by R. C. Ryan
Ash hoped his jaw hadn’t dropped, but the sight of a weathered old cowboy saying a blessing over their food had caught him completely by surprise.
As they began passing around hot rolls, fresh from the oven, along with thick slabs of meatloaf and mounds of mashed potatoes, a strange feeling of being home washed over him.
He could still remember the look on Brenna’s face whenever she’d joined his family for supper. It had been obvious to everyone that she loved being part of that big, noisy assembly. She’d bonded with his younger brother, and learned early on how to tease him as unmercifully as he teased her. As for Myrna, it was no secret that the old woman had fallen completely in love with the wounded little girl. Brenna Crane had become the granddaughter Myrna never had.
And now, this old cowboy had turned Brenna’s tired ranch into a home with his very presence.
Vern cleared his throat. “Ash told me about that incident in town.”
Brenna buttered a roll. “I don’t know what I’d have done if Ash hadn’t pulled me to safety when he did.”
“So the chief thinks one of you has an enemy.”
Brenna nodded. “That’s what he said.”
The old cowboy set aside his fork. “I never asked about your pa. Figured it was none of my business. But now I’m asking.”
Uncomfortable, Brenna took her time breaking off a piece of her roll. When she looked up, both Vern and Ash were staring.
“As a matter of fact, I got a letter from him. He said he’s now in an assisted-living place somewhere here in Montana.”
“Where?” Ash demanded.
She shrugged. “All I got was a post office box number. He said the doctors told him that he’s in the final stages of multiple organ failure. Heart, lungs, liver. He didn’t know if I was still living on the old ranch, but he wanted me to know he was still alive, in case I wanted to send a letter or…some money to help him out.”
Ash and Vern exchanged a look, though neither of them asked the question uppermost in their minds.
Brenna clasped her hands in her lap, her appetite gone. “I sent both. A letter and a check, in case there was anything he needed.”
Hearing Vern’s quick hiss of annoyance, she glanced over. “I know. I hated dipping into my emergency fund. But I wanted to do the right thing, and at least let my father know I forgive him before he leaves this world.”
“Did he ask your forgiveness?” Vern’s tone sounded reproachful.
“Yes. He said he was sorry for all the things he’d done while he was drinking. I wanted to do the right thing and let him die in peace.”
“So you forgive him?” The words were spoken before Ash could stop himself.
She shrugged. “My mother said he used to be a good man until liquor took over his life. Then he turned into a mean drunk. Before she died, she told me she’d forgiven him in her heart, and she hoped one day I could do the same. I figured this letter, coming right out of the blue, was my last chance to make things right.”
“How long ago did you send the letter and check?” Ash asked.
“About three weeks ago.”
“And you’ve heard nothing else?”
She shook her head.
He reached over and caught her hand. “You’ve got a good heart, Sunshine. But now, with the timing and all, you’ve got to tell this to Chief Pettigrew.”
She shook her head. “I’d feel uncomfortable telling him what I’ve done. He…knows about the things my father did. He came to talk to us that summer before my father left us.”
“Did you tell Ira what your father had done to you?”
“I didn’t have to. He knew.” She looked away. “The chief made me show him my back. Then he told my father that if he wasn’t an officer of the law, he’d whip him with a leather strap until his back was as bloody and scarred as mine. He said he would ask a judge to swear out a warrant against him for child abuse. The next day, my father was gone and we never heard from him again.”
At that her cell phone rang, breaking the silence. Brenna pushed away from the table and spoke quickly. Afterward, she returned to the table.
“That was Chris. He’s in town, and heard about the incident. He’s pretty upset. He said he’ll stop by later.”
Ash tamped down the quick flash of annoyance, reminding himself that Brenna’s fiancé had every right to be concerned for her safety.
He got up and crossed the room, filled three cups with coffee, and passed them around. Next to the coffeemaker was a bakery box, sitting on a fancy plate.
He lifted the lid and glanced over with a grin. “I hope this is Rita’s famous carrot cake.”
That had the smile returning to Brenna’s lips. “It is.”
“Want me to slice it or would you rather do the honors?”
“I’ll let you do it.” The smile slowly returned to her lips. “But see that you don’t give yourself the biggest piece.”
“Me?” He touched a hand to his heart. “How could you even suggest such a thing?”
When he carried two stingy slices to each of them, and then a huge slice for himself, Brenna rapped his knuckles with her fork. Vern burst out laughing, while Ash, grinning from ear to ear, returned with second pieces for both of them.
Then, measuring his big slice against Brenna’s two, he switched plates and began eating her portion.
She turned to Vern with a mock frown. “See? Mr. Brave-and-Noble-of-Heart just can’t be trusted when it comes to sweets.”
“Or beautiful women,” he muttered between bites, wiggling his brows like a mock villain. “So be warned, me fair beauty.”
With the mood considerably lighter, they lingered over desserts and coffee, talking easily about ranch chores and filling Ash in on the latest town gossip.
“Oh, and I think you’ll enjoy hearing this, Ash.” Brenna’s eyes danced with unconcealed happiness. “While you and Vern were in the barn, Percy Hanover called to say Pearl was overjoyed when he gave her my sculpture. In fact, he said it was one of the few times in his marriage that he’d ever seen his Pearl cry. He assured me they were happy tears.”
Ash sat back, enjoying the moment. “What did I tell you? You have a rare gift, Sunshine. One that made even the stoic Pearl Hanover weep for joy. You can’t argue with that success.”
Her laughter filled the room. “All right. I concede to your superior knowledge, Mr. MacKenzie.”
He turned to Vern. “I want you to remember this moment. It has never happened before, and may never happen again in our lifetime. Please note that Brenna not only agrees with me, but has admitted that I have superior knowledge.”
Laughing, Brenna added, “In fact, I’m already regretting my remark. Knowing you, I’m sure you’ll hold it over my head forever.”
“You got that right.” He winked at the old cowboy, who was thoroughly enjoying their teasing banter. “And I happen to have a very reliable witness.”
Chapter Twelve
That was a fine supper, girl.” Vern circled the table and rested his big hand on Brenna’s shoulder. “See you in the morning.”
He nodded to Ash. “It’s good seeing you again, son. Thanks for all your help in the barn.”
“Maybe I’ll swing by tomorrow and give you a hand with that tractor.”
The old man brightened. “I’d appreciate it. I’ll take all the help you can give me. Especially if you happen to have a new starter switch in your bag of tricks.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if we have half a dozen in the equipment barn. Brady is prepared for every emergency.”
Vern nodded. “Your daddy got a good one when he found Brady Storm. He’d be a fine addition to any ranch.”
“Yeah. Brady’s been there since before I was born, and I remember Pop saying having Brady around freed him up to enjoy his ranch instead of resenting all the things that could go wrong. He was able to leave all the annoying details to Brady, knowing they’d be done to perfection.”
“I hear he’s a stickler for ’e
m. And he works right alongside the wranglers, so they know he doesn’t ask them to do the dirty work unless he’s willing to do it, too.”
Ash grinned. “That’s Brady. He gets down and dirty with all of us. It was Brady who taught me to fly, even though Pop and Mad were both licensed pilots. They just didn’t have the patience to teach me or Whit the basics.” Ash shook his head, remembering. “Come to think of it, I’d have to say Brady taught us every bit as much about ranching and life in general as Pop did. And with a lot less shouting.”
At his admission, the old cowboy grew thoughtful before taking his leave of them.
When Vern was gone, Brenna began gathering the dishes. As she filled the sink with soap and hot water, Ash caught the glint of metal at her wrist and stilled her movements to study the delicate filigree bracelet.
“You still have it?”
She glanced down with a smile. “Since the day you bought it for me, it’s never been off my wrist.”
“You sure it never turned your wrist green?” His voice was warm with laughter. “I think I paid five bucks for it in the notions section of Green’s Grocery.”
“I don’t care what it cost. You bought it for me. And you put it on my wrist yourself.”
“Yeah.”
As she started to wash the dishes, Ash picked up a towel and began to dry.
She arched a brow. “I know you don’t do this at your family’s ranch.”
“That’s because Mad and Myrna don’t want anyone else getting in their way. But I’ve been gone a long time, and while I was in Wyoming, if I didn’t take care of things, they didn’t get done. There was nobody around to lend a hand.”
She washed a plate and set it on the drying rack. “How did you survive when you left here? What did you do for money?”
“What didn’t I do?” He gave a dry laugh. “I did every job imaginable on ranches from here to Wyoming. And when I couldn’t find ranch work, I took whatever offer I could get. For a while I worked the night shift in a gas station. I even cooked in a diner.”
She shot him a look. “You cook?”
“Simple fare. Burgers. Fries. I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich.”
“Maybe I’ll let you cook for me one day.”
“You’re on.” He shot her a grin. “Hell, I learned to do whatever it took to stay alive. I was nineteen and hungry and scared, and the only thing I knew was ranching. Wherever I worked, whatever I had to do, I knew that one day I’d have my own place.”
“And you did it.” She turned to study him as he set a plate in the cupboard. “Is it satisfying?”
“Yeah.” He reached for another plate and began to dry. “I like being my own boss. But it’s lonely being so far from home. That’s why I took online college classes at night. It helped fill a lot of sleepless hours.”
She finished washing the last of the serving pieces. “Why didn’t you ever come back?”
He took his time stacking the dishes. “I think a part of me was afraid of what I’d come back to. I’d grown up, and I knew I couldn’t ever be the son Pop wanted. I’d become a man, but there were already two men in my father’s house, Pop and Mad. And the two of them butted heads a lot. I knew I’d have to fight for my place in the pecking order. And then there was you…” He picked up the pretty serving platter and began to dry it. He took his time, choosing his words carefully. “I was afraid I’d come back and find you married with a couple of kids. And I wasn’t sure I could take it.”
She turned, unaware of the water dripping from her hands. “You…stayed away because of me?”
He reached over her head and set the fancy plate on a shelf before looking down at her.
“I figured I’d done enough damage to everybody. My mother. My brother, Whit. Pop and Mad. And you. Especially you. You were…my best friend. And I abandoned you without a word. I don’t mind taking the blame for it. But I didn’t think my heart could stand seeing you with another man’s children.”
“Ash…”
“Shhh.” He closed his hands around her upper arms and stared down into her eyes. “The hardest thing I’ve ever done was leave you behind.”
“Then why…?”
“We were a couple of kids. You especially.”
“I was sixteen, and already on my own.”
“You were a kid, Brenna. I didn’t know a whole lot, but I knew one thing. I had no right to ask you to leave your ranch, your friends, your life here, to tag along with me, when I had absolutely no plans and no future. All I had were these hands and a willingness to do whatever it took to stay alive.”
She reached up to close her hands over his. “That would have been enough for me. I’d have gone if you had asked.”
“I knew that. And it would have killed me to see you taking odd jobs all over the West, just to follow me.”
“We’d have been together.”
“Yeah. In fleabag motels and run-down bunkhouses. No man wants that for his woman.”
His woman.
Once the words were spoken, they hung awkwardly between them.
Brenna was staring up at him with wide eyes.
His own darkened. A frown suddenly furrowed his brow.
He stepped back and dropped the damp towel over the back of a chair. “It’s time I got home.”
“I could make a fresh pot of coffee.”
“No.” He spoke the word harshly. To soften it, he added, “I…really need to leave.”
As he started toward the back door, Brenna followed him.
He plucked his wide-brimmed hat from a hook by the back door. As he started to go, Brenna touched a hand to his arm. Just a touch, but the heat of it danced through his veins.
“Ash…”
He turned to her.
She was looking up into his eyes, her smile wrapping itself around his heart and squeezing. “Thanks for driving me to town. And for helping Vern. Tonight was…special.” She shrugged, looking shy and awkward.
He seemed about to say something. Instead he swore and let his hat drop to the floor, while he dragged her into his arms.
“Why do you have to be so sweet and forgiving? Why can’t you just hate me for leaving you?”
“Hate…” She blinked. “Ash, I tried that. But I realize now I could never hate you.”
His eyes were hot and fierce as he lowered his head. His kiss was so hot, so hungry, it rocked her back on her heels. A kiss that was all fire and flash and sizzle. It drained her even as it filled her. There was nothing tentative or teasing about this. It was bold and possessive. Demanding. And it spoke of a blazing-hot need.
With lungs straining, he lifted his head. For a moment he merely touched a finger to her cheek while he stared into her eyes, as though trying to read her feelings.
Then, muttering an oath, he lowered his head and kissed her again.
This time it was achingly slow and thorough, his mouth whispering over her eyelids, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, until, with a guttural moan, she laced her fingers around his head, clinging to him as her lips found his.
Now it was all heat and frantic need, as each took from the other with a hunger that bordered on desperation, mouths seeking, bodies straining.
His hands were in her hair, though he couldn’t remember how they got there. Hers were raking his back, her nails digging through the fabric of his shirt in a frantic effort to get closer.
He turned her, pressing her against the closed door, his body imprinting itself on hers as he took the kiss deeper, then deeper still, his mouth restlessly seeking what he really wanted. He couldn’t get enough of her.
The quick, jittery charge to their systems had them practically crawling inside each other’s skin. And still it wasn’t enough.
When he took a moment to change the angle of the kiss, his name was torn from her lips in a frantic cry. “Ash!”
At the sound of his name on her lips, he suddenly went very still.
Chests heaving, they stepped a little apart, waiting impatiently for the
ir world to settle.
Was the floor tilting? Was the room spinning? Or was it their heads? Their hearts?
When he could finally catch his breath he managed to whisper, “Sorry.” He shook his head. “Not for that kiss. I’ve had a hunger for that since I first saw you again. But I…almost crossed a line. I guess I let myself forget for a moment that you’ve moved on with your life, Sunshine, and I’m not a part of it anymore.”
When she said nothing, he bent and retrieved his hat.
He left without another word.
Brenna stood as still as a statue, watching from the doorway as Ash climbed into his truck and started down the lane.
She remained there, clinging to the door, until her heart rate slowed and her breathing returned to normal. Then she closed the door and returned to the kitchen, staring around as though seeing it through Ash’s eyes.
It looked the same as it had for years now. Old. Tired. Worn. But tonight it had been a room filled with warmth and laughter.
She hadn’t laughed that hard in ages. Even Vern had enjoyed himself.
Because of Ash.
When he’d left all those years ago, without one word to her, all the sunlight had gone out of her world. Her grief had been so deep, she’d convinced herself that she hated Ash MacKenzie for abandoning her. For breaking her heart. But here he was, back home, back in her life, and she’d not only spent a wonderful evening in his company, she’d allowed him to kiss her.
Allowed? What a lie. It shamed her to admit that she’d been a full participant in that kiss.
In truth, it had been much more than a kiss. They’d practically devoured one another. They had been making love without the physical culmination.
She lifted her left hand. The diamond ring winking in the lamplight mocked her.
What kind of woman was she that she would commit to a future with one man and fall willingly into the arms of another?
Chris was a good and decent man. He certainly didn’t deserve to be betrayed like this.
She closed her eyes, allowing the image of Ash holding her, kissing her, to play through her mind.
