The Bull Rider's Twin Trouble

Before he could figure out what to say, Cassie spoke to him, her voice quiet enough to keep the boys from overhearing. “Sorry. About before.”

With the image of her husband looming large over Brock, he had almost forgotten her tears from just a few minutes ago.

He waved away the apology. “None of us know what we’re doing all the time,” he said.

She made a noise that could have been a snort, or perhaps a small sob. “It’s not just a small case of indecision. I made all these choices, moving us all the way out here, without really thinking things through. I was so desperate to get away from—well, it doesn’t matter. So I followed a silly childhood dream, and now the reality of it all is a bit much. My mom was right,” she said with a small, sad laugh, “I was being too impulsive, too stubborn.”

Brock smiled. “My ma says that about me all the time, too.”

“Is she right?” Cassie asked, her voice quiet.

Brock could see she was hoping for something to hold on to. He shrugged. “Yeah, but I’ve got to make choices for myself, right? You can’t be happy living the way other people want you to.”

He watched her absorb his words. Finally, she nodded, wiping away a stray tear, and turned to the fence. “Is much of it decayed?” she asked.

He half wanted to bring the subject back to why she had come here, what she was running away from, but decided to let it lie. It probably had to do with her husband’s death, and if she moved here because the memory of her lost love was too painful, he’d rather not know. Brock knocked on the fence board in front of him. “It seems like most of it is okay. It just needs some new nails and a fresh coat of paint. You’ll need a few hundred bucks’ worth of lumber, at most, if the rest of it is like this,” he said, gesturing at the expanse of fence behind them.

Cassie seemed relieved, and they continued walking in silence. After a short while, Brock said, “You might want to consider raising a small herd of cows out here. It would cost a bit at first, but you can buy them as you can afford them, and they’ll be more lucrative than selling bales of hay in the long run.”

Brock wasn’t sure if the information was helpful or more to add to her plate, but he felt sure, despite how little he knew about her, that she would appreciate knowing his opinion on the subject.

Cassie smiled. “Owning cows to go along with my horses, huh? That would make me a real country girl,” she said, hooking her thumbs in her jean pockets.

He laughed. “Get some boots instead of those sneakers and a good hat, and nobody will know you’re a city slicker.”

She nodded, raising her hand to shade her face from the sun’s powerful rays. “I’ll definitely need a hat, if it’s always this sunny. I’m not used to the weather here.”

“Where are you from?” he asked without thinking.

It was only after he said it that he remembered her earlier words. Wherever she was from, she had run to the country to get away from it. Brock felt like an ass for bringing it up, but it was too late now.

“Minneapolis,” she said, without elaborating further.

Still, she didn’t seem devastated by the question, and he was curious about her. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. “That’s a pretty big city,” he commented.

“Smaller than you might think,” she answered in a light tone, but the expression on her face hardened slightly.

Something within him pushed to keep the conversation going as they continued along the fence. They were over halfway done, and he felt like this was an opportunity to get to know her. Something about the wide-open land and sky around them made it easier. “I can see why you haven’t had much experience with land and fences up there. It’s not exactly a ranching area. The winters are brutal there, aren’t they?”

She rolled her eyes, and his heart jumped when she gave him a genuine smile. “Like you wouldn’t believe. That’s one of the reasons I picked Spring Valley. I’ll be just fine if I never see snow again.”

He wanted to keep her smiling. “Well, this is the place to be if you hate snow. It’s a rare winter that we get more than an inch or two.”

She nodded and looked fondly across the hot brown grass. Before the silence could stretch too long, he said, “I’m surprised you even managed to find this place. Spring Valley doesn’t show up on many maps.”

“Hank, my—my late husband—his parents live in Glen Rock, not too far from here. I fell in love with the area the first time we visited. It seemed just like the place I wanted to live when I was a kid. Somewhere far away from the busy city life, with land and animals to tend...”

Her voice drifted away, as if she was picturing the ranch, not as it was, but as she must have imagined it when she was little. She seemed so sincere, so hopeful, that he knew he’d do whatever he could to help make that dream a reality.

Then she started walking again and he followed. In what felt like too short a time, they had finished most of the fence and then just had the paddock left. He wished there were more fence to saunter along, some other reason to dawdle outside. There was something calming, right, about strolling out there with Cassie and her boys.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” she asked, pulling him out of his reverie.

That simple question was always a difficult one to answer, and even though he felt like Cassie was a person he could confide in, he wasn’t ready to explain the whole situation to her. He stuck with his honest-but-short response, hoping she wouldn’t ask for more details. “No. I lived in San Diego for a while when I was little.”

“Surfer-turned-cowboy, huh?” she said with a smile.

Her fun tone made him want to joke with her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do more than give her a small smile. The image of his father teaching him to surf always brought with it an unpleasant ache in his chest. Despite all the extreme sports he’d tried as an adult, he’d never been able to get back on a surfboard. “Something like that” was all he said.

She seemed to sense his unwillingness to discuss his life in San Diego, because she didn’t ask him anything more about his childhood.

* * *

CASSIE WASN’T SURE if she was happy or not that the walk was over as they finished the loop around the paddock. It was hot, and she was looking forward to the cool and shade of the house, and to an icy drink, but she couldn’t help but wish she and Brock were still ambling on beside each other. He somehow managed to set her on fire and soothe her soul at the same time, and she worried the feeling would disappear once they were back in the house, away from the great expanse of land that surrounded them.

They stopped walking, and Cassie lingered an extra moment. Brock made no move toward the house, either, and they stood there quietly as the boys ran inside.

“So, what’s the verdict? How much do I need to replace?” she asked, not yet ready to go inside.

Brock smiled at her, and she felt her heart thump. “Not much, actually. It’s better than I would have expected, and the paddock shouldn’t take more than a bit of lumber and a few hours’ work before it’s ready to hold your horses.”

Cassie felt relief course through her. Maybe she would be able to make this work, prove to herself that she could do it.

She looked into his eyes, and the heat around them grew even thicker with unsaid thoughts. Cassie was wondering what it would be like to kiss him when the slam of the screen door came as a welcome diversion. She turned toward the house, creating distance between her and the smoldering man beside her.

Both of her boys were running across the golden grass toward her, leaving a woman standing on the back porch. Cassie squinted in the bright sunlight to see who it was.

Carter skidded in front of her, already talking. “Momma, Miss Emma is here. She brought a pie. She said it was for dessert, but can we have some now? Please?”

“Is that Emmaline Reynolds?” Brock asked from behind her.

Something like jealousy popped up in Cassie, but she quickly tamped it down. She had no call to feel possessive about Brock, she reminded herself. He could date Emma all he wanted.

She couldn’t stop herself from saying a quick prayer that he wouldn’t, though.

“I haven’t seen her since grade school. Didn’t even know she still lived here. You sure make friends fast,” Brock commented.

Her mood suddenly lifted, she flashed him a smile. “When you have a sweet tooth and two young kids and you move to a town with one bakery, you get to know the owner of said bakery very quickly. Especially when the boxes of kitchen supplies go missing for a week. We’ve also made friends with the owners of the pizza place and the café.”

Brock chuckled, the sound reverberating through her body, and his grin caught her off-guard, turning her legs to jelly. She started to regret saying something amusing, looking at him and having a sex drive at all, because this man was certain to be her downfall if a laugh and a smile could do all that to her. Apparently not noticing her discomfiture, he said, “I’m going to go do another check of the paddock real quick, just to be sure we didn’t miss anything, and then it’s probably best we take a break anyway. You’d be surprised how fast the heat can get to you.”

It wasn’t the heat that was getting to her, but she wasn’t about to say that.

“I’ll go see what Emma wants. Come on in whenever you’re done,” she said to him as she turned away.