The Rancher's Secret Son. Betsy Amant St.
clapped his shoulder as he passed him in the aisle. “Maybe marriage made me a little soft, but whatever. I still recommend it.”
“I hear you.” They walked in silence back toward Nugget. Max was running out of time to talk before the teens descended on the barn. It was now or never. He drew a deep breath, fighting to keep his voice casual. “So, turns out Nicole went into labor a little early. Guess who’s filling in with the female campers?” Not that Brady could ever actually guess.
“Someone from church?” Brady turned at Nugget’s side and handed Max the wire puller so he could mount.
“Not exactly.” He hesitated. “Someone who recently came back to town.”
Brady’s brows lifted. “I’d guess one of your exes, but there’s too many to keep up with all their geographical locations.”
Max passed the puller to Brady in the saddle. “Ha-ha-ha, very funny.” Yet true. So what if Max had dated a lot—or more than a lot—back in the day? Including the local veterinarian, which hadn’t gone over well with Brady when Max had been in his employ. It didn’t matter—he wasn’t like that now, despite his former reputation. Besides, all those women had just proved one fact to him over and over again.
They weren’t Emma Shaver.
“So it’s not an ex.” Brady gathered the reins and turned Nugget toward the road.
Max rolled in his bottom lip, stepping back to give the horse room. “I didn’t say that.”
“I really need to get this fence repaired, man. What’s with the guessing game?” Brady shifted his hat back on his head as he peered down at Max. Nugget snorted his own impatience, and Brady’s eyes slowly narrowed. “Unless it’s—”
Gravel crunched as an SUV parked a few yards from where they stood. Brady’s head swiveled to look just as Max recognized the vehicle. Emma was early. They’d agreed for her to show up first thing the next morning, Wednesday, yet here she was. And from the way she grudgingly heaved her suitcase from the backseat and blew her hair out of her eyes, she was tired. Maybe even grumpy.
This wasn’t good. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Cody or do more than text the other counselors the news of the fill-in help. Hadn’t had a chance to tell Brady the turn of events.
Hadn’t had a chance to wall up what was left of his heart.
“I’m here.” Emma set her wheeled suitcase on the dusty ground at her feet, looking as if she thought simply being there would have to be enough. Good thing Max had turned off the idea of more a long time ago. Somewhere around the time she disappeared from his life, maybe. But no, it’d taken a lot longer than that.
Still was taking time, if he were painfully honest.
He shot a glance at Brady and let out a long sigh. The inevitable had arrived, right on time. “Welcome back.” He focused his smile on Emma, hoping he successfully hid the nerves wringing his stomach. “This is Brady, a neighbor and friend. And, Brady, this is the temporary counselor I was telling you about—Emma.” He swallowed, darting a glance as Brady automatically reached down a hand to shake hers. “Emma Shaver.”
Chapter Five
Emma had no idea why Max’s friend Brady seemed to lose his tan right before her eyes when they were introduced. Or why his friendly grip on her hand seized up like a vice.
She pulled it free and fought the urge to rub off the lingering pressure. “Nice to meet you.” Mostly, anyway. She shot Max a quizzical look, but he was staring at Brady beneath the rim of his cowboy hat, as if waiting for a bigger reaction. Suddenly she got it.
Brady knew about her. About her and Max.
Her face flamed and she reached down to pick up her suitcase. She’d been through enough the past few months—standing here like a circus sideshow wasn’t going to be next on her list. “Sorry I’m early, just needed to go ahead and get settled.” And get away from her mother’s prying, never ending questions before the truth erupted from her soul like a jet stream. “I’ll just get out of your way, as soon as you tell me where to unpack.” Too bad that couldn’t be back in Dallas. But no, she was here for Cody. And now these female campers.
Definitely not for anything else.
“No problem. The female dorms are there, and the girls are probably finishing up their rest time. Faith’s in there.” Max pointed to the temporary building behind the barn. “I make a point not to go inside those dorms, to avoid any negative appearances. But once you go through the front door, you’ll be standing in an entryway. Bedrooms are to the left, bathrooms to the right.”
“I’m sure I can figure it out from there.” Anything to leave the awkwardness hanging in the air like a noose. Yet whose neck it was destined for, she wasn’t sure.
She adjusted her grip on her suitcase and risked another glance at Brady, who finally had the decency to look away and pretend as if he hadn’t been staring. Though staring was putting it mildly. He ogled as though she might have just arrived from six feet under instead of via a used SUV.
What exactly had Max told his best friend? And why did it matter a decade later?
Refusing to ponder either question any further, she began to roll her suitcase toward the dorm, but Max interrupted. “Brady was just leaving. Broken fences wait for no man. Right?”
Emma caught the look he shot his friend, and Brady immediately caught on.
“Right, right. The fence.” Brady held up the tool in his hand and forced a laugh. “Duty calls.” He glanced at Max, then back at Emma as he proceeded to urge his horse forward. “Nice to, ah, meet you, Emma.” He started to say more, then shook his head and rode away, dirt stirring beneath his horse’s hooves.
She raised an eyebrow at Max. “That was subtle.” The guy who’d stolen her heart along with a variety of goods from the Broken Bend General Store once had apparently lost his ability to be sneaky.
He rubbed his jaw, either hiding a smile or he’d acquired a new nervous tick since they’d last parted. “He had a fence situation.”
“And a staring problem.”
Max snorted. “He was surprised to see you, that’s all. Sort of like—”
“You were?”
“Trust me, Brady’s a good guy. The one responsible for, well...” He held out both arms to his sides. “Me.”
There were so many potential sarcastic responses to that, she wasn’t even sure where to start. She opened her mouth then shut it. She wasn’t that girl anymore, and Max wasn’t that guy. Being snippy wouldn’t solve anything but prove her master’s degree didn’t make her as mature as she’d thought. Stress didn’t give her the right to be rude. She was better than that.
Most days.
He shot her a knowing smile. “Dinner’s at six in the main house.” He hooked one finger through the belt loop of his jeans, projecting a confidence his tone didn’t complement. Did her sudden appearance this afternoon throw him off as much as seeing him had startled her yesterday? She should have kept to the plan to come tomorrow. But her mom...
Emma blew out her breath. “I’ll be there.” She paused, manners taking over—partly from years of training and counseling, and partly from guilt over the mental debate she’d just processed. “Do you need anything before then?” Please no, please no. She needed space. Time to debrief. Time to figure out how she was going to put up a wall thick enough to keep Max and the memories at bay, while allowing the girls she was in charge of access. They’d see right through the facade. She had to be real and honest with them in order for any progress to be made in their lives.
But Max didn’t get that privilege.
And who was she to assume he’d even want it?
Her