The Rancher Next Door

Growing up, Katie had been Jack’s fantasy.

Despite time and distance and good sense, he found himself wondering how it would be between them. They were different. Not children who had fallen in love, but adults who understood how good it could be.

“You could have asked me to stay,” Katie commented, interrupting his thoughts.

He knew what she meant. That summer, when she’d been leaving for college and had wanted him to go with her. Instead of refusing, he should have asked her to stay here…with him. “No,” he said. “Your world was out in front of you, waiting to be explored. You knew everything there was to know about Lone Star Canyon. You deserved more than this. You wanted more than this.”

“Interesting that despite your plans for my destiny, I ended up right back here,” she said. “I wish you hadn’t been so self-sacrificing. I think we could have made it.”

He dismissed her comment. “It doesn’t matter.” But what he wanted to say was, “Don’t talk about it.” Because revisiting the past would start to hurt. He might not remember his hopes for the future, but the pain was still fresh. The pain of giving her up…

The Rancher Next Door

Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SUSAN MALLERY

is the bestselling author of over thirty books for Silhouette. Always a fan of romance novels, Susan finds herself in the unique position of living out her own personal romantic fantasy with the new man in her life. Susan lives in sunny Southern California with her handsome hero husband and her two adorable-but-not-bright cats.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Prologue

The bright red bike beckoned Katie Fitzgerald. It lay abandoned in a heap of other more battered bikes, all left behind the ice cream parlor where Katie’s older brother and his friends had gone for an afternoon snack. The pocket of her jeans jingled with the coins her father had given her to keep her out of trouble, and she knew that fresh peach ice cream, her favorite, had been made that morning.

But even more tempting than the thought of cool, creamy ice cream melting on her tongue and slipping down her throat was the realization that this might be her only chance with the bike. The twins, younger by two years, could both ride two-wheelers already, but she couldn’t. Not because she wasn’t coordinated enough but because her parents had never let her try.

It wasn’t her fault that she had been born small, she thought balling her hands into fists. Her father laughingly called her the runt of the litter, which hurt her feelings, but she never let him see the tears in her eyes. Instead she kept her head high and chin thrust out, because she was a Fitzgerald and ten years old, which was practically grown-up.

Katie glanced at the back of the ice cream shop and knew that her brother David would be in there for hours. Once he and his friends got to talking—bragging was more like it—they could waste a whole afternoon. Her dad wasn’t going to be finished with his business until three, and it was barely past one. All she had to do was make sure no one saw her.

Easier said than done, she thought glumly. Lone Star Canyon wasn’t much of a town, and everyone around knew everyone else by sight if not by name. Besides, she was a Fitzgerald, and her father always told her that Fitzgeralds were looked up to by other folks and had a responsibility to act right.

But it’s not as if she were stealing the bike, she told herself even as she walked over and grabbed the handlebars. It was her brother’s, and she was just borrowing it. David would understand.

Even she didn’t believe that lie, so she ignored the feeling of guilt in favor of the excitement growing in her belly. If she could learn to ride a bike on her own and then show her mom when she got home, they’d have to stop treating her like a baby. Just because she’d been sick a lot as a little girl, both her parents made her avoid sports and bikes and be careful all the time. She had rules that her brothers and sisters didn’t. It was humiliating that the twins had more freedom than she did.

It all came down to learning to ride the bike. Then her parents would have to see it was okay for her to be outside and playing, just like every other kid around. So if she borrowed the bike for a really good reason, that didn’t make taking it such a bad thing, right?

She pressed her lips together and figured she was going to get into trouble anyway, so why not enjoy the process? Then she steadied the bike by putting her hands on the handlebars and straddled the crossbar.

The seat was too high for her to sit on and still touch the ground, even on tiptoe. Katie walked over to the driveway, then down to the street, where she could balance on the curb while perched on the seat. She settled herself, shifted to get her balance, then pushed off the curb.

Thirty minutes later she’d skinned both knees and one elbow, and had yet to ride more than five feet at a stretch. Despite the tears of frustration and the pain burning her knees and elbow, she refused to give up or admit defeat. “I can do this,” she whispered fiercely.

“You’re going about it all wrong,” a voice said from behind her.

Katie spun, then caught her breath as she saw Jack Darby. The boy rode lazily toward her, his battered bike looking as if it had been run over and left for dead more than once. He rode off the curb with the easy grace of a natural athlete, then skidded to a stop three feet in front of her.

Although only a year older, Jack was about five inches taller and twenty pounds heavier. Like all the Darbys he had dark hair and eyes. Katie swallowed her fear. She wasn’t about to let any Darby know she was scared of him.

“You want me to hold the bike steady?” Jack asked, letting his bike drop to the ground. He moved next to her and reached for the seat. “You need to get your balance, Katie. Once you learn that, the rest of it’s easy.”

“I’m fine,” she said stiffly, wishing she could ride to safety, but she was trapped. “I don’t need help from you.”

Something flashed in his eyes—something that she might have thought was hurt, except he was a boy and from what she’d seen with her brothers, boys didn’t have any softer feelings.

He stood beside her, studying her. Katie stared right back. Jack Darby didn’t look like he was gonna hurt her or anything. In fact he looked friendly. But Darbys hated Fitzgeralds from their first breath to their last…didn’t they? Darbys and Fitzgeralds had been feuding for about as long as Texas had been a state—at least that’s what her father always said.

Jack pointed at her bleeding knees. “You keep falling, you’re gonna scrape off all your skin. You’ll end up looking like a plucked chicken, and then what?”

Despite her fear and the pain from her slips off the bike, she smiled at the image of herself as a naked chicken. “Will not.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Then you’ll get all scabby and gross and everyone will run when they see you.” He gave a little shake of the seat. “Come on, Katie. Both my sisters can ride, and they’re younger than you.”

She stiffened at the challenge in his voice. But when she glanced at him, she didn’t see anything mean in his expression. His too-long hair tumbled over his forehead, and his dark eyes were bright with humor. Except for seeing him in school, she’d never been this close to Jack before. Her dad always said mean things about the Darby family, but from what she could tell, Jack was sorta nice.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she admitted in a small voice, then tugged on the hem of her T-shirt. Summer in Lone Star Canyon was hot, so they were both in shorts, but Jack’s knees were smooth and tanned—not a single scab in sight.

Jack grabbed the handlebar. He kept his other hand firmly at the base of the seat. “Go on and sit down. Put your feet on the pedals. I won’t let you fall. You gotta get a feel for the bike and find your balance. Once you have that, riding is easy.”

She did as he said. He walked her around while she wobbled and tried to pedal. He was close enough for her to realize that he didn’t smell bad, even though her dad said that Darbys were dirt.

Suddenly Jack gave her a little push. She yelped and nearly lost her balance, but then she was moving forward and actually riding a bike!

“I can do it!” she yelled at him.

An hour later they still rode together. Katie wasn’t as fast as Jack, but he rarely went ahead and he always picked easy routes for her to follow. The buildings of town flashed by as they raced to the end of Mason Street, then turned right. The rear wheel started to slip on some loose dirt, but Jack had already taught her how to compensate for that.

“Not bad for a girl,” he called, his voice approving. “You’re so little that if you were a fish, I’d have to throw you back, but you do okay.”

She laughed at both Jack and the world. Being on a bike was a freedom she’d never experienced before. “This summer I’m not staying inside,” she swore to them both. “I’m gonna play and have fun and—”

“Gotcha!”

Four boys materialized from between Carter’s auto parts store and the alley. Three of them grabbed Jack and his bike while the fourth—thirteen-year-old David Fitzgerald—hauled Katie off his bright red bike and set her roughly on the ground.

“You stole my bike,” David accused his sister.

Katie nearly fell to her knees, but she quickly regained her balance. “Did not. I borrowed it. I wanted to learn to ride and I couldn’t do that at the ranch.”

She stared pleadingly at the older brother who had always been so good to her. But as she took in his angry face and balled fists, she remembered that he was only kind in private. In front of his friends, he teased and tormented with no thought for her feelings.

The three remaining boys—all friends of David’s—held Jack’s arms. He tried to squirm away but couldn’t break their hold. Not only was he outnumbered, but the boys were two years older than him and bigger.

Instantly Katie saw what was going to happen. She ran to her brother and grabbed his shirtsleeve. “David, no. You can’t hurt him. He was being nice to me. He taught me how to ride a bike.”

“No Darby messes with my sister,” David said.

All the scrapes and blood hadn’t made her cry, but the sight of her new friend pinned and helpless brought tears to her eyes. “You’re a coward,” she yelled at her brother as he approached Jack. “Four against one? You can’t win a fair fight so you’re gonna be a bully?”

David turned on her. “Shut up or you’re next.”

She thrust out her chin. “I’m not scared of you, David Fitzgerald. Besides, if you’re going to beat up someone who’s held down by your friends, then of course you’re going to beat up a little girl. Dad’ll be real proud.”

Doubt flickered in David’s blue eyes. Then his gaze narrowed. “Let ’em go,” he ordered his friends.

They reluctantly did as he said.

“Run!” Katie screamed to Jack, but no one was listening.

As soon as Jack was free, David attacked. Jack came back swinging, but the other three boys joined in. Katie cried out. It only took her a couple of seconds to realize that Jack was going to get slaughtered. She dove into the pile of fists and elbows, grabbing hair where she could, biting, kicking and generally trying to help her new friend.

A sharp blow landed on the side of her head. Katie saw stars, then nothing at all. The hard ground rushed up to meet her.

The next thing she heard was her father’s voice. Finally, she thought hazily. Jack would be safe. But when she managed to open her eyes, she saw her father shaking Jack like a dog.

“Dad, no,” she yelled. “Jack didn’t start it, David did.”

Her father let go of Jack, then glared at the boy. “I don’t care who started it. The fight is finished now. You go on and get out of here. No Darby is going to mess with my family.”

Katie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Didn’t her father understand? “Daddy, he helped me. I can ride a bike now and everything.”

Jack straightened. Blood poured from his mouth and nose. Swelling nearly shut his left eye, and his hands were battered. His once clean T-shirt was smudged with dirt and torn off one shoulder. Katie was pleased to see the four older boys looked almost as bad. Her body felt sore, and she realized she could barely see out of one eye.

Her father glared at her. “Stealing your brother’s bike, riding around town with the likes of him and fighting. What is your mother going to say?”

Katie didn’t want to answer that. She forced herself to her feet. “I’m sorry, Jack,” she called as the boy limped away.

“Don’t speak to him,” her father ordered. “Darbys are dirt.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “They’re not. Jack’s my friend.”

Right there on the sidewalk, in front of David and his friends, worse, in front of Jack, her father slapped her across the face. It wasn’t a strong blow, but it stung all the same. Humiliation darkened her soul.

“We don’t bother with their kind,” her father growled. “You remember that, missy. You hear me?”

But she didn’t answer. Instead she stared after Jack and vowed that somehow, some way, she would make it up to him. Even if it took forever.

Chapter One

Nineteen years later

Jack Darby rounded the corner in time to see four large boys go after a small skinny kid. The little guy—pale, in glasses and throwing punches like a girl—stood about as much chance against his assailants as a kitten did against a wolf pack.

Some things never change, Jack thought, remembering all the fights he’d gotten in when he’d been a kid. Even so, the little guy was outnumbered and ill-equipped. Jack hurried toward the huddle.

“That’s enough,” he yelled, just as the little guy dropped to one knee.

The four bullies glanced up, saw him, then took off for the main street. Jack reached the kid still crouched on the sidewalk.

“You okay?” he asked the boy. He bent over, half-expecting blood and tears. What he got instead was a big grin.

“Did you see?” the skinny boy asked with obvious pride. “I got two of ’em. I hit one in the face.”

The boy stood and pushed his glasses up on his nose. Blood dripped from a cut on his lip, but the kid didn’t seem to notice.

Jack knew that any blows the boy had landed had been glancing, at best, but decided not to say that. No point in spoiling the moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Here.”

The boy stared at it. “I’m bleeding?” His voice sounded both delighted and hopeful.

“You cut your lip.”

“Wow. Just like in the movies.” The boy took the cloth and pressed it to his mouth, then gazed at the blood. “Cool.”

“You’re pretty happy for someone who nearly got the snot kicked out of him.”

The boy nodded. “Sometimes it’s important to act like a man, even if that means taking on a losing fight.”

Jack looked at the kid. He was skinny and kind of short. He would have guessed he was maybe seven or eight, but he sounded older. Or maybe he was just an old soul, as his mother liked to say.

“You’ve learned a good lesson early,” Jack said. “But next time, try taking on less than four bigger boys. At least then you’d have a chance.”

The boy handed him back his handkerchief. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.” He grinned, then winced when the movement pulled his lip. “I’m Shane Fitzgerald.”

“Jack Darby,” Jack said automatically. The boy said something else, but Jack didn’t hear it. He didn’t hear anything but the name.

Shane Fitzgerald. Katie’s son. Jack studied his blond hair and blue eyes. All the Fitzgeralds were fair-skinned and light-haired. He should have recognized him at once.

Katie’s child. Eleven years ago—the summer she’d graduated from high school—Katie had promised to love Jack forever. The nine-year-old boy in front of him was living proof that her promise had meant less than nothing.

“I guess I’d better go find my mom,” Shane was saying. “She worries about me.”

“Mothers do that,” Jack said. “Tell you what. I’ll come with you. Just in case she needs more details about the fight.”

Some of Shane’s pride disappeared. He touched his lower lip and sighed. “Moms don’t like fighting,” he confided as he turned toward Second Avenue.

“I know. I had more than my share of lectures when I was your age.”

Shane looked at him worshipfully. “Did you fight a lot?”

“Too much.”

“Did you win?”

Jack thought of the first time he’d met Katie Fitzgerald. They’d known each other on sight from school, but they’d never talked. Not until that summer afternoon when he’d taught her to ride a bike, and her brother and his friends had kicked his butt. “Most of the time.”

Shane led the way to the offices of Dr. Stephen Remington, then pushed his way through the glass door. Jack followed, only to find Katie Fitzgerald in conversation with Lone Star Canyon’s new physician.

Neither of them noticed the new arrivals, and Shane didn’t seem to be in a hurry to announce their presence. Which was fine with Jack. He wanted the chance to study Katie, to see how she’d changed since she left town eleven years ago.

He remembered that night as if it had happened the previous week. She’d been eighteen and ready to head off to college. Even then he’d known that he was going to spend the rest of his life in Lone Star Canyon. She’d wanted him to go away with her—she’d begged him, telling him that she would love him forever, no matter what. Then she’d peeled off her shirt and pleaded with him to take her.

They’d come close a few times, but they’d never gone all the way. And even though it had taken every bit of strength he’d possessed, he’d turned her down. Because it had been the right thing to do. Because he’d known that at least one of them had to get away, and it couldn’t be him.

Now, all these years later, he looked at the woman who had once been that teenage girl. She was still petite, all of five foot three. Sometime in the past few years, she’d cut her long hair. Short curls danced around her face. Her coloring was the same—light blond hair, blue eyes. She still had high cheeks and a smile that could light up a room…and she was still a Fitzgerald. There were dozens of reasons a relationship between them wouldn’t have worked when they were kids, and even more reasons now.

As he looked at her, Jack waited to feel something, a sense of regret or loss, but there wasn’t anything—for which he breathed a brief prayer of thanks. He’d learned his lesson. He wanted nothing to do with women in general and Katie Fitzgerald in particular.

Something tickled at the back of Katie’s neck. She shivered slightly, then felt a knot form in her stomach. Her chest tightened. Despite Stephen Remington’s detailed conversation about a patient, Katie turned and saw two people had entered the reception area. A boy and a man.

Her son—dirty and bleeding—accompanied by Jack Darby.

“Hello, Katie,” the ghost from her past said.

She gasped. She didn’t know which sight shocked her the most. Fortunately Stephen heard Jack’s greeting and glanced toward the door.

“Hey, Jack! What happened here?” he asked, walking toward Shane, then tilting the boy’s face so the overhead light fell on his swollen lip.

“I was in a fight,” Shane said defiantly, with a quick look at his mother. “It wasn’t my fault,” he added quickly. “They started it.”

“But you finished it,” Stephen said, leading the boy toward an examining room. “Very impressive. Now I just want to take a quick look at your lip. Do you hurt anywhere else?”

Katie trailed after her son. She was stunned by learning that her son had been in a fight and by seeing Jack after all this time. She didn’t know what to think or do. All she could do was tell herself to keep breathing.

By the time she entered the examining room, Stephen had lifted Shane onto the table and was looking at his mouth.

“His teeth seem fine,” Stephen said, giving her a quick, reassuring smile. “Don’t look so panicked.”

“I’m not,” she said. Panicked wasn’t the right word at all, although she wasn’t sure what she felt.

“See, Mom, I’m big and strong,” Shane said determinedly. “I’m not wimpy.”

Katie leaned against the door frame and winced. Obviously her son had overheard her conversation with his grandfather that morning. Her father was less than impressed with his grandson’s masculinity. In return, Shane was terrified of his grandfather. It was an impossible situation.

“He did okay,” Jack said quietly, so Shane wouldn’t hear. “And I don’t think Shane started the fight, so don’t be too hard on him, okay?”

Katie turned toward the man who had once been the center of her universe. Time had honed the good-looking features of a nineteen-year-old into the lean, handsome profile of a grown man. Tanned skin spoke of his days outdoors. He was lean and powerful—a rancher who spent his life battling nature and stubborn cattle.

His dark gaze was as direct as she remembered, his mouth as firm. Too-long hair still tumbled across his forehead. There had been a time when she’d known Jack as well as she’d known herself. At least that’s what she told herself. But perhaps she’d been wrong about that. Was it possible to ever know another person?

“Thanks for helping him,” Katie said, hoping that her voice sounded normal and that he wouldn’t be able to hear her rapidly beating heart.

He gave her a quick smile. “I owed you, remember? Many years ago you came to my defense in a fight.”

She didn’t return his smile. “What I remember is it was my fault you got beat up in the first place.”

There was a small scar at the corner of his mouth—a legacy from the day they’d first met. She wanted to touch it, as she had in the past. Actually, in the past she’d kissed it hundreds of times, as if her mouth could heal the wound. Jack had teased her that it was worth that scar and a dozen others just to have her feel so guilty and act so loving because of it. She’d told him she would do anything for him. Her gaze fell on her son. No doubt Jack considered him proof that her love had been nothing but a convenient lie.

“No permanent damage,” Stephen said, helping Shane jump down from the examining table to the floor. “He’s going to be a bit sore and bruised for the next few days, but otherwise, he’s fine.” He glanced at the boy. “Try to avoid fights in the future, young man.”

Shane sighed and shuffled his feet. “Yes, sir.”

Stephen turned his attention to Jack and Katie. “I keep forgetting that you know each other. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up in a small town.” He smiled. “Something I can’t relate to.”

Katie shoved her hands into her pockets and tried not to act nervous. “Stephen is from Boston,” she told Jack.

“I know.”

She glanced between the two men. “You know each other?”

Stephen nodded. “The patient I was telling you about? The woman with the broken pelvis, hip and leg is Hattie Darby, Jack’s mother. I’m her doctor. Of course in a town the size of Lone Star Canyon, I’m nearly everyone’s doctor.”

Jack’s gaze narrowed. “Why were you talking to her about my mother?”