скачать книгу бесплатно
“Are you okay?” he asked again, and she shook her head, the smile on her face shaky.
“I’m fine.” When she pulled away slightly, after only a brief pause, he released his hold on her, allowing her to move away.
“So I see,” he said, and her gaze flew to his again, her heartbeat hiccupping in her chest. In his enigmatic expression she was unable to determine if he meant the comment in any way besides the reference to her turning her ankle.
She smiled tightly and turned toward the horse in the corral.
“Dad says you and your brothers have started breeding racehorses,” she said, in an attempt to get the conversation toward safer ground.
She felt his gaze on hers and held her breath, only releasing it when he turned toward the horse.
“Yeah, we’ve gone into breeding and crossbreeding. It’s been going well for us. It was mainly Nate’s idea, although we’ve been thinking about doing it for a while now,” he said, and she nodded her head.
“Dad says you bought more land a couple of years ago,” she both asked and stated.
“We did. Actually it was six years ago, after Dad died. It was part of the original land he’d purchased but had to sell in order to keep the ranch afloat years ago.”
“Has he been … gone that long?” she shook her head.
The mention of Jed Wilde brought a look of sadness to Shilah’s face. “Yeah, time has a way of going on, no matter what.”
“Seems like yesterday he was out here with you … with all of us. Teaching us, sharing his love for the ranch,” she said after a long moment, a reminiscent smile on her face. “Showing us how to brand a cow,” she finished with a small laugh.
“Yeah, and I remember that only too well. When he offered to let you brand one you had no problem. Did it like you’d been branding cows your whole life. But when my turn came around, I passed out,” he said with a groan, and Ellie laughed outright.
“That’s funny, huh?” he asked, and although his look was stern, she saw the humor lurking in his unique eyes.
“Yep, sure is,” she quipped, unrepentant. “What was it Holt started calling you after that?” Ellie frowned, trying to remember the nickname.
“Sheila … Little Heifer Who Sleeps With Cows,” he filled in, deadpan, and Ellie’s laughter grew. “He shortened it to Sheila.”
“Oh, my God, that was funny,” she said around her laughter.
“I caught a lot of shit from my brothers about that. It was a long time before Holt stop referring to me by that name,” he said, running a hand over the back of his neck, a humorous yet chagrined look on his handsome face, and a fresh wave of giggles assaulted Ellie.
“Of course, after that, Holt, the eternal funnyman, couldn’t stop. When I sliced into my finger while we were slaughtering I was known as Sheila, Boy Who Spills His Guts,” he said, and again, Ellie’s laughter rang out. By the time he finished reminiscing about the various nicknames his brother had given him, she was swiping tears from her eyes.
“Why’d you leave, Ellie? Why’d you leave without saying goodbye?”
His question brought Ellie up short and her laughter died out. Slowly, she dragged her eyes up to meet his intense stare.
Shilah glanced down at Ellie, taking in the somber set of her features, and he cursed himself.
For a moment, she was the young girl he remembered from their childhood, particularly before her accident, when her carefree laughter would ring out on the wings of the wind as she played on the ranch.
Within several months of his calling the ranch home, Shilah had first glimpsed Ellie. It was her laughter that had brought him to the shed that held the horses. He’d watched as she’d fed the horse, petting and talking to it as though it understood what she was saying. Her love and natural affinity for the horse had reminded him of his life on the reservation and instantly made him curious about her.
He’d followed her without her knowledge as she’d taken the horse out for a ride.
He’d stayed out far enough behind that she hadn’t been aware of him, yet he’d been able to watch her and it had set a pattern. Whenever she’d visit the ranch, while her father took care of the animals she’d go for one of her rides, and he’d find an excuse to leave without his brothers or foster father knowing.
He’d been set to follow her one day as she rode, but a call from Jed had made him turn around and head back home. It had been on that day that part of her laughter had been taken from her, a day he’d never forgotten.
The accident had been freakish and although he, his brothers and father weren’t to blame, a part of Shilah had always faulted himself for her fall. Had he followed her that day, or at least told her father where she was, he could have somehow prevented the fall and the accident.
It had taken a long time after the accident before he had been able to forget the pain in her eyes when she’d glanced up at him. She’d looked so small in the hospital bed, the crisp white linens startling against her deep brown skin as she gazed up at him, pain and confusion in her light brown eyes.
It had taken even longer for him to finally get the nerve up to talk to her. By then, she was even more closed off, more introverted than he remembered, and any attempt at conversation was normally met with silence or at most a short reply before she’d make an excuse to turn and, favoring her uninjured leg, walk away.
His glance slid over her as she stood close to him, their gazes locked.
Eventually, she’d begun to thaw toward him, open up to him, allowing him to become what he’d learned was a small circle of people she trusted. Her visits to the ranch with her father increased, and whenever he knew she was coming, he took pains with his appearance, carefully keeping his friendship with Ellie from his brothers.
Not because he was afraid of the ribbing he’d no doubt get, but because their friendship was special to him, unlike any relationship he’d had with anyone else.
After graduating from high school and entering college, their time together was short. Between school and work, Shilah barely had time for much else. Life for Ellie became busy as well, with preparing for college and working in her father’s office part-time, the two grew apart.
And then one day he came home and learned from her father that she’d decided to attend college out of state, and he hadn’t seen her since. Yet he had never forgotten her, never forgotten how important she was to him, how her smile seemed to light up the room when she came in.
Never forgotten how much he loved her, even though they’d been so young.
His gaze ran over her, as she stood a few feet away from him.
She’d grown up a lot since those days. She no longer wore the brace she worn for years. His eyes went over the smooth, uninterrupted view of her long, brown legs. The hem of her skirt flirted just below knee level, and her high-heeled boots stopped at her shapely calves.
His gaze traveled back up the length of her body. The weather was warm and she wore a light sweater over her blouse, yet her full breasts pressed against the soft-looking fabric.
He forced his glance away.
A frown creased her forehead at his question. “I don’t know why I left. I guess a part of me knew that if I stayed, I’d never experience life, in a way.” She shrugged. “After the accident, my parents were always afraid for me. They never really allowed me to be … free.” She halted. “That’s as good a word as any, I suppose.”
For a moment it appeared as though she’d been about to say something else, but she placed a small smile on her face and glanced back toward the penned horse.
Desperately wanting to replace the sad look in her eyes, and not wanting to delve too deeply into what else he saw, Shilah shifted the conversation. Soon she was laughing again over his exploits with his brothers.
Somehow during their conversation they’d ambled toward a nearby bench. He motioned for her to sit.
She glanced over the pasture before she turned to face him. One side of her mouth lifted in a small smile. Shilah’s gaze settled over her features. The look on her face was serene, beautiful, content. It was an image that immediately lodged in his heart.
It was several minutes before she answered, and when she did the smile on her face was as enigmatic as her answer. And drew him to her, just as it had when they were young.
His glance fell to her hands as they rested in her lap. With one hand, she toyed with the fingers of the other, sliding her forefinger around and around in a circular pattern in the palm of the other hand.
“I guess I came home …” She paused, her hand movement stilling as her glance raked over his face, the look in her eyes one that sent his heartbeat thumping harshly against his chest. “Because, well, it was time.”
Shilah barely refrained from reaching out and grasping her hand and tugging her toward him, silently wishing that part of her reason for returning home was because of him.
Chapter 3
Shilah strode into the sprawling, five-thousand-square-foot house he’d called home for nearly twenty years, withdrew his jacket and lifted his Stetson from his head, absently tossing both on the hallway table.
He sidestepped the ladder that rested against the wall near the laundry room, along with a variety of other building materials, making a mental note to remind his brothers to tell the construction crew to clean up after themselves when they broke for the day. If they didn’t, he would be the first in line to duck and hide when Lilly came after them for “messing up my house.”
Hopefully, the general mayhem and mess would soon be over, finishing the construction that would add two additional wings on the house to accommodate their growing family. Although their home was large enough now for everyone, with both of Shilah’s brothers engaged, the decision had been made to add separate suites for them, for privacy.
The distant smell of lunch permeated the air, but there was no sign of Lilly or anyone else in the spacious kitchen. He glanced over at the antique grandfather clock in the foyer. It was almost time for Yasmine and the others to start preparing for dinner. But, as he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, he couldn’t wait for the others and made his way to the fridge. He withdrew a cold beer, and, twisting off the cap, he tipped his head back and allowed the bitter amber to slide down his throat.
“You do realize that it’s not even four o’clock, huh, bro?”
Shilah knew it had to be too good to be true—that he might actually have a moment to himself alone, when he could think in private about the bombshell life had just thrown, in the way of Ellie Crandall.
He didn’t bother turning to face his brother, but simply finished off his beer before placing the empty bottle on top of the marble counter near the fridge. Reluctantly he turned to face Holt.
As usual, a shit-eating grin was split across his youngest brother’s face, and as usual Shilah ignored it, simply lifting a brow. “I’m sure it’s five o’clock somewhere.”
Holt nodded his head. “Yeah, guess you’re right about that.” Holt pushed away from the bar-style counter and walking farther into the kitchen.
Shilah moved to the side, to allow him to reopen the fridge. When he pulled out an assortment of sliced turkey and ham, along with a variety of toppings, Shilah’s stomach rumbled in response.
Holt glanced over his shoulder, meeting his eyes. “You missed lunch too?”
“Yeah,” Shilah answered. “Just got back from the south pasture. I was hoping Lilly left me a plate from lunch.”
“Naw, Lil is resting. Ellie and the new kitchen girl did lunch today.” He threw Shilah a forlorn look. “And Yaz didn’t even make lunch for me. Guess my baby missed the memo.”
Shilah raised a brow. “Which one was that?”
“You hungry?” he asked, and Shilah nodded his head.
After withdrawing two plates from the overhead cabinet, Holt went about deftly slicing tomatoes and pickles. “The one that says the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” he groused, and Shilah barked out a laugh.
Recently, Holt had become engaged to Yasmine Taylor, their housekeeper Lilly’s niece. Although Lilly was much more than a housekeeper to the men, having been a part of the ranch before Shilah, Holt and Nate had arrived as foster kids.
Thinking back, Shilah had a hard time remembering when the woman wasn’t a part of their lives, as she’d been more like a surrogate mother to Shilah and his two brothers from the time they were young.
Her niece Yasmine had been a part of the ranch for nearly as long, coming to live with them when she was a child, as well. Soon after graduating high school she’d left, and her visits to the ranch after that had been few and far between. She’d come home last month to help Lilly recover after her knee-replacement surgery and.
Shilah glanced at his brother, holding back a laugh when he bit out a curse after slicing into his finger, again grumbling about his woman and her neglect.
… And that was all she wrote, Shilah finished the thought. Penthouse—the nickname Holt had been given when he’d played pro ball, known for changing his women as often as most men changed their shorts—had fallen and fallen hard. And Yasmine had fallen just as hard, the pair inseparable since their engagement. When Holt wasn’t working, he could be found with Yasmine, helping her as she planned the opening of her own catering business, as well as meeting with producers for a cooking show that would begin taping in the fall.
“Grab some bread. Yaz and I made some rye last night,” Holt said, making a sound with his mouth and smacking his lips.
At that, Shilah turned to his brother, raising a brow. “You and Yaz?”
“Yep, she’s been giving me cooking lessons. In exchange she allows me to give her lessons in … well, let’s just say my baby is learning the ABCs of how to treat her man.” A grin of remembered pleasure crossed his face. He turned to Shilah. “Just need to slice it,” he said, nodding his head toward the pantry.
Holt frowned, his thumb in his mouth. “What? You don’t like rye bread?”
Shilah laughed. “First you rant about her not taking care of you, then you’re talking about helping her cook and then waxing poetic on how well she treats her man. ABCs of how to treat her man, my ass.” Shilah laughed. “You’re so whipped it ain’t even funny, man.”
Holt shrugged, humor lighting his pale blue eyes. “If I don’t grouse every once in a while, y’all will think I’m getting soft.” He winked. “Can’t have that. My babe likes me … hard.”
“Whoa!” Shilah threw up his hands. “I’m a man. And your brother. That doesn’t get me excited, the thought of you getting hard,” he said, tossing the sack holding the bread toward Holt. Which his ex-NFL brother easily caught, an ever-present half grin on his face. “In fact, it makes me wanna hurl.”
With both of his brothers, Nate and Holt, engaged, for the first time in a long time Shilah felt alone, in a way he hadn’t felt in longer than he wanted to remember.
Not that he wasn’t happy for them; it was just that at times lately it hit him that soon his brothers would start families of their own, and the thought was unsettling.
He lifted a bag of chips he’d found on the shelf and walked toward the island-style counter in the middle of the kitchen and placed it alongside the bread.
“You’re a lucky man. Nothing wrong with appreciating what you’ve got.”
He felt Holt’s curious gaze on him as they quickly made sandwiches for their makeshift lunch.
Holt sat next to him on a barstool, took a healthy bite of his sandwich and swallowed. Around the bite, Holt began, “You know, Yaz has this friend—”
“Has Nate returned from Cheyenne yet?” Shilah interjected. There was no way in hell he was going to let his brother finish that particular train of thought. Damn, was he so pitiful that Holt thought he needed fixing up?
Shilah was perfectly happy remaining the single man in their family. Besides the yearning he’d felt when he’d watched his brothers with their brides-to-be, sharing secret smiles or going to bed early, eyes only for each other, Shilah knew that love and happily-ever-after wasn’t in the cards for him.
He’d known that from the time he was a young boy. He was too … flawed, for any woman to ever love him.
Immediately the image of Ellie Crandall came to his mind, as unexpected as it was sudden.
He forced away the conflicting feelings he felt at seeing her again.
Although he’d chosen to go to a local college when he wasn’t working at the ranch, he’d often spent his free time at the library, studying and cramming four years of college into two. Soon after graduating, he’d devoted his time fully to the ranch, working long, hard days. At that point the ranch had begun to grow—he and his brothers as well had worked alongside Jed to see to that.
Although his brothers had gone on temporarily to pursue other interests, it had been for the betterment of the ranch. Nate, the oldest, had been involved in a lucrative stint of bull riding, and Holt in the NFL. The money they’d earned was used to improve and expand the ranch.
Within a short time, their profits had skyrocketed as they’d diversified, adding breeding of thoroughbreds to their menu, the money that earned allowing them to expand even more.
It had taken the death of Jed for all three brothers to come home and work the ranch full-time, dedicating themselves to seeing it become the vision Jed had for it.
Ellie’s arrival on the ranch had brought back memories, memories of a special time in his life, some painful, held deep in his subconscious, but all of them close to his heart.
“Not yet. He and Althea should be home by the weekend,” Holt replied, answering his question about Nate, bringing Shilah’s attention back to the present.
Recently, a national food conglomerate, Rolling Hills. had begun to buy … or consume, as he and his brothers had come to believe, many of the family-owned ranches at an alarming rate, leaving Wyoming Wilde as one of the last in the area.
Less than a year ago, a representative from Rolling Hills had approached him and his brothers in an offer to buy out the ranch. They hadn’t considered the offer, although lucrative, but their refusal to sell had fallen on deaf ears.
“Any word yet on anything? Did Nate find out anything more about who, if anyone, is behind this shit?” Shilah asked, in disgust.
Not only had Rolling Hills been after their ranch relentlessly, over the last year freak accidents had been accruing at an increasing rate, from isolated fires breaking out, to animals being misplaced on their way to slaughter.
Some were minor, some more serious in nature. As the “accidents” increased, more and more the brothers suspected someone was out to get them. And the only “someone” that came to mind was Rolling Hills.
