“Can I go to the flea market, too?” Brendan asked hopefully, no doubt thinking about the bins of secondhand toys and boxes of comic books that he could sift through, because Gramma always let him choose one to bring home. On a recent trip he’d found a rare Batman comic for only twenty-five cents and now imagined himself to be a treasure hunter like his grandmother.
“Of course,” Sandra replied.
At the same time Brooke said, “You wanted to go to the Silver Star with me today.”
“Oh, right,” he said, but he no longer sounded as happy about that plan as he’d been earlier.
“And if we’re not there too long, maybe we can stop at Adventure Village for a game of mini golf,” Brooke suggested, sweetening her offer.
“Yay!” he agreed, with decidedly more enthusiasm this time. “Or maybe laser tag?”
She had no objection to Brendan playing laser tag with his friends, but the high-energy game with loud music and flashing lights was not really her idea of a good time.
“You played three games of laser tag yesterday,” she reminded him. “So your options are mini golf or home.”
“Mini golf,” he immediately agreed.
When everyone had finished eating, Bruce shooed his wife and daughter out of the kitchen so that he and Brendan could do the tidying up.
“Is there any particular reason you don’t want Brendan to come to the flea market with us?” Sandra asked, when they were settled in the living room with their refilled mugs of coffee.
“It’s not that I didn’t want him to go with you but that I wanted him with me,” Brooke clarified. “He was at Tanner’s birthday party for most of the day yesterday, and I kind of missed hanging out with him.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?” her mom pressed. “Your desire for Brendan’s company has nothing to do with the fact that you’re going to see Patrick Stafford today?”
It was both a blessing and a curse that her mother could read her so easily, Brooke mused, as she sipped her coffee and considered a response to the question.
“Maybe not nothing,” she allowed.
Sandra’s brow furrowed. “I know I was teasing you about him being a handsome man, but if he’s said or done anything to make you feel at all uncomfortable about being alone—”
“No.” Brooke shook her head, eager to reassure her mother. “It’s just...you were right. He is handsome and charming, and maybe I’m not as immune as I want to believe. So, yes, having Brendan there will serve as a reminder to me about what can happen when a woman lets herself fall under the spell of a handsome and charming man.”
“Okay,” her mom said. “Because we could send your father to the Silver Star to tend to the horse and you and Brendan could come with me.”
“Thanks, but no,” Brooke said, aware that her reason for turning down the offer had little to do with her dislike of the flea market and a lot to do with a certain sexy rancher.
* * *
Though he would never admit it to anyone else, Patrick was watching for Brooke’s arrival. Sure, he was sitting in front of his computer in the den, pretending to review the website design samples his cousin Devin had sent to him, but he was too distracted by thoughts of the sexy vet to note subtle differences in background colors and font styles, never mind form an opinion about them.
As much as he was looking forward to seeing Brooke again, he knew it would be a mistake to pursue a personal relationship with her. As she’d pointed out, she was too busy with real responsibilities to indulge in an affair with a pretend cowboy, and he wasn’t in a position to offer her anything more. All things considered, the smart move would be to take a step back.
Of course, as soon as he saw her truck pull into the driveway, he pushed his chair away from the desk and went to put on his coat and boots so that he could meet her by the barn.
His lips automatically curved when she stepped out of the vehicle. Then he heard the back door open and shifted his gaze in time to see a little boy hop out. Her son, he guessed, his surprise yielding to amusement as he realized she’d likely brought the kid to act as a barrier between them, to ensure there would be no more earth-tilting kisses like the one they’d shared the day before.
And while he was admittedly a little disappointed, he was also encouraged, because she wouldn’t have felt the need for a safeguard unless she’d been as affected by their kiss as he was.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Stafford,” she said by way of greeting.
“Dr. Langley.” He matched her formality with his response, then turned his attention to the boy who’d taken position by his mother’s side. The top of the kid’s head, covered in a red knit pom-pom cap, was level with her breasts, so Patrick estimated his height at around four feet. He was wearing a puffy royal blue ski jacket over jeans with cowboy boots on his feet. His hair—what was visible beneath the edges of his hat—was sandy brown and his eyes were dark blue and wide with curiosity.
“I’m guessing this is your son,” he said to Brooke.
She nodded. “This is Brendan.”
“Hello, Brendan,” Patrick said and offered his hand for the boy to shake. “I’m Patrick.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stafford,” the boy politely replied.
“Mr. Stafford is my father,” he said. “Patrick is fine,”
“My mom says using titles is a sign of respect,” Brendan told him.
“Well, I would never want to disagree with your mom,” Patrick said, fighting against the smile that wanted to curve his lips. “But maybe we can come up with an alternative that doesn’t make me feel so old.”
“How about Mr. Patrick?” Brendan suggested. “That’s what we call the teachers at school.”
His brows rose. “You call all your teachers Mr. Patrick?”
The boy giggled in response to Patrick’s feigned misunderstanding. “My teacher is Miss Karen, the librarian is Mrs. Donna and the gym teacher is Mr. Grant,” he explained.
“Ah.” Patrick nodded his understanding, then looked at Brooke. “What do you think, Dr. Langley?”
“I think Mr. Patrick is acceptable,” she agreed, then turned to her son again. “But the most important thing to remember is that you’re not to bother Mr. Patrick while we’re here.”
“I won’t,” Brendan promised, as he followed his mother into the barn.
Brooke retrieved the stallion’s halter and lead rope from the hook beside his door and stepped into the stall.
“He’s big,” Brendan said, taking an instinctive step back when the stallion exited the enclosure.
“He is big,” Patrick confirmed. “And incredibly strong. That’s why it’s important to keep a safe distance.”
“It’s hard to examine an animal from a safe distance,” the boy said matter-of-factly. “But I know to always approach a horse from the side to avoid his blind spots and to talk to him so he knows I’m there. My mom gives me the same lecture every time we visit one of the local ranches.”
“How often is that?” Patrick asked.
“Almost every weekend, and some other days when I’m not at school. But if Mom knows she’s gonna be a long time—or if she’s gonna be doing something she doesn’t want me to see—she makes me stay with Gramma.”
“You don’t like staying with Gramma?”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind, but I’d rather help with the animals. I’m gonna be the third Dr. B. Langley when I grow up.”
“It’s good to have goals,” Patrick remarked, impressed by the child’s confidence.
“Mom says I’ll prob’ly change my mind a dozen times before I go to college, but she knew she wanted to be a vet when she was my age, so I don’t think I will.”
“Some people do change their minds a dozen times—or more,” Patrick said. “Look at me, for example. I went to college to get a business degree, but now I’m a rancher.”
“So why didn’t I see any cows when we drove in?” Brendan asked.
“Because they’re in their winter pasture.”
“What about other horses?”
“They’re in the paddock behind the barn.”
“Can I go see them?”
“Brendan, I told you not to bother Mr. Stafford,” Brooke interjected before Patrick could respond.
“Mr. Patrick,” her son reminded her.
“And he’s not bothering me,” Patrick said. “If I had somewhere else to be, I’d be there. Since I don’t, I’m happy to take Brendan to see the other horses, if it’s okay with you.”
“It’s okay with me.” Then to Brendan, she said, “But remember the rules.”
“I always remember the rules,” he said, with an exaggerated eye roll.
“What are the rules?” Patrick asked, as they exited the barn and headed toward the paddock.
“Respect the animals and their space, do what she tells me when she tells me, and don’t touch anything without permission.”
“Those sound like reasonable rules,” he said.
“Yeah,” Brendan agreed. “But why does she have to remind me Every. Single. Time?”
“I’d guess it’s because she wants to make sure you’re safe,” Patrick said. And though it really was just a guess, it made sense to him.
Apparently Brendan thought so, too, because he nodded.
Then he spotted the horses, and his big blue eyes suddenly got even bigger. “Wow. You sure do have a lot of horses.”
“Twelve, including Ranger,” he said. “But there are only nine out here now, because Levi and Dean—they’re my ranch hands—each took a mount to ride out and check on the cattle.”
When they reached the fence, the boy climbed up on the lowest rail and leaned his arms over the top. “What are their names?” he asked.
“The white one with the black spots is Pongo—”
“Like the dalmatian in the movie?”
“I don’t know,” Patrick admitted. “He already had his name when I got him, but I think that’s a pretty good guess.” Then he proceeded to point out and name the rest of the group. “The cream-colored one with the white mane and tail is Biscuit, the dark dappled gray is Stormy, the lighter gray is Cloudy, the pair of reddish bays with the black socks are Joe and Jackson, the paint—that’s the brown one with big white splotches—is Picasso, the big black one is Midnight and her filly is Blue.”
“Blue?” Brendan echoed quizzically.
Patrick shrugged. “Again, she had the name when I got her.”
“So what is a dude ranch?” the boy asked.
“Where’d you hear that term?”
“My mom told my gramma that you’re turning Mr. Sterling’s property into a dude ranch.”
“Actually, it’s the Silver Star Vacation Ranch,” he said.
“What’s a vacation ranch?” Brendan asked.
“It’s where people go to learn about and help with the daily operations of a ranch.”
The boy’s brow wrinkled. “That doesn’t sound much like a vacation.”
“Maybe not to you and me,” he acknowledged. “But for those who live in crowded cities, it’s an opportunity to escape the noise and traffic and experience a simpler lifestyle.”
“I’d rather go to Disneyland,” Brendan said.
Patrick chuckled at that. “I think I probably would, too, but other people like the idea of trail rides, fishing trips and cooking under the stars. And for younger guests, there will be riding lessons and other activities.”
An admittedly vague description, but he hadn’t yet figured out exactly what those other activities might be.
“You should also teach them how to take care of a horse,” Brendan suggested. “Grandpa says it’s important to repay a horse for letting you ride with proper care.”
“That’s a good point,” Patrick said. “I’ll add it to my list.”
“Junior rodeo events are fun, too. At cowboy camp last summer, we learned how to rope a steer—well, it was actually a hay bale with fake horns,” he admitted. “But it was still fun.”
“What else did you do?”
“I won the ribbon for mutton busting,” the boy said proudly. “And that was a real mutton.”
“Maybe I should hire you as a junior consultant,” Patrick mused, making a mental note to look into the cost of acquiring and caring for a couple of sheep.
“You mean like a job? That would be so cool!” Brendan said excitedly. “Would I get paid?”
“Maybe we should ask your mom what she thinks before we discuss those kinds of details.”
“She’ll think it’s okay,” the boy said confidently. “’Cause she knows you’ve got more money than brains.”
Chapter Six
Please let the earth open up and swallow me now, Brooke thought, as she heard the words come out of her son’s mouth.
Unfortunately, the universe didn’t comply with her request, forcing her to chastise him for repeating what he’d obviously overheard of a private conversation.
“Brendan Langley, that was a completely inappropriate thing to say.”
“But that’s what you told Grandpa,” Brendan said.
Because her son was nothing if not honest.
And still, the ground remained solid beneath her feet.
“I’m sure you must have misheard,” she said.
“No, I didn’t,” Brendan insisted, shaking his head for emphasis.
She slid a glance toward Patrick, trying to gauge his reaction to Brendan’s remark—or rather his repetition of her remark. The corners of the rancher’s mouth twitched as he fought against a smile. Apparently he thought it was funny to watch her try to talk herself out of the corner she’d been boxed into.
“And even if you think that’s what you heard,” she continued to address her son, “you need to understand that some adult conversations aren’t meant for your ears—or to be repeated.”
“Does that mean I won’t get paid?” Brendan directed this question to Patrick.
“Paid for what?” she asked, obviously having arrived on the scene after that part of the conversation.
“We can discuss that later,” the rancher said. “How’s Ranger?”
“It’s only been a couple days,” Brooke reminded him. “But at this point, there are no red flags.”
“Coronet injuries are tricky,” Brendan said solemnly. “If they don’t heal prop’ly, they can cause perm’nent figurement or lameness.”
“Disfigurement,” Brooke corrected automatically.
“That’s why I’ve chosen to pay someone with special expertise to care for Ranger rather than risk further damage,” Patrick said to Brendan.
“That seems pretty smart to me,” the boy decided, then turned to the horses again.
Brooke took a couple of steps back, away from the fence, and gestured with a jerk of her chin—a silent request for Patrick to follow.
“I owe you an apology,” she said, when she was confident that they were out of earshot of her son. “And I am sorry.”
“Sorry you said it or sorry your son repeated it?”
She just shook her head. “You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”
“I don’t know... Never is a long time,” he said. “And it’s entirely possible that I do have more money than brains, but that’s only because I’m unbelievably rich.”
“And unbelievably humble,” she remarked dryly.
He grinned. “But I was smart enough to get you to come back to my ranch.”
“To take care of your horse.”
“That was one reason,” he acknowledged. “Another was that I really wanted another look at you.”
She lifted a brow. “Are you flirting with me?”
“I’m trying,” he admitted. “But flirting, not unlike sex, is an activity that’s much more enjoyable with a partner.”
“Well, I wish you luck finding one,” she said.
“I’m looking at the one I want,” he told her.
Her gaze skittered away.
“And I think you want me, too. That’s why you brought your son with you today, to ensure there wouldn’t be a repeat of what happened yesterday.”
“What happened yesterday?” she asked, adopting a casual tone so that he wouldn’t suspect how much she’d been affected by the kiss they’d shared.
But the slow curve of his lips warned that he wasn’t fooled for a second. “Yesterday you plastered yourself against me and shoved your tongue down my throat.”
“I did not,” she denied hotly. “And it was your tongue that made first contact.”
“Apparently you do remember what happened yesterday,” he mused.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Because what happened yesterday isn’t going to happen again.”
But it was a bold statement set on a shaky foundation, and they both knew it.
* * *
Sarah’s Jeep pulled into the driveway as Brooke was buckling Brendan into his booster seat. Two minutes earlier, he’d wished he could talk the sexy vet into staying a while longer. Now he was glad she was on her way so that he wouldn’t have to introduce the two women.
The older of his two sisters, Sarah had always had an uncanny ability to know when he was interested in a female, and she’d exploited that talent mercilessly over the years. No doubt she would only have to glance between Patrick and Brooke to know he was hot for the vet, and then she’d subject Brooke to a million questions.
“What are you doing here?” Patrick asked, when Sarah climbed out of her Jeep.
“It’s good to see you, too, big brother,” she said.
“I am happy to see you,” he told her. “I’m just surprised because I thought you were in Vegas for the weekend.”
“I got back this morning.”
A Chance for the Rancher Page 6
