The Reluctant Rancher. Leigh Riker

smile again. He was right. She’d been careless, and not for the first time. She was stupid, useless, worthless...

      She was halfway across the room when he jerked her around.

      “In person. You get down to the police station. Now.” His hands tightened on her upper arms, his face red.

      She didn’t dare to meet his gaze. He’d also taught her not to look directly at him, which he saw as some kind of challenge to his authority. “Ken, I’d have to go to the courthouse instead. I had ten days to pay by mail but that’s already passed.”

      “Then do it. Now,” he repeated. “Didn’t you hear me?”

      He would have shaken her, but Blossom managed to free herself from his painful grasp. Keeping pace with her, he pushed her toward the front door. “How long do you think you’d survive on your own without me to fix your messes? Huh?”

      Her shoulders slumped. What had she done to make their relationship so miserable? She wanted to curl inside herself, to disappear. How could she feel this bad when, as he often reminded her, she was lucky to live in this luxury high-rise with a wraparound terrace and a view of the whole city? All of Philadelphia at her feet, he liked to say. But she could no longer remember even a simple dinner or special occasion that didn’t end up spoiled—Christmas, her birthday, the anniversary of the day they’d met, their engagement—she couldn’t remember a kind word or a loving touch, only her relentless wrongdoing, his sudden outbursts, the screaming nerves inside her. And now she had another life to worry about. Above all, to protect. No, she couldn’t tell him.

      For her baby’s sake, she needed to escape.

      * * *

      PUSHING THE PAINFUL memories aside, Blossom brushed stray curls off her cheeks. She hugged herself tight and stared out the kitchen window. Logan’s voice had been harsh for an instant just like Ken’s. Hear me? they’d both said. Why be surprised? She knew men—her father, too—and what they were capable of, how easily they could cause hurt.

      She wasn’t about to let that happen now, not with her baby to consider. The day after Ken had gone crazy about the parking ticket, Blossom had run. Such a simple thing shouldn’t have mattered, but for her it had been the last straw.

      She straightened, remembering it was time for lunch. She’d meant to ask Logan what to fix and tell him about Sam’s confusion. Again, she’d done the wrong thing with the bull calf. But he’d also said, I don’t want you to end up the same. To be hurt.

      A brief sense of calm settled over her. Yes, the Circle H provided a good place to hide, and for a moment today Logan had seemed to care about her, which might just be the most frightening thing of all. She wouldn’t trust him. Yet his very strength, that hard edge that let him shout at a bison baby—he’d corrected her about the proper term—might ironically protect her, if it came to that.

      If Ken found her here before she could run.

      * * *

      BLOSSOM WAS CLEARING the breakfast dishes from the table the next morning when she glanced out the window and felt her heart stop. A sleek silver pickup was pulling up near the back door. It didn’t look familiar, which shouldn’t surprise her. She didn’t know anyone here, and the only vehicles she recognized belonged to Logan or the half-dozen ranch hands the Circle H employed. But could it be a rental?

      Her legs went weak. Her pulse thudded. Had Ken found her already? A door slammed. A second later she heard footsteps coming up onto the porch. It couldn’t be, yet...

      She hadn’t seen Logan since breakfast. They’d said only a few words to each other since yesterday. Except for Sam upstairs in bed now, she was alone in the house. Helpless. Her sedan was parked out front. Where were her keys? Blossom fumbled through her pockets—and with a cry of relief found them. Could she reach her car in time?

      Before she could think to run in that direction, the back door flew open, and a small blond boy in jeans and cowboy boots burst into the kitchen.

      Blossom sagged against the nearest counter. The truck didn’t belong to Ken. Besides, he’d likely rent a flashy sedan. Still, she tensed again at the deep voice that came from behind the boy.

      “Nicholas Hunter, slow down.” A man whose hair was a shade darker than the child’s had obviously tried to make his voice sound scolding but he couldn’t hide a grin. “Sorry,” he told Blossom with a tip of his straw cowboy hat. “He gets a bit excited about the Circle H.” He held out a hand. “I’m Grey Wilson, a neighbor.”

      “Blossom.” Without adding her last name, she glanced at the little boy, who was scaling the counter to reach a high cupboard. “Is he...?”

      “Safe?” Grey snagged an arm around the boy’s waist. “Never. At least to hear his mama tell it. Nick, get down.”

      He wriggled but Grey held fast.

      “Be careful now—you’ll fall and break something. Like Grandpa Sam.”

      “My arm?” Nick landed on the floor with a giggle. “A kid at school fell out of a tree. He has a cool cast and everybody drew on it. It’s really green.”

      The back door opened again. A smile tugging at his mouth, his eyes alight, Logan stepped inside. He must have recognized Grey’s truck. But then Logan saw Nick and stiffened. He pulled off his Stetson and eyed Grey with a familiar, less than welcoming expression.

      “Uh-oh,” Grey murmured. “Looks like somebody got up on the wrong side of the bunk.” He added, “We can’t stay long but I brought you a present.”

      “You mean me?” With a hopeful look, Nick glanced at Logan. “I’m a present?” He took a step then stopped, and his gaze fell. “Hi, Daddy,” he said.

      Logan cleared his throat before he reached out a hand to ruffle Nick’s hair. “Hi, buddy.” He frowned at Grey over Nick’s head. “This’ll make his mother real happy.”

      So this was Logan’s son, the great-grandchild Sam had referenced yesterday, confusing her with Olivia. Not that anyone would readily see a strong family resemblance, except for their eyes, between father and son. Logan’s hair was dark; Nick’s was lighter. She imagined Olivia, who must be Logan’s ex-wife, was blond, too.

      “Mommy doesn’t know we’re here,” Nick said.

      Grey groaned. “Nick, I thought you and I agreed that sometimes we men have to stick together. Little secrets don’t harm anyone.”

      His mouth tight, Logan strode over to the coffeemaker. “Don’t tell him that.” The dark brew had been sitting in the pot for hours while he fed horses and did other morning chores, but its bitterness and acidity didn’t seem to bother him. He gulped down half a mugful in one long swallow.

      “What?” Grey looked wounded. “I bring your kid to see you and all I get’s a lesson in manners?”

      “No, in ethics.”

      Nick’s sunny smile had dimmed. He sent Blossom a shy look then rummaged through a fruit bowl on the counter for a banana. She tensed even more. She didn’t expect to be noticed—she was just one of the hired help here—but no wonder poor Nick looked more than uncomfortable. Logan’s reaction had unsettled her, too. He was all but standing at attention now. Avoiding another glance at Nick.

      This was no surprise, in a way, to Blossom. Her father had never been one to fold her in a warm embrace or to make her laugh at some silly joke. She’d been grateful whenever he simply ignored her. A best-case scenario for Blossom. But she’d seen the quick flash of joy in Nick’s eyes then the way he’d retreated, as if knowing his hug wouldn’t be welcome. And that his daddy wouldn’t respond except for that light pass of a hand over Nick’s hair.

      Logan turned to Blossom. “My ex-brother-in-law,” he said with a gesture at Grey. “Blossom’s taking care of Sam.”

      “Howdy, ma’am.”

      “I’m learning