The Rancher Next Door

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“If I were you, I’d not press McCollough. It’s not a story he likes to tell.”

* * *

Brady adjusted the pillow under his head, shifting onto his side as he waited for sleep to come. But for the first time in months, he found himself wide-awake at the end of the day. It certainly wasn’t due to lack of hard work—after the dust storm, he’d gone right back to it, despite the sullen glances Ava shot his way. No, he had a feeling his inability to sleep had a lot more to do with the feisty little woman who’d botched not only two but three dozen cookies. Whatever secret recipe her Nonie used to make was apparently destined to remain a secret.

Brady flipped onto his back and sighed, unable to erase the mental image of Caley with flour smeared on her cheeks and dotting her forearms, winking as she managed to accomplish the one thing he never could with Ava these days—making her smile.

And she’d be back in his kitchen doing it all again the next day.

The realization brought equal parts joy and panic. Dismissing the idea of sleep, Brady threw on a pair of Wranglers and a T-shirt, slid into his boots and quietly slipped outside. Maybe fresh air and a quick walk would clear his head, remind him of all the reasons why even though it felt right having Caley in his home, it was wrong.

He’d failed at being a husband once and was making pretty good time on messing up fatherhood, too. He didn’t dare bring another woman into his life—even if Caley was sweet. Wholesome. Sincere. She baked cookies and took care of her grandmother in the nursing home. She was the very picture of a rancher’s wife. Good with his daughter. Smiled a lot.

Would probably look cute in boots.

The night breeze stirred Brady’s hair, and he wished he’d brought his hat. He realized with a jolt that he’d headed toward Caley’s property, and now a soft glow from her back window lit the night like a beacon. He slowed his pace, unsure why he’d come that way and berating his subconscious for being a traitor. He started to turn around, not trusting himself to walk any closer. Something about Caley called to him, and if he ever answered, it’d be catastrophic for them all.

“I found the Little Dipper.”

Brady nearly stumbled over a gopher hole as Caley’s gentle voice broke the silence of the night. “What? Where?” He looked around to find the person attached to the voice but saw no one. Had he officially lost it? He knew hiring Caley had been a bad idea. Now he was conjuring her voice out of the prairie.

A muffled giggle sounded from above. “Up here.”

He drew his gaze to the sound. The roof. She waved from her reclined position on a blanket, sprawled out directly under the stars. A wiggling black blob he could only assume was Scooter lay nestled on the quilt by her side. “Caley? What are you doing up there?” He felt the urge to cup his hand over his eyes as he looked up, despite the sun not being out. How on earth did she get that dog up there?

She rose to a sitting position, hair tousled, making her look all the cuter. “Come on up. The view is great.”

Brady shook his head. She must be crazy. Ava was home in bed, and he needed to get back to the house. Not to mention that he didn’t love heights in the first place, and that ladder looked as if it was possibly older than the rental house.

Then she reached over and patted the shingles beside her in invitation, and he’d scaled three rungs before he even realized he was moving.

Drawing a breath, Brady settled a respectful distance away on the other side of the blanket and pulled his knees up to his chest for balance. “Sort of dangerous up here, isn’t it?” He didn’t look down, but focused on Caley’s eyes glittering in the moonlight. Talk about dangerous.

She absently ran a hand over Scooter’s back, smoothing his fur. “You sound like my dad.”

Definitely not his intention. Brady cleared his throat, unsure how to backpedal. “I just didn’t expect to see you up here, that’s all.” Women he knew didn’t sit on roofs. Then again, he didn’t know a whole lot of women anymore. Didn’t seem fair to compare everyone to Jessica, but that’s all he had to go on. Not for the first time, he wished he’d let his play-it-safe wife stay that way. Instead, he’d been so taken aback by her request to ride that he’d eagerly agreed, despite knowing better. She’d finally shown some effort toward his interests—toward their marriage—and he wasn’t about to curb it.

And look what happened.

Brady scooted a little farther away from the edge of the roof, wishing Caley would do the same. Instead, she tilted her head back as she studied the sky, her short blond hair skimming down her back.

“The view is great.” She gestured to the heavens. “It was one of the things I’d missed about country life.”

He felt himself being pulled in, like a moth to a lit candle. Against his will. Fascinated. Yet destined to get burned. “What else did you miss?”

She pulled in her lower lip, and took her time answering. “Peace and quiet. And space. Living in big cities is exciting, but it’s constant noise, constant action. Like there’s always something else you should be doing.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It gets exhausting.”

“I can only imagine.” He’d only ever known ranch life, and that was fine with him. Cities had too much concrete. A man needed earth under his boots, not man-made rock. “So why’d you move to a city?”

She sucked in a hard breath, and repositioned her jeans-clad legs underneath her. “Long story.” She offered a sideways smile, and he forced himself to hold her gaze despite the magnetism tipping him off balance. “I’m here for Nonie now, and that’s all that matters.”

Closed door on that topic. Probably for the best. He didn’t need to carry her secrets, even if some deep-rooted part of him wanted to. “Have you seen your grandmother yet?” Brady plucked a leaf from the shingles beside him and began to shred it, eager for something to do with his hands before he shoved another proverbial foot in his mouth.

“Not yet. I spent the weekend getting settled and hitting the grocery store.” She exhaled slowly, turning her eyes back to the inky sky. “I was going to go tomorrow after work.” Her voice trailed off, as if she’d almost forgotten he was there. “I need to, anyway.”

“You could take Ava, if you wanted.” The words flew out before he could process them, but the idea made sense—not to mention it seemed to combat the anxiety in her expression. It didn’t make sense. If she moved to Broken Bend to take care of her beloved grandmother, then why hadn’t she run over there the moment she crossed the county line?

Maybe that was part of the secret she carried.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Hope filled the hollow spots in her voice, and Brady suddenly hoped she didn’t ask him to rope the moon. Because in that moment, he’d have gladly headed out to the barn for his lasso.

His leaf was gone, shredded to pieces in his lap. He brushed off his jeans. “Not at all. It’d be good for her. And speaking of Ava, I need to get back in case she wakes up and finds me gone.”

Caley stood as he did, and he offered his hand for assistance. She either ignored it or didn’t see it, because she nimbly turned backward and scurried halfway down the ladder like a squirrel on tree bark. She clapped her hands twice, and Scooter obediently came to the edge of the rungs. She reached up for him, tucked him against her side and climbed down a few more feet until she could safely drop him to the grass.

That was something he didn’t see every day. Brady followed at a slower pace, not breathing regularly until her feet were on solid ground—and all too aware that the dog was less afraid of heights than he.

“Does she usually wake up in the middle of the night?” Caley tucked her hair behind her ears, eyes full of compassion.

He centered himself back on earth before he answered. “Not usually, but in the last few years since her mom’s death, she gets the occasional nightmare.” More like night terror, the way Ava woke up, crying and pounding on his bedroom door. She hadn’t had one in months.

“Has she seen a counselor about it?” Caley turned, the moonshine turning her hair nearly white.

“She saw one in the year after, and the counselor assured me her grief was typical and would go through stages.” Brady ran his hand over his own hair, really wishing for his hat now. Anything to try to guard himself from Caley’s inquisitive stare. Her eyes darted between his, and he could almost see the wheels turning. “She’s fine, I promise. She’s come a long way. Sometimes you just can’t control where your brain takes your dreams.” He knew that firsthand. He’d relived his childhood trauma of being locked in that fiery basement way too many times to count. And no matter how many times he revisited that terrible night, he always felt as if he was forgetting something. That unrecalled memory bothered him more than it should, and he had no idea why. Whatever it was must be worth blocking out. Too bad he couldn’t forget the entire ordeal.

All the more reason to keep a close watch on Ava—if he hadn’t made friends with those troublemakers at school, he’d never have gotten in that position in the first place.

“No, you definitely can’t control everything.” Caley looked away then, the wind ruffling her loose hair, and he hooked his thumbs in his belt loops so he wouldn’t tuck the golden strands behind her ear. “I’ll do whatever I can for her. My mom left when I was little, and I don’t really remember her. But I still can hopefully relate to Ava.”

The sad truth was, she probably would.

And he couldn’t.

The night pressed around him then, suffocating, making it hard to breathe. Their casual rooftop conversation had gotten way too heavy, brought back too many memories best left buried. He’d hired Caley to be a babysitter and a part-time cook and housekeeper—not psychologist for him or his daughter. He knew her intentions were good, but probing into their hearts and pasts would only stir up more pain.

He’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

“Ava is fine. We both are.” Saying it multiple times didn’t make it true, but in the sense that Caley was worried, they were doing okay. Neither of them grieved daily anymore. They’d gone on with their lives, as they must.

Their father-daughter relationship, however, was a different story. But Caley couldn’t fix that any more than she could rewrite the past.

Or the future.

Brady gestured over his shoulder in the general direction of the ranch house. “I better get back. Have a good night.”

“You, too. See you tomorrow.” Caley smiled her goodbye but didn’t make a move to go inside. She remained standing, staring at the stars.

Leaving Brady to wish, as he ambled away, that he could see what she did.

Chapter Five

She’d run into blazing buildings when others had run out. She’d skydived, steer wrestled and babysat for the world’s most mischievous and troublemaking twin boys. She’d bungee jumped, rock climbed, white-water rafted and even won a jalapeño-eating contest in west Texas.

Walking inside a room at the local nursing home shouldn’t be that difficult.

Caley stood just outside the doorway, breathing in the unmistakable smell of antiseptic mixed with a liberal spray of floral air freshener. She fought the urge to gag, to turn and run and pretend this wasn’t happening. Nonie—her Nonie, trapped in a cream-colored prison. It wasn’t fair.

But neither were a lot of things, including the way Caley had practically run away from home. And the way her dad and Nonie never seemed to care if she ever returned.

Hadn’t anyone in her life ever truly wanted her? Her mom left them when Caley was young, choosing an older, wealthier man over her high-school-sweetheart husband, and never looked back.

Was Caley that forgettable?

“Is this the right room?” Ava tugged at Caley’s shirtsleeve.

Caley startled, having nearly forgotten the girl was there. Not a great mark for her babysitting résumé. She shook her head to clear it and smiled down at her charge, hoping the younger girl didn’t see how her lips shook of their own choosing. “Sorry. I zoned out there. This is right.” But so, so wrong. She took a deep breath and urged her feet to move, but the brown cowboy boots refused to budge. “After you.”

Ava furrowed her brow in confusion, but stepped around the door frame and into the room, leaving Caley no choice now but to follow.

The dim room, lit by the glare of a television playing an old game-show rerun, seemed depressing and suffocating. Nonie lay propped in bed, a half-empty glass of water next to her at the rolling bedside table, her eyes closed, mouth slightly open as she napped. The room had no pictures or flowers like some they’d passed in the hallway on their way here. No signs of life or love or cherished memories.

A knot formed in Caley’s throat and threatened to choke her completely. She coughed in an attempt to clear it, then covered her mouth with her hand, hoping she hadn’t woken her grandmother. She couldn’t do this right now. Not today. Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe the next day.

Memories blinded her, rushing at her in a wave of nostalgia thick enough to bottle. Nonie, surrounded by fabric squares as she pieced together a quilt. Nonie, handing Caley a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie and winking as she pressed a second one into her other hand. Nonie, rubbing her back when she was tired and holding her hair when she was sick.

Now Nonie was sick, and Caley couldn’t do a thing about it.

She turned to escape, but her boot squeaked on the linoleum floor. Nonie’s eyes fluttered open, and she stared at Caley as if she’d imagined her presence. Had she? Had she lain in this bed, feeble and frail and alone, imagining Caley there?

“Caley? Is that you?” The words bled from Nonie’s throat, croaky and aged in a voice that wasn’t her own.

Then she coughed, and her vibrancy returned as the frog vanished. “Girl, get over here. What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for weeks for you to show up.”

Ava stared at Nonie and then at Caley, apparently searching for answers. Caley opened her mouth, then shut it and shrugged as she made her way to Nonie’s bedside. “It’s me.”

Her grandmother’s bony fingers cupped her shoulders in a hug, the pressure strong and tight like she’d always remembered. Caley pulled back, but Nonie held her close in a grip a pro wrestler would have admired. “You look good, kiddo.”

“So do you.” The words slipped out automatically before Caley could realize their lack of truth, but Nonie just laughed hard enough to bring on a coughing spell.

“Still full of jokes. Glad life hasn’t beaten you down, my girl.” Nonie clutched Caley’s hand in her own veined, papery-thin one, and smiled, revealing perfect dentures. Then she leaned in closer, her wise blue gaze staring with the force of a laser. “Or has it?”

Caley tugged free, unable or maybe unwilling to answer. She wrapped one arm around Ava, who had dropped back, and propelled her forward. “Nonie, this is Ava. I’m her nanny for a few weeks. She and her dad live next door to the house I’m renting.”

“I know this young’in from the church.” Nonie latched on to Ava, who didn’t seem to mind in the least. “McCollough, right?”

Ava nodded and returned the squeeze, even pumping Nonie’s hand like she would a healthy adult with a regular handshake. “Nice to see you again, ma’am.”

“I once changed your diapers in the church nursery.” Nonie grinned, a flash of her former spunk still vivid in her eyes. She might be stuck in this bed, but her mind was certainly not the traitor her body was. “You and your daddy still attending?”

“Most weeks.” Ava shrugged as she eased onto the side of the bed near Nonie. “We didn’t for a long time, but I’m glad he takes me again. My Sunday-school class is fun.”

“I sure wish they’d let me out of here to go.” Nonie gestured to the room holding her captive. “But you know what’s neat?” She leaned in close to Ava as if she had a secret, just like she’d done to Caley as a child. “I can meet with God right here in this room. Doesn’t have to be in a church.” She patted the worn Bible on the bedside table.

A muscle jumped in Caley’s jaw. Nonie used to take her to church when she was growing up. Her father had refused to set foot in the building, for reasons she never fully understood.

Now she sort of got it.

Caley slipped away from the bed, gratefully allowing Nonie’s attention to focus on Ava as they chattered about the people they knew in common from the church. It was a small world. No, small town. That was half the reason why Caley had bailed in the first place. She’d needed more space than four corners of a county line. More adventure than cow-tipping Farmer Ganshert’s lazy herd on a Friday night.

More life than her dad would allow her to live.

“Been a long time.” Nonie turned her attention Caley, her plum-colored lips thinning into a line. Leave it to Nonie to wear lipstick in the nursing home. Her eyes widened with meaning. “Too long.”

“I’m sorry, Nonie.” Caley started to say more, but the words froze deep inside and refused to thaw. Sudden tears burned behind her eyes, and she pinched the bridge of her nose to ward them off. It was her fault she’d stayed away—but then again, not entirely. “We should probably go.” Far, far away. Where no one could see her cry or know her secrets. Know how selfish she’d been fresh out of high school. Know how she’d carried the hurt with her all over the country, nestled permanently on her back and heavier than the oxygen tank from her bunker gear.

But the scary part was—would she do it any differently if she could have a do-over?

“We just got here.” Ava, with all the naivety and practicality of a preteen, perched on the edge of Nonie’s bed. “Wheel of Fortune is coming on.”

“I’ve gotten good at the puzzles.” Nonie patted Ava’s hand, and the cozy scene could have been a time warp from when Caley was ten years old, snuggled on Nonie’s bed with the remote control and her favorite quilt. “But some puzzles, my dear, are not as easily solved.”

Ava nodded as she tuned in to the show, but Caley knew those words were meant for her. She caught Nonie’s eye over the top of Ava’s head, and relaxed slightly at her grandmother’s understanding wink. She sank into the hard wooden chair near the bed and leaned back, ignoring the way the slats dug into her back.

She deserved the pain.

* * *

Figured the one time Max went into town for feed, the bull got out.

Brady faced the hindquarters of the ornery steed from several yards away atop Nugget, who snorted and tossed his head, jangling the reins as if to say Brady must be crazy if he thought they were getting any closer to the loose animal. On his morning rounds, he’d noted the trampled section of barbed wire too late. Now his prized bull, Spitfire, was in open pasture, way too close to Caley’s house—and the street—for comfort.

Brady fingered the lasso on his saddle horn, wondering if he should amble casually that direction or let the bull make the first move. Or, ideally, leave him be until Max returned as backup on a second horse. The bull wasn’t outright dangerous in theory, but when trying to be coerced from greener pastures back into his section of pen, well...that could change. Already he shot wary, flat-eared glances at Nugget, as if he knew the horse’s plans to round him up. At least Caley had taken Ava to the nursing home, so they weren’t in the—

Gravel spun as Caley’s truck pulled into her driveway. Brady winced as the commotion drew the bull’s attention. His large black head popped up, grass dangling from his rubbery lips, and his tail stilled.

Caley and Ava climbed out, oblivious to the situation, their feminine voices carrying in the wind. Of all the times for them to go to Caley’s house instead of the ranch. Scooter barked twice from inside the house, and Brady breathed his relief when Spitfire snorted in warning, then slowly returned to his afternoon snack. Good thing Caley had locked her dog up when they left earlier, or there’d be a three-ring circus in his pasture about now.