To Trust A Rancher. Debbi Rawlins

looked as if she didn’t know how she should greet his mom, which really pissed him off. Becca had spent most of her teens at their ranch, eaten a lot of dinners with the family. He was seven years older than Amy and hadn’t paid much attention to her and her friends, but he remembered that Becca loved horses. Always wanted to hang around the stables. She’d been close to her grandparents, but the Hancocks weren’t ranchers.

      Becca finally stepped forward and embraced his mom in an earnest hug. When she moved back, he saw the tears in her eyes before she blinked them away.

      The relief he’d felt over Amy disappeared. Something was wrong. And damned if he wouldn’t wring every last detail out of her.

       Chapter Four

      Becca shouldn’t have been surprised to run into Amy’s mom and brother. Less than twenty-five hundred people lived in the county and half of them ended up in town for one reason or another most days.

      “So when did you arrive?” Mrs. Mitchell asked, her hopeful gaze sweeping the area. “Amy didn’t mention you all were coming. She’s here with you, isn’t she?”

      Becca felt terrible over the woman’s attempt to sound casual when she was anything but. She swallowed and made the mistake of glancing at Ryder. The contempt in his eyes startled her. While he hadn’t jumped for joy over seeing her, he’d been okay a few moments ago.

      She refocused on Mrs. Mitchell. “No, I’m sorry,” Becca said, saddened by the woman’s obvious disappointment. A mother never gave up hope. Becca understood that now. “Amy wanted to come, but the trip was a last-minute decision on my part and she already had plans.” Becca paused. “She sends her love, though.”

      The ensuing silence couldn’t have been more awkward. Becca wanted to disappear. Gail Mitchell had always been so kind to her. Becca could’ve tried to sound more convincing.

      Mrs. Mitchell gave her a resigned smile. “Well, I’m very glad to see you, Becca. You look all grown-up, and so pretty,” she said with a brief glance at her son. “Isn’t she pretty, Ryder?”

      Heat stung Becca’s cheeks. She tried not to look at him. He hadn’t responded, which was more than okay with her. Except then she had to look, couldn’t stop herself.

      He hadn’t changed all that much in the seven years. His chest and shoulders looked a bit broader, but then ranching tended to breed muscular men. His sandy-brown hair was longer now, waving just above his shirt collar very much like—

      Stricken by a sudden realization, she jerked her gaze up and met Ryder’s dark blue eyes.

      Why hadn’t she seen the resemblance before?

      “Mommy?” Noah frowned up at her. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”

      She held back a sigh. “Nothing, sweetie,” she said, giving him a smile.

      Gail blinked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. “And who is this adorable young man?” She bent down to Noah’s level, and Ryder was instantly at her side, holding on to her arm while she leaned heavily on the cane.

      Becca’s gaze went straight to the stubborn wave in his hair in the exact spot and angle as Noah’s.

      At one point in her teens, she could’ve described Ryder down to the very last detail. She’d been such a pathetic cliché, crushing on her best friend’s older brother. “Noah, this is Mrs. Mitchell. Answer her, please.”

      “I’m Noah.” He grinned big. “You wanna see my truck?”

      Mrs. Mitchell laughed. Even Ryder smiled.

      “Of course I do. Where is it?” She pretended to look around for it. “Is it in your pocket?”

      “No.” Gurgling with laughter, he leaned into Becca. “It’s too big.”

      Mrs. Mitchell beamed at him, her glow of delight taking years off her face. How had she aged so much since the last time Becca had been home? Her short dark hair had streaks of gray and there were new lines on her face that Becca doubted were from laughter. And a cane? What could have happened?

      Becca resisted the urge to pull Noah closer. Cling to him for all she was worth. How could she have forgotten...

      This woman was Noah’s grandmother.

      “So, where did you put it?” the older woman asked him.

      He shrugged his shoulders. “It might be in the room,” he mumbled, distracted by a child sitting in a cart passing them. The little boy was licking an orange pumpkin-shaped sucker and eyeing Noah.

      “The room?” Clearly puzzled, Mrs. Mitchell looked at Becca. “Where are you staying?”

      “Mommy, I’m hungry,” Noah whined, and Becca couldn’t have been happier for the interruption.

      “I know. But you need to keep your voice down, and what have I told you about interrupting grown-ups when they’re talking?”

      Noah muttered an apology, though he was far more interested in keeping track of the lollipop.

      “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Mitchell, but it was a long drive and I really should go feed him so he can take a nap.”

      “Don’t you worry. I understand all too well. This one here,” she said, inclining her head at Ryder as he helped her straighten, “he would’ve eaten twenty-four seven if I’d let him. I doubt he ever went long enough between snacks to be hungry. And mind you, it lasted until he left for college.”

      “Oh, please don’t tell me that,” Becca said, laughing. “My food bill is already more than my rent.”

      “Come on, Mom, let’s go,” Ryder said. “She needs to feed the boy.”

      “I really do.” Becca smiled. “But it was so nice seeing you, Mrs. Mitchell. And you, Ryder.”

      He didn’t respond. She wasn’t surprised. Something had triggered his apparent disdain for her. Did he think she should’ve dragged Amy here under protest?

      “For heaven’s sake, you’re an adult now. Call me Gail. How long will you be here? I’d love to have you come to the ranch for a visit.”

      Ryder had gotten his mom moving. She’d taken a few steps but stopped, waiting for Becca’s answer. Ryder’s piercing stare was unreadable. Regardless, if Gail wasn’t there, Becca didn’t doubt that she and Ryder would be having an entirely different conversation.

      “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Becca told her. “How’s that?”

      Gail’s face lit up. “You still have the number?”

      Becca nodded.

      “Oh, and where is it that you’re staying?”

      “At the motel,” Noah announced before Becca could stop him. “There’s a elevato and I get to push the buttons.”

      His words tended to run together when he was excited. Becca supposed it was too much to hope that they hadn’t caught the first part.

      “The motel?” Gail looked to her for confirmation.

      Even Ryder seemed interested.

      “Gail?” The shrill voice came from somewhere behind Becca. “Yoo-hoo, over here.” The woman waiting at the deli counter was waving frantically. “Don’t go anywhere. I need to talk to you.”

      “Oh, it’s Irma.” Mrs. Mitchell didn’t seem pleased.

      “Mommy, that lady intrumted,” Noah said with a mischievous grin.

      “I know.” Becca stifled a smile. What a little imp. “Now, say goodbye.”

      Gail’s chuckle did nothing to erase her troubled expression. “We’ll talk tomorrow,”