скачать книгу бесплатно
Rancher at Risk
Barbara White Daille
A fresh startAfter the loss of his family in a tragic car accident, Ryan Malloy has been given one last chance to change his life. His boss sends him to Flagman’s Folly, New Mexico, to run his ranch, but unfortunately, Ryan’s troubled attitude lands him in hot water with the locals, especially the ranch’s gutsy project manager, Lianne Ward.Deaf since birth, Lianne has never let her disability define who she is or what she can do. But, she’s yet to meet a man who treated her as an equal. Ryan seems different…that is, when they’re not butting heads over the ranch’s new school for disadvantaged boys.Forced to work together, Lianne and Ryan discover an unexpected attraction beneath their quarreling. But will Ryan’s painful past drive them apart…permanently?
A Fresh Start
After the loss of his family in a tragic accident, Ryan Malloy has been given one last chance to change his life. His boss sends him to Flagman’s Folly, New Mexico, to run his ranch, but unfortunately, Ryan’s troubled attitude lands him in hot water with the locals, especially the ranch’s manager, Lianne Ward.
Deaf since birth, Lianne has never let her disability define who she is. But, she’s yet to meet a man who treats her as an equal. Ryan seems different…that is, when they’re not butting heads over the ranch’s new school for disadvantaged boys.
Forced to work together, Lianne and Ryan discover an unexpected attraction beneath their quarreling. But will Ryan’s painful past drive them apart…permanently?
Business, Lianne reminded herself as he led her to the dance floor.
But how could she think about that when Ryan had his arm wrapped around her? He shifted the hand he held around her waist.
“You okay?” he asked.
She had come here tonight to show him—and everyone—how well she could handle herself. How could she let him think she couldn’t manage something as simple as a dance?
“No problem,” she said, looking down, using the sight of his broad, solid chest to help her focus.
His fingers moved restlessly at the small of her back. Slowly, she raised her gaze.
He smiled.
She had no control over the way her heart fluttered at that moment. She wanted him to smile that way again, for her alone.
But if he did, she would never be able to resist…anything.
Business. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and inhaled the delicious scent of his aftershave.
Ryan stopped moving. Lianne opened her eyes and glanced up at him. He was smiling down at her again.
Business…or pleasure?
Dear Reader,
With every book I write, I’m like a proud mama wanting to tell you how wonderful and special the hero and heroine are and how much they deserve their happy ending. That has never been more true for me than with this story.
Despair over a family tragedy has left Ryan within inches of losing his job, his reputation and his self-worth. All he has—all he is—rides on one last chance for redemption…but there’s one woman standing in his way.
As a deaf woman caught between two cultures, Lianne has faced challenges throughout her life. When she’s blindsided by someone she trusts, she’s determined to prove herself—even though it means rebelling against her new boss.
With a little help from the folks of Flagman’s Folly, these two people who are absolutely wrong for each other could make a perfect match. But first, they’d have to let down their guards. Are they willing to take the risk? I hope you enjoy finding out!
I love to hear from readers. You can reach me at P.O. Box 504, Gilbert, AZ 85299, or through my website: www.barbarawhitedaille.com (http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com). I’m also on Facebook: www.facebook.com/barbarawhitedaille (http://www.facebook.com/barbarawhitedaille) and Twitter: twitter.com/BarbaraWDaille (http://twitter.com/BarbaraWDaille).
All my best to you,
Barbara White Daille
Rancher
at Risk
Barbara White Daille
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Barbara White Daille lives with her husband in the sunny Southwest, where they don’t mind the lizards in their front yard but could do without the scorpions in the bathroom.
A writer from the age of nine and a novelist since eighth grade, Barbara is now an award-winning author with a number of novels to her credit.
When she was very young, Barbara learned from her mom about the storytelling magic in books—and she’s been hooked ever since. She hopes you will enjoy reading her books and will find your own magic in them!
She’d also love to have you drop by and visit with her at her website, www.barbarawhitedaille.com (http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com).
To anyone who steps to the music
of a different drummer.
I hope that’s you!
And, as always, to Rich.
Contents
Chapter One (#uee4d2c90-a663-583a-9557-d37a74b51bc7)
Chapter Two (#u16bd37f0-b435-50c7-9d42-3be8c5a4e897)
Chapter Three (#u9673553d-acd9-568d-b46c-6b50295e9f2e)
Chapter Four (#u536bb2e1-3fca-5202-a385-4a877d949915)
Chapter Five (#ua7da7cc9-d2da-5876-8121-0a90e84d2fce)
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)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
“I’m sending you to the ranch in New Mexico.”
Nothing like condemning a man without a fair trial.
Somehow Ryan Molloy managed to keep from saying that to the man standing in the barn doorway. What did it matter, anyway? Trial or no trial, he’d already condemned himself. His gut-level response at hearing his boss’s words only piled on the guilt.
“Plan on being there by the end of the week.”
Keeping a stranglehold on the reins in his hand, he nodded.
Over the past few months, Caleb Cantrell had allowed him more than a few chances to pull himself together and get his life back on track. No need for Caleb to voice his thoughts. The fact that he’d made the day trip from New Mexico to Montana said it all.
As if reading his mind, Caleb said, “I don’t reckon I need to state the obvious.”
“That I’ve given you no choice?” Caleb wasn’t giving him one, either. No option of staying on the ranch here in Montana. He could take the offer. Or walk.
Raising no argument, asking no questions, he returned the reins to their peg on the wall, making sure they hung neatly in their appropriate spot. Too bad he hadn’t handled things with such care earlier in the week.
As if in tune with his thoughts again, Caleb said, “What happened with Rod?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“I want to hear it from you.”
He shrugged. “He mouthed off about folks—about the manager—not attending to business around here.”
Caleb frowned. “He didn’t come across that way when we hired him.”
“He was drunker than a skunk the other day,” Ryan admitted.
“He didn’t mention that.”
“Why would he? Doesn’t matter. He was in the right. And I did the unthinkable.” Let months of anger and frustration and plain raw pain get the best of him. He forced his hands to relax by his sides. “I threw a sucker punch at one of my men. And you’re relocating me to the new ranch.” His own actions had led to this, yet the words left a bitter taste against his back teeth.
Caleb nodded. “For the time being. I need someone in Flagman’s Folly, and you could use a change of scenery.”
And a change in attitude.
More words he and the boss didn’t need to have out in the open between them. He heard them loud and all too clear.
He heard them ringing in his ears even now, though that conversation had taken place days ago. Afterward Caleb had hustled off to the airport, but not before Ryan assured him he would see him in a few days.
In the weak morning light of his ranch-house bedroom, Ryan fumbled in his dresser drawers, scooping up the items he would need for a temporary but indefinite stay and shoving them into the duffel bag on the bed.
T-shirts...handkerchiefs...briefs...bandannas... And heck, why not take the Louis L’Amour paperback from the nightstand, too? The slip of paper marking his place in the book had rested between pages eight and nine for only about six months. He just couldn’t seem to focus on the damned story, no matter that over the years he’d read it so many times he had practically memorized every word.
He managed to ignore the dresser top and the picture frame he’d turned facedown a year ago. He could stand beside a rectangle of freshly turned soil, could stare at names and dates on a chiseled stone, but he hadn’t the willpower to look at that photo.
Again he swallowed against the bitterness threatening his molars. Leaving Montana meant walking away from every connection he had to Jan and Billy. It meant running away from the memories, too, the good ones he could barely recall anymore, blotted out by the bad ones he couldn’t forget.
A year since the accident, those memories still filled his days and occasionally woke him in the dead of night. The pity in his friends’ faces had added a few more rips to the torn-up places inside him. And last week, a drunken cowboy’s insults had pushed him to his breaking point.
His throat tightened. Despite the breeze blowing in through the open window beside the bed, sweat dotted his brow. Hands hovering above the duffel bag, he paused. Before he could argue or talk himself out of his action, could brush away or second-guess the thought, he grabbed the picture frame from the dresser and slid it, still facedown, under a pile of shirts in the bag.
He would head out late afternoon, once he’d taken care of his chores here on the ranch one last time. Once he’d swung by for a last visit to the small churchyard on Hanaman Road.
And then...
Then he’d drive to New Mexico.
Only a fool would pass up the opportunity Caleb had given him, one he’d done less than nothing to deserve. Somehow he had to undo the damage he’d done, to restore his credibility with the boss. To earn back his reputation.
The hell of it was, most of him didn’t give a damn about all that. The wonder was, a small part of him still cared enough to fight for it. Plain enough to see the unexpected reassignment would be a battle.
A trial.
A risk he couldn’t afford not to take.
* * *
ONLY A SHORT while into his solo journey, one stretch of road had started looking like any other. He drove through the night, when all the towns he came to had rolled up their sidewalks and gone to bed. Or—in the case of his arrival in Flagman’s Folly, New Mexico, sixteen hours later—hadn’t yet unrolled those sidewalks to a new day.
As he turned onto Signal Street, he figured he could describe the main thoroughfare with his eyes closed; it was almost exactly like all the other main streets in every other small town. Some stroke of luck—good luck, for a change—made sure his eyes stayed open. Up ahead of his pickup truck, a little girl darted into the roadway.
The luck stayed with him, letting reflexes take over. Lungs sucked in a breath. Ribs strained. Arms jerked in tandem with his wrench of the steering wheel, and both legs joined forces to jam the brake. Momentum hurled him against the shoulder belt and then ricocheted him back into the driver’s seat.
Far past the end of the truck’s high hood, the little girl turned around, met his eyes through the windshield and gave him an angelic smile.
