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The Rancher's Secret Child
Brenda Minton
Can he cowboy up for fatherhood?He had no room for love…until now.After meeting the son he never knew he had, Marcus Palermo’s simple life turns upside down. Complicating things further is Lissa Hart, the boy's lovely guardian. She'll help him become a parent—but falling for a gruff cowboy is not in her plans. Will she realize her future lies in Bluebonnet Springs with the rugged rancher?
Can he cowboy up for fatherhood?
He had no room for love...until now.
After meeting the son he never knew he had, Marcus Palermo’s simple life turns upside down. Complicating things further is Lissa Hart, the boy’s lovely guardian. She’ll help him become a parent—but falling for a gruff cowboy is not in her plans. Will she realize her future lies in Bluebonnet Springs with the rugged rancher?
BRENDA MINTON lives in the Ozarks with her husband, children, cats, dogs and strays. She is a pastor’s wife, Sunday-school teacher, coffee addict and sleep deprived. Not in that order. Her dream to be an author for Harlequin started somewhere in the pages of a romance novel about a young American woman stranded in a Spanish castle. Her dreams came true, and twenty-plus books later, she is an author hoping to inspire young girls to dream.
Also By Brenda Minton (#u564ad831-6c0d-5924-b3b3-6e69e0263085)
Bluebonnet Springs
Second Chance Rancher
The Rancher’s Christmas Bride
The Rancher’s Secret Child
Martin’s Crossing
A Rancher for Christmas
The Rancher Takes a Bride
The Rancher’s Second Chance
The Rancher’s First Love
Her Rancher Bodyguard
Her Guardian Rancher
Lone Star Cowboy League: Boys Ranch
The Rancher’s Texas Match
Lone Star Cowboy League
A Reunion for the Rancher
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Rancher’s Secret Child
Brenda Minton
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08423-9
THE RANCHER’S SECRET CHILD
© 2018 Brenda Minton
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.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“Let’s try to be friends.”
“I’m trying,” Marcus told her in his low, gruff voice. “You have to give a guy a few days to figure things out and get over feeling like he’s had his legs kicked out from under him.”
“I know.” She pulled her seat belt around and he reached over to click it into place for her. “Thank you.”
“I’m not going to take him from you,” he said as they headed down the long driveway back to the main road.
The sting of tears took her by surprise. She wiped at them and when he handed her a handkerchief, she shook her head.
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, of course you are.” He shoved the handkerchief into her hand. “I know he needs you. I know he doesn’t need a scarred-up, dysfunctional cowboy for a dad.”
“I think you’re wrong,” she told him.
And the words took her by surprise.
She hadn’t expected to like Marcus Palermo...
Dear Reader (#u564ad831-6c0d-5924-b3b3-6e69e0263085),
I’m so glad we were able to spend time together in Bluebonnet Springs, Texas. I hope you enjoyed the Palermo family, Essie’s café and the other characters in this series. I think it’s rather fitting to end the series with the story of Marcus Palermo. He seemed to need a happy-ever-after. Thanks to the arrival of Lissa Hart and a little boy named Oliver, Marcus will find a path to love and happiness.
I think the Palermo family are an example of the healing that comes from finding faith and in not giving up. They were abused, broken and lost, but each of them found a way to take back what was taken and make new lives from the old.
I hope you enjoyed their stories and I hope you’ll stick around for my next miniseries. I’ve caught myself singing the song “Oklahoma” around the house recently. Hint hint...
Blessings,
Brenda
It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.
—Lamentations 3:22–23
This book is dedicated to my Aunt Joyce, Aunt Alice and Aunt Betty. And in memory of my Aunt Shirley Clark. They have taught us to have fun, to be classy when it matters, to live life to the fullest and to love family.
Contents
Cover (#ua0bb258e-912a-50ad-b786-2fcd18f2d969)
Back Cover Text (#u9f6c9fc1-4751-5ed9-86c3-927fc754b70b)
About the Author (#ud226b730-26a5-55b9-9717-0c31a393f1be)
Booklist (#u67c2fd76-fd49-5991-a6da-1566a3063049)
Title Page (#u9c8a047d-199d-5eaf-9eb8-0134fa2f0f0a)
Copyright (#ucd5254fd-de1f-5dde-9d26-a2dfd7d74fba)
Introduction (#uc27712b0-505d-59c3-ba74-b33ea8e1d28c)
Dear Reader (#u902f3f29-e19d-5419-94e8-7acdc388a9ad)
Bible Verse (#u81407911-2391-5807-abe4-e0d9466c2073)
Dedication (#u633ec888-e384-5e82-b8a9-5cca75f52ca3)
Chapter One (#u5ec626e7-d6b0-5316-b412-63b0efc1c2b4)
Chapter Two (#u804132da-e1a9-537f-8435-c8ad9cadb056)
Chapter Three (#u012cfa62-00d8-5cfa-829a-debb7aca1213)
Chapter Four (#u926454ea-a2db-535d-b7fa-2e0b1f3c5b49)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u564ad831-6c0d-5924-b3b3-6e69e0263085)
A car door slammed and a child’s laughter rang out, followed by a woman’s voice. The horse beneath Marcus Palermo skittered across the arena, forcing him to hold tight. He managed a quick look in the direction of the visitors. A woman, tall with dark hair. A little boy with chocolate-brown hair who seemed all excited as he headed for the arena as Marcus made a last-ditch attempt at controlling the horse.
He had a few seconds to wonder where this woman and boy had come from and how they’d found the place, an old farm situated down a long dirt drive and hidden from view of the road by a copse of trees. He’d only recently purchased the old Brown farm and few people knew he lived here.
The boy shouted something as he ran toward the makeshift arena that Marcus had built with cattle panels. The horse jerked his head forward and took a few running bucks across the dirt-packed pen. Marcus’s hat flew off. He’d just bought that hat and he liked it. He tightened his legs, but the horse had the upper hand. The black-and-white paint gelding twisted and, with a final hard buck, sent Marcus flying. As he hit the ground, he remembered that he really didn’t like ranching all that much.
After a minute he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck where it hurt the most. Slowly he became aware of a couple of things. First, the horse he’d been attempting to ride had moseyed on over to the fence. The traitor had his head down like a big old puppy dog so the kid could pet him. The woman’s gaze left the boy and the horse and shifted his way, nervous and a bit guilty.
Considering she was partially to blame for his bad exit off the horse’s back, she could have at least asked if he was okay. But, no, she only managed to look sheepish as she ran her hand down the horse’s neck. The little boy seemed more curious than anything.
“No, don’t worry, I’m fine,” he muttered as he came to his feet.
He limped across the arena and grabbed the horse’s reins because he was a little jealous of the attention the animal was getting. He moved the gelding away from the fence and away from the hands of the visitors. The woman moved her sunglasses to the top of her head and narrowed her blue eyes at him. He must be getting better at offending the fairer sex. It had taken only two minutes for him to earn her displeasure. “Did he break your leg?” the little boy asked.
Marcus glanced at the kid. He was maybe five, with big eyes. Those eyes widened a bit, the normal reaction to Marcus’s face. Because it was a kid, not an adult staring at him, Marcus had sympathy. He half turned, giving the little boy his good side.
“No,” he answered roughly. “It would take more than that to break me.”
“I bet it would,” the boy said in awe.
Marcus hoped the woman and kid weren’t fans with the misplaced idea that he welcomed uninvited guests to the ranch for sightseeing. But the woman didn’t appear to be an admiring fan. She didn’t look like the type of woman who had ever witnessed a professional bull ride, let alone knew who the champions might be.
“Is there something I can help you with?” He looked down at the little boy and back at the woman, because there was something familiar about her.
She was taller than average, with long, dark hair, and had high cheekbones that made him think she had Native American ancestry. But she had startling blue eyes. The blue of a winter sky. Those eyes were boring into him like he was a bug and she couldn’t figure out what kind. So obviously not a fan.
Fine with him. He didn’t need fans. In fact, he didn’t need much of anything or anyone. Which was exactly why he’d picked this property, several miles off the beaten path and far enough away from his siblings that they wouldn’t always be in his business.
“Are you Marcus Palermo?” she asked, her hand protective on the boy’s shoulder.
