The Rancher's Second Chance. Brenda Minton

like that. He shot out of bed and hurried as fast as his overused knees could take him to the front door. The dog raced ahead, barking. When he yanked open the door, the woman standing on the front step of the trailer, shivering in the cold rain, fell into the house.

      She was on her knees, sobbing, and Brody didn’t quite know what to do with her. Or if he wanted anything to do with her now that he knew who had woken him from a sound sleep. He pulled the door closed, gathering up sympathy as he did. He really wasn’t a heartless cur. He just protected his heart a little better these days.

      He managed to get down on the floor next to her, pushing aside the crazy white mop of a dog that crouched on its belly, licking her hand. When he lifted her face to get a good look, he let out a few words that would have gotten his mouth washed out with soap not too many years back. A purple mark on her cheek and a black eye marred her pale skin. Tears streamed down her cheeks. He’d known it wouldn’t be good for her when she’d left him for Lincoln. He hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

      He pulled her close, gently touching the dark marks that marred her pretty face. He brushed short blond hair back from her eyes and waited. He might not be good for much, but he was good at waiting.

      It took her a few minutes to calm down. As he stroked her hair, her breathing returned to normal and the tears dried.

      “Lincoln?” he asked as she pulled away, brushing a hand across her eyes to dry the last of her tears. Lincoln Carter, his once-upon-a-time roommate, best friend and traveling partner. And the man who couldn’t keep his hands off another man’s woman.

      Grace Thomas. Until last year, she’d been the woman Brody thought he might marry. Then less than a week after she’d broken things off with him, she’d been seen stepping out with Lincoln.

      A real man didn’t do that to a friend. But then a real man didn’t hit a woman, either. That was a mighty big strike against Lincoln Carter.

      “Grace?”

      “I knew his temper was bad. I shouldn’t have...”

      “Don’t make excuses for him.” Brody shook his head, thinking he’d heard it all when one of the toughest females he knew had found herself in a situation such as this and then tried to let the man off the hook with an excuse. It just went to prove that it could happen to anyone. Grace had a college degree, an educated and respectable family and backbone.

      Lincoln could manipulate a snake out of its skin and make the serpent believe it was being done a favor.

      “I’m not making excuses,” Grace sobbed. “I just knew and I shouldn’t have pushed. I shouldn’t have...”

      “I keep hearing you say you shouldn’t have, but what about him, Grace? What about this?” He touched her cheek, barely making contact with the bruise, yet she still flinched. Her dark brown eyes flickered with pain and she looked away.

      “I know.” Her voice trembled on the acknowledgment.

      “He shouldn’t have touched you, and I’ll make him sorry...”

      He shook off the threat. It wasn’t his place. Instead, he reached for the coffee table and pushed himself to his feet, grimacing at the pain that shot through his knees.

      He extended a hand to the woman kneeling on his floor and she took it, allowing him to help her up. She was a tiny thing, a tough-as-nails cowgirl. She had a lot of sense, except when it came to Lincoln. He still couldn’t figure out why or how she’d gotten tangled up with the other man.

      “I’m not making excuses anymore, Brody.”

      He didn’t say anything, just led her to the kitchen that connected to the living room of his trailer. He pulled a bag of corn out of the freezer and handed it to her. She thanked him quietly and held it to her eye and cheek.

      Because he didn’t know what else to do, he started a pot of coffee, then took eggs out of the fridge. A quick look inside the appliance and he also found bacon.

      “Are you hungry?”

      She nodded. She’d taken a seat at the bistro-style table that he’d bought because it fit the small space in the single-wide mobile home. The trailer was his personal space on the Circle M Ranch, a ranch that had been in the Martin family for more than a hundred years.

      He’d had the trailer set on a foundation a good walk from the barn and from either of his brothers. He wanted to be here, but he didn’t want to be under their thumbs. Because Duke and Jake had helped to raise him after their mom skipped out on them some twenty years ago, they thought they still had the right to tell him how to live his life.

      They didn’t get that he needed space.

      He’d really hoped once Jake married Breezy and got down to the business of raising the orphaned twin nieces they shared, and had a baby of his own on the way, he would be too busy to involve himself in Brody’s life. It hadn’t worked out that way. Now both Jake and his wife, Breezy, were in Brody’s business. And then came Duke and his soon-to-be wife, Oregon. He couldn’t forget their daughter, Lilly. Thinking of his precocious twelve-year-old niece, Brody had to smile. Family wasn’t all bad. It just meant not having a lot of time to himself.

      If his sister, Samantha, would come home, she could pull some outrageous stunt and get them all off his back.

      Brody found a skillet and placed it on the back burner of the stove. He started frying the bacon and then he cracked a few eggs in a bowl, stirred in a little milk and a handful of cheese. He couldn’t cook much, but he could make decent bacon and scrambled eggs. Toast wasn’t too far out of his league, either.

      “When did it start?” he asked the woman sitting at the table.

      “Almost from the beginning. At first it wasn’t like this. A bruise on my arm or wrist, grabbing me a little too tightly. He was careful that Aunt Jacki didn’t see.”

      He nodded, because he didn’t know what to say. Grace had been living with her aunt Jacki when he met her. It had been her summer to find herself, she’d told him. Jacki Thomas had helped her do that, he guessed. As far as he could tell, Jacki was the black sheep of the upstanding Thomas family.

      “And you thought he was someone you wanted to keep dating?” Brody couldn’t help but ask, knowing it sounded more like a snarl than a civilized question.

      When she didn’t answer, he chanced a look at her. She wiped at her eyes and nodded. “Oh, Brody, I’m so sorry.”

      Not much he could say to that, so he shrugged and went back to cooking. If he spent too much time looking at her, he’d get all stupid and heartsick again. He’d start thinking about that ring he’d never given her. Start remembering all the dreams he’d had for the two of them. That had been his mistake, making plans when she hadn’t been interested in anything long-term. Not with him anyway.

      Young and stupid. Yep, that description fit him perfectly. If he gave her a chance, no doubt she’d apologize. Make excuses for why she’d left him. And he’d let her off the hook. The bacon sizzled in the pan, the aroma waking him up a little. He poured two cups of coffee and set one in front of her.

      “Have you called your folks?” he asked as he headed back to the skillet and the bacon.

      “No. They’re out of the country. They’re on a medical mission trip in South America for the next year.”

      He kept his back to her, his attention focused on the pan. “What about your grandparents? Or Aunt Jacki?”

      “Aunt Jacki went to Florida for a few months. I didn’t want to be there alone when Lincoln came looking for me. And my grandparents went to Africa for a month with a group from their church.”

      “What do you want from me, Grace?”

      She didn’t answer. When he turned away from the stove she was staring at the floor, her shoulders slumped forward. The dog had managed to get her attention and now slept in her lap. Brody’s heart caved a little.

      He