She followed Cody into the living room and kissed the top of her son’s head before she returned to the kitchen to finish dinner. While the noodles boiled and the spaghetti sauce simmered, she washed and cut ingredients for salad, gazing out the west-facing window toward the sheer wall of the Absaroka Mountains and the sprawling sagebrush plain between them and her son’s barren ranch. The five hundred acres were a gift from his father and grandparents, and she wondered now if she hadn’t put herself and Cody into a bind they’d never get out of in her attempt to get Thomas Grant Jr. to take responsibility for his son. Even sixty miles north, five hundred acres would’ve been incredibly valuable, but here it was worth next to nothing. Five hundred acres of sagebrush, thin, brittle scrub grass, rock, and dust. It was too far away from the river to be irrigated without punching a new well, which she couldn’t afford, and the single spring on the property wasn’t large enough to do much with.
At first, she’d been floored by the suggestion of land as a means of seeing to Cody’s well-being. The offer was well intentioned; it had come from Tom’s parents—Thomas Sr., who had a good if gruff heart, and Ginny, whose amazing strength, stubbornness, and kindness Annemarie had dearly missed these last seven months—but the selection of the land had been up to Tom, and he’d picked the driest, most unproductive corner of the massive Grant Ranch to bequeath to his bastard son.
Message received loud and clear, she thought with a scowl. And I was dumb enough to take it.
She’d known almost nothing about ranching or working with cows, and until she’d officially taken possession of the land a year and a half ago, she had still been able to count the number of times she’d been on a horse on her fingers. She hadn’t learned nearly enough in the time since to make her believe she could find a way to make this work… and yet, she’d given up her small house in town to move into this even smaller cabin miles away from anyone with the thought that it would be easier to manage things if she were on site and that the money she’d save on rent could be put toward improving operations. Her first four months in the cabin didn’t give her much hope that the latter would be happening any time soon; all that rent money hadn’t gone toward the ranch but rather into cleaning supplies, paint, used stove and refrigerator, and more repair supplies. The repairs she’d made last summer had barely been enough to make it livable. It still needed so much more to make it feel like home.
At least calving, which had ended just two days ago, had gone much better this year. She’d lost two calves and a heifer last year. This year, she hadn’t lost any. That was something wasn’t it?
Sighing, she returned her attention to meal prep. When the spaghetti was done, she called Cody in to wash his hands for dinner. She set the table while he stood on his step-stool at the sink singing the hand-washing song her mother had taught him the last time they’d made it home to Alcova for a visit—six months ago. Annemarie was certain her parents thought she was nuts for trying to make this dusty ranch turn a profit rather than selling it, and they were most likely right, but there was something she wanted here for Cody that he wouldn’t have without this ranch—roots. In contrast to the Garretts, who were scattered across the country, the Grants had worked this land for generations, turning the high mountain desert land into a rich ranching empire. It didn’t matter that Tom refused to acknowledge that Cody was part of it. This was her son’s heritage, and if she had to work herself into an early grave so he could have it, so be it.
Is it really all for Cody? a cunning, venomous voice whispered.
As she glanced out the window again toward the main compound of the Grant Ranch, her traitorous heart fluttered. Despite everything, a faint glimmer remained of the naïve girl she’d been six and a half years ago when Tom Grant had sauntered into the restaurant where she’d waited tables to pay for college. He’d looked like he’d walked straight off the set of a cowboy romance, so devastatingly handsome with rich dark hair and fiery dark eyes topped off with a crisp black Stetson and the supreme confidence of someone who never failed to possess what he wanted. And during his two-month stay in Laramie to care for his uncle who’d undergone open heart surgery, he’d wanted a woman half his age to make him feel young and virile again in a way his high-maintenance wife couldn’t.
Of course, she hadn’t known then that he was married with two kids.
And she hadn’t found out that piece of rather important information until she’d tracked him down to tell him he had another on the way.
He’d done a flawless job of hiding the evidence. No wedding ring. Not even a telltale tan line or indentation of one. No pictures of kids in his wallet. No phone calls from home even when they’d spent the night at his uncle’s. She’d since figured out that the uncle had played along. Thomas Sr. wasn’t shy about sharing his distaste for Tom’s self-serving inclinations, and she suspected he hadn’t spoken to his brother in over two decades because Steven was the same breed of selfish swine as Tom.
She’d been sucked in like a simpering fool by his devilishly attentive charm and lavish praise of her plans and aspirations. He was a womanizer of the highest level, and he’d known all the things to say and do to conquer her reservations. He’d made her believe she was valuable… and then, when she’d informed him of the result of their affair, he’d shown her just how worthless to him she truly was.
A small hand tugged on her pants leg. “Mom? Are you okay?”
She glanced at him and smiled. “Of course I am, pumpkin.”
“But you’re crying again.”
She touched her cheek with her fingertips, surprised when they came away wet.
“How come you’re sad?”
She wiped the tears like they didn’t matter. Because they shouldn’t. She shouldn’t be crying at all over Tom Grant. He wasn’t worth it. “I was thinking sad things again, but I promise to put them away. Come on over to the table, and we’ll eat and talk about happy things. Like maybe you and me going for a ride tomorrow after I get off work.”
“Can we? Really?”
“Sure we can. And maybe we’ll invite your grandpa to come with us.”
The delight that splashed across his face at the mention of Thomas Sr. made every heartache and frustration of the last year worth it. That was what she wanted for her son, that connection.
As they ate, she listened to him chatter about their horses and his excitement over the impending arrival of Diamond Dot’s foal, who was due any day now.
Given the chance to go back and do it all over again, she might change the circumstances if she could, but she wouldn’t stop herself from getting involved with Tom Grant because the result of that union—this beautiful, bright-eyed boy—was her whole world.
When dinner was done and the dishes were washed, dried, and put away, it was time for bed. Annemarie stepped into Cody’s tiny bedroom and flipped on the light.
Nothing happened.
She doubted a burned-out bulb was the problem because she’d just replaced it three days ago, so she tried the teddy-bear lamp on the dresser. It remained troublingly dark, too. While Cody brushed his teeth, she descended into the basement again, but none of the breakers were tripped. She reset the ones for that side of the house anyhow, eliciting a yelp from her son when the light in the bathroom briefly darkened, then returned to Cody’s room. It was still dark.
“I guess we read our story by flashlight tonight,” she sighed as she climbed into bed beside him. She clicked on the flashlight she kept on his dresser beneath the teddy bear lamp.
He was out like the lights before she finished the story, and she kissed his forehead, then tip-toed out of his room. With a sigh, she snatched the cordless phone off the kitchen counter and dialed the main house of the Grant Ranch, praying Thomas picked up. No such luck. Tom answered.
“It’s Annemarie,” she said quickly. “Is Thomas around?”
“No. It’s Monday. He’s over at George’s.”
Right. Monday was “Bullshit Night” at the Sage Flats Ranch. She sw
allowed, willing her trembling hand to still. “I have an electrical problem. Can you spare Jack for a couple hours tomorrow?”
“No, I can’t. If you have an electrical problem, call a damned electrician.”
“I can’t afford one right now, Tom. Please, can’t you—”
“Not my problem, and no, I can’t. My family has already done more than enough for you and your son.”
“Done enough for me and my son? He’s your son, too.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this, Tom. I just—”
He hung up on her. She gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles ached, and she tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and counted to ten so she didn’t hurl the thing across the living room. The last thing she needed was to wake Cody up or to give herself one more thing she couldn’t afford to replace.
With her eyes burning and her chin quivering, she took a deep breath and dialed the one friend she had in this corner of Wyoming. With pencil and notepad in hand, she waited for Jamie to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Jamie. It’s Annemarie.”
“Hey. Is everything all right?”
“Sure. I hope I didn’t wake Caleb.”
“No. That kid sleeps like the dead. What do you need?”
“An electrician. A while back, you mentioned one who’d done some work for your parents.”
“Yeah. Gabriel Collins. Dad says he’s the best. Hang on. Lemme get his number.”
Annemarie wrote the man’s name down, amused. Her mother would approve of his angelic name.
After a short pause, Jamie was back on the phone. “Ready for it?”
“Yep.”
She jotted the number under the name, thanked Jamie, and promised they’d get their boys together again soon. When it warmed up, Annemarie hoped to have Caleb and his mother and his new stepdad out to go riding. That’d be as good for her as it would be for Cody, who would undoubtedly be delighted to spend a day riding the range with his best friend.
The idle daydream was a stark reminder of how she’d exiled herself out here. It couldn’t be healthy.
She set the phone on the counter, tore the sheet off the notepad, and stuck it to the refrigerator door with two of Cody’s colorful magnetic letters. Her eyes skimmed over what she’d written. Even if her electrical problem turned out to be a quick fix, it would still be expensive. And what if it wasn’t something small? How was she going to afford it?
Suddenly, everything crashed down on her like a landslide. She crumpled to the floor with her back against the fridge, curled her arms around her knees, and sobbed silently. If ever she’d needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to tell her everything would work out, it was now, but she had no one.
She was miserably, achingly alone.
* * * * *
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Also by Suzie O’Connell
Sea Glass Cove
The Abalone Shell
The Driftwood Promise
Northstar Romances
First Instinct
Mountain Angel
Summer Angel
Twice Shy
Once Burned
Mistletoe Kisses
Starlight Magic
Wild Angel
Forgotten Angel
Last Surrender
Two-Lane Wyoming
The Road to Garrett
About the Author
Suzie O’Connell is the USA Today bestselling author of the Northstar romances. The series is the product of a love affair with Southwestern Montana that began with a two-week adventure at her stepsister’s rustic cabin in her teens. That love affair shows no sign of abating.
She has been writing stories for as long as she can remember, and her love of writing and of Montana pushed her to earn a Bachelor of Arts in Literature and Writing from the University of Montana-Western. What else would you expect from a self-professed mountain-loving nerd?
When she isn’t writing, you’ll probably find Suzie in the mountains with a camera in hand and enjoying the beauty of Montana with her husband Mark, their daughter Maddie, and their golden retriever Reilly.
Don’t forget to sign up for Suzie’s newsletter to be notified of new releases, enter drawings and contests, read exclusive snippets of forthcoming books, and more.
For more information about Suzie and her books, find her online:
www.suzieoconnell.com
[email protected]
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