Home on the Ranch

by Tanya Michaels

  “My family is tough. It takes a lot to rattle the Trents.”

  That was true. One of his older brothers was the sheriff, and the other was a fireman. They were brave men, beloved in the community, but it had always been Jace with his teasing smile and bright blue eyes who’d been her favorite.

  “I don’t want to be pushy,” he said, “but I’m not used to taking no for an answer. We have that in common.”

  She swallowed hard. Was he talking about her stubborn nature in general or the night she’d overcome his perfunctory protests and convinced him to take her virginity? “It’s a bad idea.”

  He sighed. “Call me if you change your mind?”

  “Sure.” Not a chance.

  “Actually, call me for any reason. You may not look back on your departure from Cupid’s Bow fondly, but there are still people here who care about you.”

  She knew the soft words were meant to be reassuring, but they filled her with self-loathing. Don’t be nice to me. You don’t know what I’ve done.

  And, unfortunately, she had to keep it that way.

  * * *

  I must be losing my touch. Scowling, Jace tossed his cell phone onto the couch cushion next to him. There’d been a time, not so long ago, when he’d been known for his ability to charm women of all ages. His brothers often asked him to intercede when they had bad news to give their mother. Jace’s business partner, Grayson Cox, joked that he’d hired Jace solely because the ladies in town would line up to buy stuff from him.

  The fabled Jace Trent charm, however, hadn’t kept his girlfriend from dumping him last month. And now Layla Dempsey seemed one-hundred-percent immune to him. Clearly, she wasn’t struggling with the same intimate memories he was. That realization stung.

  Scowling, he stood. It wasn’t as if he’d thought Layla was pining after him all these years later. He didn’t even want that. He just wanted... Well, he wasn’t entirely sure.

  Still, he’d been irrationally disappointed by her rejection tonight. Inviting her to dinner with his family had seemed like a safe way for them to catch up without violating his resolve not to be alone with her. Could she have sounded less interested in rekindling their friendship?

  You are really on a roll lately. He went into the kitchen, wondering if he had anything in the fridge resembling dinner. He hadn’t had his usual appetite in the weeks since Kelli had ended their relationship. It wasn’t so much that he was heartbroken as he was dissatisfied with his life.

  Until Kelli’s pregnancy scare, he hadn’t even realized that he wanted more. When the stick had come up with a negative sign, she’d been joyfully relieved but he’d felt hollow. In the few minutes while they’d been waiting for the results, he’d thought about his nieces and nephew. He’d allowed himself to imagine a life like the lives his happily married brothers led—settled with a woman who adored him, raising bright, energetic kids. For the first time, Uncle Jace felt ready to be a father. But when he’d told Kelli that, she’d been horrified. She’d said they were in very different places and dumped him flat.

  It’s been a few weeks. You should throw your hat back into the dating ring. But he had even less enthusiasm for that idea than he did for grocery shopping to restock his kitchen. Maybe he’d just grab some takeout from the local deli and take a sandwich by the hospital for Suzanne. At least that would be one woman happy to see him.

  His thoughts circled back to Layla and the unexpected way she’d greeted him today. What was the emotion that had flashed in those hazel eyes of hers? If he didn’t know better, he might have said fear, but that was ridiculous. Layla Dempsey had been fearless as an adolescent. She’d swung from the same rope into the creek as the boys and she knew how to ride a horse bareback. Hell, Jace had been more nervous about her losing her virginity than she’d been. He’d worried about hurting her, but the blissful smile she’d given him afterward had made him feel like a god.

  He used to wonder, if he hadn’t gone away to college afterward and she hadn’t moved out of town with her father, would they have—

  Knock it off. The Dempsey family was going through hell right now. It was Jace’s job to be there for his friends, not to fantasize about Layla. All things considered, it was for the best that she’d turned down his dinner offer. And if he told himself that enough times, maybe the disappointment would fade.

  Chapter 4

  Time to face the dragon. Layla took a deep breath, trying to forcibly relax her posture in the driver’s seat. Addie was already exasperated from the fifteen-minute drive to her grandmother’s house and sitting still before that while Layla braided her hair. If her daughter picked up on Layla’s tension, this was going to be a disaster.

  Or, more accurately, an even bigger disaster than it was already destined to be.

  Pasting a fake smile across her face, Layla put the car in Park and met Addie’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Ready to go see Grandma?”

  Her daughter wrinkled her nose. “Do we hafta?”

  A different parent might reprimand the girl for her petulant attitude, but that would be wildly hypocritical under the circumstances. “We won’t be here long, baby.”

  Layla unbuckled her seat belt and went around the side of the car to open the door for her daughter. Was she doing a good job with Addie Rose? Or would there come a day when her own flesh and blood would dread being in her presence? She hated imagining that her daughter might ever feel the way Layla did right at this moment.

  As far back as Layla could remember, her mother had been disappointed in her. After first having a son, Claire had apparently looked forward to dressing Layla in pink and having tea parties with her and teaching her about makeup someday. But Layla had worshipped her big brother and wanted to do everything he did. She’d never understood why she got in trouble at the church picnic for getting her dress dirty when the only thing their mom said about Chris’s torn slacks was boys will be boys. Still, despite their opposing viewpoints on how a young lady should behave, Layla had believed her mother loved her.

  That changed when she was seventeen, panicked and pregnant, and chose to leave town with her father. Her parents’ divorce had been brutally ugly; before it was all over, her dad hadn’t just admitted to affairs, he’d rubbed them in Claire’s face. The indignity of Layla siding with him had been the final nail in the coffin of an uneasy mother-daughter bond.

  Layla hadn’t been taking sides; she’d merely wanted to get as far from Cupid’s Bow as possible before anyone learned she was expecting. It had also occurred to her that given her father’s affairs and the shameful way he’d acted, he wouldn’t have much moral high ground to lecture her. So she’d waited a few weeks and told him that she’d made a mistake at a party, trying to act cool so the kids at her new school would like her and getting carried away with a boy she didn’t even know. Her dad hadn’t been happy, but it was her mother who’d gone into full nuclear meltdown. There was probably still residual radiation around the house and yard. As she rang the doorbell, Layla slid a glance toward the rosebushes, trying to decide if any of them looked like mutant plants. There weren’t any two-headed geckos sunning themselves on the front porch, so that was a good sign.

  The door swung open, and there was Claire Brewer, her tight-lipped expression one Layla knew well. With the exception of a few more silver strands in her hair and less formal attire, she looked exactly the way she had at Chris and Suzanne’s wedding.

  Chris and Suzanne. Layla mentally chanted their names like a mantra, reminding herself why she was in town. Chris was close to their mother, and he didn’t need any extra stress worrying about his family right now. For his sake, Layla would work to keep the peace.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Layla.” Claire’s glacial tone thawed slightly when she glanced downward. “Addison.”

  “I’m Addie,” the girl corrected. “Or Addie Rose. Or Pickle—that’s what Grandpa calls me.”


  Uh-oh. Layla held her breath, wondering how Claire would react to mention of her hated ex-husband. They hadn’t been in the same room since the day their divorce was finalized.

  But Claire only cocked her head, her expression bemused. “Does he really? We used to have a cat named Pickle.”

  “I don’t remember that,” Layla said.

  “It was before you were born, back when he and I were first...” Claire blinked, then squared her shoulders. “Come inside, won’t you? The neighbors will wonder what happened to my manners if I make you stand on the porch all morning.”

  Worrying about other people’s opinions—just like old times. In the final trimester of her pregnancy, Layla had been terrified of the upcoming birth. She’d begged her mom to come visit and give maternal advice, but Claire had refused, ranting about how her daughter had embarrassed the family. Everyone in Cupid’s Bow must think I raised a floozy! How am I supposed to hold up my head in public? Did you ever stop to think about that, young lady?

  It was difficult to forgive her mother for not being there when Layla had needed her most. If there was a silver lining, it was that she’d grown much closer to her dad; he’d doted on Addie from the moment he first held her in the hospital. Maybe he hadn’t been a faithful husband or a very involved father, but he was trying to atone by being the world’s best grandpa. It was a shame he didn’t have that same opportunity with Chris and Suzanne’s twins.

  Addie marched inside, looking around with a critical eye. “Do you have a basement?”

  Claire raised an eyebrow. “That’s an odd question.”

  “Basements are the best place to go during tornados.”

  Layla patted her daughter’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Addie. I’m pretty sure there won’t be any tornados today, so we don’t have to worry.”

  “What if there’s one tomorrow?” Addie asked. “She doesn’t have a basement!”

  “This is a very strange conversation,” Claire said.

  Layla pinned her mother with a warning glare. Addie was sensitive. Layla wasn’t going to let anyone throw around words like odd and strange that made her daughter feel like a misfit. When a girl in her kindergarten class called her a weirdo, Addie had cried all afternoon.

  “There’s nothing odd about her being concerned for a relative’s safety,” Layla said. “It’s sweet, when you think about it.” You certainly haven’t given her much reason to care what happens to you. Beyond annual calls on Christmas and Addie’s birthday, Claire didn’t interact much with her granddaughter.

  “Uncle Chris got hurt,” Addie said suddenly.

  Claire’s face softened, her eyes glinting with worry and unshed tears. Layla felt an unexpected tug of kinship, mother to mother. Did anything make a woman more vulnerable than fear for her child?

  “Yes,” Claire agreed. “He was very badly hurt.”

  “Does his house have a basement?” There was no logical link between tornados and being trampled by a bull, but Addie obviously equated basements with keeping her loved ones safe. Layla wanted to scoop her daughter into a hug. Too many people saw the girl’s idiosyncrasies while overlooking what a big heart she had.

  “No, he—” Claire stopped when the little girl’s lip trembled. “You know what? He has a walk-in pantry that’s down a few stairs from the kitchen. It’s practically the same thing as a basement.”

  Addie craned her head around, looking to her mom for confirmation. Layla nodded. With that settled, Addie turned back to her grandmother. “Do you have a DVD player? I’m going to watch The Wizard of Oz.”

  Claire shot Layla a chiding look over Addie’s head. “With the witch and the tornado? Is that really such a good idea? It seems to me that—”

  “Mom. Please let her use the DVD player.” And trust me to know what’s best for my own daughter.

  “All right. I’ll put in the movie. If you’ll pour us some lemonade, Layla, we can take it on the back porch.” Claire’s steely tone was more command than suggestion.

  Biting back a sigh, Layla headed for the kitchen. At least if her mom was about to lecture her she was doing it out of Addie’s earshot. Did that count as progress? After Layla had set two glasses of lemonade on the porch table, she slid the screened door closed but left the glass one open so that she could hear if Addie needed her.

  A moment later, Claire joined her on the patio. Surprisingly, she didn’t launch into one of her tirades. Instead, she took a seat, not even looking at Layla yet. The silence was as chilly and tart as the lemonade.

  I should say something. Layla wanted to reach out, but she was paralyzed by the memory of the last time she’d tried that, only to be rejected.

  Claire stared out at the yard. “You’re good with her.”

  “Th-thank you.” Layla was so shocked by the compliment that a gentle breeze could have knocked her out of her chair.

  “I suppose you don’t think I was a good mother.”

  That felt like a trap. Still, now that Layla had some parenting experience of her own, she knew that being a mom was hard while making mistakes was easy. Motherhood was a minefield of potentially terrible decisions.

  “Well.” Claire’s voice sounded tired. “I guess that answers that question.”

  “No, Mom, I was just trying to think of what to—”

  Claire held up a hand. “I know I was...emotional during the divorce. I wasn’t the steadiest parent. But, Layla, I don’t think you understand how much that man hurt me. Humiliated me. I didn’t mean to lash out at you, but for you to choose that bastard over your own mother...”

  “It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t trying to choose anyone. I just wanted to get out of Cupid’s Bow.” That much was the honest truth. “I was going through a difficult time, too.”

  “So you tried to run away from your problems. But you’re a grown woman now. I think it’s time for you to come home.”

  “What?” Lemonade sloshed over the rim of her glass as Layla set it on the table with a thud. She had a life in Austin. Maybe not much of a social life, as busy as she stayed with work and her daughter, but she had clients and a professional reputation. This was Addie’s first year of school. She was making friends and had a teacher who was patiently encouraging. Layla would need substantial reasons to rip her child away from her familiar routines and start over elsewhere. “Why would I do that?”

  “What you mean, why? Cupid’s Bow is your home. Your family is here. Don’t you want to be there for Chris after all he’s been through? Don’t you want to see your nieces grow up? I’m sure Addie would enjoy spending time with them once they get a little older.”

  Layla resented the attempt to manipulate her through her daughter. “You barely know Addie!”

  “And whose fault is that? How is it fair that the man who all but destroyed my life gets to see her daily while I—”

  “No. You can blame Dad all you want for being a cheat and a liar—that’s between the two of you—but he has nothing to do with the distance between you and me.” Layla balled her fingers into fists to keep her hands from shaking, but she couldn’t stop the tremble in her voice. “You could have been in the room when Addie was born. I called you, Mom. I cried, I pleaded. I wanted you there. Your grudge was more important than your child.”

  “What a very convenient way to simplify my pain and paint me as the villain.”

  Layla shot to her feet. “Coming here was a bad idea.”

  There was no way in hell she would ever move back to Cupid’s Bow. The way she felt right now, it would be a miracle if she even stayed in town the rest of the day.

  * * *

  Jace was walking up the sidewalk to Claire Brewer’s front door when he heard snatches of an argument. He paused, realizing the raised voices were coming from the backyard. Apparently, Gena had been right to worry.

  He’d stopped by the bank with a deposit from the
store, and Gena had told him Layla was at Claire’s. She’d been concerned about how the mother-daughter reunion might go, so Jace had manufactured a reason to stop by, hoping to lend Layla some moral support. He’d felt a little silly as he’d pulled into the driveway, uninvited, but now he knew he’d made the right call.

  He went through the gate to the backyard, calling out a louder than normal hello to be heard above Claire’s comment about “ungrateful daughters” and Layla’s retort about “selfish mothers.”

  Both women spun toward him, neither looking happy to see him. Claire’s face flushed red, while Layla’s eyes widened to the size of poker chips. Her mouth dropped open.

  Claire recovered first. “Jace. How...nice to see you. This is unexpected.”

  He held up the white deli bag. “I heard you were trying to stave off a cold, so I brought you some chicken soup. Thought you could heat it up for lunch.”

  She took it from him. “That’s certainly thoughtful of you.” The pointed way she cut her gaze toward Layla on thoughtful wasn’t lost on him. He regretted being used to score a point in whatever fight they’d been having, but at least he’d gained Layla a momentary cease-fire. “I’ll go put this inside. Thank you, Jace.” She turned and stalked toward the house without another word to her daughter.

  Layla covered her face with her hands, and he suddenly found himself at her side as if he’d been pulled there by a high-powered magnet.

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Whatever she said to you, whatever she said about you... You have to know she’s under a lot of stress. She probably hasn’t slept for more than an hour at a time since Chris’s fall. Don’t let her make you feel bad about yourself, Layla—you’re a remarkable woman.” Until recently, he’d barely felt responsible enough to take care of himself, yet somehow she’d been managing a kid on her own, and, at twenty-four, was already a small business owner. Chris, proud big brother that he was, had shown Jace the website for her photography studio. She had a real gift.