A Home for the Horseman (Brush Creek Brides Book 5)

by Liz Isaacson

  “C’mon Beauty,” he said, moving back toward the beginning of the alley. “Try it with me on your back.”

  Again, he let the horse take the lead; he didn’t guide her with the reins or his legs and feet. She made it to the end of the alley successfully, where Emmett found Molly on her phone. Familiar irritation rose within him. He’d always considered himself pretty easygoing; he liked to laugh; he enjoyed life. But something about this Molly woman had him all rankled.

  “We don’t bring our phones to work,” he called, but she just maneuvered the horse so her back was fully toward him, her head still bent down at an angle that suggested she was still texting.

  Emmett’s blood ignited, and he set Beauty on a course to intercept Molly, the choice words he’d use to rebuke her piling up in his mind.

  Chapter Four

  Molly’s insides had gone cold at the text from her mother. She wasn’t sure how her blood had continued to run for the past five minutes, frozen in her veins as it was.

  Daddy’s in the hospital. The doctors are trying to stabilize him. I’ll let you know what’s going on when I know more.

  Hospital echoed in her mind. Stabilize him.

  What happened? she’d texted. No answer.

  Are you with him?

  What can I do?

  Mom, call me when you can.

  She stared at her unanswered texts, her heart romping through her chest, taking prisoners. A sob built in her stomach and roared upward. All she could think to do from this far away was pray.

  She closed her eyes, somewhat surprised at the slip of moisture that leaked from her left one, and sent a plea toward heaven. Please save my father. Help calm my mother. Send comfort to me.

  Her first inclination when she’d received the news of her father’s pancreatic cancer was to quit the rodeo circuit and return to Nebraska to be with him. He’d hear nothing of it, and he’d demanded she get back out there and finish the year a winner. She had, but she hadn’t gone back. Not only because of Clay—though he was a huge factor—but because she wanted to be able to jet home at any time if her parents needed her.

  But she didn’t see how she could leave now. Not right when she’d just started at—

  “No phones while training,” Emmett barked as he appeared at her side. “The horses—” He brought his horse around as Molly blinked into the bright sunlight. “What’s wrong?”

  She didn’t know the brute of a man could sound so tender. She met his eyes and found compassion there too. She didn’t know how to make this version of Emmett line up with the one she’d formed in her mind.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, only igniting the emotion in her chest and making the sob spurt from her mouth.

  “Okay, not okay,” he said. He dismounted, whipped his horse’s reins around the top rung of the fence, and came to her side. “Get down, Molly.”

  She complied, only because her own brain didn’t seem to be functioning. He eased the phone from her fingers and looked at it, but it had gone black.

  Her legs trembled, and she hated this weakness in her. Hated feeling so helpless. She’d felt like this for a solid year as Clay stalked her, and she’d determined never to let anything affect her so negatively again.

  “It’s my dad,” she said, gaining some measure of control. A deep, deep breath, and she felt even calmer. “He’s been taken to the hospital.”

  Emmett put one arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest. “I’m so sorry. An accident?”

  She shook her head, trying to tame the tears and failing. “He has cancer.” Her hands went around his broad back and she leaned into him. “He’s been sick for a while.” The words ghosted from her mouth, and she let Emmett hold her because it felt nice. Because she didn’t want to be alone at this moment when her father might be dying. Because she was so, so tired of being so, so strong all the time.

  Emmett hummed, the same way he had been when leading his horse down the alley, and the vibrations reverberated through his chest and into hers. She found comfort in them, oddly enough, and she finally found the well of strength she needed to stop the tears.

  Now she had liquid pouring from every hole in her face though, and she didn’t quite want to leave the warmth, safety, and security of Emmett’s arms. From the bulk of his muscles, the man obviously worked out with more than just horses, and she enjoyed the musky, minty, mountainy scent of his shirt and neck and the way he held her tight without making it feel possessive.

  Startled by her softening feelings toward him, she straightened and stepped back. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to wipe everything at once.

  “Nothin’ to be sorry about.” He collected the reins of both horses and handed her phone back to her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. You wanna just wait here?”

  She nodded and turned away from him as he took the horses back into the barn. She checked her phone, but her mother hadn’t texted. Molly dialed her, the buzzing in her stomach so uncomfortable she leaned against the fence and doubled over.

  No answer.

  Molly reasoned that her mother was probably busy, filling out forms or talking to doctors. Or perhaps she didn’t have great service in the waiting room where she was. Hospitals weren’t great with that kind of thing, Molly knew.

  She inhaled again, taking in more breath than she knew possible, stretching her chest until she thought she’d pop. She exhaled, willing her anxiety to leave with her breath. She did feel better afterward. Her mom would call when she could. That had to be enough for now.

  Emmett returned, his light gray eyes still kind, still probing, and if Molly didn’t know better, affectionate. She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  “Did you hear back?” His gaze flickered to her phone and back to her face.

  “Not yet.”

  “Let’s go get some coffee,” he said. “Megan always has some on.”

  Molly went with him, glad for a reason to keep both feet on the ground for a few minutes. “Does Megan regularly feed everyone?” Maybe she’d eat better than ever here at Brush Creek.

  “Regularly?” Emmett considered the clear blue sky as if it held the answer to her question. “Yeah, I suppose she does. There’s almost always lunch, but it’s not always hot, especially in the summer. Do you like sandwiches?”

  “Yeah, I like sandwiches,” she said as she followed him through the gate in the bricked wall surrounding the homestead.

  “She does that a lot in the summer. If there isn’t lunch at the homestead, we usually get a text.” He paused next to the fire pit in the backyard. “You allergic to anything?”

  “Cats,” she said.

  He blinked at her before tipping his head back and sending a booming laugh into the sky. Molly couldn’t help the insta-smile that sprang to her lips. With so much happiness in the sound around her, she wanted to join in. “What’s so funny?” she asked when he’d taken his laugh down to a chuckle.

  “Wouldn’t you know it? I own a cat.”

  “So?”

  “So, just when I was startin’ to think we could get along.” He gazed at her for a moment past comfortable, a glint in his eyes she’d seen plenty of times. Desire. Heat. Interest.

  He turned away from her before she could tell him she wasn’t interested in dating. Not just him either. In general. Marriage held no allure for her, and she didn’t want children.

  She’d realized over the years that this opinion was semi-unpopular among women. The other barrel racers had cooed over the flowers Clay sent, while Molly had wanted to throw them away the moment they arrived.

  One of her best friends in the circuit had confessed her jealousy over Brynn’s marriage and subsequent family. Molly had pretended she wanted those things too. But she didn’t. She’d wondered if it was because she was an only child and had always been fiercely independent, headstrong, and capable. She hadn’t been able to reach a conclusion on that one. She had a close relationship with her parents, despite her travel schedule.

  Other wo
men lamented that there were no good cowboys to date. Molly didn’t understand the desire for a cowboy at all. In her eyes, they were all manipulative, sneaky, jealous men. Of course, intellectually she knew this wasn’t true. But the only one she’d ever allowed into her life had been like that, and she wasn’t interested in a repeat of that heinous relationship. Therefore, all men who wore jeans or cowboy hats were out. At this point, she’d probably have to be seduced by a Scot wearing a kilt to even accept a date.

  “You comin’?” Emmett called from inside the house. Molly tucked her past where it belonged—in the back of her mind—and hurried toward him.

  A wall of noise hit Molly when she stepped inside, and she blinked at all the babies. Fine, there were only 3 babies, and then two of the older girls she’d seen on Saturday. Seemed like a lot of women and children for ten o’clock in the morning, and Molly edged toward the much safer zone—the kitchen, where Emmett stood pouring black coffee into a double-sized mug. It read “We do things bigger in Texas,” and a slip of a smile stole across her lips.

  “What’s goin’ on here?” she asked as he pushed the mug toward her.

  “Play group.”

  She blinked at him. How did someone like Emmett know what a play group was? She squinted at him, but all these different pieces of him floated around him, unwilling or unable to make a cohesive picture.

  He leaned forward and whispered, “You know, when all the ranch wives get together and let their kids play? Megan had Landon get the pool set up over the weekend. They’re just waiting for it to get a bit warmer.” He pointed to several bottles on the counter next to the stove. “Cream and sugar right there.” He lifted his mug, drinking his coffee hot and black.

  “Ranch wives?”

  Emmett gestured toward the four women camped out in the living room, chattering like they hadn’t seen another adult in weeks. “April, Megan, Tess, and Renee. I suppose Erin will join them once she and Blake are married.” He peered at her like she’d lost her marbles. “Remember I said a bunch of the boys were married?” He nodded toward the women again. “Ranch wives.”

  “Like Real Housewives of Brush Creek Horse Ranch?”

  A blonde with shorter hair than Molly entered the kitchen. “Oh, there’s no drama,” she said. “What a boring show that would be!” She laughed, sobering as she reached for Emmett’s hat. “Emmett.” She frowned at him. “Have you seen your hair?” She brushed at the curled ends of it, and a fierce rush of…jealousy roared through Molly.

  She took a big gulp of her coffee and immediately choked. “Hot,” she gasped, some of the liquid dribbling out of her mouth.

  Emmett didn’t seem to notice as he was swatting the blonde woman’s hand away. “Leave me be, Tess. My hair’s fine.” He cast a sideways glance at Molly, who thankfully, had wiped away any evidence of coffee from the corners of her mouth. She gave him a closed-mouth smile because her tongue felt like she’d dipped it in hot wax.

  She turned and poured a healthy dose of whatever creamer sat the closest. When she turned around, all the women had advanced into the kitchen. She felt very out of place among all the brunettes, but she shared her curly hair with Megan, and there was Tess, the blonde.

  “You’d be so much more distinguished with a nice military cut,” Tess persisted. She wouldn’t give Emmett his hat back, and he wore a disgruntled look on his handsome face. He did possess a wealth of hair, and Molly quite liked how it curled along his neck.

  “I’m not military,” Emmett said.

  “Too rebellious,” one of the brunettes said.

  “That’s right,” Emmett said. “And don’t you forget it.”

  The women laughed, leaving Molly to think that Emmett wasn’t rebellious at all. The conversation turned to the strawberry planting taking place that weekend, and since Molly knew even less about strawberry plants than she did about ranch wives, she remained silent.

  “Are you going to go, Molly?” Tess asked. How the woman knew her name was a mystery to Molly. Of course, up here in this tight-knit community of cowboys and their families, she suspected news traveled fast. Just because she hadn’t come out of the basement for longer than ten minutes didn’t mean no one knew she was there.

  “Oh, I don’t think—”

  “It’s the best spring activity,” another woman said.

  “I go every year,” someone else chimed in.

  “You simply have to go,” Tess said. “We plant them in May and harvest them in August. It’s a family tradition of ours that made it through the marriage.”

  Molly didn’t know what that meant, but all the women were looking at her like she should be dying to plant some strawberries. She glanced at Emmett but he was absolutely no help. Typical.

  “When is it?” she asked, hoping she’d be working. Or dead. Then she wouldn’t have to go.

  “This Saturday.” Tess beamed at her. “I have a two for one coupon.”

  “I’m using that,” Emmett finally piped up.

  “Oh, really?” Tess rounded on Emmett faster than anything Molly had ever seen. “Who are you taking?”

  “Yeah,” Megan said. “Last time we talked, you said you weren’t interested in women.”

  Molly sipped her coffee, her ears on high alert. Why would a man like Emmett—smart, resourceful, handsome—choose to be single? She nearly choked again when she thought of the three positive attributes she’d given him. In the end, she mentally shrugged. He was smart, he was resourceful, and she couldn’t deny his handsomeness. Yes, there was definitely a woman out there who would love to fall into those cloudy, gray eyes and swim around for a while.

  Molly found herself doing so now, while everyone else was staring at Emmett too.

  “I’m not,” he said.

  “You can’t have the coupon if you’re not taking someone,” Tess said.

  “I think Grant would like to go.”

  “Mm, no,” Tess said. “You cowboys can pay for yourselves. You can only have the coupon if you take a date.”

  “Fine.” Emmett placed his coffee mug in the sink, causing a riot of panic to spike in Molly’s chest. She was nowhere near finished with her coffee, but she couldn’t be left alone here with all these women.

  “What about Molly?” Tess asked next, and Megan the Traitor jumped right on the bandwagon.

  “Oh, that’s a good idea.” She looked at Molly and then Emmett. “She’s new to town, Emmett. You could show her around.”

  “Why don’t you show her around?” he growled. “I already gave her a tour of the ranch.”

  “See? You’re the best tour guide.” Tess beamed at him, and Molly thought he’d shoot lasers from his eyes. They had a special relationship that intrigued Molly, and she wanted to know more about it.

  “I’ll go,” she said. “I mean, I like strawberries, I guess.” What’s more, she really didn’t want to spend another weekend trapped in the basement by herself. All she’d do is obsess over her father’s health and if she should jump into her truck and head east.

  Emmett stared openly at her, his eyes a bit wider than normal. “You’ll go?”

  “As long as it’s not a date. I’ll even pay for you.”

  Stunned silence drifted through the room like no one had ever suggested such a thing. Then the women twittered, and Tess sidled up to Molly. “Oh, honey, let him pay for you.”

  She glanced at the woman and found fondness in her expression as she gazed at Emmett. “He needs to get out. Thanks for saying you’ll go.”

  With that, the ranch wives left the kitchen almost as fast as they’d come. Molly stood there, wondering if she’d just been the butt of some joke, caught on candid camera, or something else equally embarrassing.

  Emmett put his hand on her elbow and said, “Can I talk to you for a sec?” before towing her out of the kitchen and into the backyard.

  Chapter Five

  Pure humiliation pulled through Emmett. He couldn’t believe Megan and Tess—the masterminds behind getting him to go out with so
meone. And not just someone—Molly…. He couldn’t even remember the woman’s last name! That was how little he cared about getting to know her.

  Yet something had awakened inside him when he’d caught her bent over her phone, weeping. Call him sentimental, or soft-hearted, or romantic, but he’d felt sorry for her. He’d wanted to help, and holding her hand felt as natural as being in the saddle.

  Molly had let him too, which had surprised him at the same time it pleased him. She put on a good show of being a tough cowgirl, but he’d seen a softer side of her he did want to pursue.

  “Can you let go of me?” she asked, the ice back in her tone.

  He didn’t. Instead, he slid his hand down her arm to her hand. He laced his fingers in hers and held on. Shock mixed with rage and streamed through Molly’s eyes with the fierceness of a tornado.

  Emmett hung on. “Look,” he said, his voice getting stuck in the back of his throat, making the word sound husky and growly. “I’m with you. We can go together as long as this isn’t counted as a date.”

  Everything about her softened, and Emmett wondered why she put on such a show. “I’ll even pay for half of your ticket if this isn’t counted as a date,” she said.

  He dropped her hand. “I’m that repulsive, huh?”

  Molly blinked. “No,” she said, though Emmett was sure she was about to say yes.

  He grinned. “Good, because you’re definitely not repulsive.” When his brain caught up to what his mouth had said, he spun away from the cowgirl and strode toward the gate. He had to get away from her. Get away from her now.

  Because she was making all he things he’d already chosen for his life muddled. Maybe he did want a girlfriend. Maybe he could find a woman to settle down with. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Emmett thought he’d lose his mind, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.