The Rancher and the Runaway Bride Part 1 by Susan Mallery Read Free Book Online Page B

imagination, but the sun seemed to shine a little brighter on him. She hadn’t needed Tex to tell her Brady was a great guy. But if he were so wonderful, why wasn’t he married? Was there a hideous flaw she hadn’t discovered, or some dark secret from his past? And why was it suddenly so important for her to know?

Chapter Four
    “Chow’s on,” Randi called as she set down the cat food dishes. Unlike Tex, she could only carry two bowls at a time, and she had to hurry back into the kitchen for another set. In a matter of minutes, all the cats were eating. Princess had started her dinner, as well.
    Randi settled on the porch steps and breathed a sigh of contentment. It was late afternoon, and a rainstorm had blown through earlier, dropping the temperature to the low seventies. The ground was damp and the horses would be muddy, but it was a small price to pay for relief from the heat.
    Princess finished eating and came over to get her nightly attention. They were all settling into a routine. Even though feeding the cats wasn’t one of her responsibilities, Randi had taken over the chore from Tex. When the older man had protested, she’d explained that she liked spending time with the animals. She was starting to learn the different personalities of the cats and even to name them, although Tex had warned her not to let Brady know she was making pets of them. The rancher tolerated the cats, but he didn’t actually like them.
    She rubbed Princess’s ears and smiled. “Brady talks tough,” she said aloud to the dog, “but I think he’s faking it. He likes you and your herd of kitties, doesn’t he?” Princess thumped her tail against the wooden porch.
    The pregnant tabby finished her meal and jumped up onto the porch. She settled next to Princess and began licking her front right paw. When it was clean, she began the intricate process of grooming her face.
    “How are you feeling, Pokey?” Randi asked. “If that belly of yours gets much lower, it’s going to drag against the dirt.”
    Pokey ignored her criticism and concentrated on the task at hand. The cat worked in a rhythmic, circular motion, licking her paw, then swiping it across the side of her face, then licking the paw again. First she cleaned her muzzle, then her cheeks, the area around her eyes, her forehead and finally behind her ears.
    Randi watched, amazed at the patience and thoroughness involved. “See that,” she said, pointing to the cat. “If you learned to do that, Princess, you wouldn’t have to get a bath every couple of weeks. You’re a great dog, but I have to tell you, you smell.”
    Princess grinned her doggy grin, obviously unconcerned about her odor problem. Peter, the eleven-week-old black kitten, climbed up the stairs and into Randi’s lap. Once there, he purred loudly and stared at her with his big yellow eyes. When she didn’t move to pet him right away, he butted her stomach with his head.
    “Impatient little devil, aren’t you,” she said, scratching him behind his ears. The purring rose in volume as tiny paws kneaded her belly and incredibly sharp claws poked through denim.
    She endured the slight pain. In a few minutes Peter would sink down onto her lap and doze off. In this time before dinner, she liked to enjoy the quiet of just her and the animals. Maybe it was because she’d never had a pet as a child. Her mother wouldn’t have allowed one in the house. After all, a wild creature couldn’t be trusted around expensive rugs and priceless antiques. It had been hard enough to control two children. Randi grimaced. Who was she kidding? Noah hadn’t been the problem; she had.
    One of her earliest clear memories was of standing next to a broken vase, crying. Her mother had been screaming at her. Not only because of the value of the destroyed piece, but because Randi had cut herself and was dripping blood on the rug. She remembered holding out her hand, trying to show her mother that she was still bleeding, that the cut