The Rancher And The RunawayBride: Part 2 by Susan Mallery Read Free Book Online Page A

“Some.”
    “How many is some?”
    “More than one, less than you would think.”
    She batted her eyes. “No details?”
    “I’m not one to kiss and tell.”
    “Bummer. I would love to know what it was like to be a rodeo hero.”
    He shrugged. “I was never that good. I managed to win enough to support myself, but
     I only made the national finals four years out of ten. Still, I wouldn’t trade that
     experience for the world. I grew up on the road. My dad had done the same thing, so
     he knew a lot of people on the circuit. His friends, the older guys, kept track of
     me. With them around, I avoided getting into any real trouble.”
    “Who keeps you out of trouble now?” she asked, her voice teasing.
    “I’ve outgrown the need to find trouble.”
    “Oh? You talk like you’re an old man yourself.”
    “I am.”
    She thought about his bare chest and supple muscles. “Brady, you’re not much older
     than I.”
    “Nine years. It’s enough.”
    She pushed her wineglass away. Until that moment, she’d been enjoying the conversation.
     “So in addition to being one of your strays, I’m also a child?” she asked, then wanted
     to call the words back. Even she had heard the hurt in her voice. But she couldn’t help it. She’d wanted to be more
     than just someone he’d taken in—she’d wanted to be an individual. Special, as Tex
     had said. Obviously the cook had been wrong.
    Brady frowned. “What are you talking about? What strays?”
    She folded her arms over her chest. “All of us. You collect human strays the way Princess
     collects cats. Tex, Ziggy, Ty, even me.”
    His expression tightened. “I was raised to believe everyone deserves a second chance.
     If you have a complaint about that, you’ll need to take it up with my folks.” He pushed
     his chair back, stood up and left the room. Seconds later, the front door opened,
     then closed as he walked outside.
    Randi stared after him. From the stiff set of his shoulders it was obvious she’d insulted
     him. That wasn’t what she’d meant at all. Quite the opposite.
    She followed him outside. Princess still lay on her blanket. Randi paused to pet her
     and the few cats sleeping next to her, then straightened and looked at Brady.
    He stood on the edge of the porch, facing the barn. He must have heard her join him,
     but he didn’t say anything. She wondered what she could do to make it right between
     them. He was the last person she wanted angry with her.
    Darkness surrounded them. Overhead, stars twinkled in the heavens. The heat had disappeared
     with the sun, leaving the temperature pleasant.
    Slowly, she walked toward him, stopping less than a foot away. She wanted to lean
     against his strength, absorbing some of it for herself. Maybe that was the problem—she
     wasn’t capable of making it on her own. Why did she always have to depend on someone
     else? Why wasn’t her own counsel, her own company, enough?
    Yet she knew this was different. In the past she’d wanted to lean on her father or
     her brother because she didn’t want to face her problems or deal with her life. This
     time she wanted to lean on Brady because she had a hunch she would find something
     magical in his arms. His strength would become a part of her, and her strength—surely
     she had some—would flow into him.
    She raised her hand to touch him, but instead of resting her fingers on his back,
     she curled them toward her palm and dropped her arm to her side. She was just one
     of the strays. Touching wasn’t allowed.
    “I didn’t mean to insult you,” she said.
    He shrugged without turning around. “I’m not a fool,” he told her. “I don’t hire everyone
     who shows up. If I think they have what it takes, I give them a chance. In return
     I get loyalty and hard work.”
    “I’ve learned that firsthand. I appreciate that you gave me a chance. I didn’t say
     it right, probably because it’s hard for me to see myself as just another stray. My