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She came around the back of her little car and stepped in front of him, blocking the path to his truck. She was a head shorter than his almost six feet, and she was too thin. She was kind of pale, too. Like she didn’t sleep much.
He shouldn’t judge. It wasn’t like he got a full eight hours every night. More like eight hours every two days. And a woman definitely didn’t want someone pointing out that she needed a steak, mashed potatoes and more sleep.
At that moment she was surveying him with a less-than-appreciative gleam in her milk-chocolate brown eyes.
“Balance, my foot. Hand over your keys.” She tipped her chin up. “I have a nine-year-old daughter, and the last thing I want is someone in your condition behind the wheel of a car. Or a truck.”
He grinned a little and her eyes narrowed.
She extended her hand, nails manicured to perfection with the prettiest dark pink polish, and arched an eyebrow at his reluctance to hand over his keys. It took him at least five seconds to realize she thought he was drunk. He almost laughed. Almost.
She was pretty enough that he didn’t mind the insult. After all, she had no way of knowing. People, he realized, saw what they wanted to see.
As it happened, she smelled like sunshine and he wouldn’t mind a ride home.
“Stop grinning and say something!” she demanded. Most women waited until they’d known him at least a day or two before they reached that level of outrage.
The two of them were causing a scene. People were starting to stare. A few locals grinned and marched on by, willing to leave him to his fate. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and dropped them in her very lovely hand.
“Where do you live?” she demanded, a little less confident now that she had his keys. He figured she might be afraid.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
At his declaration she stepped back, and her throat bobbed as she swallowed a little bit of her outrage and dealt with her fear. If he had to guess, she wasn’t usually the kind of woman who made impulsive decisions, and demanding his keys had been a rash one.
“Of course you won’t,” she stated. “I have a child in my car. I really do not want any trouble.”
He noticed her lips were the same shade as her nail polish, and she bit down on the bottom one, her gaze darting about.
“Looking for a better option?” he asked. “I assure you there isn’t a taxi or Uber in sight.”
“Of course there isn’t.” She looked at the keys in her hand. “Get in my car.”
He wanted to say a mighty loud, “Thank you, God.” But he refrained. His head was killing him and he didn’t really care what she thought of him. He slid into the passenger seat of the tin can she called a car and pulled his hat down over his eyes.
Miss Sunshine and Happiness got in on the driver’s side. Man, she smelled good.
She said something, but since she was talking into his bad ear he didn’t catch a word of it. He glanced her way, started to ask her to repeat, then noticed she really did have a child in the car. The little girl appeared to be nine or ten. She had wide brown eyes and the same honey-colored hair as her mother.
“Mom, didn’t you say we never talk to strangers?” she asked, a cheeky grin on her face. He instantly liked the kid. She might be a replica of her mother, but there was a happy sparkle in her eyes. Life was still an adventure at that age.
He shifted his gaze from the girl to the woman in the driver’s seat. The movement caused a sharp pain in the side of his head. At this point he usually had a cup of his sister-in-law Kylie’s tea in hand as he crawled into a dark room.
“I said to buckle up,” Miss Sunshine and Happiness said with a dose of aggravation, which meant she’d already said it once.
He guessed it was too late to explain that he wasn’t intentionally ignoring her. He buckled up.
“Where do I take you?”
“Mercy Ranch.”
“Mercy Ranch? The ranch owned by Jack West?”
“The same. Do you know where it is?”
“Yes, I have an appointment with Mr. West.”
Interesting. She’d been on her way to the ranch. She didn’t look like a veteran. Jack and his ranch for wounded warriors had become nationally known in the last couple years. But then, what did a wounded warrior look like? They weren’t all men with big scars on the sides of their heads, or missing limbs. Some injuries were internal. Some were heart deep and resulted in nightmares and anxiety.
He was curious, but not curious enough to continue the conversation.
“Do you work at the ranch?” the child in the back seat asked.
It was difficult to hear when her voice had to compete with road noise, the whistle of wind battering the window of the car and the oldies station playing on the radio. Any other time he might have glanced back. At the moment, movement was not his friend and it was best to remain still, his head turned toward the driver.
As a matter of fact, his stomach was suddenly making him feel less than manly.
“My daughter asked you a question,” Miss Happiness and Sunshine informed him.
“Yes.” The one word came out a little curt. He could do better than that. “I work at the ranch.”
“Are you going to be sick?” the child asked.
“Maybe,” he muttered.
He thought of a scenario a little more to his liking, one in which he rescued this woman and showed her that a real man didn’t need to be given a ride home, didn’t need to be coddled and talked to like he was five. He had a feeling this woman, Miss Happiness and Sunshine, didn’t like being rescued. She didn’t strike him as a damsel in distress.
She probably slayed dragons and stormed castle walls. He could do those things on an average day. Unfortunately, today wasn’t his best knight-in-shining-armor day.
The random thoughts worked, the way they sometimes did, to calm his brain and lessen the head pain. Not moving happened to be another key to ridding himself of the knife-sharp ache.
“You do look a little green,” the woman said as she gave him a quick glance. What was her name? he wondered.
“Paula,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“Trying to guess your name.” He slid the hat back a fraction just so he could see her face. He caught what might have been the beginning of amusement hovering in her eyes. “Rachel?”
“No.”
The child in the back seat laughed. The sound bounced around the vehicle. “Rebecca. Her name is Rebecca.”
Isaac’s eyes widened and he reached for the door. “Stop the car.”
The woman quickly pulled to the shoulder and he practically fell as he escaped the car and stumbled to the ditch. He didn’t lose his lunch, but came pretty close to losing his confidence.
* * *
Rebecca Barnes glanced at the driveway just fifty feet from where she’d pulled to the side of the road. They’d almost made it to Mercy Ranch. An arched entry with the name emblazoned in wrought iron, and an open gate, heralded their destination. But she couldn’t consider herself arrived if she was standing on the side of the road. The cowboy she’d given a ride to stood in the ditch, bent over, trying to catch his breath.
“Do you think he’s okay?” Allie asked from the back seat. She had raised herself up a bit to eye their passenger.
“Get your seat belt back on,” Rebecca warned. But she watched closely, waiting to see if he would need help. She’d been chastising herself this entire time, because she’d gone and done it again. She’d been in Hope for less than an hour and she’d immediately bumped into what had to be the classic description of a bad boy. And she had a “no bad boys” policy. She didn’t want trouble in her life, so she avoided men who appeared to be trouble, hinted at trouble or were confirmed trouble.
It was a fairly new motto, put in place when the latest disappointment, a friend, had exited her life with a large chunk of her business profits.
“He’s fine,” she answered her daughter. “Just a little under the weather.”
“You think he’s drunk,” Allie stated, with a knowing tone to her voice.
“Allie, that isn’t for you to say.”
“I know, Mom.” She now sounded contrite. Rebecca didn’t have to look at her daughter to know the tone wouldn’t match the look on her face.
Rebecca sighed and reached for the door. “I’m going to make sure he’s okay, and then we’ll head on to the ranch for the appointment with Mr. West. Are you okay?”
Allie nodded, but her attention was glued to the man in the ditch. He had straightened and now shifted his cowboy hat, wiping his brow with his arm. He glanced toward Rebecca as she got out of the car.
“Need help?” she asked.
“Nope.” He trudged up the hill, slowly, but far more steady on his feet than he’d been when they first met.
Bad boy or not, he was easy on the eyes. Tall, just broad enough through the shoulders to think he’d be easy to lean on, and even in late November he’d held on to a golden tan. His hair was dark and his eyes were the gray of clouds bringing a winter storm.
She nearly sighed at her own ridiculous inventorying of his good looks. He was a cowboy. The kind that wore faded jeans and scuffed up boots. He was obviously trouble. And she needed to stay on task and not fall prey to anything or anyone that would distract her from her mission.
With Aunt Evelyn gone, Rebecca and Allie were the closest they’d ever been to being on their own. But they had each other, a nest egg to fall back on and a plan. Part of that plan included meeting with Jack West.
The cowboy had returned to the shoulder of the road and he seemed a little more clear-eyed than he’d been a short time ago. A shaky hand brushed through his hair before he replaced his black cowboy hat, neatly hiding the scar that had drawn her attention. It snaked from the side of his face to the portion of his scalp just above his ear.
She guessed he was one of Jack West’s veterans.
“Ready to go?” he asked, as he walked with her to the driver’s side of the car. He opened her door and motioned for her to get behind the wheel.
“Yes. And thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say as he closed her door and headed back to the passenger side.
Moments later they were easing down the paved driveway of Mercy Ranch. It appeared to be a sprawling place, with rolling hills of winter-brown grass. White vinyl fencing split the land, creating corrals, smaller pastures, then wide-open fields. Her passenger pointed toward a large, log-sided home, but beyond that she saw an older white farmhouse, a metal building that appeared to be living quarters and, to the left, a large stable.
She parked next to the log house. The place glittered in the late-afternoon sun as the light reflected off the windows. A dog, a big yellow Labrador, lazed on the front porch.
“Here we are,” he said. But he sat there a moment, not moving.
“Are you going to be sick again?” Allie asked from the back seat. “Does your head hurt? Is your vision blurry?”
“Allie,” Rebecca warned.
He didn’t seem offended. But he did turn and ask Allie to repeat what she’d said. She did and he smiled.
“I do have a headache and I’m not going to be sick. And my vision is just fine.”
He got out of the car and said to Rebecca, “If you need to see Jack, I can get him for you. Oh, and I’ll take my keys.”
She handed him the keys she’d dropped in her purse. “I’m thirty minutes early.”
“He won’t mind that you’re early.” Isaac closed the door and walked away.
She hadn’t planned on getting out, but the cowboy had stopped walking and leaned against the front of her car.
“I think he needs help, Mom,” Allie piped up.
Rebecca closed her eyes and sent a rare petition for aid from above. “Come on, let’s help him to the house and we’ll see if Mr. West is available.”
“Good!” Allie jumped from the car and hurried around to pet the dog that had meandered off the porch to greet them.
“Allie, you don’t know the dog.” Rebecca called out the warning, but it was too late. Allie had her arms around it and the animal didn’t seem to mind.
“Decide to come on up to the house?” the cowboy asked.
“Allie thought you might need assistance.”
“That’s kind of her. It isn’t usually this bad.”
“Maybe you should see about getting help.”
He didn’t take her advice at all seriously. Instead, he leaned on her a bit.
She considered putting some distance between them, but at that moment he stumbled. She put a steadying hand on his arm.
“If you can help me to the house, I’ll get Jack for you.”
They were halfway there when the door opened and a man stepped out on the porch. He looked like an older version of the cowboy, but broader through the shoulders, and his dark hair had grayed. At the sight of the two of them, he shook his head.
“Isaac, I’ve been wondering what kept you.”
Isaac. She groaned, because now she understood his amusement with her name. Isaac and Rebecca, the Bible couple, parents of Jacob and Esau. She wanted no part of it. She didn’t want to be a biblical reference.
“Dad, let me introduce you to Rebecca. She gave me a ride home when it appeared I might be intoxicated.” He winked at her. “Rebecca, meet Jack West.”
Jack stepped down off the porch, his left side trembling as he navigated the stairs. His arm jerked a bit and he said something under his breath. Even with his obvious physical problems, he appeared strong, and he smiled at her with all the charm she’d expected after reading articles about him and speaking with him on the phone.
“Miss Rebecca, I’m glad you’re here. And that must be your little girl, Allie. I’ll apologize for Isaac. He isn’t as funny as he thinks he is. But he’s most definitely sober.”
With a tip of his hat, Isaac headed for the stairs. “Sorry to disappoint you, darlin’, but I needed a ride home and your offer came at the right time. I’m going to leave you all to your meeting.”
His gaze shot past her, to where Allie played with the yellow Labrador. His smile dissolved. “Maximus, stay.”
His command caught Rebecca’s attention and she turned to witness the dog leaning close to Allie as her daughter froze and then fell to the ground. As the seizure took control, Maximus stretched out beside her. Rebecca felt the world close in around her as she hurried to Allie, rolling her to her side. Allie’s body jerked, and as the seizure continued, Rebecca glanced at her watch, timing the event.
