Read Online Once a Rancher by Linda Lael Miller - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Lael Miller
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birthday is coming up. Any ideas?â
âYep, but itâs every man for himself, Slater. Both of her uncles have asked me the same question. I didnât help them, either.â
âIâm her father. Thatâs different.â
His mother gave him a pointed glance he recognized. Drake and Mace were equally familiar with the expression, no doubt. âDonât you think itâs time you got married and had a few more children?â she asked. âFor Daisyâs sake, of course.â
CHAPTER FOUR
N O PRESSURE .
At all.
Grace sipped her morning coffee, checked the time on the computer in her home office and felt as if she hadnât seen the light of day except through a window all week. She needed to go for a long walk to clear her head.
Ryder was in trouble at school. It wasnât a big deal, just some roughhousing during gym, but heâd been sidelined and suspended from PE class for a full week. The worst part was that he hadnât told her about it. The coach had called.
This situation was troubling, to say the least, and she felt totally inadequate. Walking the fine line between being likable and being any kind of disciplinarian was proving to be a real challenge, but here she was, doggedly doing her best.
MaybeâmaybeâRyder was doing his best, too. It was one thing to be a single parent; it was another to be the single parent of a child who wasnât your own. She loved Ryder. That wasnât in question and never would be. But the boy clearly had issues, and little wonder, since heâd been neglected by both his parents for most of his young life. How had that problem, one she hadnât created, wound up being hers to solve?
More frustrating still, Grace realized Ryderâs mother was never going to do anything to help, and Hank was off who knew whereâno one was allowed to knowâand it had become her dilemma. The worst part was that Ryder was a bright kid, so he was perfectly well aware that none of this was supposed to be up to her, a stepmother with no legal authority over him whatsoever. Naturally, he was resentful as hell. The poor kid needed somebody to be mad at, some way to vent all that adolescent emotion.
The whole mess just about broke Graceâs heart.
There was a scratching sound at the back door of the condo, and Grace left her office, crossed the small kitchen and looked out through the screen. The cat, perched primly on the welcome mat, peered in at her and meowed. Bonaparte, so recently rescued, was filling out nicely, now that he was getting regular meals and plenty of love.
He was completely black except for a white patch on his chest, had startling emerald eyes and had yet to allow Grace to pet him, although sheâd seen Ryder sit down and coax the cat onto his lap numerous times. The roughness of Bonaparteâs fur was already smoothing out and he was friendlier, but she did wonder how theyâd ever get him into a pet carrier so they could take him to the veterinary clinic for a checkup, neutering and shots.
Disregarding her own rules, she opened the screen door, fully expecting the little creature to run away. But when she stood back to allow him space, he timidly came inside, taking one careful step at a time as if he were asking do I really live here ?
The sight gave Grace another twinge of pain, because it reminded her so much of Ryder. Wary, uncertain of his place in the world, grateful, even eager, for acceptance, but hesitant, too. Never quite knowing where he belonged, or with whom.
âIâll leave you alone until youâre ready,â she told the cat in a gentle voice. âRyder will be home soon.â
Then I have to yell at him , Grace thought miserably. Which I donât want to do, but I have to file it in the folder labeled For Your Own Good .
Bonaparte investigated the baseboard and then sat down. His unwinking green eyes watched her every move.
The cat and Ryder really were kindred
âYep, but itâs every man for himself, Slater. Both of her uncles have asked me the same question. I didnât help them, either.â
âIâm her father. Thatâs different.â
His mother gave him a pointed glance he recognized. Drake and Mace were equally familiar with the expression, no doubt. âDonât you think itâs time you got married and had a few more children?â she asked. âFor Daisyâs sake, of course.â
CHAPTER FOUR
N O PRESSURE .
At all.
Grace sipped her morning coffee, checked the time on the computer in her home office and felt as if she hadnât seen the light of day except through a window all week. She needed to go for a long walk to clear her head.
Ryder was in trouble at school. It wasnât a big deal, just some roughhousing during gym, but heâd been sidelined and suspended from PE class for a full week. The worst part was that he hadnât told her about it. The coach had called.
This situation was troubling, to say the least, and she felt totally inadequate. Walking the fine line between being likable and being any kind of disciplinarian was proving to be a real challenge, but here she was, doggedly doing her best.
MaybeâmaybeâRyder was doing his best, too. It was one thing to be a single parent; it was another to be the single parent of a child who wasnât your own. She loved Ryder. That wasnât in question and never would be. But the boy clearly had issues, and little wonder, since heâd been neglected by both his parents for most of his young life. How had that problem, one she hadnât created, wound up being hers to solve?
More frustrating still, Grace realized Ryderâs mother was never going to do anything to help, and Hank was off who knew whereâno one was allowed to knowâand it had become her dilemma. The worst part was that Ryder was a bright kid, so he was perfectly well aware that none of this was supposed to be up to her, a stepmother with no legal authority over him whatsoever. Naturally, he was resentful as hell. The poor kid needed somebody to be mad at, some way to vent all that adolescent emotion.
The whole mess just about broke Graceâs heart.
There was a scratching sound at the back door of the condo, and Grace left her office, crossed the small kitchen and looked out through the screen. The cat, perched primly on the welcome mat, peered in at her and meowed. Bonaparte, so recently rescued, was filling out nicely, now that he was getting regular meals and plenty of love.
He was completely black except for a white patch on his chest, had startling emerald eyes and had yet to allow Grace to pet him, although sheâd seen Ryder sit down and coax the cat onto his lap numerous times. The roughness of Bonaparteâs fur was already smoothing out and he was friendlier, but she did wonder how theyâd ever get him into a pet carrier so they could take him to the veterinary clinic for a checkup, neutering and shots.
Disregarding her own rules, she opened the screen door, fully expecting the little creature to run away. But when she stood back to allow him space, he timidly came inside, taking one careful step at a time as if he were asking do I really live here ?
The sight gave Grace another twinge of pain, because it reminded her so much of Ryder. Wary, uncertain of his place in the world, grateful, even eager, for acceptance, but hesitant, too. Never quite knowing where he belonged, or with whom.
âIâll leave you alone until youâre ready,â she told the cat in a gentle voice. âRyder will be home soon.â
Then I have to yell at him , Grace thought miserably. Which I donât want to do, but I have to file it in the folder labeled For Your Own Good .
Bonaparte investigated the baseboard and then sat down. His unwinking green eyes watched her every move.
The cat and Ryder really were kindred
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