A Chance for the Rancher

by Brenda Harlen

  And as Brendan regaled her with puppy tales, Brooke could tell he was overjoyed to learn that Patrick had decided to keep Leia, and also sad to know that most of the other puppies would soon be going to different homes.

  “But at least I’ll get to see Princess and Leia whenever we visit the Silver Star,” he said.

  Damn, maybe she should have let him have a puppy. If she had, he’d be less likely to notice when he didn’t get invited back to the ranch that had almost become a second home to him over the past couple of months. But right now, she didn’t have the heart to tell him that there were unlikely to be many visits to the ranch in their future.

  “And you might find Rose at the clinic sometimes,” she said instead. “Because her new home is going to be with Courtney.”

  “Yay!” he said.

  They chatted for a few more minutes, and though Brooke purposely didn’t ask her son about Patrick, that didn’t stop her from thinking about him. And wondering if he’d really meant it when he said he wanted a second chance.

  If it was possible that he really did love her.

  She’d hoped that getting out of town—and away from Patrick—for a few days might help her clear her head and sort out her emotions so that she could start to get over him. But after his visit to the clinic earlier in the week, a tiny blossom of hope had begun to unfurl inside her heart. Hope that she wouldn’t have to get over him but might instead be able to look toward a future for them together.

  You, me and Brendan... A family.

  She pushed the enticing thought to the back of her mind and made her way to the restaurant where she was meeting Lori and Matt for dinner.

  But the whole time she was seated across the table from her friend and her new beau, Brooke couldn’t forget the question Melissa had asked. She’d pretended she didn’t know the answer, because she didn’t want to be in love with Patrick. Because being in love required openness and vulnerability, which, experience had taught her, could result in hurt.

  Except that being with the happy couple also reminded Brooke that love could result in healing. Lori and Matt had each been in relationships with other people before, but those unsuccessful experiences hadn’t held them back from taking another chance and finding a true connection together.

  By the time she went back to her empty hotel room alone, she’d made a decision. Not about whether or not she was in love with Patrick, because that had never really been in question, but to finally tell him the truth about her feelings.

  * * *

  It was almost dinnertime when Brooke finally arrived home from San Diego on Sunday. She’d texted her mom with her ETA when her plane landed, only to learn that her parents were going out to eat and wouldn’t be there when she arrived. After two and a half days away, she was disappointed to have to wait even longer still to see Brendan and give him the bag of saltwater taffy she’d brought back from Ocean Beach.

  Preoccupied by these thoughts, it took her a moment to realize that the lights were on inside her apartment when she opened the door, and another to register the scent of...toast?

  “Hello?” she said cautiously.

  “It’s Mom!”

  Brendan raced out of the kitchen and threw his arms around her. Patrick followed at a more measured pace and paused a few feet away, as if uncertain of his reception. That made two of them.

  “Welcome home,” he said.

  “I...didn’t expect anyone to be here,” she said.

  “We wanted to surprise you,” Brendan said, squeezing tight.

  She hugged him back, happy to see him...and not quite sure what to read into Patrick’s presence, though her hopeful heart was leaning in a very specific direction.

  Stop trying to reason this out in your head and listen to your heart.

  “Are you surprised?” Brendan asked now.

  “Very,” she confirmed, realizing that her mother had obviously been in on whatever this plan was.

  “Are you happy surprised or mad surprised?” Patrick asked cautiously. “Because if you’re mad, I take full responsibility.”

  “I’m...still-evaluating surprised,” she said.

  “We got you flowers,” Brendan said, drawing her attention to the beautiful arrangement of yellow roses, gerberas and tulips set in the middle of the table. “Do you like them?”

  “Oh.” She felt a flutter in her belly. “Yes, I do. They’re beautiful.”

  Her gaze shifted back to Patrick, who was watching her with such focus and intensity, she felt that flutter again.

  “Brendan, why don’t you take your mom’s bag to her room?” he suggested.

  “Okay,” her son agreed, pulling out the handle and wheeling it away.

  “If you wanted to get him out of the room, you just bought yourself about twelve seconds because my bedroom isn’t very far.”

  “I remember where your bedroom is. And, yes, I thought you’d probably want him out of the room when I did this,” he said, sliding his arms around her.

  Though she thought they should talk before they moved on to other things, she didn’t balk at being drawn closer. And when he lowered his mouth to kiss her, she couldn’t help but respond—her lips softening, her body melting.

  Conscious of the twelve seconds she’d allotted, he reluctantly eased his mouth from hers. “Welcome home.”

  “You said that already,” she told him.

  “Did I tell you that I missed you?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Well, I did. And not just this weekend, but every day of the week before that, when I was foolish enough to think I could ever live without you.”

  “I missed you, too, but—”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  She wasn’t sure if he’d cut her off because Brendan had returned to the room or if he didn’t want to hear how she might finish that thought.

  Either way, there was only one answer to his question. “Starved.”

  “Good, because dinner is ready.”

  “I thought something smelled good when I walked in.”

  “And I thought it was you that smelled good enough to eat,” he said, lowering his head to nibble her throat.

  She took a step back, her cheeks flushing with heat as Brendan giggled.

  It made her happy to hear her son happy, and while Brendan had never been a shy child, he’d positively blossomed under Patrick’s attention. But why should she be surprised that her little boy had fallen in love with the rancher when she’d done the same thing?

  Yes, she’d been hurt and angry when he’d brushed her off, but the residue of those feelings couldn’t dim the brightness of the love that filled her heart.

  And maybe it was scary to think about giving him another chance, but it was a lot scarier to think about living the rest of her life without the man she loved.

  So they sat on their knees at the coffee table and ate to-die-for grilled cheese—which Brendan helped make—followed by Sweet Caroline’s Twelve-Layer Chocolate Bliss for dessert.

  When Brendan had licked the last remnants of icing off his fork, he leaned over and stage-whispered to Patrick, “When are you gonna ask her?”

  “Apparently right now,” Patrick said.

  “Well, do it,” her son urged.

  Brooke watched the interaction between them—one a little impatient, the other a little bit nervous.

  “Ask me what?” she asked warily, thinking her son might have somehow finagled the promise of a puppy from the rancher.

  “If you’ll be my girlfriend, and maybe go out on a date with me sometime,” Patrick replied.

  Not a puppy, but something much bigger, she realized.

  And she understood the significance of him making the request in front of her son. He wasn’t just asking her to go out for dinner or to a movie, but to acknowledge that they wer
e in a relationship together. He was asking her to take a chance—to give their relationship a chance.

  Don’t you think it’s time...to take a chance and finally let yourself be happy?

  “I will,” she agreed.

  “Yay!” Brendan cheered and pumped his chocolate-smeared fist in the air, prompting Brooke to send her son to wash up and get ready for bed.

  When Patrick gathered the dessert plates to take them to the kitchen, she followed to help tidy up. But he had other ideas.

  Better ideas, she decided, when he kissed her, long and slow and deep.

  And then he said, “I love you, Brooke. I know those words don’t make everything okay but—”

  She touched her fingers to his lips to halt the flow of words and replied simply, “I love you, too.”

  * * *

  When the kitchen was tidied, Patrick and Brooke returned to the living room. Brendan, having brushed his teeth and changed into his pj’s, snuggled up on the sofa with them.

  Together. A family.

  “I’ve been thinking about something,” Brendan suddenly announced.

  And Patrick had a sneaking suspicion he knew what that “something” was.

  “What have you been thinking about?” Brooke asked her son.

  “I don’t wanna be the third Dr. Langley.”

  “That’s okay.” Brooke ruffled his hair affectionately. “You’ve got lots of time to figure out what you want to do with your life.”

  “I wanna be a vet,” he said. “But I wanna be the second Dr. Stafford.”

  “You can’t just change your name, Brendan.”

  “I can change mine if you change yours,” he said.

  Patrick sighed. “You really don’t understand what ‘later’ means, do you?” he said to Brendan.

  “I’m impatient,” the boy reminded him.

  “I know,” he admitted.

  Brooke looked at Patrick then, a slight furrow between her brows. “I think I’m missing something here.”

  “That’s because your son skipped a few steps ahead. What Brendan was supposed to say—but not until you’d had some time to get used to dating me,” he said, with a pointed look at the child, “is that you could be the first Dr. Stafford...if you agreed to marry me.”

  Then he pulled the ring box out of his pocket and opened it to reveal a three-and-a-half-carat diamond solitaire set in a platinum band.

  “Ohmygod.” The words were a whispered prayer as hope bloomed inside her more abundantly than the flowers on the table.

  “Do you like it? I picked it out,” her son said proudly. “It’s a princess cut.” He looked up at Patrick. “Did I get that right?”

  She had to laugh. “Of course it’s a princess cut. And of course I like it, but...” She looked helplessly at Patrick, stunned and overwhelmed. “Don’t you think this is happening a little fast?”

  He shook his head. “I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

  “But are you sure you’re ready to get married?” she asked. “It’s a pretty big step from girlfriend to fiancée in one night.”

  “And I can’t wait for you to be my wife, so that you and Brendan can come to live with me at the Silver Star.”

  “And I want to live at the Silver Star and finally have a dad,” Brendan chimed in.

  “So what do you say, Brooke? Will you marry me so that we can all live together and Brendan can call me ‘Dad’ instead of ‘Mr. Patrick’?”

  “Say ‘yes,’ Mom.”

  “You better be sure about this,” she warned Patrick. “Because if I say ‘yes,’ it’s forever.”

  “Well, that’s good,” he said, holding her gaze so that she could see the truth and depth of his feelings in his eyes. “Because I want you—both of you—forever.”

  “In that case, my answer is yes,” she told him.

  “Yay!” Brendan cheered.

  Brooke suspected he’d also pumped his fist in the air, but she didn’t see it because Patrick was kissing her.

  “I told you she’d kiss you if you gave her flowers,” the boy said smugly.

  “You did indeed,” Patrick agreed.

  “And how is it that my son is an expert on kissing and flowers?” Brooke wondered.

  “It’s a long story that starts with his grandparents and leads to a girl named Ruby.”

  She decided the story could wait till another time.

  After all, they were going to have a lifetime together.

  * * *

  Look for Skylar Gilmore’s story, the next book in award-winning author Brenda Harlen’s Match Made in Haven miniseries, coming in August 2020, wherever Harlequin Special Edition books and ebooks are sold.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Her Homecoming Wish by Jo McNally.

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  Chapter One

  How could a liquor store owner not have any booze in his house?

  Mackenzie Wallace kept opening and closing her dad’s kitchen cabinets as if she hadn’t searched each and every one already. Hell, she’d even checked the bedroom closets and the cabinet in the laundry room.

  She did not want to go downstairs to her father’s liquor store in the middle of the night.

  But she did want a glass of scotch.

  And Dad’s apartment was dry as a bone.

  There was no sense procrastinating. She grabbed the keys hanging by the back door. Dad’s old gray hoodie also hung there, worn and faded. Mack looked down at her purple pajama shorts and green cotton camisole. No one would see her in the dark, wee hours of the morning, but she was still a little too naked for venturing outside. The hoodie barely fell past the hem of her shorts, but at least it covered her almost see-through top. And it would protect her from the cool night air. It might be the end of April, but in the Catskill Mountains of New York, that could mean snow flurries as easily as daffodils.

  If nothing else, she’d have a great story to tell Dad when she visited him at the hospital tomorrow morning. No, later this morning. Ugh. She needed some serious sleep after too many hours packing, driving and unpacking in one day. Surely a glass of Dad’s top-shelf scotch would do the trick. All she had to do was let herself into the liquor store and find it.

  She’d watched her brother do it dozens of times when they were kids. As much as she’d tried to distance herself from Ryan’s bad behavior, he’d pressed her into lookout duty more than once—a nervous ten-year-old standing outside the door, praying no one would come by. Especially Mom and Dad. Young Mackenzie could never bear the thought of disappointing her parents. And look at her now—slinking back to her childhood home as a bitter divorced woman in need of booze.

  She side-eyed her reflection in the small mirror by the back door—put there by her mom, who’d never had a hair out of place when she left the apartment. Mom, who’d been gone so many years now, would definitely not approve of Mackenzie’s appearance or her behavior. Mack raised her chin. As much as Mack had adored her late mother, she didn’t want to be her. Not anymore. Her days of living up to someone else’s standards were over.

  She tucked her unruly hair behind her ears and slipped her feet back into her bright red leather flats. If the ladies of Glenfadden Country Club could only see her now. Mack snorted, talking to the large orange tabby cat watching her from the armchair, “As if we care what that group of two-faced Connecticut snobs think anymore, right?”

  Her cat, Rory, meowed in response, casting a malevolent gaze around the apartment. He was clearly ticked off about being
stuffed into a canvas cat carrier for the four-hour drive from Greenwich. Mack walked over and scratched the top of his head. The Maine coon cat was as big as a small dog. Her ex-husband hated him. But it was Rory’s attitude of fierce independence that drew Mack to him in the shelter two years ago. Maybe she’d had a premonition that she’d need a tough friend, and Rory was it. He tried to ignore her touch in true Rory fashion, but he couldn’t disguise the purr that rumbled in his chest. She grinned. “You stay here and guard the place. I’ll be right back.”

  The closest full-time residents in the row of shops and apartments in downtown Gallant Lake lived three doors down and were surely sound asleep. Still, she tiptoed down the stairs outside the back door. The metal fire escape stretched the length of the block on the second level, connecting the buildings. Stairs to the parking lot were spaced along the walkway. She was going to a ridiculous length for a drink, but now that it was on her mind, she couldn’t turn back. It would only take her a few minutes to grab a bottle of Macallan and get back upstairs.

  She used the back door to the store, knowing she’d be able to find her way through the familiar space without needing to search for any light switches that might attract attention at 2:00 a.m. The door opened easily, letting out a low groan as it swung closed. She waited, then let out a long sigh of relief at the silence that followed. Didn’t look like Dad ever installed that alarm system he kept threatening to buy.

  She’d just let herself into her father’s store without permission, barely dressed, sneaking around as if she was some kind of thief. She couldn’t help feeling a little thrill at doing something so out of character. She had every right to be here, of course, but it still felt deliciously naughty.

  She used the flashlight app on her phone to work her way around the boxes in the back hall and into the store itself. And that’s where her plan took a turn. Her father may not have installed an alarm, but he’d completely rearranged the store in the year since she’d been home. There were three café tables and a bunch of stools pushed together in the back corner of the store, and the display shelves had been rearranged. More space was devoted to wine now, which was a change she definitely approved of, but where was the top-shelf liquor that used to be displayed back here?