A Chance For The Rancher

He frowned at that. “Who’s Brendan?”

“My seven-year-old son.”

Chapter Two

Well, that was an unexpected revelation.

Patrick took a mental step back. He didn’t realize he’d taken an actual physical step, too, until she called attention to his instinctive reaction.

“Yeah, that’s the usual response from guys like you,” she said.

“What response? And what do you mean—guys like me?”

“The retreat,” she said, answering only his first question.

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You literally took a step back, as if the responsibilities of parenting might be contagious.”

“I did not,” he denied. Except he realized that he was standing a little farther away from her now. “Or if I did, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said dismissively. “At least now we both know where the other one stands.”

“And where is it that you think I stand?”

“As far away from any potential complications as you can possibly get.”

He wished he could deny it—or at least point out that she didn’t know him or anything about him. But while he often used flattery and charm to convey his interest in a woman, he tried to always be honest, too. Although he’d dated a lot of different women in his thirty-two years, the one thing those women all had in common was that they were no more interested in a long-term relationship than he was. And even if he did meet someone who might make him reconsider, the ranch was his priority now and for the foreseeable future.

He didn’t have the time or—to be perfectly honest—any interest in a committed relationship. And he sure as hell wasn’t looking to be a stand-in father to someone else’s kid, because that was a scenario that screamed “complication” to him.

And while Brooke Langley might be the sexiest female to cross his path in months, she wasn’t what he wanted. Even if the pressure behind his zipper suggested otherwise.

“I was just...surprised,” he finally responded. “And now I’m curious... Is your son’s father from around here?” he asked, wondering if the man might be someone he knew.

“Brendan doesn’t have a father.”

His brows lifted at that.

“The man who contributed to his DNA has no interest in being a dad,” she explained. “He made that perfectly clear when I told him I was pregnant.”

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

“There’s no reason to be,” she told him. “He got his freedom and I got Brendan. And since my work is finished here, I really do want to get home to him now.”

“But you’ll be back tomorrow?” he said, not really a question so much as a reminder.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she confirmed.

He nodded, already looking forward to seeing her again.

As much as she loved her job, Brooke always looked forward to the end of the day because she loved coming home to her little boy even more. From the very first moment he was placed in her arms, her heart had filled with so much love, she’d been certain it would burst right out of her chest.

It wasn’t always easy being a single mom, but she never regretted her decision to keep her baby. Of course, she was fortunate to have the unwavering support of her parents—and the luxury of living with Brendan in the apartment above their detached garage. The space was a little on the small side, but plenty big enough for the two of them, with two bedrooms, a four-piece bath, a decent-size family room and a modest kitchen with a breakfast bar.

The kitchen was the focus of her thoughts now, as she tried to remember what ingredients she had to put together for a meal. She was pretty sure there was ground beef in the freezer, and tacos weren’t only quick and easy, they were one of Brendan’s favorites.

She thought wistfully, for just a moment, about Patrick’s invitation to dinner. It would be nice to go out to a restaurant where someone else prepared the food and cleaned up afterward. Of course, if that was really what she wanted, she could take Brendan out to eat at Diggers’ tonight. The occasional treat at the popular bar and grill was within her budget even if a meal at The Home Station was not.

She pulled into the driveway beside her parents’ house and parked in her usual spot in front of the garage. But she headed to the main house rather than her own apartment, knowing her son would be there. His school bus stopped in front of the house and, when he got off it at the end of the day, he knew to go see Gramma if his mom’s truck wasn’t in the driveway.

Brooke entered her childhood home through the side door and sat on the bench in the mudroom to remove her boots and hang her coat before stepping into the kitchen, where her mother was at the stove, stirring something in a pan. Though Sandra Langley had recently celebrated her sixtieth birthday, she still looked like the bride she’d been in the photos taken on her wedding day. There were some discernible changes, of course, the most obvious being that she wore her hair much shorter now, in a chin-length bob. But the shiny auburn tresses were the same color they’d been back then (thanks to a little assistance from Wendy at the Clip ’N’ Curl), and her dark brown eyes still sparkled with humor.

“Mmm,” Brooke said, sniffing the air as she crossed the room to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Something smells good.”

“It doesn’t smell like much of anything yet,” Sandra remarked. “I’m only browning ground beef.”

“Well, it smells good to me,” she insisted.

“You worked through lunch again, didn’t you?”

“The clinic was packed,” she said.

“You need to eat,” her mom admonished. “How can you take care of the animals if you don’t take care of yourself?”

“I do eat,” she said. “In fact, I’ll eat whatever you’re cooking, if we’re invited to stay for dinner.”

“Tacos,” Sandra said. “And of course you’re welcome to stay.”

She grinned. “Were the tacos Brendan’s suggestion?”

“He did mention that he hadn’t had them in for-ev-er.” Her mother stretched out the word to emphasize it the way Brooke was sure her son had done.

“Which is why I’d planned to make them for him when we got home,” she said.

“Now you don’t have to,” Sandra told her.

“You spoil us,” Brooke said.

Her mom smiled. “It’s a mother’s prerogative to spoil her kids—and grandkids. And since your father isn’t home yet, having the two of you here for dinner means I won’t have to eat alone.”

“Is Dad still at Whispering Pines?”

Sandra shook her head. “He was on his way home when he got a call from Frieda Zimmerman asking him to stop by and take a look at Cupcake.”

Brooke huffed out a breath. “She came into the clinic with Cupcake today. I gave the cat a thorough exam and assured Mrs. Zimmerman there was nothing wrong with her pet aside from the fact that she’s fourteen years old.”

“And for all of the fourteen years that Frieda’s had the cat, she’s been taking her to your dad for care,” her mom pointed out.

“Sometimes I wonder if inviting me to help out in his practice has been any help to Dad at all.”

“Of course it has,” Sandra assured her. “And your dad is so proud and excited to work with you.”

“Unfortunately, his clients are a little less enthusiastic when I show up instead.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about someone other than Frieda Zimmerman?”

“I’ll fill you in on all the details after I hear about Brendan’s Valentine’s Day party at school. Where is he?”

“In your dad’s office, doing his homework.”

“He loves sitting in Grandpa’s big chair,” Brooke acknowledged.

“I think he loves spinning in Grandpa’s big chair,” her mother said, smiling. “Just like you used to do when you were a kid.”

Brooke leaned in and gave her mom a hug, then went to find her son.

As she made her way down the hall, she found herself reflecting again on her good fortune. She knew there was no way she could do what she did without the support of her family—especially her mother. Sandra had been there not only to offer support and advice throughout Brooke’s pregnancy, but she’d given up her part-time job as a vet tech after Brendan was born so that she could take care of her grandson while Brooke finished college.

Though Brendan was in school full-time now, Brooke found that she relied on her mother just as much now for support and advice. She had friends in town, of course, but motherhood, school and then work had caused their paths to diverge long ago. As a result, her mom was probably her closest friend and confidante.

Pausing outside the door of her dad’s office, she peeked in to confirm that Brendan was in the big leather chair, spinning, his hands catching and releasing the edge of the desktop as leverage to keep the chair turning.

She stepped into the open doorway and fisted her hands on her hips.

It took three more complete circles before Brendan noticed her, but when he did, he immediately grabbed hold of the desk with both hands to stop his momentum. He cast his eyes down, his cheeks flushed with guilt—or maybe it was excitement that was responsible for the color.

“What does Gramma say to you about spinning in Grandpa’s chair?” she asked him.

“Not to let Grandpa catch me doing it,” he said.

“Oh, really?” Brooke had to press her lips together to hold back her smile.

When she was a kid, she’d been told—firmly and repeatedly—not to do it, but apparently there were different rules for grandchildren.

“Or you could not spin in the chair. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught,” she pointed out to him.

“But it’s fun to spin,” he said and tipped his head back to smile at her, showing off the gap between his teeth where he’d recently lost both his central incisors.

He’d been sad when the first one started to loosen, until he learned that he could leave his tooth under his pillow and the tooth fairy would exchange it for money. Since then, there had been a few times that she’d caught him trying to wiggle teeth that weren’t loose. Just checking was always his ready excuse.

“How come you’re late today?” he asked her now.

She lifted a hand to ruffle his shaggy mop of hair. “I had to stop by Mr. Sterling’s ranch to check on an injured horse.”

“Did you make him better?” Brendan asked.

With both a mother and grandfather in the business of caring for animals, it probably wasn’t surprising that he was so instinctively kindhearted and empathetic. Or that he’d announced, shortly after his seventh birthday, his intention to be the next Dr. B. Langley.

Brooke knew it was likely he’d change his mind a dozen times before he went to college, but it pleased her to know that, at least right now, her little boy looked up to her and wanted to follow in her footsteps.

“I gave him some medicine and bandaged his wound, but it’s going to take a little time before he’s all better,” she said, mentally crossing her fingers that the stallion would make a full and complete recovery. “How was your party?”

“It was great,” he said. “I got a valentine from everyone in my class—and two from Livia and Ruby. Do you want to see them?”

“Of course I want to see them.”

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a brown paper bag labeled with his name in carefully printed letters and decorated all over with glittery pink and red hearts. He turned the bag upside down over the desk to dump out the contents.

“That’s a lot of valentines,” Brooke said, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

“I know,” he gleefully agreed and proceeded to go through the pile, one by one, reading the traditional catchphrases or silly jokes printed on each of the cards and then telling her who it was from. Thankfully there were only eighteen kids in his second-grade class.

When he was done and the valentines were all stuffed back in the bag, she noticed the page of math problems on the desk. “Miss Karen gave you homework today?”

“Yeah.” He made a face. “Math.”

“I thought you liked math.” She propped a hip against the corner of the desk.

“But this is bo-or-ring,” he said, drawing out the word for emphasis.

She glanced at the half-completed worksheet. “It might be boring but knowing how to count money is important.”

“I know how to count money.”

“Do you? Because you circled the two quarters as representing fifty cents.”

“Two quarters is fifty cents,” he said confidently.

“But that’s not the only grouping of coins that adds up to fifty cents,” she pointed out. “And the instructions say to circle all the groups of coins that add up to the total amount given.”

Brendan studied the problem for a moment, then drew a second circle around the picture of five dimes and a third around the image showing a quarter with two dimes and five pennies.

“Good job,” she told him. “Now I’m going to let you finish that up while I help Gramma get dinner ready.”

“Are we staying for dinner?” he asked hopefully.

“That’s the plan.”

“Yes!” He added a fist pump for good measure. “Gramma’s making tacos.”

“I know,” she said.

“I love tacos.”

“I know that, too,” she said and dropped a kiss on the top of his head before heading back to the kitchen.

As she passed the dining room, she spotted the vase of long-stemmed red roses set on top of a crocheted doily in the center of the antique table.

The first year her parents were married, Bruce had apparently bought a single red rose for Sandra, to symbolize their first Valentine’s Day as husband and wife. The second year he’d bought two roses, then continued to add to the number each successive year, so Brooke didn’t need to count the gorgeous red blooms to know there were thirty-seven stuffed into the vase this year.

It was a lovely tradition and reassured her that happily-ever-afters were possible, even if the prospect of her own continued to be elusive. Not that she was actually looking for one right now, because she had different priorities as a working single mom. But maybe...someday.

“So tell me about your day,” Sandra urged, after Brooke had washed up and began grating the block of cheddar she’d taken out of the fridge.

“You mean the part where I had my credentials questioned at the Silver Star?”

Her mother frowned. “Who would dare question your credentials?”

“The new owner.”

“Patrick Stafford bought Gus’s place, didn’t he?”

Brooke nodded. “Though I have to wonder why. The man obviously doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of animals.”

“He must know something,” Sandra said. “After all, his family was raising cattle on Crooked Creek long before gold and silver were discovered in the hills.”

“Well, he didn’t know to make sure the paddock gate was latched, and his horses got out and one of them was injured.”

Her mom winced in sympathy. “How bad was it?”

Because her mother had been a vet’s wife for thirty-seven years and worked as a vet tech in her husband’s clinic for a lot of that time, Brooke didn’t hesitate to share the details of her assessment and treatment of the stallion.

“At least Patrick had the good sense to call someone qualified to provide medical attention,” Sandra remarked.

“He thought he was calling Dad,” Brooke reminded her.

“Did you take care of the injury?”

She nodded.

“So now he knows he can call you instead.” Her mother’s eyes took on a speculative gleam. “Or maybe he’ll call you even if he doesn’t need help with a sick or injured animal.”

“Don’t go there,” Brooke urged.

“Why not? He’s handsome, charming and—”

“And he’s well aware of his own attributes,” she interjected.

“Ahh,” her mom said, understanding. “He already hit on you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t too hard to shut him down,” Brooke said, as she dumped the grated cheese into a bowl. “All it took was mention of my seven-year-old son.”

And though she hadn’t been the least bit surprised by Patrick’s instinctive reaction, she had been the teensiest bit disappointed. And that reaction had surprised her.

“There’s no doubt how much you love Brendan, but you’ve got to stop using him as a shield,” Sandra admonished.

Brooke frowned at that. “How is being up-front about my status as a single mother using my child as a shield?”

“Maybe it’s more like a sword,” her mom decided. “A preemptive attack against any expression of interest.”

“If a guy’s interest can be struck down that easily, he’s not someone I want to be with.”

“That’s probably a fair point,” Sandra allowed. “But one of these days you’re going to meet someone who isn’t so easily dissuaded.”

“I hope I do,” she said.

But she already knew that Patrick Stafford wasn’t that man.

So why was she looking forward to seeing him again?

Chapter Three

Patrick had gone off to college with the security of knowing there would be a job for him at Blake Mining as soon as he graduated. He’d never anticipated that, after only six years—and five different jobs—he’d feel trapped within the walls of his executive office. Or that he’d impulsively decide to walk away from the family business and buy a failing cattle ranch.

But that was what he’d done and, for the past four months, he’d lived and breathed the Silver Star. He’d known what changes and improvements he’d wanted to make, and he’d spent a lot of hours and even more money making them. He was determined to ensure the ranch was a success, to prove—to himself as much as his parents—that he could make it on his own in the real world. During that time, he’d been too busy to venture into town looking for female companionship—and likely too exhausted to do anything if he’d found it.

But he was starting to feel pretty good about the progress he’d made, pleased with the way everything was finally starting to come together. Or he had been until Dr. Brooke Langley called him a pretend cowboy and blamed him for Ranger’s injury.

And damn it, she was right. If he’d latched the gate properly, the horses wouldn’t have been running wild and the stallion wouldn’t have been hurt. But her blunt assessment didn’t just add to the weight of guilt he was already feeling; it rekindled his own doubts, further fueled by the incessant questions and criticisms of his parents, who were none too happy about his decision to leave Blake Mining and “play at being a rancher.”

Maybe he was making a mistake. Maybe he would someday regret putting so much time and effort into the ranch. But that day wasn’t today, and he’d come too far to back down now. He wasn’t just invested but committed, and wouldn’t the sexy vet be surprised to hear him confess that?

Except that he had to stop thinking of Brooke as the sexy vet and start remembering that she was a woman with serious responsibilities. A sexy single mom.

A mom he’d like to—

Whoa!

He immediately put a tight rein on that wayward thought.

No way was he going there.

Instead, he decided to go into town to grab a bite, maybe have a couple of drinks, and clear all thoughts of the lovely Brooke Langley from his mind.

He wasn’t looking for company when he took a seat at the bar at Diggers’ Bar & Grill. And if he’d realized it was February 14, he likely wouldn’t have ventured into town. But since he was here—and hungry—he ordered a draft and a pound of hot wings.

He’d taken the first sip of his beer when a curvy blonde hopped up onto the stool beside him and nudged her shoulder against his. “Hey there, handsome.”

“Trinity, hi.” He’d met the dental hygienist at a Fourth of July barbecue hosted by mutual friends a few years back, and they’d immediately hit it off. They’d had some good times together before going their separate ways, and when their paths had crossed again several months later, they’d enjoyed getting reacquainted.

They’d repeated the same song and dance a few more times after that, though the last time he’d seen her, she’d told him that she was dating somebody and thought he might be the one. Though Patrick wasn’t sure he believed in such things, he’d been happy for Trinity and wished her the best.

He glanced past her now, looking for the man who’d been her constant companion in recent months. “Where’s Christopher?”

Her easy smile wavered. “We broke up three weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry.” His response was both automatic and sincere.

“Me, too. It sucks to be alone on Valentine’s Day.”

Skylar Gilmore, working the bar, set Patrick’s order of wings down, then asked Trinity, “What can I get you?”

“Hendrick’s gin and tonic with two lime wedges and half a twist of lemon.”

The order didn’t surprise Patrick—Trinity had always been high-maintenance, but he suspected that behind Sky’s smile, the bartender was rolling her eyes.

“You can add that to my tab,” Patrick said, when Sky set the G&T in front of Trinity.

The bartender nodded.

“Thanks, but I’m not the type of woman to go home with a man just because he buys me a drink—you’ll have to share some of those wings, too,” Trinity said with a wink.

“I’m happy to share.” He nudged the plate toward her. “But I’m not looking to take anyone home tonight.”

Trinity seemed puzzled by his response. “Nobody goes to a bar on Valentine’s Day because they want to be alone.”

“To be honest, I didn’t even realize it was Valentine’s Day until I got here and saw the Sweetheart Specials on the menu,” he told her.

She selected a wing from his plate, bit into it. “So how are things at the Silver Star?”

“Pretty good,” he said, because he was trying to forget about Ranger’s injury and he definitely didn’t want to discuss it with Trinity. She was firmly in his parents’ camp, disapproving of his decision to walk away from a lucrative office job to live the life of a cowboy.

“You don’t think you’re going to miss working at Blake Mining with your family?” she pressed.

“I’m looking forward to the challenge of something different,” he said. Because he’d never admit to anyone, except maybe his sisters, that he’d been looking for a way out for the past couple of years—and he was so glad to have finally found it.

“Is that why you’re done with me?” she asked.

“You were done with me first,” he reminded her. “As soon as you met Christopher.”

“Because he told me he was looking to settle down and start a family,” she said. “At least you were always honest about what you wanted and didn’t want.”

“And what I want hasn’t changed.”

“But what I want has—at least for tonight.” She dropped the chicken wing bone in the bowl and lifted her hand to her mouth to lick sauce off her thumb. Then she drew it into her mouth, holding his gaze as she sucked on the digit.

It was a deliberately provocative action and one that would likely have piqued his interest at any other point in time. But tonight...nothing.

Because tonight he couldn’t stop thinking about Brooke.

When Brooke woke up Saturday morning, she found Brendan already settled in front of the television with a bowl of cold cereal in his lap. She marveled over the ability of his internal alarm clock to unerringly shift between weekdays and weekends. Monday through Friday, it was a struggle to wake him in the morning. But on Saturdays, her son was always out of bed at the crack of dawn to watch his favorite cartoons on TV.

It was a routine she was happy to share with him whenever she had a Saturday off from the clinic. And since today was one of those days, Brooke got herself a bowl of Frosted Flakes, poured milk over her cereal and carried her breakfast to the living room to sit on the sofa beside her son. But as she chewed, she had the feeling there was something else she was supposed to be doing.