Rescued by the Rancher
Автор
Barb Han
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Chapter One
It had started with a bad feeling. The kind that sat heavy on the chest while sending prickly sensations up the spine. Some people called it intuition. Others described it as a sixth sense, a warning of danger ahead. To this day, Payton Reinert questioned why she hadn’t listened to that little voice in the back of her mind telling her to be cautious. Maybe it was his politeness that had slipped through her defenses. Or the fact that she’d been flustered and in a hurry. She hadn’t wanted to make two trips from the car with the heavy plastic bags of groceries. So, she’d tried to bring up all five at once, balancing the plastic straps on her arm as they left deep grooves on her skin. It would all be worth it once she got inside and kicked off her boots.
Payton had done this same routine before when she was tired and couldn’t wait to get off her feet after a long shift at the coffee shop followed by hoofing it around campus. Grad students didn’t need a gym pass after all that walking to get to classes, plus all the stair climbing in the crowded old buildings at the University of Texas at Austin. The barista job might cause her to wake up in the middle of the night, but the hours were easy to work around her class schedule. Plus, she didn’t mind going to bed early. Her great-aunt had always teased that Payton had missed her calling, saying she could have been a great farmer with the hours she kept.
There was something about taking a break to watch the sun rise every morning that fed her soul. She’d been in too big a hurry this morning to do that, too. So many missed steps that led to this point.
The door to her building had a stick at the bottom, ensuring it didn’t close or lock. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d gotten on her neighbors in 2B about leaving the security door ajar. How hard was it to walk downstairs when they were having a party, which, by the way, seemed like every night? Chase Wilson had promised to stop, but there the stick was, wedging the door open. At least it benefited Payton today, so she didn’t have to dig around for her keys. Considering it was the weekend before Halloween, she should have expected Chase to pull a stunt like this one.
Payton kicked the stick away from the door after throwing her shoulder into it, muttering a curse. Navigating the stairs while carrying what felt like her weight in groceries, she knew what it felt like to be an ant.
The bag with all the canned goods ripped halfway up, sending its contents tumbling down with a loud thud. Payton cursed loudly this time.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll grab them.” The unfamiliar male voice came from around the corner at the bottom of the stairwell, along with a little niggle of discomfort. Didn’t she know everyone in the building?
“No, it’s okay. I can make a trip down,” she said, thinking that of course this happened today. She’d almost creamed someone on the way home when they turned right on a red without checking first. Her blood pressure was still through the roof from that.
The guy had a nice enough voice and was being polite, as he was practically on all fours rounding up the cans. Did she really want to make the trip downstairs only to reclimb those same steps?
“It’s fine. Really. I’m running late, so I don’t have a lot of time, but this is nothing. It’ll only take a second,” he continued without looking up. He was in some type of costume, something furry, which meant he was probably arriving early for yet another of Chase’s parties.
When the guy stood up, arms filled with soup and vegetable cans, she got a full view of what he was wearing. Apparently, she was dealing with the beast from Beauty and the Beast.
A voice in the back of her mind told her not to comment.
“I’m guessing my neighbor is having another party tonight, based on your getup,” she conceded.
“Yeah, Chase,” he said as he took the stairs two at a clip. He looked at the load she was carrying, and then the bluest eyes caught her gaze—a disarming shade. On instinct, she took a step back but she wouldn’t have been able to explain why even if someone had asked her.
“I can take one of those.” He motioned toward the bags. A few wisps of thick, curly black hair peeked out of the mask.
“No, thanks,” she said.
He took a step forward and said, “Really, it’s no trouble.”
He extended his hand and stepped closer.
Payton ignored the tension mounting in her shoulders, writing it off as a bad day. This guy was being friendly and polite. All he wanted to do was help her carry her groceries upstairs.
“What’s your floor?” he asked, expectantly.
“I’m on three.” Payton handed over a couple of bags.
“Then it won’t take long to get these inside so I can be on my way,” he said, and she could almost feel his smile through his mask.
“Right,” she said before turning and walking up the next flight. She stopped in front of her door and turned around as she reached one hand inside her purse for the keys. “I can take it from here.”
He made a show of juggling the cans in his arms.
“Prop the door open if you want, but it’ll only take a second for me to run in and drop these on the counter,” he said. “I’ll even be the one to close the door on the way out if it makes you feel better.”
There was something in his tone that made her feel silly for not trusting him. Still. Something was still niggling at the back of her mind.
Against her better judgment, she nodded.
Payton turned around and unlocked the door.
“Okay, but keep it open,” she said as she entered the apartment. “And ignore the mess.”
“I promise,” he said a few seconds before she heard the door click closed.
Halfway across the room already, Payton turned around to protest and was startled by the man, who was right behind her with a gun in his hand that was pointed at the center of her chest.
“Yell and you’re dead,” he said.
“I won’t,” she responded despite the shock taking hold. Her mistakes clicked into place, and she realized just how much trouble she was in.
“Which way to the bedroom?” he asked.
She pointed to the hallway off the kitchen.
“Show me,” he practically ordered. His voice was a spine-chilling mix of stress, adrenaline and triumph.
A sick feeling overtook Payton as bile burned the back of her throat.
“Take off your pants and get on the bed,” he ordered.
“Okay,” she said as fear reverberated through her. She didn’t dare look away or blink. Doing everything he asked might keep her alive. So she removed her pants.
“Stay right here,” he said. “I need to get something from the kitchen.”
“Okay,” she said as he walked over and closed the window. The strange thing about his demeanor was that it was suddenly casual now.
He walked out of the room, stopping long enough to turn on the TV and crank up the volume. In that moment, it clicked. If she stayed there, she would be dead. Jumping into action, she grabbed the throw blanket from on top of her bed and then wrapped it around her midsection.
Rustling came from the kitchen—it sounded like he was rummaging through the drawers. Was he looking for a knife? Yes, she decided. The gun had been meant to scare her and gain her cooperation, but a shot would draw attention. A knife would be quiet. Besides, he probably assumed she wouldn’t even scream at this point if he told her not to. She’d followed enough of his commands for him to relax. He had her, and he knew it.
Except the bastard was wrong.
With the TV creating a noisy distraction and his back turned, Payton slipped past the kitchen and right out the door. She bolted down the stairs to Chase’s apartment, guessing his door would be unlocked. She gripped the door handle while saying a silent prayer it would open when she twisted the knob.
It did. She bolted inside, closed and locked the door behind her, and then turned around to a stunned-looking Chase with his buddy sitting on the sofa playing video games. Chase’s mouth fell open at the sight of her.
“Call 911,” she said as her body began to tremble. “Please. Right now. Someone is in my apartment. I was almost raped.”
“Oh hell,” Chase said, wide-eyed and with shock in his voice. He picked up the cell phone on the coffee table in front of him before jumping to his feet.
With her back flat against the door, Payton slid down to her bottom. Her heart battered the inside of her rib cage. She was alive. She’d made it. She was safe.
“I HEAR THERE’S a new resident across the street,” Callum Hayes said to his mother as they stood in the kitchen of his childhood home in Cider Creek, Texas. Other than his grandfather’s funeral last month, Callum hadn’t been here in years. Neutral territory had been his mantra when it came to his relationship with Duncan Hayes. Now? The regrets could be crippling if Callum focused on them. Since his grandfather was gone from a sudden heart attack while working the cattle and there was no going back to fix the past, there was also no use beating himself up over it again.
“How’d you hear about that?” his mother, Marla, asked.
“Stopped off for gas once I got to town,” he said. “You know how folks like to talk.”
“Moved in a week ago. Keeps to herself, though,” his mother said on a shrug. She was all of five feet two inches with kind eyes and a warmth most people were drawn to. The saying about opposites attracting was certainly true in his parents’ case. They’d made it work for them, too, considering they were married for decades before his father died in a car crash when Callum was still in high school. His parents had been high school sweethearts who’d started dating at sixteen years old and never stopped.
“Some folks move to the country for more privacy,” he said. “Has anyone gone over to introduce themselves and try to get to know her?”
“She’s only been here a week,” his mother said. “Figured I’d let her settle in first.”
His mother had been acting strange recently, and this was further proof. Losing her father-in-law and being given the responsibility of the ranch seemed to be wearing on her.
“Since when have you ever worried about letting the dust settle before you made someone feel welcome?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“I’m just happy that you came home,” she responded. He wished he could say the same. This was probably the time to tell her not to expect a moving truck to pull up in front.
He studied his mother for a long moment before responding.
“Are you sleeping?” he asked, noticing the bags underneath her eyes despite her attempt to hide them with makeup.
“Enough, I guess,” she said on a shrug. “How about a cup of coffee?”
He noticed how quickly she’d changed the subject after artfully dodging giving a real answer.
“I can get it,” he said, but she was already on her way to the pot of fresh brew.
“Let me spoil you the first day, at least,” she said, waving him off.
Callum knew when he’d lost an argument, and this was one of those times. So, he took a seat on a stool tucked under the lip of the granite island. “How’s Granny?”
“She’s doing better,” she said before pouring two cups and then setting one down in front of him. “You still take yours black, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Thank you for this.” He lifted his mug in salute.
His mother raised hers to the same height before taking a sip after blowing to cool the drink. She’d asked him to come home to take his rightful place at Hayes Cattle, a multimillion-dollar ranching operation. Now that his grandfather was gone, the place was too big for one person to run successfully. A business owner himself, he figured there had to be other options besides the grandchildren coming home.
“What about your brothers and sisters?” she asked. “When should I expect them?”
“We haven’t even finished our first cup of coffee and we’re already talking shop.” He’d arranged to be away from work to be with his mother for a couple of weeks while he cleared up the fact that he had a life in Houston, not Cider Creek. He figured he’d be able to slip out of town and back to his successful logistics business in a couple of weeks once he helped his mother find a better alternative. As it so happened, cattle ranching had taught him a thing or two about moving product from one place to another. Logistics was just that—making sure a company’s goods made it from production warehouse to retailers. He’d done quite well for himself. The sense of pride that came with the fact he’d made his own way in life was irreplaceable. He didn’t need Hayes money or the ranching life, despite how much he loved the land. He’d done well on his own terms after his grandfather warned Callum would be nothing without the family business.
“I’m anxious to get all my children under one roof,” she said, holding on to the mug with both hands. Callum took note of the fact she didn’t make eye contact when she responded. All of his siblings had wondered what their mother was up to when he’d warned them about her request for them to come home and take their rightful places at the ranch.
Don’t get him wrong, he loved the land, and there was something very right about being back here. He’d never ached for home until walking through the front door ten minutes ago. And now the feeling had lodged itself in his chest, burrowing like a red fox. Still, he had a life in Houston.
“Do I hear one of my boys in here?” Granny’s voice boomed from the hallway.
“It’s me. Callum,” he said in case she expected someone else or her memory was beginning to slip. He’d been preparing himself for every scenario on the drive over. One involved a dire medical diagnosis with his mother. Other than being tired, she didn’t appear to be sick. Another included his granny receiving bad health news.
She practically skipped into the room.
“Callum Hayes.” She stopped long enough to make a show of rubbing her eyes. “Is that my eldest grandson home to stay?”
“It’s me,” he admitted, but that was as far as he planned to go today. He’d figured he would get in for a couple of days and assess the situation at home. His brothers and sisters were waiting on word as to whether or not they needed to make arrangements to cover their businesses and jobs so they could head home. Callum figured it shouldn’t take too long to get the lay of the land, and it seemed senseless for everyone to descend on the ranch for a false alarm. His mother had been clear at the funeral a few weeks ago that she was perfectly capable of running things. She’d instructed her children not to worry. They didn’t, because she was still young, not yet sixty five years old, and her mind was sharp as a tack. This year she’d forgotten a couple of birthdays, but who didn’t slip every now and then?
Had it been a sign of something else brewing? Tension corded his muscles thinking about the possibility of losing his mother. Before he could get too far down that line of thinking, Granny made a beeline for him and then wrapped her arms around his midsection. She was the same height as her daughter.
“I was beginning to think you’d never come home again,” Granny said, a slight accusatory note in her voice. She’d never been one to keep her opinions to herself.
“I’m here now,” he said. “How about joining us for coffee?”
“I believe I’ll have a cup to celebrate,” Granny said. She started to wag her finger at Callum, which meant she was about to fuss at him again.
“Did you make your famous muffins?” He motioned toward the basket on the island.
Granny’s face broke into a wide smile as she nodded.
“Mind if I take a couple of those?” he asked, thinking he needed an excuse to step out of the kitchen and what was shaping up to be a squall. Normally, he’d take two-to-one odds and have no trouble betting on himself. His mother and granny were formidable when they teamed up, and he could sense the shift taking place. They were about to hit him with questions he didn’t have answers to, and he’d never been a good liar, so he didn’t even try.
“Help yourself,” Granny said. “I baked them for you.”
“Mind if I share them instead?” he asked, thinking now was as good a time as any to introduce himself to the new neighbor.
“Suit yourself.” Granny’s eyebrow shot up.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said.
“You just got here,” his mother protested, but there was no conviction in her tone. He wasn’t the only one good at figuring out when a battle was lost before it began.
Callum drained his coffee mug, picked up the muffin basket and smiled.
“This shouldn’t take long,” he said.
“All right,” his mother conceded. “When you get home, I’d like to sit down and talk.”
“You’ll have my full attention,” he said, concerned at the sound of his mother’s words. She looked healthy. Granny seemed just as spry as ever. Maybe Marla had realized handling ranch business on her own was too much for one person. Or maybe the worst case was true and more bad news was coming.
Callum’s muscles tensed at the possibility of losing his mother, too. He shoved the thought aside, unable to fathom becoming an orphan.
Besides, his curiosity was growing about the mystery neighbor across the street, and he wanted to know why she was being so secretive. There was only one way to find out, and he hoped he wouldn’t regret barging in on someone who didn’t seem to want to be disturbed.
