Restless Rancher Page 6

  Chris joined the other men at the end of the hall.

  Austin went to the door opposite the office, put his hand on the handle, and hesitated.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This used to be my mother’s room.”

  Sympathy welled in her heart. She and her own mother had a complicated relationship, but their love ran as deep as the love she saw in Austin’s sad eyes.

  Drawn to him, she put her hand on his back. His muscles tensed, then relaxed at her touch. She tried not to be aware of his height, lean build, the hint of her apricot soap, or the strength emanating off him. This house, his grandfather, and mother, they meant so much to him. He couldn’t hide his emotions, not when this place made him raw.

  She wished she had even half the good memories of childhood he did.

  They hadn’t spent a lot of time talking about themselves, but she felt how hard this was for him, how the sweet memories conflicted with the sour reality of the state of this house. He wanted the room to be exactly as he pictured it in his mind. Untainted. Filled with his mother’s memory and love.

  “Just remember she’s not in that room. She’s in your heart.”

  He stared down at her for one long intense moment, his gaze boring into her soul, letting her know her words meant something to him.

  He turned the knob and pushed the door wide, revealing a room that probably hadn’t been touched since the last time his mother entered it. Dust covered the antique dresser, floor, cream-colored bedspread, and night tables. The drapes were drawn but threadbare from years of sunlight and use.

  Austin walked in and went to the dresser. He touched his fingertips to the silver-backed brush, leaving a shiny trail, his fingers coated in grime. He stared at the hazy pictures tucked in the mirror along with the blue ribbon hanging from the top of the frame.

  “She loved to ride. She was a champion barrel racer.”

  “Me, too.”

  Austin tipped his head and smiled. “The infamous Wild Rose riders.”

  “We Ride Hard.” The motto they’d printed on their T-shirts. Yes, to be provocative, but also to let others know they’d come to compete. She let the pride show in her smile even though her proclamation made him chuckle.

  “I bet you do.”

  She got the innuendo, but appreciated that under that he really did believe she could ride with the best of them. Which most of the time was her sisters, Roxy in the lead. Most of the time.

  “Noah raves about Roxy and how she trains and rides the horses.”

  “They were always her babies. She taught me and our sisters to ride. It was our thing.”

  “From what I heard, you guys didn’t have a lot of friends growing up.”

  “We had each other.” The Wild Rose Ranch was located in a small town outside of Las Vegas because prostitution wasn’t legal in Clark County. Everyone in town knew who worked at the brothel or was associated with it. The brothel brought money to the small town, but that didn’t mean everyone liked it, which made growing up there hard. Kids could be cruel to those they thought were different. In most cases, kids took on their parents’ disapproval and hate and lashed out at her and her sisters. They were teased, bullied, and ridiculed. So they stuck together and didn’t give many outsiders a chance or the benefit of the doubt.

  She walked into the room for the first time and looked around. “This won’t take long to clean up. You could probably sleep in here tonight.”

  “With the number of rodents and bugs in this place, I’m going to say no until we get new mattresses and disinfect the place.”

  “Good call. Still, the furniture is great. I’ll take the spread to a cleaner who will handle it with care.”

  “I think my grandmother made it.”

  The intricate needlework on the quilt showed swirls circling open flowers with a spray of leaves. “It’s beautiful.”

  She smiled at the stuffed bunny propped against the pillows and the picture of the pigtailed girl sitting atop a fence rail in the photo by the bed.

  Austin moved around the room behind her. Something crinkled.

  She turned as he bent, picked up a crumpled piece of paper at the end of the bed, and stood, pulling the sides of the paper wide to spread it out.

  “At least there’s only one piece of trash in here.”

  “It’s a letter.”

  Something in his rough voice drew her closer. She peered over his arm and read . . .

  Daddy,

  I’m sorry it took me so long to see the truth. You were right. I should have listened to you, but by the time I saw what was right in front of my face, it was too late. I believed his excuses and lies until I couldn’t justify what he was doing any longer. I’ve done what I can, but it’s not enough. I need you to watch over him. Protect him. Make sure he gets what his father stole from all of us.

  If Austin isn’t told, he’ll never know. He needs to know.

  I thought I found a way out, but his threats are far from empty. We both know that all too well.

  I’m sorry, Daddy, for everything. I wish it didn’t end this way. I’ve run out of time, but my love for you and Austin is infinite. I’ll be watching over both of you.

  All my love,

  Annie

  “What does this mean, Austin? What did your father steal?”

  Austin stared at the words on the page with glassy eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “She talks about your father threatening them.”

  His lips drew back into a line. “He likes to do that.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “It kind of sounds like—”

  “It’s not a suicide note.” His words were clipped and filled with rage.

  She pressed her lips together and turned to leave to give him privacy.

  He snagged her hand and pulled her back. He didn’t let go. Instead, his fingers linked with hers. It seemed more intimate than it should. The connection beyond physical, it vibrated all around them. “She died years ago. Cancer. I was by her side when she passed.” His solemn voice held a richness that went deep into her heart. “I don’t know exactly what this note means, but I know she and my father were angry at each other. You could feel it in the deafening quiet. My father likes to control everything and everyone. When she says he threatened her”—he waved his free hand—“for whatever she implies in this letter, you can bet he meant it.”

  Austin stared down at their joined hands. “After my grandfather died, my father called me into his office. My grandfather’s lawyer was there to tell me I’d inherited his humble estate.” Austin sighed. “The house may be a wreck, but the land is worth something. The lawyer said it’s mine. My father ordered me to sign it over. My way of buying into the business.”

  She eyed him. “If the business is owned and operated by your family, why would you have to buy in? You’ll inherit.”

  “My father takes my carefree attitude and sometimes wild ways for stupidity. But I know when he’s doing that thing where it seems like he’s giving me what I want but I’m paying for it in some way. I told him I’d been thinking about getting my own place. He came back with an offer to buy the place for a modest price so I could buy someplace suitable.”

  Sonya tilted her head. “He showed his cards. He wanted this place.”

  “Or he didn’t want me to have it.”

  “Why?”

  “Beats the hell out of me.” He held up the letter. “What does it have to do with whatever he stole? ‘From all of us.’” Austin repeated his mother’s words. He stared at the bed and bunny that blankly stared back at him, giving no answers. “They were happy. I remember them that way. At least, I thought they were until my mother got sick.”

  “You have a lot of memories of being here.”

  “We visited Grandma and Grandpa all the time. My mother would sleep in that bed, me with her when I didn’t build a fort between the couch and coffee table in the living room and sleep with Rumble.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Your father
wasn’t here?”

  “Why? We only lived fifteen minutes away.”

  She countered, “Why stay here at all if you lived so close?”

  One side of his mouth drew back. “Damn. I was just a little kid who loved riding Bandit and playing ball with Copper. I thought it was fun to stay the night and play with the pets.”

  “But your mother came here to get away from your father.”

  Austin’s gaze grew distant. His hand squeezed hers to the point it hurt. She covered their joined hands with her free one. “Austin, what is it?”

  “I remember once seeing him slap her. Her head snapped to the side. She covered her cheek, then glared at him with tears streaming down her face. Then she noticed me and turned her back on him and ran to me. She scooped me up into her arms and held me close. She ran out of the house and put me in the car. We came here.” He finally focused on her again. “We came here a lot.”

  She held on tighter to him. “It doesn’t mean he hit her all the time.” But her words rang hollow.

  “How can there be so much happening right in front of me and I don’t see it? I didn’t stop it.”

  “You were a child, Austin. Your mother was protecting you from seeing those ugly things. She wanted you to grow up happy and loved. And you did. Your grandfather and this house, he didn’t let you in because he wanted to protect you from his demons. He didn’t want you to see this place the way it became but the way it was in your memories. They loved you so much. That’s everything, Austin. That’s all you need to remember.”

  She let him go and went to the door. “Take all the time you need in here. I’ll go help the others with your grandfather’s room.” She turned to leave, but stopped when he called to her.

  “I haven’t thanked you for everything you’ve done. I’ve never known anyone who’s worked as hard as you do.”

  “It’s my job.”

  He walked toward her. It took every ounce of courage she had to stand still and not back up from him and the intensity in his gaze. He reached out to her and still she remained rooted to her spot in the door frame—not inside the room with him, not away from him, but on the brink.

  He slipped his hand over the side of her neck, his fingers deep in her hair, caressing her skin. “You listening. You understanding. The compassion you show in how you do this job and treat me falls outside the job. I appreciate it more than you know.”

  He leaned in.

  She held her breath.

  He kissed her softly on the forehead.

  He stared down at her, his thumb softly brushing over her cheek. “Thank you for being here.”

  Her heart beat faster and filled with an emotion she couldn’t wholly identify, but his words touched her deeply because he meant them. And after she’d given up her safe job to take on this project for Roxy with no plan for what she’d do once the ranch was up and running, it made her feel like her contribution mattered. She wasn’t just an employee. Her hard work and attention to the details hadn’t gone unnoticed. The heart she put into getting the job done but doing it with Austin’s best interests in mind meant something to him.

  For a split second he seemed like he wanted to say or do something, but then he released her and walked away, leaving her feeling a tug to go after him, like the moment they’d shared had created a bond that tethered her to him.

  As much as she wanted to dismiss the need to go after him, for what, other than needing to be close to him, she didn’t know. But she couldn’t deny the attraction. Not anymore.

  But she also didn’t dare pursue it. They had to work together. And once she finished this project, she’d go back to the Ranch. Why? She didn’t know. She didn’t have a job to go back to.

  Working for Roxy meant she had more freedom.

  If only she knew what she wanted to do with it.

  Chapter Eight

  Sonya stood by the front door and inspected the living room floor. She’d spent the last hour scrubbing it on her hands and knees. The hardwood shined, clean for the first time in God knows how many years. Despite the years of neglect and crap piled from floor to ceiling in places, it hadn’t suffered more than a few dings and scratches. She’d bought some stain pens for the scratches and used some floor shine to give it a new finish.

  She sucked in a deep breath and let it out, hoping it eased the ache in her shoulders and back. No such luck. Her arms felt like limp noodles. She needed a full-on body massage to work out all her sore muscles.

  She wouldn’t mind Austin putting his big capable hands to use on her.

  But mixing business and pleasure had bad idea written all over it.

  Jumping the man she was supposed to help . . . not a good idea. But a great fantasy. A few that had woken her in the night breathless with her heart jackhammering and her hands itching to get ahold of him.

  Austin wasn’t in a good place right now. She didn’t want to make things worse for him or complicate their working relationship when they still had so much to do.

  Like refinishing the floor. She’d give her abused body a break and do it after dinner. The crew had left for the day and Austin should be back any minute with food. After another long day, she was starving but satisfied they’d gotten the entire house cleaned out and ready for the contractors to come in and do their thing tomorrow. They’d even spared a couple hours this afternoon to bug bomb the house and kill whatever was left after the cleanup. In a few short days, this place would be transformed into a beautiful home.

  The sound of a car coming down the drive made her stomach growl with anticipation. She set the mop on the porch and leaned it up against the wall, then dumped the bucket of dirty water into the tall grass at the end of the porch.

  The car engine approaching didn’t match the rumble of Austin’s truck. A prickle of unease teased her nerve endings. Alone on the isolated ranch, she didn’t take any chances. She set the bucket aside and picked up the shotgun among the four other rifles and over a hundred boxes of ammunition they’d found in Grandpa Alan’s bedroom and laid out on the porch. She tucked two shells into her pocket. Just in case.

  She stood on the porch, highlighted from behind by the house lights, with the gun lying beneath her hands on the porch railing. Not an outright threat, but there if she needed it.

  The Mercedes sedan stopped in the yard in front of her and two men got out. The older one wore khaki pants, a pearl-button navy blue shirt, black polished cowboy boots, and a big gold watch that screamed I’ve got money. The younger guy in black jeans and T-shirt, dusty boots, and a well-used cowboy hat was obviously the help. Or muscle, judging by the scowl on his face. She hoped he kept the knife sheathed on his belt and didn’t pull it and make her shoot him.

  The older guy approached the steps, his gaze going from her face to the shotgun on the railing, and back.

  The muscle glowered and fisted his hands, looking tough and threatening. Totally wasted on her. She didn’t intimidate easily.

  Especially when she recognized the older man. The resemblance pegged him as Austin’s father.

  The man had accosted Austin and Roxy at some ranchers’ dinner. He’d demanded Austin sell the ranch to him and let Roxy know he thought little of the “whore” who’d come to town to disgrace her father’s family.

  For that alone, Sonya should fill him with buckshot. No one called her sister a whore and got away with it.

  She hid the smile that came with memories of Roxy retelling how she’d put this asshat in his place.

  “You’re on private property. What do you want?”

  “I’m Austin’s father.”

  “Walter Hubbard. Owner of Blue Mining, so called for the vast amount of sapphires you mine every year. You’re one of a handful of mining businesses that has a heat treating operation. Separately, you run Hubbard Ranch. According to public records, though lacking exact figures, your two businesses have been profitable with modest increases each year, signaling the companies are well managed.”

  Walter cocked his head
and studied her, obviously surprised she knew a lot about him and his businesses, but savvy enough to keep his reaction in check. He didn’t hide the pride he took in how well the companies did. “As a privately held company, we don’t disclose dollar amounts, but yes, we do all right.”

  “Oh, I bet what you put out for public consumption about Blue Mining is just enough to let your competitors know you’re a player, but the actual figures are much higher, the profits probably well insulated from what you actually report. After all, you could simply hold the assets in the very ground you pull them from. Riches upon riches you hoard while your son lives in squalor.”

  His face flushed red. His eyes filled with rage. He mistakenly took a step forward.

  She shifted several steps to stand at the top of the stairs and swung the shotgun up and casually draped it over her left arm, her right hand holding the stock, index finger safely above the trigger. “I’ll remind you once more, you’re trespassing.”

  “You’re not going to shoot me. That thing’s probably not even loaded.” He took another step forward.

  She pulled the gun up and into her shoulder and pointed it right at his chest. “Want to find out?” She gave him a smile to let him know she was happy to oblige.

  The sound of Austin’s truck in the distance caught their attention.

  Mr. Hubbard eyed the oncoming headlights, let out a frustrated sigh, and spoke quickly. “I’m here to gather my father-in-law’s paperwork and see what needs to be done next.”

  Austin pulled into the drive.

  “With what? Austin inherited the ranch from his grandfather. Judging by the state of this house and your relationship with your son, you washed your hands of this place and him long ago.”

  Austin’s presence frustrated Mr. Hubbard to the point he lashed out. “Listen, I know you work for Roxy. One doesn’t have to guess in what capacity.”

  Sonya laughed at that. “Do you seriously think Roxy sent me here to be your son’s whore?”