The Bull Rider's Twin Trouble

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“To see if the wood is rotten or not. If you have rot, you’ll need to replace those sections, or they might come down not long from now. It’ll be a lot of extra work, though.”

“And money, I’m sure,” Cassie said, biting her lip.

She would need to get her doctor’s office going, and soon, or at this rate she and the boys would be living off peanut butter sandwiches for the foreseeable future.

Brock nodded. “But the fence can wait, if you aren’t planning on keeping animals out here, in which case we could just fix the paddock and barn.”

Cassie gazed across the land covered in tall grass the color of gold. What would she do with the crops? She had just wanted a ranch with some horses, but it was becoming more and more obvious that she didn’t know the first thing about ranching...

Maybe her mother was right: she was getting in way over her head. She was just a city girl playing rancher, and she didn’t know the game.

“Everything okay?” Brock asked, pulling her out of her reverie.

She started to nod but couldn’t bring herself to pretend. “There’s just so much I need to figure out,” she answered, looking at him.

The sympathy in his dark blue eyes made her heart thump heavily, and she had difficulty keeping control of herself.

He looked out over her ranch and she took the chance to catch her breath. After a few moments, he nodded. “It’ll be a lot of work, but it’s a good piece of land. Do you have a buyer for the hay you won’t use?”

She shook her head, feeling stupid. She didn’t even have any idea how to turn the grass waving in front of her into hay bales, let alone what to do with it. “I don’t—”

Cassie stopped talking, her voice catching in her throat. She had been told that the farm was growing grass to turn into hay, but she hadn’t thought about what to do with it until she’d actually gotten here and seen it.

The enormity of the tasks before her threatened to overwhelm her. She could only imagine what Brock must think about her, purchasing this whole place without knowing how to do a single thing.

“This is my lucky day,” Brock replied.

Cassie looked at Brock, surprised at the enthusiasm in his voice. Was he being sarcastic?

Brock hitched his thumb back toward his parents’ ranch. “Pop could use a good chunk for their horses, and my brothers would be happy to buy the rest, I’m sure. And they’ll pay to get the baling machine out here, too, if you don’t already have one lined up. It’s my lucky day because this means almost my entire family will owe me, which can be useful in the McNeal house.”

Cassie laughed, more out of astonishment than anything. “Do you really think your brothers would do all that?” she asked, trying not to get her hopes up too high, but unable to suppress the grin that came to her lips.

Brock nodded, smiling back. “They just started a business working with rodeo stock, and I’m sure they could use it. They’ll give you a fair price.”

A weight lifted off Cassie, and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. She would be able to sell the hay. If she could do that, start seeing patients, mend the fence and make the barn livable for her horses, maybe everything would be all right. It was a big if, but it was something.

“You’ll want to keep a bit of it for your own horses, right? I know the Wilsons had a couple.”

She nodded, picturing Rosalind and Diamond, the two mares that had come with the property. “If I can get the barn and fencing in shape enough to keep them here, yes. For now, they’re being kept at a place a few miles away.”

“Well, we can figure out what lumber you need for the fence and paddock, but mend the paddock first. That way, you can move the horses here sooner. They don’t need a perfect barn in this weather, so those little fixes can wait.”

She didn’t say anything about the boarding costs, yet another worry on her plate. Cassie suddenly felt embarrassed, as if every shortcoming and difficulty of hers was being laid bare in front of this man she’d known less than twenty-four hours.

Despite how much she appreciated his help, she also felt slightly uncomfortable with how much she needed it. She’d always been self-sufficient, smart and able to do whatever she put her mind to. This whole thing wasn’t great for her ego, that was for sure.

Still, she’d gotten herself into this mess, and right now she just needed to worry about surviving it with as much of her dignity intact as she could manage. As long as nothing else landed on her plate, she would be able to handle it.

She hoped.

Chapter Four (#u93de4151-37a4-5519-a54d-af0dde0579bd)

Brock looked at Cassie, his heart going out to her. He could tell she was anxious, with her lips pinched so tightly together. It seemed like a world of worries was swirling about in her head.

“So, with the hay issue settled and our next job planned, we can get back to checking the fence,” he said, hoping to get her attention on the here and now, and away from her thoughts. “With the perimeter fence, if you’re only growing crops, we can just repair it a bit, but if you plan to have any animals roaming around, we’ll need to make sure it’s perfectly solid. Do you think you’ll have stock out here, or just crops?”

Apparently his question didn’t help at all, because she only looked more worried, and he could see that tears were threatening to fall. Even though they had only met the day before, he couldn’t stand by and watch without doing something. As if on the same impulse, he pulled her into a hug as she threw herself against him. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Momma? You okay?” Carter asked.

Brock looked down, startled to see the boys. They had finished the race apparently, and were standing side by side with expressions of concern on their identical faces.

Cassie broke away from his chest and smiled down at her children. “I’m fine, honey. I was giving Mr. McNeal a hug. Because he’s being so nice to help us.”

Brock stood there, not sure what to say. The moment had been so raw, so pained, and yet she was able to put it all aside for her little boys. He had to wonder if she’d done the same thing when her husband died, burying her hurt in order to stay strong for her children. He was almost sure she had.

He was truly amazed by this woman.

“Let’s keep walking,” Brock said at last, trying to bring himself out of his own thoughts. “I’ll check for rot, and we can figure it all out once we know what we’re looking at. How does that sound?”

Cassie flashed him a grateful look, and they all continued along the perimeter of the land.

The boys immediately filled the silence with their questions and whatever else seemed to pop into their heads. Brock couldn’t help but like them. His ma was right: they were sweet kids.

Zach grabbed Cassie’s arm. “Momma! Tell about Daddy!”

Brock was glad he was already looking at a fence post and the lumber nailed to it—it gave him a chance to hide his reactions. Curiosity mixed with a little embarrassment, and maybe even some jealousy. The man had, after all, been married to Cassie, been father to these two boys. He couldn’t help wanting to stack himself up against him, even if his good sense told him it was a bad idea in more ways than one.

Once he’d mastered his expression, Brock turned back to Cassie and the boys, hoping he seemed nonchalant. He was surprised to see the slight flush of red in Cassie’s cheeks, and wondered if his presence was causing her to feel uncomfortable.

He moved ahead of the other three, just in case the distance might make her feel better. He couldn’t help listening, though.

“Your daddy,” she began, in a tone that made Brock sure she’d said these same words many times, “was one of the hardest workers in our precinct. He worked lots of hours trying to keep the city safe for everyone.”

“He was a good policeman,” Carter added, as if he held that knowledge close to his heart.

Brock felt heartbroken for these two boys, who had lost their father at such a young age. It brought back his own painful memories.

He didn’t look at Cassie, kept his eyes on the fence, but he imagined her nodding and smiling at her son, remembering her brave police officer husband. Asking her out suddenly seemed like little more than a pipe dream.

“One time, he was driving along in his squad car,” Cassie went on, “and he saw a man yelling at a woman, who was crying.”

“That man was mean!” Zach shouted, angry.

“He was mean,” Cassie agreed. “Your daddy went up and helped the woman, and the man couldn’t hurt her anymore because your daddy was there to protect her. It’s good to help and protect people who need it,” she concluded.

The boys gabbled happily about the story, running on ahead. Brock stood with Cassie, unsure what to say. Complimenting her deceased husband didn’t seem right, but neither did asking questions or completely ignoring what just happened.

Before he could figure out what to say, Cassie spoke to him, her voice quiet enough to keep the boys from overhearing. “Sorry. About before.”

With the image of her husband looming large over Brock, he had almost forgotten her tears from just a few minutes ago.

He waved away the apology. “None of us know what we’re doing all the time,” he said.

She made a noise that could have been a snort, or perhaps a small sob. “It’s not just a small case of indecision. I made all these choices, moving us all the way out here, without really thinking things through. I was so desperate to get away from—well, it doesn’t matter. So I followed a silly childhood dream, and now the reality of it all is a bit much. My mom was right,” she said with a small, sad laugh, “I was being too impulsive, too stubborn.”

Brock smiled. “My ma says that about me all the time, too.”

“Is she right?” Cassie asked, her voice quiet.

Brock could see she was hoping for something to hold on to. He shrugged. “Yeah, but I’ve got to make choices for myself, right? You can’t be happy living the way other people want you to.”

He watched her absorb his words. Finally, she nodded, wiping away a stray tear, and turned to the fence. “Is much of it decayed?” she asked.

He half wanted to bring the subject back to why she had come here, what she was running away from, but decided to let it lie. It probably had to do with her husband’s death, and if she moved here because the memory of her lost love was too painful, he’d rather not know. Brock knocked on the fence board in front of him. “It seems like most of it is okay. It just needs some new nails and a fresh coat of paint. You’ll need a few hundred bucks’ worth of lumber, at most, if the rest of it is like this,” he said, gesturing at the expanse of fence behind them.

Cassie seemed relieved, and they continued walking in silence. After a short while, Brock said, “You might want to consider raising a small herd of cows out here. It would cost a bit at first, but you can buy them as you can afford them, and they’ll be more lucrative than selling bales of hay in the long run.”

Brock wasn’t sure if the information was helpful or more to add to her plate, but he felt sure, despite how little he knew about her, that she would appreciate knowing his opinion on the subject.

Cassie smiled. “Owning cows to go along with my horses, huh? That would make me a real country girl,” she said, hooking her thumbs in her jean pockets.

He laughed. “Get some boots instead of those sneakers and a good hat, and nobody will know you’re a city slicker.”

She nodded, raising her hand to shade her face from the sun’s powerful rays. “I’ll definitely need a hat, if it’s always this sunny. I’m not used to the weather here.”

“Where are you from?” he asked without thinking.

It was only after he said it that he remembered her earlier words. Wherever she was from, she had run to the country to get away from it. Brock felt like an ass for bringing it up, but it was too late now.

“Minneapolis,” she said, without elaborating further.

Still, she didn’t seem devastated by the question, and he was curious about her. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. “That’s a pretty big city,” he commented.

“Smaller than you might think,” she answered in a light tone, but the expression on her face hardened slightly.

Something within him pushed to keep the conversation going as they continued along the fence. They were over halfway done, and he felt like this was an opportunity to get to know her. Something about the wide-open land and sky around them made it easier. “I can see why you haven’t had much experience with land and fences up there. It’s not exactly a ranching area. The winters are brutal there, aren’t they?”

She rolled her eyes, and his heart jumped when she gave him a genuine smile. “Like you wouldn’t believe. That’s one of the reasons I picked Spring Valley. I’ll be just fine if I never see snow again.”

He wanted to keep her smiling. “Well, this is the place to be if you hate snow. It’s a rare winter that we get more than an inch or two.”

She nodded and looked fondly across the hot brown grass. Before the silence could stretch too long, he said, “I’m surprised you even managed to find this place. Spring Valley doesn’t show up on many maps.”

“Hank, my—my late husband—his parents live in Glen Rock, not too far from here. I fell in love with the area the first time we visited. It seemed just like the place I wanted to live when I was a kid. Somewhere far away from the busy city life, with land and animals to tend...”

Her voice drifted away, as if she was picturing the ranch, not as it was, but as she must have imagined it when she was little. She seemed so sincere, so hopeful, that he knew he’d do whatever he could to help make that dream a reality.

Then she started walking again and he followed. In what felt like too short a time, they had finished most of the fence and then just had the paddock left. He wished there were more fence to saunter along, some other reason to dawdle outside. There was something calming, right, about strolling out there with Cassie and her boys.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” she asked, pulling him out of his reverie.

That simple question was always a difficult one to answer, and even though he felt like Cassie was a person he could confide in, he wasn’t ready to explain the whole situation to her. He stuck with his honest-but-short response, hoping she wouldn’t ask for more details. “No. I lived in San Diego for a while when I was little.”

“Surfer-turned-cowboy, huh?” she said with a smile.

Her fun tone made him want to joke with her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do more than give her a small smile. The image of his father teaching him to surf always brought with it an unpleasant ache in his chest. Despite all the extreme sports he’d tried as an adult, he’d never been able to get back on a surfboard. “Something like that” was all he said.

She seemed to sense his unwillingness to discuss his life in San Diego, because she didn’t ask him anything more about his childhood.

* * *

CASSIE WASN’T SURE if she was happy or not that the walk was over as they finished the loop around the paddock. It was hot, and she was looking forward to the cool and shade of the house, and to an icy drink, but she couldn’t help but wish she and Brock were still ambling on beside each other. He somehow managed to set her on fire and soothe her soul at the same time, and she worried the feeling would disappear once they were back in the house, away from the great expanse of land that surrounded them.

They stopped walking, and Cassie lingered an extra moment. Brock made no move toward the house, either, and they stood there quietly as the boys ran inside.

“So, what’s the verdict? How much do I need to replace?” she asked, not yet ready to go inside.

Brock smiled at her, and she felt her heart thump. “Not much, actually. It’s better than I would have expected, and the paddock shouldn’t take more than a bit of lumber and a few hours’ work before it’s ready to hold your horses.”

Cassie felt relief course through her. Maybe she would be able to make this work, prove to herself that she could do it.

She looked into his eyes, and the heat around them grew even thicker with unsaid thoughts. Cassie was wondering what it would be like to kiss him when the slam of the screen door came as a welcome diversion. She turned toward the house, creating distance between her and the smoldering man beside her.

Both of her boys were running across the golden grass toward her, leaving a woman standing on the back porch. Cassie squinted in the bright sunlight to see who it was.

Carter skidded in front of her, already talking. “Momma, Miss Emma is here. She brought a pie. She said it was for dessert, but can we have some now? Please?”

“Is that Emmaline Reynolds?” Brock asked from behind her.

Something like jealousy popped up in Cassie, but she quickly tamped it down. She had no call to feel possessive about Brock, she reminded herself. He could date Emma all he wanted.

She couldn’t stop herself from saying a quick prayer that he wouldn’t, though.

“I haven’t seen her since grade school. Didn’t even know she still lived here. You sure make friends fast,” Brock commented.

Her mood suddenly lifted, she flashed him a smile. “When you have a sweet tooth and two young kids and you move to a town with one bakery, you get to know the owner of said bakery very quickly. Especially when the boxes of kitchen supplies go missing for a week. We’ve also made friends with the owners of the pizza place and the café.”

Brock chuckled, the sound reverberating through her body, and his grin caught her off-guard, turning her legs to jelly. She started to regret saying something amusing, looking at him and having a sex drive at all, because this man was certain to be her downfall if a laugh and a smile could do all that to her. Apparently not noticing her discomfiture, he said, “I’m going to go do another check of the paddock real quick, just to be sure we didn’t miss anything, and then it’s probably best we take a break anyway. You’d be surprised how fast the heat can get to you.”

It wasn’t the heat that was getting to her, but she wasn’t about to say that.

“I’ll go see what Emma wants. Come on in whenever you’re done,” she said to him as she turned away.