Un-Hitched: A Camden Ranch Novel

by Jillian Neal

  She’d tried so hard to be a healing balm. All she’d really managed, she realized as she clung fast to a cowboy who’d offered her more protection than anyone else ever had, was to tear herself into pieces in an effort to bandage her parents’ wounds.

  Once again, everyone else would have been happy if she’d gone on with the ceremony. They would have even brushed Seth’s cheating aside as an indiscretion. She could all but hear the words boys will be boys spilling revoltingly from her father’s lips.

  Nope. Nope. Nope. Assholes would be assholes, and she would not allow her father to quantify all men as such. When this storm was over, she’d put her life back together just like the rest of Lincoln would have to. Seth could go straight to hell. Nana was right. It was high time Kaitlyn decide what she wanted for her life. She deserved some passion, didn’t she?

  And if that caused her parents pain? She cringed closer to Grant. That was always the unbearable conclusion, the knife that buried itself deepest. The pain she would inevitably inflict was why she’d gone on for the last three years allowing other people to run her life. She couldn’t bear to cause them anymore grief. They’d been through so much. Her mother still visited Keith’s grave each and every week. She went on Sundays. It took her until Wednesday to stop existing with the graveside as her constant consciousness and return to some portion of reality. Her mother had never recovered.

  Another heartbeat, another cringe into Grant, and in the next moment the awful sound was erased from the air. The thick tension eased as if the air itself was simply too tired to hold it any longer.

  “It’s over, sweetheart. It’s all right.” Once again the low rumble of Grant’s voice soothed her. The vibration made sense to her, a distinctive difference between hearing and understanding. She tried to order her arms to release him but they, just like the rest of her body, weren’t listening. She wanted to demand that he continue holding her and calling her sweetheart. Clearly, she’d lost her mind. Seth’s cheating, or the wreck, or the storm—or something—had obviously driven her right over the edge. She made a mental note to find a therapist whenever her life settled down. Only she had no real idea when that might happen.

  “You okay?” Grant steadfastly continued to cradle her close even though the twister was gone. He brushed the loosened strands of her red curls that it had taken the stylist two hours to contain behind her shoulder.

  “Maybe. I’m not sure.” That was the truth, and she didn’t want to lie to him.

  “Yeah, I get that. You mind sitting here for just another minute and lettin’ me go check on everything? If it’s still standing, we can go in the house and get cleaned up.”

  Kaitlyn’s already addled mind attempted to process the question. She tried to force her lips to explain that she was fine, and he should go check anything he needed to. What fascinated her most in that moment was that Grant didn’t seem to want to let her go any more than she wanted him to. Judging from his tone and the way he continued to hold her, it seemed like no was just as viable an answer as yes would be.

  “Uh …” Find passion, Kaitlyn. Live your life. Stop trying to please everyone else. Her grandmother’s orders sounded in her ears, both of them. “Could I get another minute or two?”

  She heard Grant’s grandfather try to turn a chuckle into something of a cough, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

  “You got it. Having a beautiful woman in my arms is much preferable to ‘bout anything else.” He thought she was beautiful? Kaitlyn didn’t really believe that. He was just being kind. Currently, she had to look half-drowned, and by tomorrow, the aches and tender spots all over her body were going to bear the markings of their collision. She was going to be black and blue.

  “You two sit tight. I’m going to check everything,” Grant’s grandfather ordered. It struck Kaitlyn how much Grant sounded like his grandfather. She’d always found sounds fascinating. She wondered if she ever sounded like Nana. She hoped so, but thinking of her grandmother brought another round of fresh terror to her stomach. What if the tornado hit the country club?

  Summoning courage from the stagnant air around them, she lifted her head and eased her good ear towards Grant so she could hear his responses. “I’m really sorry about this,” she gestured to herself. “I don’t even know how I got here. I need to get back to the country club, I guess. I don’t know if my family is okay.”

  Panic stirred in Grant’s gut. She couldn’t go yet, and she sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere near the shit-licker she’d run away from, not if he had any say in the matter.

  “Take it easy, okay? Like I said, you’ve had one hell of a day. I doubt the roads are passable and the sun’s going down. If I were a gamblin’ man, I’d say we’re stuck out here at least for tonight. That country club’s gotta have a shelter or something. I’m sure they’re fine.”

  Haunted fear turned her eyes a deep navy, but she managed an unconvincing nod.

  The creak and slap of the shelter door announced Pops’ return.

  “How bad is it?” Grant inquired.

  “Could’a been worse, I ‘spose. Yard’s a mess. Got several trees down. Thankfully, none on the main part of the house. One through the front porch, though. Bunch across the driveway that’ll have to be moved ‘fore we can come and go. Before you ask, your truck survived. Got some hail damage though. No power. No phone. Haven’t tried the water yet.”

  “Mr. Camden, I’m so sorry about your front porch.” Kaitlyn offered as she climbed out of Grant’s lap, much to his chagrin. “Um, you said porch, right?”

  “It’s all right, darlin’. I did say porch and porches can be replaced. ‘Fraid you two are stuck here with me for a night or two ‘til we get them trees moved, though.”

  “I’ll get Austin and Brock out here. We’ll get you a new porch put on next week,” Grant immediately volunteered. “Declan, Natalie, and Luke can run cattle for a few days. We need to get it put on before calving.”

  “I ain’t worried about it. Let’s get you two inside and into dry clothes. I don’t want you getting sick on top of everything else. There’s more on the horizon than the flu for the both of ya.”

  Granddaddy Camden’s house wasn’t quite the way it had always been. There was a broken pile of glass on the tile kitchen floor. Plates had been stacked on the countertop and hadn’t survived the twister. The trash can was toppled over as well, and there were a few windows in the small den that had blown out.

  Appreciative of the way Kaitlyn kept holding his bicep as they stepped around the shards of glass, Grant reached the kitchen sink and located the flashlight his grandfather kept in the cabinet there.

  The light awkwardly illuminated the dusky dark, caught somewhere between late afternoon and early evening. Time itself seemed confused after the tornado’s assault.

  “It doesn’t look like there was too much damage done.” Kaitlyn sweetly offered his grandfather. “We can clean this up in no time.”

  When she reached across the pile of glass to grab the fallen broom that had thrown itself in the floor in surrender to the wind, Grant panicked. “Careful. Don’t cut your hands.” He grabbed her hand before she reached the broom. The connection of their palms shot a jolt of electricity straight to his chest. Their eyes met. She’d felt it, too. Those cool blue eyes stared up at him. Time measured itself in the blink of her long lashes washed of mascara, painted only in shock. What the hell?

  “I’ll get the glass up. Grant, son, why don’t you take Kaitlyn back to the guest bedroom. I ‘spect she’d like to clean up.”

  “Uh … yeah … I’ll get your bags outta the truck. Be right back.” An odd sting sizzled in Grant’s hands as he released hers. His body didn’t appreciate the severed connection.

  Having forgotten the first part of his grandfather’s instructions, when Grant returned with Kaitlyn’s suitcases from his truck, he located her in the guest bedroom. Clearly, Granddaddy had stepped up on the tour of his small home in Grant’s stead. He’d also lit several ca
ndles around the room so she could see.

  She was staring at herself in the dresser mirror that had once belonged to his grandmother. The glass had been cracked for as long as Grant could remember.

  She seemed to be studying herself like she was a captivating stranger. He didn’t question what she found so intriguing. God, she was gorgeous.

  “Every single mirror I’ve looked in since I ran out of that stupid country club has been broken. That probably means something, right?” Her inquisitive eyes sought his.

  Did she want it to mean something? Searching his mind for the correct answer, he shrugged. “Maybe. Might just mean you ran out in a twister and drove into my truck. I’m just a cattle rancher, though. Never did too well with deeper meanings and all that.”

  A slight chuckle eased the tension in her beautiful face. Grant found himself glad of that. A split second later, she’d turned to face him. The dress still clung to her curves and was leaving puddles on the carpet. Challenge was alight in her eyes. “I found out he was cheating on me with one of my friends just before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, and I kind of hated him anyway.”

  Well, hell. Okay then. There it was. “Then he’s a damned fool. You should hate him, and you deserve better.”

  The rapid fire blinks of her eyes said she was trying hard not to cry again. “You don’t even know me. Maybe I’m the fool. I agreed to marry him, after all.”

  “Hey,” Grant sat her suitcases down and edged closer. “I’m sorry he was an asswipe, but him being dumber than a stump don’t make you a fool. And if you’re a fool, I am too. I volunteered to come out here today in the middle of a storm ‘cause somebody needed to check on my granddaddy, but mostly ‘cause a girl I’d gotten pretty deep with several months back got married today, too. She married the guy she was cheating on me with.”

  “I’m sorry, Grant. I’m sorry about all this, and about hitting your truck. And I’m sorry she cheated on you. Probably sucked for you.”

  “Kinda.”

  “Kinda?”

  “Well, the way I figure it, better to find out ‘fore you walked down the aisle than after.”

  “That’s true. I haven’t had time to process any of this, but, yeah, you’re right. Still feel like I could never take enough showers to make me not feel gross that I was with him.”

  A sultry image of her standing in a fall of hot water with soap suds dripping seductively over those gorgeous tits immediately formed in his mind. He cleared his throat and tried to think of something to say. His mind scrambled, and the first thing that popped into his head was, “Would it be too forward of me to say that you running away from a big ‘ole country club wedding might make you the bravest person I ever met?”

  There it was. A grin. A real smile, complete with an adorable dimple in her left cheek and a shimmer of sweet heat in her eyes. “You really believe that?”

  Not the smoothest thing you could’a said, Camden. Just go with it. “Hell yeah. That took guts.”

  “Thanks. I was brave once, a long time ago.”

  “A long time ago, huh?” What the hell did that mean? What had happened to her? She clammed up before his eyes.

  “Thanks for bringing my stuff in. I’ll just get changed.”

  You’re not just a cattle rancher, Grant Camden. If he’d stayed staring at her with those kind green eyes any longer, those very words would have tumbled out of her mouth. His single nod when she’d dismissed him had spoken volumes. She had no idea what Grant was exactly, but there was nothing simple about him. What scared the hell out of her was how badly she wanted to know the complex truths of her rescuing cowboy and why she longed to discover just what made him tick.

  She scrubbed her hands over her face, ridding herself of the last vestiges of mascara, and retrieved a towel from the adjoining bathroom. When she’d wiped her suitcase dry, she heaved it on the bed and searched for something appropriate to wear for a storm cleanup with two cowboys she barely knew.

  Digging through the satin and lace she’d planned to wear on her honeymoon made her want to vomit. Finally, she located her favorite t-shirt and one of the many pairs of yoga pants she’d packed. She’d packed them because it annoyed Seth to no end when she wore what he deemed to be workout clothes when she never worked out, but it would have to do.

  Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to really feel for the first time that day. Realizing she’d never loved Seth didn’t cool the sting of his betrayal as it whipped through her, decimating her self-esteem right along with the carefully-orchestrated plan for her life.

  Kaitlyn used to imagine that she could trade a little of the heft of her breasts for a few inches of Kelsey’s enviable legs. Kelsey was always at ease and fun to be around. Sure of herself. Magnetic even. And Kaitlyn was none of those things. Kaitlyn was a business transaction. It had been written in black and white. Guess what, Seth, you were a business transaction as well. You were what I had to pay to keep my family happy.

  Jerking the engagement ring off her finger, she shoved it in her suitcase. In that motion alone, her breaths came easier. The noose around her neck slacked its deadly grip.

  All she’d really wanted was a home and a life out of her parents’ watchful eyes. She wanted to cook and create delicious foods. If she were being perfectly honest, she wanted to have babies and raise them. She was fairly certain she was supposed to want more from life, but deep down in her heart where she never allowed anyone else to see, she wanted a husband and a family. She wanted to bake cookies and make homemade Christmas decorations. Nothing more than that.

  Her mother had been a high-powered prosecuting attorney before she’d married. Her father had climbed the ranks of the Lincoln County Police Department until he’d made Chief. Her sister was well paid for her expertise in jury consulting. Kaitlyn had been expected to carry on the Sommerville tradition of having a career in law.

  She’d refused and had secured a scholarship to culinary school in New York. That was the one and only time she’d ever fought for something she’d wanted and won.

  When her brother had been killed, she’d dropped out of culinary school and moved back home. She’d gone on with her pre-law degree at UN to make her father happy, but she had no interest in ever becoming a lawyer.

  She wondered if there was one single moment that had erased her own spine from existence or if the life she’d endured thus far had washed it away slowly over the past few years.

  When her hands reached for the long line of silk-covered buttons that ran down the back of her gown, the very last remnant of any bravery, spunk, or fire she’d ever hoped to have possessed went up in a puff of smoke.

  She fumbled with the first button fruitlessly for the better part of five minutes contorting herself in positions even a master yogi wouldn’t achieve before she understood that she was trapped in the damned gown. The wet silk was as unrelenting as a straight-jacket, and the only hope she had of escape was once again a cowboy she barely knew.

  Chapter Four

  Grant tossed the match in the fireplace as soon as the flames licked at the kindling. The tarp and the carport had managed to keep enough wood dry for them to have heat for a while.

  He stepped into the half bath off the kitchen and rid himself of his soaking wet jeans. They slapped at the linoleum when he finally shucked them off his legs. Making quick work of drying off, he was thankful for the extra pair of Wranglers he always kept in his truck. He’d have to make do with the stained Carhartt shirt he’d located behind the seat. At least it was dry.

  After tossing his wet clothes over the towel bar, he made his way to the den to see about making some chili over the fire for supper.

  “I ever tell you the story of how I met your grandmamma, Grant?” Pops asked as he poured water into the percolator for coffee.

  Rolling his eyes, Grant handed him the Folgers. “Only ‘bout four dozen times, old man. She fell off a stock ladder into your arms at the Montgomery Ward out at Gateway Mall.”

  “Well,
that’s just the middle of the story. It’s got a beginning and an end too, ya know. Sit down and oblige me.”

  The ancient couch gave a cough of dust as Grant settled in, more out of respect for his grandfather than any desire to hear this story yet again.

  “I left the ranch that morning ‘fore the sun was up. Anxious and stirring, but I couldn’t figure why. Ol’ buddy of mine from my coming-up years was on a strategic missile squadron that had been housed at the old Air Force base, and I’d told him the next time I came to Lincoln I’d go see him out there.”

  “Miles Jameson, right?” Grant had heard his grandfather speak of Miles several times before and he wanted to speed the story along so he could get back to figuring out Kaitlyn.

  “Nah, now, stop skipping ahead. Best things in life you gotta be patient for. Miles and me were rebel-rousers back in our day, but he was a clerk for the Air Force. I’m speaking of Roy Wagner. Don’t believe you ever knew the Wagners. They sold their ranch to my daddy ‘fore you were even a thought in yo’ daddy’s head. Though, Lordy, I tell you once your daddy stumbled up on your mama’s broke down car on the side of the road, it didn’t take him long to have thoughts ‘bout how to get all you kids here.”

  Grant chuckled. “Yeah, well, Mama and Daddy ain’t ever had any trouble keeping their hands all over one another.”

  “That’s the way it’s ‘spose to be. You just remember that. Anyway, I got to thinking on my drive into town that I might like to have me a table saw and there was one I’d seen in the Montgomery Ward catalog that had come in the mail.”

  “What’d you want a table saw for? Ain’t much use on the ranch.”

  “Don’t I know it, and I got no clue. I had not had a single thought ‘bout a saw ‘til that morning, but just then I decided I needed one that very day. Fate’s a funny thing.”