Romancing the Rancher. Stacy Connelly
by the somewhat stark descriptions on the website, the cabins didn’t offer much in the way of amenities. They were an alternative for people who didn’t want to stay in the cute and cozy Victorian bed-and-breakfasts the small town was known for.
Theresa supposed hunters and fishermen drawn to the area by its rugged wilderness weren’t interested in sleeping in the “Rose Suite” or “Daisy Drawing Room.”
“I’m sure the cabins will be fine,” Theresa insisted. Long hours working as a nurse in a St. Louis emergency room had taught her to sleep wherever and whenever she could. Lumpy couches, narrow, uncomfortable beds, even sitting on the floor with her back propped up against a wall had all provided her with a few hours’ rest between many a shift.
All part of the job she loved. The job she lived for...
“I know the cabin will be fine,” Sophia was saying, her cheerful voice calling Theresa back from the empty, endless void of her future, “but I was thinking that having you stay over would be like when we were kids, and you and your brothers used to come visit.”
Memories of those long-ago summer vacations drifted through her thoughts. How she’d loved the freedom of roaming the woods outside her cousins’ small hometown. “That’s a nice thought,” she told her cousin, even though she knew those carefree days were long gone. “But I need some time on my own.”
She’d been offered a place to stay for the next month with any one of her four cousins, but Sophia and Jake had the new baby, Nick and Sam were both newly married, having met the loves of their lives within the past year, and Drew was preparing for his own wedding. Her aunt and uncle had also offered her a room at their home, but that would have been almost the same as staying with her parents.
Even the small apartment above the antiques shop Sophia managed on Main Street had been a little too close. She could imagine family popping in every few hours. She loved them all and appreciated their concern—truly. But the strain of pretending everything was all right weighed so heavily on that porcelain facade, hairline cracks had started to show through. And just the thought of letting her family, or anyone, know how damaged she was beneath—
It won’t happen. I will not break.
She unclenched her fist, covered her left hand with her right and ignored the voice in her head whispering that she was already broken.
* * *
A few minutes later, Sophia pulled the car to a stop in front of a rustic building at the end of a graded dirt road. Through the trees, Theresa could see a corral and what she assumed to be the stables. As she opened the car door, the early-spring air carried a faint hint of hay and horses. The surroundings were so peaceful and quiet, she took her first deep, relaxing breath since...she didn’t know when.
“I’m pretty sure this is Jarrett’s rental office,” Sophia said as she rounded the front of the car and approached the building, “but it doesn’t look like he’s around.”
“I received an email confirming my reservation, so I’m sure this Jarrett knows I’m coming.” The website hadn’t offered any information about Jarrett Deeks, the owner of the stables and the newly built cabins. Sophia had said something about the man being a retired rodeo star.
Theresa could easily picture the aged cowboy relaxing in one of the rocking chairs that sat on the small porch. The perfect spot to greet guests and tell tales about roping calves and riding bulls or whatever he’d done back in the good ole days.
“He’s probably down at the stables,” Sophia said with a frown.
“Then I’m sure he’ll be back to the office in a few minutes.”
Her cousin sighed. “From what Nick says, Jarrett can be totally fixated when it comes to his rescue horses.”
Theresa knew the feeling. Or make that had known the feeling. The hectic pace of the emergency room could be overwhelming without the ability to focus on the job at hand. She could admire that kind of determination, and if it meant he’d forgotten about her arrival...well, that was okay.
She grabbed the edge of the car door to help pull herself to her feet, careful to balance her weight on her right leg. But even then, the muscles in her entire left side screamed after the long flight from St. Louis and ride in from the airport. The reconstructive surgeries on her knee had gone as well as expected, and thanks to the titanium rod and screws holding her broken femoral shaft together, the fracture had healed to a point where she no longer needed the crutches she’d so hated.
But the recovery was taking so much longer than she’d anticipated, even if her doctors and therapists insisted her rehabilitation for her leg was right on track. If she kept up with her therapy, she would in time regain her strength and range of motion. It was her other injury, the one far less obvious than the broken femur and damaged knee, that had a less-promising prognosis.
Nerve damage...
Could completely heal...
Might regain full use of hand...
But for all their noncommittal responses, Theresa feared her body was giving an answer that screamed louder than any words. The nerves weren’t healing. She didn’t have full use of her hand.
Look at you! You can’t even take care of yourself. How do you expect to help anyone else?
Echoes of the harshly spoken words battered her, the emotional blow rocking balance and stealing her breath as much as the ache in her left leg. Theresa forced herself to move as if she could run from the painful memories, but the best she could manage was a shuffling walk that failed to outdistance any of the raw images from that final fight with Michael.
“Maybe we should drive down to the stables,” Sophia was saying as Theresa made her way toward the porch.
The breeze cooled the sweat gathering at her hairline, and she was almost out of breath, but she’d made it from the gravel drive and up the three front steps. Waving a hand at one of the rockers, she said, “I’ll just wait here for him.”
“Theresa, no.”
“Sophia, yes,” she retorted. “I’ll be fine.”
The weather was crisp and cool, but far milder than the snowstorm she’d left behind in St. Louis. A small stream of sunlight filtered through the trees, bathing the corner of the porch with a warm glow. She’d brought her knee-length, red wool jacket and black leather gloves with her and would be perfectly warm enough to wait outside for Jarrett Deeks.
Between her time stuck in the hospital, in rehab and then at her parents’ house, she didn’t think she’d spent more than a few hours outside since the car accident. And most of that time was dedicated to the long, painful process of getting to and from doctors’ appointments.
“I’ll just get my bags and—”
But Sophia was already racing back toward the car with a cheery, “I’ve got them!”
And of course, she did. She had the wheeled suitcase and over-the-shoulder bag out of the trunk and back up on the porch before Theresa could have made her way down the front steps.
She pulled in a deep breath. After all, in the months since the accident, she’d learned a lot about patience, hadn’t she? Swallowing the anger, the frustration, the self-pity at her inability to complete the simplest tasks from bathing to walking to putting on her own shoes. She’d come a long way, and she just needed to hold on to that patience a little while longer and wait for the rest of her family to catch up.
So she simply said, “Thank you,” as her cousin set the luggage beside her.
Sophia beamed back and leaned in for a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Anger and frustration slipped away, and she was grinning by the time her cousin pulled back. “I am, too.”
“What’s so funny?”