalp and shaking out the curls. “None of us will admit it, but she’s usually pretty good at it, too. It’s just that her methods can be incredibly frustrating at times. You saw how she was with Marcus and Violet tonight, right? How she finds ways to force them to interact?”

  “Yeah, what’s the story with them? Were they also married?” This family certainly kept in touch with their exes more than usual. Including Dahlia, who was currently co-parenting with Amelia’s father.

  “They never married, although I think they came close. Violet was in town for the funeral, which was the same night one of Marcus’s deputies arrested MJ for underage drinking.” This was the conversation that had dominated the family discussion tonight. “Marcus thinks our eighteen-year-old brother needs to learn a lesson, but my mom hired Violet to represent him in court. So that’s why Marcus was in such a bad mood tonight. Although, to be honest, he’s been in a bad mood for the past few years.”

  “And you have another sister? Tessa? Is she that famous news anchor?”

  “She’s a political analyst. She had a little moment with a Secret Service agent at our father’s funeral. It’s been all over the news, so she was hiding out here for a while. I’m guessing you haven’t been on the internet lately?”

  “Only if it involves horse testosterone levels, roof leaks or pasture enclosures.” Connor scratched the stubble covering his chin. “Looking back, I should’ve at least done a simple Google search of your name. Or even Rider’s. I mean, obviously I knew who Roper King was and that he was from Wyoming. But I guess I just assumed he’d be buried at Arlington National Cemetery. And that his children would be older. I guess it never registered that the funeral you’d attended the day we met was for the vice president. Although, I’m still kicking myself that I hadn’t put two and two together sooner.”

  “To be honest, it was actually quite refreshing to have someone not know who I was. Or who I was related to.” She smiled halfheartedly. “Oh, well. It was nice while it lasted.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t hold all of this—” he gestured at the grand house and the even grander cattle ranch surrounding him “—against you.”

  “How accepting of you.” She lifted one brow and he winked to let her know he was teasing.

  Then he counted off on his fingers. “So that’s four siblings?”

  “Five. My brother Duke had to return to his ship the week after the funeral. He’s a pilot in the Navy and the perfect son. Ask any of my siblings whom they’re closest to and they will all say Duke. Probably because he’s the most like my dad.”

  Roper King had been a legend—a war hero and a well-loved leader. “I knew you’d lost your father recently, but I hadn’t imagined that type of loss.”

  Now it was Dahlia’s turn to tilt her head. “Didn’t you tell me your dad had also passed away?”

  Connor lifted his face to the clear night sky sprinkled with bright stars. “Yeah, but it wasn’t nearly as big of a deal.”

  “I’m sure it was a big deal to you, Connor. I don’t feel my father’s loss any more than someone else just because of who he was.”

  Connor’s throat grew heavy, but he swallowed the emotion. “Except I was used to my father leaving and never knowing if he’d return. So when he died, it was almost as though I’d been preparing for it my whole life.”

  “That’s tough.” Dahlia nodded knowingly and for a moment, he could almost believe that she hadn’t grown up with a life of wealth and privilege. She had such a sympathetic expression as she listened intently. It probably made her a great bartender. “How old were you when your parents split up?”

  “Wh
ich time?” Connor shoved his hands in his pocket. “The first time I remember him leaving was when I was about Amelia’s age. The last time was when I was sixteen.”

  Right before Steve Remington had died.

  “Divorce is so hard on kids.” Dahlia exhaled deeply, bringing his attention to the condensation of her breath as it expelled in a long silky cloud from her lips. “I was blessed to have an amazing father. When I ended up pregnant a bit sooner than I—or anyone else—anticipated, it was my bond with my dad that made me vow that I’d never deny Amelia the same opportunity to have a relationship with hers.”

  The cool night air was thick and heavy between them and he felt like he should say something, but for some reason he held back. He’d already told her more than he’d ever shared with anyone else and she seemed to be lost in her own memories, looking off at the moon in the distance. Besides, his parents had never technically divorced—nor had they valued a healthy relationship with him over the dysfunctional one they shared with each other.

  He cleared his throat. “I should probably get back to the Rocking D. Tell your aunt that her fried chicken was the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Yeah. I bet you didn’t think you’d be getting both dinner and a show tonight. Everyone always expects the Kings to be this perfect version of the all-American family. But when they’re behind closed doors, they’re usually more than most people bargain for.”

  Connor grinned. “Once I realized none of the wisecracks or arguments were at my expense, I actually enjoyed your family.”

  “I’m glad someone did,” she replied with a little wave before going back inside.

  Connor hadn’t been lying. Dinner with the Kings had started off overwhelming, but in the end he’d become mildly entertained and almost flattered that they were comfortable being themselves in front of him.

  So much so that he’d felt totally comfortable opening up to Dahlia on the porch about his father. In fact, the only time he’d been uncomfortable all evening was the unexpected uneasiness he’d felt when she’d briefly mentioned her ex-husband. Probably because he didn’t know the man and, therefore, couldn’t separate the guy from his own experience with having a father so far away. Silently, though, he hoped Micah Deacon was worthy of Amelia’s love and Dahlia’s dedication to co-parenting.

  From where he was standing, though, the man had to be a fool. Because if Connor would have been lucky enough to have Dahlia as his wife, or Amelia as his daughter, he couldn’t imagine ever leaving them.

  * * *

  Dahlia had a love-hate relationship with the Spring Fling Festival that took place in the nearby town of Fling Rock every year on the first weekend of March.

  As a child, she’d loved the bright lights of the Ferris wheel, the thrill of the carnival games and the towers of fluffy cotton candy she and Finn would mash into balls before shoving the quickly dissolving wads of sugar into their mouths.

  As a parent, though, she hated the rickety nuts and bolts of the quickly assembled rides, as well as the money losing odds of the carnival games. But she still loved the cotton candy. So much that she’d invented a signature cocktail at Big Millie’s called the Sweet Circus, a sugar-rimmed martini glass with a pink candy-flavored vodka. Finn was usually the only one who ever ordered it.

  In fact, it was Finn who’d insisted they bring Amelia to the festival tonight and promised to go on all the world-tilting, hair-whipping, nausea-inducing rides with her. But then her sister had an issue with an employee’s workers comp claim and canceled at the last minute. Amelia begged to go anyway, and that was why Dahlia was currently walking down the midway, trying to patiently explain why they didn’t need to go to the livestock auction scheduled to start in thirty minutes.

  That was also a new development in the love-hate equation Dahlia now had with the Spring Fling. She would love seeing the animals with her daughter, but she would hate telling Amelia no when the child would inevitably insist they take one home.

  “Peanut, where would we even put a sheep?” she asked her daughter when those blue eyes threatened to produce a few tears. It was tough to use rational logic with a five-year-old who thought about everything emotionally.

  Amelia stopped in her tracks. “How about the parking lot behind Big Millie’s? We can build a sheep pen there.”

  Dahlia was about to look up toward the sky for some sort of divine intervention, but her eyes landed on the cowboy who was waiting for them to move out of the middle of the midway.

  “Excuse me, ladies, do you know where I could find a good sheep for my ranch?”

  “Connor!” Amelia squealed with joy. Then she quickly scanned the area around his feet. “Where’s Goatee?”

  “I had to leave him at home. The organizers of the Spring Fling are pretty clear about no pets allowed at the fairgrounds. So I left him with a new squeaky toy and promised to bring him back something.”

  “Are you really looking for a sheep?” Amelia asked hopefully. “Because they’re gonna have an auction and you can buy one right there inside that big red barn.”

  “I’m thinking about it. But I’m still doing my research.” He winked at Dahlia and she was reminded of their conversation on the Twin Kings porch exactly a week ago. Had he finally done an internet search on her family? Her stomach felt like she was back on the Tilt-a-Whirl until he added, “I have several acres of pasture full of weeds that need to be chomped down before Private Peppercorn can get out there and graze on the grass. But then again, Dorsey Tractor Supply has a display of lawn mowers over in the home and garden sec—”

  “You don’t need a lawn mower.” Her daughter jumped up and down before tugging his hand toward the arena. “I know where you can get a sheep instead.”

  Ha, Dahlia thought as she followed along. Connor might’ve proven himself when it came to horses, but there was no way he knew what he was about to get himself into. Within ten minutes, Amelia had fallen in love with three potbellied pigs, six dairy calves, two pygmy goats, an angry bighorn ram who Amelia insisted just needed a hug, and a forty-five pound turkey who most definitely did not need or want a hug.

  “Don’t look now.” Connor moved behind Dahlia and spoke so low and so close she could feel his warm breath against her ear. A spiral of heat swirled its way from her jaw line to her toes. “But there’s a Radical Reptiles snake exhibit just through those open doors. Do you want me to distract her when we go by so she doesn’t add a boa constrictor to her list of animals to take home?”

  Dahlia threw back her head to laugh, but Connor was so close behind her that her ponytail brushed against his shoulder. She took a step forward too quickly, and her boot heel caught on something in the straw, causing her to stumble.

  Connor’s firm arm snaked around her waist and hauled her against him. Drawing her in the opposite direction of where she was trying to go. Before she’d lost her footing, she’d been trying to avoid feeling the rounded muscles of his chest against her shoulder blades. But now that she was in this position, she was having a tough time pulling herself away.

  He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to yank his arm back, either.

  Her daughter’s eyes were glued to a pair of playful goats inside the pen in front of them, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt for Dahlia to lean against Connor for just a few more seconds.

  Ever since she saw him interacting with her family on the Twin Kings, she’d been allowing herself to consider Connor Remington in a different light. Not that his admission about being interested in her was some sort of big revelation. It was no secret that they were both attracted to each other. Although, it did make her pulse spike pleasantly when he’d said the words aloud.

  No, the change came when he revealed that he had prior experience with horses. As much as Dahlia hated being wrong about her earlier assessment of him, there was something comforting about the fact that he might actually have a shot at running the Rocking D. And if he was succe
ssful, then he might actually stick around. And if he stuck around, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for Dahlia to get to know him better. For them to explore exactly how deep this mutual attraction of theirs went. For them to get a little closer...

  “Mommy,” Amelia interrupted her thoughts. “Were you trying to climb into the turkey stall?”

  “Huh?” Dahlia blinked several times to clear the confusion. “No, why?”

  “Because Connor hadta pull me down, too, when I was getting a closer look at that big sheep with the horns.” Her daughter’s eyes flicked down to where Dahlia’s hand now rested on top of Connor’s, which was firmly planted above Dahlia’s belt buckle.

  When had their fingers gotten intertwined like that?

  Connor’s thumb lightly stroked another circle over the fabric of her shirt, making the sensitive skin underneath tingle with a delicious heat just before he slowly slid his hand away. “No, your mom was following the rules perfectly. She just tripped on that half-eaten corn dog someone dropped on the ground.”

  “Oh, no,” Amelia gasped. Before Dahlia could stop her, the girl swooped in to grab the discarded heap of deep-fried batter covered in mustard and bits of straw. “Littering is bad. An animal coulda tried to eat that and would’ve gotten the broken stick stuck in his throat.”

  “You’re right.” Connor deftly retrieved a dark disposable green bag from his back pocket. “I always keep these handy for Goatee. Let me take that and we can go find a trash can.”

  While Dahlia had been rooted to the ground, letting the panic at being caught in a semi-embrace wash over her, Connor once again sprang into action. Not only had he reacted calmly and quickly, he’d wisely led her daughter in the opposite direction of the Radical Reptile display.

  By the time Dahlia caught up with them, she was relieved to see him already helping Amelia get a healthy dollop of hand sanitizer from the complimentary dispenser. As Dahlia watched them, a memory popped in her head of her own dad at the Spring Fling years ago. Dahlia and Finn had made a mess of their cotton candy and their hands were sticking to everything they touched. Roper had picked them up in both arms, walked them over to the open door of the men’s room and called out, “Females on deck!”