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The Rancher's Redemption
Melinda Curtis
Ben Blackwell wants to atone for his family’s past…The last time Ben saw Rachel Thompson was when her best friend left him at the altar. Now Rachel’s suing the Blackwells over river water rights and Ben’s plan to win in court hits a snag when mutual attraction blooms. If he shares a long-held secret, will Rachel forgive him?
His family committed a terrible wrong
Ben Blackwell wants to make it right
The last time Ben saw Rachel Thompson was when her best friend left him at the altar. Now Rachel’s suing the Blackwells over river water rights. Rachel’s a triple threat—rancher, fellow attorney and single mom—and Ben’s plan to win in court hits a snag when mutual attraction blooms. If he divulges a long-held secret, will his family forgive him? Will Rachel?
Award-winning, USA TODAY bestselling author MELINDA CURTIS is an empty nester married to her college sweetheart. However, she didn’t feel old until her oldest son and his wife became pregnant during the writing of this book. Topics at family gatherings eventually turned to what Melinda wanted to be called by her grandchildren. Grandchildren! Her three children eventually came up with a name for her: Grandma Overlord, a name derived from her mastery of all things, or at least her ability to fake it on the page. Is that supposed to be a compliment? Now they lovingly refer to her as GO (pronounced “gee-oh”). Check in with Melinda a few years from now to see if the “endearment” stuck.
Melinda writes sweet contemporary romances as Melinda Curtis (Brenda Novak says Season of Change “found a place on my keeper shelf”) and fun, sexy reads as Mel Curtis (Jayne Ann Krentz says Fool for Love is “wonderfully entertaining”).
Also by Melinda Curtis (#u6a1e8a71-d6f7-5558-bd1a-35aab36077e7)
Time for Love
A Memory Away
Marrying the Single Dad
Love, Special Delivery
Support Your Local Sheriff
Marrying the Wedding Crasher
A Heartwarming Thanksgiving
Married by Thanksgiving
Make Me a Match
Baby, Baby
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Rancher’s Redemption
Melinda Curtis
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07852-8
THE RANCHER’S REDEMPTION
© 2018 Melinda Wooten
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Carol Ross, Cari Lynn Webb, Amy Vastine
and Anna J. Stewart. I know I often scare you
with my writing ideas—“Come on! Let’s write
connected cowboy stories!”—and I admire
your courage for falling into step with me…
And then having my back so I don’t face-plant
on a public sidewalk. Love you, ladies!
Contents
Cover (#u3b4335a5-a545-5531-ac91-2462c2d47515)
Back Cover Text (#u4ef1b6c8-ef17-5e63-9e04-e6274704784d)
About the Author (#u2e329ffc-0c46-500d-bac6-bee06cf4cf57)
Booklist (#ub5bbfc30-d28e-56ca-8854-6793b32ee57a)
Title Page (#udbccd510-9acb-509f-b594-e9901994e711)
Copyright (#u1e923e46-4e16-5c67-9acb-24a3e9935b02)
Dedication (#u56c9761e-6715-5c5e-9a8c-d37588c78b73)
CHAPTER ONE (#uf2b42d67-8666-5b5d-8dda-f04cbdb1beb3)
CHAPTER TWO (#ua709eca2-5ccc-5325-afe6-e4648285b71b)
CHAPTER THREE (#u1d87e4ae-c1de-5038-8f03-9229993e5e89)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u6a1e8a71-d6f7-5558-bd1a-35aab36077e7)
NEVER LOOK BACK.
That’s what Ben Blackwell’s grandfather, Big E, always said.
At least, that’s what he used to say. Back when he and Ben used to talk. Back before Big E eloped with Ben’s fiancée. Back before Ben left behind trail dust and boots and Montana to be a top public utilities lawyer in New York City.
And now, Ben was doing more than looking back—he’d gone back. Home to Falcon Creek and the Blackwell place, which had been a cattle ranch for five generations, but was now also a dude ranch.
“Big E wants us to call it a guest ranch,” Ethan, Ben’s twin, had corrected Ben when he’d muttered something about dudes on the phone last week.
Seemed like Ben had been muttering ever since—about his bossy older brother, Jonathon, who wanted him home ASAP; about his younger twin brothers, Tyler and Chance, who couldn’t seem to be bothered to help at the family homestead; about the grandfather whose picture was in the dictionary under selfish; and about the small-town attorney who was suing the ranch for water rights.
At thirty-two, Ben was too old to be dragged back into the family drama that orbited Big E and the Blackwell Ranch.
Too big for your city britches, more like.
That was his grandfather’s voice in his head. That voice had been talking nonstop since Ben had agreed to return to Falcon Creek.
You have arrived, big shot.
And he had.
Ben got out of his Mercedes, punched his arms into his suit jacket, ignoring the stifling feeling from being buttoned-up in the early afternoon heat. He’d flown from New York to Montana, and then driven to Falcon Creek without stopping. He didn’t plan to stay more than a few days—a week, tops.
Across the street, Pops Brewster looked up from his chess game on the Brewster Ranch Supply porch to get a good look at the city slicker. Annie Harper slammed too hard on her truck brakes as she pulled up to the stop sign, gaze ping-ponging between Ben and the intersection. In the Misty Whistle Coffee Shop parking lot, Izzy Langdon tipped his straw cowboy hat up, the better to ogle Ben’s ride.
Rachel Thompson opened the door to the law office of Calder & Associates, crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Ben. “Late as usual, Blackwell.”
“Welcome home,” Ben muttered, walking around a knee-high weed bending over the sidewalk. He stopped in front of the steps of a white clapboard shack, which had probably been built over a hundred years ago when the town had been founded. “Traffic was gridlocked, it was impossible getting out of Bozeman.” That was like saying traffic in the Mojave Desert was bumper-to-bumper.
Overexaggeration. Hyperbole. Sarcasm.
It was completely lost on Rachel. She spun on her high heels without so much as a roll of her eyes.
Reluctantly, Ben followed. It took him two tries to get the front door closed behind him. The building had settled, and the doorframe was no longer plumb. He slammed it home, earning a dry, “Really?” from Rachel.
“Really,” Ben said airily. “You should run a planer on that door.” And think about practicing law elsewhere.
The narrow, rectangular building was divided into two offices and a waiting area with a black couch that was so old it had butt impressions in the cushions. The building’s hardwood floor was worn to the nails that kept it in place and there was a crack in the ceiling plaster that spoke louder of foundation issues than the ill-fitting front door.
Everything about the office screamed struggling law practice, from the receptionist’s bare desk to the unread magazines perfectly fanned on the coffee table.
Rachel settled behind a large oak desk in her office, which had a clean blotter and a few neat, low stacks of paper.
By contrast, when Ben had left his office at Transk, Ipsum & Levi, his credenza had piles of depositions and his desk had been buried in briefs and court filings.
Ben paused in the doorway to Rachel’s office, assessing his adversary for any apparent weaknesses other than inadequate resources.
Rachel was still easy on the eyes, and still favored suits that lacked the sophistication and designer cachet most of his female opponents in New York wore into battle. Joe Calder was probably behind the closed door of the other office. He had to be ancient. When they’d met in court five years ago, Joe had shuffled into the courtroom slower than a turtle in deep sand.
Beware! Remember the tortoise and the hare, boy.
Well, this hare had won the last go-round, but not without a bit of finagling of the racecourse.
That’s what lawyers are supposed to do, boy, bend the law.
Ben ran a hand over his hair. “Where’s Joe?” He leaned back to see if the other office door was opening. “Will he be joining us?”
