The Rancher She Loved

by Ann Roth

  Clay pointed out a white door and the “Bob and Judy Becker” doorplate attached at eye level. “We’re about to find out.”

  A humorous doormat sporting cats in various poses and a small table holding a vase of artificial flowers sat beside the door, welcoming visitors.

  Sarah hesitated. Would the Beckers welcome her when they found out who she was? If not, then what?

  After another encouraging squeeze, Clay let go of her. “You can do this.”

  “Right,” she whispered. Her hand shook as she pressed the doorbell.

  As the bolt unlocked, she sucked in a painfully tight breath.

  Clay put his arm around her shoulders and spoke in a voice for her ears only. “Smile, honey. It’s showtime.”

  Chapter Nine

  The front door opened, and a tall man with a paunch and thinning gray hair glanced from Clay to Sarah. His eyes widened and he looked taken aback.

  Trembling and grateful for Clay’s support, Sarah pasted a pleasant smile on her face. “Um, hello. You don’t know me, but I—”

  “Who is it, Bob?” came a woman’s voice from inside the apartment.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “You’d better get over here.”

  A plump woman with ash-blond hair joined him. She was slightly shorter than Sarah, and wore a conservative, churchy-looking dress.

  Like her husband, she also glanced from Clay to Sarah. Her mouth opened, and she touched her collarbone. “You’re Clay Hollyer.”

  They were rodeo fans—that explained why their jaws were on the floor.

  “That’s right.” Clay smiled. “May we come in?”

  “Of course.” The woman backed away from the door and nudged her husband to do the same.

  Sarah barely had a chance to glance at the plastic-covered furniture in the tidy living room before Clay spoke again. “This is Sarah Tigarden.”

  He gave her a meaningful look. Sarah swallowed. “We’ve never met, but I’ve been looking for you since...when I was an infant, I was adopted. I...” What to say now? She took a deep breath and exhaled it. “I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll just come out and say it. I’m your granddaughter.”

  Shock registered on their faces and turned them both ashen. Bob placed his hand on the wall, as if his legs were about to give out, and Judy stepped behind him.

  It wasn’t the reaction Sarah hoped for, but deep down, she’d expected this. Feeling strangely numb and heavy, she stood frozen where she was. Clay moved behind her and cupped her shoulders. “If you don’t believe her, take a look at her birth certificate.”

  Bob Becker finally found his voice. “Never mind that. After all this time, why are you here now?”

  “I would’ve come sooner, only I just found out I was adopted. The private eye I hired traced Tammy—and you—to Saddlers Prairie.” The couple looked puzzled, as if they didn’t know who Tammy was, so Sarah explained. “Tammy Becker is my biological mother. Maybe I have the wrong Beckers?”

  Mrs. Becker shook her head. “No, we’re the ones you want. Are you and Clay married?”

  Would that make a difference, make them want to know her? Sarah shook her head.

  As if Clay sensed how close she was to falling apart, he shifted closer so that his chest was against her back. Grateful, she silently soaked up his solid warmth.

  “You’ll never guess how we found you,” she babbled out of nervousness. “Clay is renting your old house until the builder finishes his custom home. He found a footlocker in the attic that belonged to Tammy.” She dug into her shoulder purse and brought out the journal and yearbook. “These were inside it. I thought she’d want them back, but since I don’t know where to find her...” Breaking off, she offered them to Mrs. Becker. “Will you tell me where she is?”

  Instead of answering the question, her grandmother covered her mouth with both hands and her grandfather looked as if he were about to throw up. Neither seemed to want to touch Tammy’s things. Or Sarah.

  Knowing she’d made a terrible mistake by showing up without calling first, Sarah ducked out of Clay’s grasp and backed toward the door. “I’ll just leave these things on the side table for you to give Tammy, along with my card,” she said.

  Without waiting for the Beckers to open the door, Clay silently turned the knob and ushered her out.

  * * *

  CLAY STARED AT the door that had shut rudely behind him and Sarah. He thought about jerking it open and punching Bob Becker in the jaw or chewing him out, but losing his temper was not the way to handle this.

  The couple was in shock—that was obvious. Still, there were no words for the cruelty he’d witnessed. The Beckers had treated Sarah worse than the meanest cowboys ever treated a bull.

  “Those people are a real piece of work,” he muttered, looping his arm around her.

  Fine tremors shook her body, and he wondered if she’d make it to the elevator without falling to pieces.

  She surprised him by pulling away.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Please—I can’t talk about this right now.” Compressing her lips, she entered the elevator and stared straight-ahead.

  When the car reached the lobby, she exited with as much poise and confidence as he’d ever witnessed. Holding her head high, she strode through the lobby ahead of him, even managed a smile and a wave at Janine on the way to the door.

  Outside, Clay caught up with her. As soon as he unlocked the pickup, she climbed jerkily into the passenger seat.

  If he wasn’t mistaken, she was about to lose it.

  He slid into his own seat and glanced warily at her. “What can I do to help?”

  “Just get me out of here.”

  He pulled out of the lot and onto the highway in record time—just as the first tears escaped her eyes.

  Clay didn’t blame her, but nothing reduced him to helplessness like a crying woman. Figuring she might need his full attention, he pulled onto a narrow dirt road that meandered through a grassy field.

  As he steered toward a stand of trees and more privacy, the pickup bounced over the uneven ground. Sarah didn’t question his actions or even seem to notice, just continued to swipe angrily at her eyes and stare into space.

  Clay pulled behind the trees and killed the engine. After pushing his seat back as far as it would go, he reached across the console and pulled her onto his lap. She didn’t put up any resistance, just collapsed against him, undoing him with her silence and pain.

  Not sure what to do, he clasped the back of her head and held her close. She let out a heartfelt sob and then began to cry in earnest.

  Wondering whether to leave her alone or keep touching her, he went with his instincts, rubbing her back and murmuring comforting words.

  His shirt got wet, but after a while the tears stopped. Wishing he had a tissue, Clay offered her the dry tail of his shirt. For some reason that started her crying all over again.

  “You’re so n-nice to me,” she blubbered. “Taking time from your afternoon to c-come with me today.”

  His chest hurting for her, he tipped her head up. “I’m glad I did.”

  After a long, soulful look into his eyes, she sniffled and straightened. “Where’s my purse?”

  “On the floor.” He reached between the seats and handed it to her. The thing weighed a ton.

  She pulled out a packet of tissues and blew her nose. Then she burrowed close and stayed there. Clay kissed the top of her head.

  After a time, she again looked up at him. “They hated me.” Her bottom lip trembled.

  Clay rubbed his thumb across it. “Nobody could hate you, honey. Seeing you came as a shock they didn’t handle very well, but give them time. They’ll come around.”

  If they didn’t, he would personally give them hell until
they did.

  Her mouth opened a fraction, soft, sweet and begging to be kissed. Desire hit him hard. Feeling like a bum for wanting her while she was upset, he shifted away a little. She scooted closer, her soft bottom teasing him until he was hard and throbbing. Fighting a groan, he cupped her hips, holding her still to stop the torture.

  “Maybe I’ll write them a letter or something, and apologize for not calling first,” she said. “You were right about that, and deep down, I knew it.” Her eyes were huge and forlorn, her lashes clumped and dark with tears, and her makeup smeared. “I just wish I’d listened and saved everyone the torture I just put us all through.”

  He couldn’t erase her pain, but he could say something to ease it. “Don’t beat yourself up, Sarah. You did what you thought best.”

  Clay meant to kiss her forehead, but she raised up and kissed his lips. The hunger simmering inside him roared to life, and he lost the last shred of control.

  * * *

  NEEDING TO FORGET the pain, Sarah wrapped her arms around Clay’s broad shoulders and buried herself in the kiss.

  His hands slipped under her hair and cupped the back of her head. Making a low sound in his throat, he slid his tongue into her mouth.

  She lost herself in his smell, his taste, his demanding, urgent mouth.

  His erection pressed against her bottom, proof of his desire.

  But did he want Sarah, or simply a willing woman?

  Refusing to let the doubt and insecurity stop her, she placed his hands on her breasts. Clay groaned and cupped her. Pleasure rushed through her, and any doubts about him and what she was doing with him faded.

  The most sensitive part of her pulsed with need and grew damp. Desperate to forget the world and lose herself in the moment, she straddled his lap, so close that only her panties and his jeans separated them from joining. Clay raised his hips and thrust against her.

  Dear God. Wanting to touch his skin, she opened the buttons of his shirt, kissed his chest and licked his flat nipples.

  “Sarah,” he said in a velvety, smoky voice that made her squirm with need.

  She was panting now, and when he reached behind her and started to unzip her dress, she went giddy with anticipation.

  Then he stilled and stopped.

  Every cell in her body protested. “Please, Clay, I want this.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  He helped her back to her seat and scrubbed his hand over his face. “I ache to be inside you, Sarah, you know I do.” He glanced down at his fly, stretched to bursting from his erection. “But this is no way to make love. Not in the pickup in some field where anyone could come driving up the road, and not when you’re hurting. Do it because you really want to, because you want me.”

  * * *

  DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO tears again—this time from humiliation—Sarah fastened her seat belt. Unable to look at Clay, she stared out the passenger window and fought to stay calm.

  The pickup bumped over the rough prairie track, rattles and noises drowning out the tense silence. In need of distraction, she turned on the radio and amped up the volume. Through lowered lashes she glanced at Clay.

  His hands were locked on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road, and she knew he felt every bit as uncomfortable as she did.

  If only she could sink through the bottom of the pickup and fade into the grass. Unfortunately that wasn’t possible. For the next twenty-five miles, she was stuck there with him.

  Her over-the-top behavior seemed as foreign to her as a walk on the moon. She’d never acted like this before, had never rushed into sex. Yet today she’d been eager to do just that. No, not eager, desperate.

  If it wasn’t for Clay pulling back before it was too late...

  Beyond embarrassed, Sarah squeezed her eyes shut.

  The Clay she knew from before would never have stopped—or, at least, she hadn’t thought so. Had he changed over the past three years, or had the fame and popularity blinded her to the decent man underneath?

  Either way, he’d just proved that he was one of the good guys, someone she could easily fall in love with. But right now, she didn’t want love. She wasn’t even ready to get involved with a man until she found Tammy Becker.

  Besides, just because Clay had taken the high road today didn’t mean he wanted to date her. Sarah was pretty sure he didn’t.

  Who knew what he must be thinking? But after the way she’d just behaved, she must seem like the neediest, most pathetic woman in the world. She wasn’t—she was strong and independent, and a little bruised.

  She owed Clay an apology.

  As mortified as she was, she took a while to work up to saying the words. By then, he was pulling up to her car at his ranch. Time was running out.

  “Thanks for the ride and for the moral support,” she said.

  “Anytime.”

  Mustering her courage, she looked at him straight-on. “You were right to stop us from making love.”

  He nodded. “When you’re ready, you know where to find me.”

  His eyes, oh, his eyes. Liquid green, warm and hot. Her body hummed with desire, and it was all she could do not to climb back onto his lap. Not about to make the same mistake twice, she opened her door, jumped out and headed for her car.

  She was miles down the road before she was able to draw an easy breath.

  Chapter Ten

  As backbreaking as fencing was, on Monday Clay welcomed the chance to work with his new crew. Repairing and mending fence was taxing enough for a fit man, and his bad leg throbbed and protested something fierce. He could handle that, but when his leg threatened to buckle after a few hours, he reluctantly threw up his hands. The men understood. Knowing that on Wednesday, Clay would bring home cattle from the auction, they worked long hours to finish this first chore at Hollyer Ranch.

  Despite working only a few hours, blisters bloodied Clay’s palms, and his back, arms and both legs hurt in places he never knew could ache. Bull riding taxed a man’s strength, but so did ranch work.

  Tuesday afternoon he left the ranch and drove to Spenser’s to pick up feed for the cattle. He reached for the radio, wincing as his biceps protested. Shania Twain was singing a song about a party for two, the lyrics turning Clay’s thoughts to Sarah.

  It had been two days since he’d driven her to the disastrous meeting with her grandparents, two days since he’d stopped himself from making a big mistake. Because making love with Sarah when she was upset and hurting would’ve been just plain wrong.

  His hungry body thought he was nuts. Every time he thought about her passion and eagerness, her shiver when he palmed her breasts and her thighs around his hips while she straddled him—and lying in bed at night he thought about it a lot—he ended up aroused and painfully hard.

  He was hard right now, dammit. He couldn’t recall ever wanting a woman this much, and hoped like hell that when she was in a better place emotionally, she’d come to him to finish what they’d started.

  Spenser’s was less than a mile ahead. Clay needed to lose the erection. He turned his thoughts to tomorrow’s auction, and by the time he pulled into the lot he was settled down.

  Then he spotted Sarah’s car.

  Anticipation shot through him, hurtling his body into full throttle at the mere thought of seeing her. Man, he was in trouble.

  He almost U-turned and headed out. Only the fact that he needed to pick up the cattle feed before tomorrow stopped him.

  He was easing into a parking slot when he spotted her exiting Barb’s Café with Cody Naylor and his very pregnant wife, Autumn. Sarah seemed to make friends quickly, much faster than Clay.

  Mindful of his leg, he stepped gingerly out of the pickup. She must’ve sensed him staring, for suddenly she looked straight at him. Her footsteps faltered and her cheeks flamed.
Before he knew it, he was walking toward her and her new pals, doing his damndest not to limp.

  “Hey,” he greeted Naylor and Autumn, before acknowledging Sarah with a nod.

  Her lips fell an acre short of a smile.

  Every bit as awkward, Clay turned to Autumn. “You look like you’re ready to pop.”

  “I feel that way, too, but I just had a checkup. According to Dr. Mark, our little girl will arrive right on time, a whole ten days from now. I’ll sure be glad when she finally gets here.”

  Cody gave his wife a tender look and put his arm around her. “We all will.”

  He was about the happiest man Clay had ever seen. Crazy in love with his wife.

  What did that feel like? Clay had no idea.

  “How’s the ranch coming?” Cody asked.

  “Not bad.”

  They discussed fencing and machinery, and Clay explained about the cattle auction in Red Deer. “I’m here to pick up feed for them now.”

  “They’re sure to be hungry. How many head are you looking to buy?”

  “Cody,” Autumn said, interrupting. “I hate to put an end to this conversation, but I really need to sit down.”

  “Of course.” Cody’s nod included Clay and Sarah. “See you tomorrow, Sarah. Good luck with that auction, Clay.”

  The couple sauntered off, and Clay and Sarah were left alone.

  After hemming and hawing and searching for something to say, he settled for the truth. “I’ve been thinking about you.” In X-rated ways that would flush her cheeks scarlet if she guessed. “How’re you doing?”

  “Pretty well, thanks.” Her gaze didn’t quite meet his. “I’m learning tons about ranching. I had an interview with Adam and Drew Dawson this morning. They’re both super nice, and so are their wives and kids. They answered all my questions and let me take a bunch of photos. Lucky was just as open. Both he and the Dawsons inherited their land from their father, but the two ranches are so different.”

  Clay nodded. “From what I hear, the Dawson Ranch turned a profit from day one.”