Read Online The Rancher Next Door by Betsy St. Amant - Free Book Online
Authors: Betsy St. Amant
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pparently there was something in Broken Bend’s water that made smart people oblivious to truth.
Caley slung her purse on the counter, fighting the urge to look out the window that glimpsed Brady’s back pasture and make sure he was all right. If he wanted to try to do something foolish, like round up a bull—that’d already spooked his horse once—by himself, then so be it. The risk of someone getting hurt was greater with him out there alone than with someone’s help, even hers. But the men of Broken Bend apparently drank a little more of that bayou stubbornness than others.
Her dad had certainly gulped his share.
“Is he going to be okay?” Ava’s drawn voice sounded from the living room, where she’d peeled back the thin curtains and stared into the field. Scooter pressed against her side in sympathy, whining. He’d always been able to tell when someone was worried.
Caley’s frustration at being held back faded at the worry in Ava’s tone. “Of course, sweetie. Your dad knows what he’s doing.” She believed that, but it still stung that he didn’t think enough of her to believe her own ability. But why did it matter so much?
She swallowed against the answer beating in her heart.
Because she wanted the man on the roof—the one who’d sat with her despite his obvious dislike of heights, the one who’d ask her about her grandmother and didn’t push when she’d verbally shut down, the one who’d shared the moonlight—to like her.
Respect her.
And not just as a nanny.
Caley ran the edges of the curtain through her fingers, the flimsy fabric cool against her palm. Maybe she’d taken in some of that bayou water herself. Because no matter how attractive Brady was or how good-hearted he appeared to be, she wasn’t the Broken Bend woman he needed. Even if she could fix the cracks in his family, he made it clear last night that he didn’t want her to. Ava is fine. We both are.
She could tell that wasn’t true.
But she’d pretty much written the book on denial, so how much of a hypocrite would she be if she pressed him about it?
“There he goes.” Ava’s voice broke through Caley’s thoughts, freeing her from the relentless possibilities of what could be and what wouldn’t ever be. “Dad’s trying to go in behind him.”
Caley edged closer to Ava as she peered through the glass over her head, Scooter’s tail thumping a steady rhythm against her leg. Was that a lasso? Was Brady really going to try to rope the bull? Seemed crazy, but on second thought, she’d heard from firemen who took side jobs as rodeo clowns that oftentimes when an animal got a wild hair, all they needed was a firm hand and direction to bring them back around. Maybe that was Brady’s plan.
Not a bad one, but it’d be a whole lot better if he’d wait for Max.
She exhaled with relief, not even realizing until that moment she’d been holding her breath. “Spitfire doesn’t see him yet.”
“Nope. Is that good or bad?” Ava glanced up at her.
“Could be either.” She licked her suddenly dry lips as Spitfire’s head rose from the grass just as Brady began to wind his rope. Then, without warning, the bull whipped around and pawed the earth. “Never mind. Not good.”
It was too much for Nugget. The horse reared, and even from this distance, Caley could tell Brady wasn’t ready. His arms windmilled with the lasso as he fought for balance, but his horse was too fast. He barreled off the back of Nugget and landed hard on the packed ground as the horse bolted away.
Ava shrieked, clasping both hands to her mouth, and Caley’s heart leaped in her throat with the force of a jackhammer. “Wait here.”
She burst through the front door, slamming it behind her to show Ava she meant business about staying put, and ran as fast as she could toward the fence separating her from Brady. She prayed for the first time in too long, the words whipping through her head as fast as the grass whipping past her boots. God,
Caley slung her purse on the counter, fighting the urge to look out the window that glimpsed Brady’s back pasture and make sure he was all right. If he wanted to try to do something foolish, like round up a bull—that’d already spooked his horse once—by himself, then so be it. The risk of someone getting hurt was greater with him out there alone than with someone’s help, even hers. But the men of Broken Bend apparently drank a little more of that bayou stubbornness than others.
Her dad had certainly gulped his share.
“Is he going to be okay?” Ava’s drawn voice sounded from the living room, where she’d peeled back the thin curtains and stared into the field. Scooter pressed against her side in sympathy, whining. He’d always been able to tell when someone was worried.
Caley’s frustration at being held back faded at the worry in Ava’s tone. “Of course, sweetie. Your dad knows what he’s doing.” She believed that, but it still stung that he didn’t think enough of her to believe her own ability. But why did it matter so much?
She swallowed against the answer beating in her heart.
Because she wanted the man on the roof—the one who’d sat with her despite his obvious dislike of heights, the one who’d ask her about her grandmother and didn’t push when she’d verbally shut down, the one who’d shared the moonlight—to like her.
Respect her.
And not just as a nanny.
Caley ran the edges of the curtain through her fingers, the flimsy fabric cool against her palm. Maybe she’d taken in some of that bayou water herself. Because no matter how attractive Brady was or how good-hearted he appeared to be, she wasn’t the Broken Bend woman he needed. Even if she could fix the cracks in his family, he made it clear last night that he didn’t want her to. Ava is fine. We both are.
She could tell that wasn’t true.
But she’d pretty much written the book on denial, so how much of a hypocrite would she be if she pressed him about it?
“There he goes.” Ava’s voice broke through Caley’s thoughts, freeing her from the relentless possibilities of what could be and what wouldn’t ever be. “Dad’s trying to go in behind him.”
Caley edged closer to Ava as she peered through the glass over her head, Scooter’s tail thumping a steady rhythm against her leg. Was that a lasso? Was Brady really going to try to rope the bull? Seemed crazy, but on second thought, she’d heard from firemen who took side jobs as rodeo clowns that oftentimes when an animal got a wild hair, all they needed was a firm hand and direction to bring them back around. Maybe that was Brady’s plan.
Not a bad one, but it’d be a whole lot better if he’d wait for Max.
She exhaled with relief, not even realizing until that moment she’d been holding her breath. “Spitfire doesn’t see him yet.”
“Nope. Is that good or bad?” Ava glanced up at her.
“Could be either.” She licked her suddenly dry lips as Spitfire’s head rose from the grass just as Brady began to wind his rope. Then, without warning, the bull whipped around and pawed the earth. “Never mind. Not good.”
It was too much for Nugget. The horse reared, and even from this distance, Caley could tell Brady wasn’t ready. His arms windmilled with the lasso as he fought for balance, but his horse was too fast. He barreled off the back of Nugget and landed hard on the packed ground as the horse bolted away.
Ava shrieked, clasping both hands to her mouth, and Caley’s heart leaped in her throat with the force of a jackhammer. “Wait here.”
She burst through the front door, slamming it behind her to show Ava she meant business about staying put, and ran as fast as she could toward the fence separating her from Brady. She prayed for the first time in too long, the words whipping through her head as fast as the grass whipping past her boots. God,
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