The Bull Rider's Twin Trouble

“To see if the wood is rotten or not. If you have rot, you’ll need to replace those sections, or they might come down not long from now. It’ll be a lot of extra work, though.”

“And money, I’m sure,” Cassie said, biting her lip.

She would need to get her doctor’s office going, and soon, or at this rate she and the boys would be living off peanut butter sandwiches for the foreseeable future.

Brock nodded. “But the fence can wait, if you aren’t planning on keeping animals out here, in which case we could just fix the paddock and barn.”

Cassie gazed across the land covered in tall grass the color of gold. What would she do with the crops? She had just wanted a ranch with some horses, but it was becoming more and more obvious that she didn’t know the first thing about ranching...

Maybe her mother was right: she was getting in way over her head. She was just a city girl playing rancher, and she didn’t know the game.

“Everything okay?” Brock asked, pulling her out of her reverie.

She started to nod but couldn’t bring herself to pretend. “There’s just so much I need to figure out,” she answered, looking at him.

The sympathy in his dark blue eyes made her heart thump heavily, and she had difficulty keeping control of herself.

He looked out over her ranch and she took the chance to catch her breath. After a few moments, he nodded. “It’ll be a lot of work, but it’s a good piece of land. Do you have a buyer for the hay you won’t use?”

She shook her head, feeling stupid. She didn’t even have any idea how to turn the grass waving in front of her into hay bales, let alone what to do with it. “I don’t—”

Cassie stopped talking, her voice catching in her throat. She had been told that the farm was growing grass to turn into hay, but she hadn’t thought about what to do with it until she’d actually gotten here and seen it.

The enormity of the tasks before her threatened to overwhelm her. She could only imagine what Brock must think about her, purchasing this whole place without knowing how to do a single thing.

“This is my lucky day,” Brock replied.

Cassie looked at Brock, surprised at the enthusiasm in his voice. Was he being sarcastic?

Brock hitched his thumb back toward his parents’ ranch. “Pop could use a good chunk for their horses, and my brothers would be happy to buy the rest, I’m sure. And they’ll pay to get the baling machine out here, too, if you don’t already have one lined up. It’s my lucky day because this means almost my entire family will owe me, which can be useful in the McNeal house.”

Cassie laughed, more out of astonishment than anything. “Do you really think your brothers would do all that?” she asked, trying not to get her hopes up too high, but unable to suppress the grin that came to her lips.

Brock nodded, smiling back. “They just started a business working with rodeo stock, and I’m sure they could use it. They’ll give you a fair price.”

A weight lifted off Cassie, and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease. She would be able to sell the hay. If she could do that, start seeing patients, mend the fence and make the barn livable for her horses, maybe everything would be all right. It was a big if, but it was something.

“You’ll want to keep a bit of it for your own horses, right? I know the Wilsons had a couple.”

She nodded, picturing Rosalind and Diamond, the two mares that had come with the property. “If I can get the barn and fencing in shape enough to keep them here, yes. For now, they’re being kept at a place a few miles away.”

“Well, we can figure out what lumber you need for the fence and paddock, but mend the paddock first. That way, you can move the horses here sooner. They don’t need a perfect barn in this weather, so those little fixes can wait.”

She didn’t say anything about the boarding costs, yet another worry on her plate. Cassie suddenly felt embarrassed, as if every shortcoming and difficulty of hers was being laid bare in front of this man she’d known less than twenty-four hours.

Despite how much she appreciated his help, she also felt slightly uncomfortable with how much she needed it. She’d always been self-sufficient, smart and able to do whatever she put her mind to. This whole thing wasn’t great for her ego, that was for sure.

Still, she’d gotten herself into this mess, and right now she just needed to worry about surviving it with as much of her dignity intact as she could manage. As long as nothing else landed on her plate, she would be able to handle it.

She hoped.

Chapter Four (#u93de4151-37a4-5519-a54d-af0dde0579bd)

Brock looked at Cassie, his heart going out to her. He could tell she was anxious, with her lips pinched so tightly together. It seemed like a world of worries was swirling about in her head.

“So, with the hay issue settled and our next job planned, we can get back to checking the fence,” he said, hoping to get her attention on the here and now, and away from her thoughts. “With the perimeter fence, if you’re only growing crops, we can just repair it a bit, but if you plan to have any animals roaming around, we’ll need to make sure it’s perfectly solid. Do you think you’ll have stock out here, or just crops?”

Apparently his question didn’t help at all, because she only looked more worried, and he could see that tears were threatening to fall. Even though they had only met the day before, he couldn’t stand by and watch without doing something. As if on the same impulse, he pulled her into a hug as she threw herself against him. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Momma? You okay?” Carter asked.

Brock looked down, startled to see the boys. They had finished the race apparently, and were standing side by side with expressions of concern on their identical faces.

Cassie broke away from his chest and smiled down at her children. “I’m fine, honey. I was giving Mr. McNeal a hug. Because he’s being so nice to help us.”

Brock stood there, not sure what to say. The moment had been so raw, so pained, and yet she was able to put it all aside for her little boys. He had to wonder if she’d done the same thing when her husband died, burying her hurt in order to stay strong for her children. He was almost sure she had.

He was truly amazed by this woman.

“Let’s keep walking,” Brock said at last, trying to bring himself out of his own thoughts. “I’ll check for rot, and we can figure it all out once we know what we’re looking at. How does that sound?”

Cassie flashed him a grateful look, and they all continued along the perimeter of the land.

The boys immediately filled the silence with their questions and whatever else seemed to pop into their heads. Brock couldn’t help but like them. His ma was right: they were sweet kids.

Zach grabbed Cassie’s arm. “Momma! Tell about Daddy!”

Brock was glad he was already looking at a fence post and the lumber nailed to it—it gave him a chance to hide his reactions. Curiosity mixed with a little embarrassment, and maybe even some jealousy. The man had, after all, been married to Cassie, been father to these two boys. He couldn’t help wanting to stack himself up against him, even if his good sense told him it was a bad idea in more ways than one.

Once he’d mastered his expression, Brock turned back to Cassie and the boys, hoping he seemed nonchalant. He was surprised to see the slight flush of red in Cassie’s cheeks, and wondered if his presence was causing her to feel uncomfortable.

He moved ahead of the other three, just in case the distance might make her feel better. He couldn’t help listening, though.

“Your daddy,” she began, in a tone that made Brock sure she’d said these same words many times, “was one of the hardest workers in our precinct. He worked lots of hours trying to keep the city safe for everyone.”

“He was a good policeman,” Carter added, as if he held that knowledge close to his heart.

Brock felt heartbroken for these two boys, who had lost their father at such a young age. It brought back his own painful memories.

He didn’t look at Cassie, kept his eyes on the fence, but he imagined her nodding and smiling at her son, remembering her brave police officer husband. Asking her out suddenly seemed like little more than a pipe dream.

“One time, he was driving along in his squad car,” Cassie went on, “and he saw a man yelling at a woman, who was crying.”

“That man was mean!” Zach shouted, angry.

“He was mean,” Cassie agreed. “Your daddy went up and helped the woman, and the man couldn’t hurt her anymore because your daddy was there to protect her. It’s good to help and protect people who need it,” she concluded.

The boys gabbled happily about the story, running on ahead. Brock stood with Cassie, unsure what to say. Complimenting her deceased husband didn’t seem right, but neither did asking questions or completely ignoring what just happened.