A Chance for the Rancher

by Brenda Harlen

  “Does that mean you’re ready to throw in the towel and go back to your corner office at Blake Mining, where you can be unhappy for the rest of your life?”

  “No,” he said. Because she was right. He’d been not only restless but unhappy in the corporate world. But working on the ranch, he felt fulfilled and content. And, yes, happy.

  “You’ve certainly seemed a lot happier since you moved out here—and even more so the past several weeks,” she noted.

  “It is a relief to know that most of the major work is done.”

  “Do you really think that’s all it is?” she asked.

  “Obviously you have a different theory.”

  “I do,” Jenna confirmed. “And her name is Brooke.”

  Patrick just shook his head, unwilling to discuss his relationship with Brooke—if it could even be called a relationship—with his sister.

  “I’m going into town to grab a pizza,” he abruptly decided. “Do you want to come with me?”

  “No, I think I’ll hang out with Princess for a while.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hey,” she said, as he started to turn away. “If it’s okay, I think I’ll crash here tonight.”

  “Sure,” he said, because he knew she was only sharing her plans and not really asking permission. Then, because the question had been nudging at the back of his mind for a few weeks now, he asked, “Is everything okay with you and Nate?”

  “We’re going through a bit of a rough patch,” she said.

  “Do you want me to stay home tonight?”

  That earned him a scowl. “Definitely not. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Okay,” he relented.

  But as he drove into town, it occurred to him that his sister had been spending a lot of time at the ranch lately, making him suspect that the “rough patch” she’d mentioned might be more than that.

  It was only a fleeting thought, though, as his mind was more preoccupied with her comment about Brooke. Because whether or not he was willing to admit it, it was true that his happiest days had been the ones he’d spent with the sexy vet—and her son.

  * * *

  On the way to Jo’s Friday night, Brooke resolved to put all thoughts of Patrick out of her mind and focus on enjoying her son’s company. That resolution lasted only until they walked into the restaurant and she saw the rancher leaning on the counter by the cash register, chatting up the very young and very pretty girl working there.

  She ignored the jolt of awareness that surged through her body, leaving high-voltage tingles humming through her veins, even as she cursed herself for the instinctive response.

  “Why don’t we take one of those tables over there?” she suggested, attempting to steer her son away from the counter before he spotted Patrick.

  But she wasn’t quick enough.

  “Hey, it’s Mr. Patrick,” Brendan said and immediately began waving. “Hi, Mr. Patrick.”

  The rancher glanced over and his mouth—the same mouth that had kissed her until they were both breathless and then done other and more interesting things to other parts of her—curved into an easy smile for her son. “Hey, Brendan.” Then Patrick’s attention shifted to Brooke, and even from across the room, she felt the heat of his gaze as his eyes skimmed over her in what could only be described as a visual caress. “Dr. Langley.”

  She inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Mr. Stafford,” she said, inwardly wincing at the primness of her own tone.

  He said something else to the girl behind the counter, then sauntered over to the table where she and Brendan were now seated. He didn’t wait for an invitation but straddled an empty chair and flashed another of those bone-melting smiles. “Small world, huh?”

  “Small town,” she clarified. Though she managed a lighter tone this time, she was helpless to rein in her galloping pulse. Apparently her traitorous body hadn’t got the memo from her brain that she was supposed to be over him.

  “We’re gonna have pizza for dinner,” Brendan chimed in, unwilling to be left out of the conversation.

  “Then you came to the right place,” Patrick said, with a wink for the boy as a server approached the table.

  Brooke ordered a diet cola for herself and root beer for Brendan, plus their usual pizza—a medium with cheese and pepperoni, since Brendan didn’t really like any other toppings on his pie.

  “I’ll be right back with your drinks,” the server promised. “And your pizza will be ready to go in just a few minutes, Mr. Stafford.”

  “Can I change it to eat-in rather than take-out?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she responded.

  “Great. And I’ll take a root beer, too.” He flashed his devastating smile in the server’s direction, flustering the poor girl so much that her notepad and pen slipped from her fingers.

  He scooped both items off the floor and returned them to her. “You can add the soda and Dr. Langley’s order to my tab.”

  “No,” Brooke immediately protested. “Don’t add...” Her words trailed off as she realized the server was already hurrying away to do his bidding—and maybe to splash some cold water on her flushed cheeks.

  So Brooke directed her attention—and ire—at Patrick. “I’m not letting you buy our dinner.”

  “I know we’re doing things a little out of order,” he said. “Usually I buy a woman dinner first, but better late than never, right?”

  She frowned in disapproval of his not-so-veiled reference to the nights they’d spent together. Thankfully, her son was oblivious to the implications of Patrick’s remark as well as the undercurrents between the adults.

  The server returned almost immediately with their drinks and three plates, and then with Patrick’s pizza, which she set on an elevated stand in the middle of the table.

  Brendan eyed the pie hungrily.

  “Go ahead and dig in,” Patrick urged.

  But Brooke shook her head. “He doesn’t like mushrooms.”

  “It’s lucky, then, that they’re only on the top and easy to pick off.” He lifted a slice from the pan and set it on the boy’s plate. “Careful, though. It’s pretty hot,” he cautioned, as he transferred a second slice to Brooke’s plate before taking one for himself.

  To her surprise, conversation didn’t lag at all while they ate. The even bigger surprise was that it was Patrick and Brendan who mostly kept it going.

  Despite his long-ago claim that he had no interest in kids, the rancher spent a lot of time not just talking to her son but actively engaging him on a variety of topics. Of course, he and Brendan had become pretty well acquainted after “consulting” during several visits at the Silver Star, but Brooke was still surprised by the easy flow of their conversation.

  In between bites of pizza and sips of root beer, they talked about Ranger and Princess, discussed Brendan’s favorite and least favorite subjects at school (phys ed and history, respectively), and somehow ended up in a DC versus Marvel debate, comparing both comic book story lines and movie adaptations. And Brooke noticed that when her son helped himself to a second slice of Patrick’s pizza, he didn’t even bother to peel the mushrooms off the top.

  Of course, two pieces were all he wanted, and he was finished eating before the pie that she’d ordered was delivered to the table.

  “Can I go play video games with Russell?” Brendan asked, having spotted his friend by one of the vintage machines at the back of the restaurant. The games were a recent addition to Jo’s, introducing Pac-Man, Frogger and Tetris to a whole new generation of kids.

  Brooke dug a couple of quarters out of her wallet and handed them to her son.

  “Does he ever slow down?” Patrick asked, watching as Brendan raced across the room to the machines.

  “Only when he’s asleep,” she said, a smile touching her lips.

  “How long will the games keep
him occupied?” he wondered.

  “We’ll see.” She watched the boys slide their coins into the machines and take their positions before shifting her attention back to Patrick. “But there’s no reason for you to stick around.”

  “I’m hoping if I do, I’ll get dessert,” he said.

  Of course, they both knew there weren’t any desserts on Jo’s menu.

  So why was he looking at her as if she was a slice of Twelve-Layer Chocolate Bliss that he wanted to savor?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brooke lifted her glass and swallowed a mouthful of soda, hoping the icy beverage would cool that heat that rushed to fill her cheeks. “It’s a Friday night,” she pointed out. “Don’t you have a date or something?”

  “There is a woman I’m interested in,” Patrick acknowledged. “But she keeps trying to brush me off.”

  “Maybe you should take the hint.”

  “I thought about it,” he said. “I mean, there are plenty of other single women in this town.”

  “So why aren’t you with one of them?” she pressed, ignoring the stab of something that felt uncomfortably like jealousy.

  “Because it occurred to me that maybe I’m being pushed away by this woman not because she doesn’t want me but because she’s afraid to admit how much she wants me.”

  “You really do have an impressive...ego.”

  He grinned. “Yes, she did seem to be impressed by my...ego...last weekend.”

  She rolled her eyes at that even as her body stirred in response to the memories.

  Then his smile faded and his expression turned serious. “I missed you this week.”

  She swallowed and mentally trampled the blossom of hope that sprang to life inside her. “Did you?”

  “You have no idea how many times I picked up the phone to call you.”

  “And yet my phone never rang,” she noted.

  “You were supposed to let me know when you’d figured out what you wanted,” he reminded her.

  “But it’s not just about what I want,” she said. “It can’t be.”

  “Brendan doesn’t seem to mind hanging out with me.”

  “Brendan is a kid desperately looking for a father figure.”

  “You’re trying to scare me off.”

  “Maybe I am,” she conceded. “But I’m also being honest.”

  “I’m trying to be honest, too,” he said. “And I know you said you didn’t want to have an affair or a fling or anything else, but since I met you, I haven’t wanted to be with anyone else. I haven’t thought about anyone else. So maybe we should give the relationship option a shot.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t seem to know what else to say.

  She hadn’t let herself believe that he might want anything more than what they’d already shared together. Because a relationship was somehow a lot more intimate than sex, and a lot more terrifying.

  He lifted a brow. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

  “I don’t know what else to say,” she admitted. “Except...maybe...do you want to go see a movie with us tonight?”

  “I’d love to,” he said, as Brendan headed back to the table.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what movie?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  But Brendan chimed in again. “We’re gonna see the new Star Wars movie.”

  “I didn’t know there was a new Star Wars movie,” Patrick said.

  “It’s only ‘new’ in that we haven’t yet seen it and it’s finally showing at Mann’s,” Brooke clarified, naming the local second-run theater.

  “Have you seen it?” Brendan asked. “Is it totally awesome?”

  “I’ve heard that it is, but, no, I haven’t seen it,” Patrick admitted.

  “You could see it with us,” her son immediately offered. “That would be okay, wouldn’t it, Mom?”

  “I’ve already invited Mr. Patrick to come with us,” she said.

  “Did you say ‘yes’?” Brendan asked him.

  “I said ‘yes,’” Patrick confirmed. “I’ll even spring for the popcorn.”

  “You paid for the pizza,” Brooke pointed out. “I’ll get the popcorn.”

  “Why don’t we compromise?” he suggested. “You can get the tickets and I’ll get the snacks, because I want Milk Duds with my popcorn.”

  * * *

  “Can we get gummy bears, too?” Brendan asked, when they were in line at the concession stand a short while later.

  “How can you want candy after two slices of pizza?” Brooke wondered.

  “I’m growing like a weed,” he said, quoting her oft-repeated sentiment.

  “Which is the only reason I agreed to the popcorn,” she told him, as Patrick hid a smile.

  “But I like to mix gummy bears in my popcorn.”

  “Gummy bears and Milk Duds are even better,” Patrick said.

  Brooke made a face. “Please tell me you don’t seriously mix candy with your popcorn.”

  “If I told you that, it would be a lie,” he confided.

  “Clearly you have the taste buds of a seven-year-old.”

  “I do have a sweet tooth,” he acknowledged, then dipped his head to whisper close to her ear, “That’s why I like you.”

  “Can I get a blue raspberry slushy?” Brendan asked, proving once again that he was paying no attention to their conversation.

  Patrick looked at Brooke, seeking her approval before acquiescing to her son’s request.

  She started to open her mouth to protest that Brendan had already had soda with dinner, but closed it again without saying a word. Though she didn’t approve of him overloading on sugar, a night out at the movies was a special occasion and she didn’t think it would hurt him too much to indulge a little. But she did caution, “If you want another drink, you better make sure you go to the bathroom before the movie starts.”

  “I’ll go now,” Brendan said and dashed off.

  She didn’t usually let him go off on his own when they were in a crowd, but the entrance and exit of the facilities were visible from where she was standing—and even closer to the condiment bar.

  “I’ll get straws and napkins,” she said, leaving Patrick to wait for their snacks at the counter.

  She was occupied for less than a minute, but when she turned back again, she saw that Patrick had both hands on a cardboard tray, a woman hanging off his arm and a smear of peach lipstick beside his mouth. And for one quick moment, she flashed back to college.

  She’d felt so lucky to be with Xander, who was so incredibly handsome and charming and popular. And she hadn’t worried about the other girls who were always flirting with him, because he’d chosen to be with her and only her. It was what he’d always told her. And what she’d believed—until she’d found him in bed with her roommate.

  But Patrick wasn’t Xander, and she had no reason to resent the attention he was getting from the other woman or want to yank him away from the female who was now leaning close to whisper in his ear.

  To his credit, Patrick didn’t look at the cleavage on display by the woman’s V-neck sweater. In fact, he seemed to be looking everywhere else and exhaled visibly with relief when his gaze connected with Brooke’s.

  The pouting brunette, clearly unhappy with the lack of attention she was getting, tugged on his arm to draw his focus back to her again.

  Patrick shook his head in response to whatever she’d said, and she finally released his arm and turned to rejoin a group of friends waiting for concessions.

  As he approached, Brooke plucked another paper napkin from the dispenser and offered it to him. “You might want to wipe off the lipstick. That shade doesn’t really work with your skin tone.”

  He set the tray down on the edge of the counter to take the napkin from her. “That was Nikki,” he said, as he scrubbed his cheek
. “We went out a few times, a couple of years ago.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations,” she assured him.

  “I think I’d want an explanation if I saw one of your ex-boyfriends kissing you when we were out on a date together.”

  “An unlikely scenario considering that the number of my ex-boyfriends can be counted on one hand,” she said. “And also, this isn’t a date.”

  “Enjoying a movie and sharing popcorn counts as a date in my books,” he said.

  “I can guarantee I won’t be sharing that popcorn if you put gummy bears and Milk Duds in it,” she said.

  “It’s still a date.”

  “With a seven-year-old chaperone?”

  He shrugged. “Dating a single mom is a new experience for me, but I’d guess child-age chaperones are fairly common.”

  “Which is another reason you might prefer to watch the movie with Nikki.”

  “I already told her I wasn’t interested or available because I was seeing somebody else.”

  “Inviting you to join me and Brendan at the movies doesn’t mean we’re seeing each other,” she said.

  “How about more than eighteen hours naked together?” he challenged. “What does that mean?”

  Before she could figure out an answer to his question, Brendan was back, wiping his damp hands down the front of his jeans.

  “There are dryers in the bathroom,” she pointed out to her son.

  “They take too long and I don’t want to miss any previews,” Brendan said.

  “And on the plus side, at least you know he washed,” Patrick said.

  Since she couldn’t deny the truth of that, she only said, “Let’s go find some seats.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t a date.

  Patrick’s claims to the contrary aside, Brooke was certain of that.

  And yet, when their fingers touched inside the bucket of popcorn (because, yes, she couldn’t resist the salty treat, despite the candy he’d tossed inside—to her son’s delight), tingles ran up her arm and memories of his strong hands moving over her flooded her brain and heated her body. And when he leaned close to whisper to her, he let his lips skim the outer shell of her ear, making her shiver. And when the theater was dark and the popcorn was gone, he linked their fingers together and held her hand.