The Rancher's First Love

He caught up with her, tugging John along behind him. The pony trotted, but he pulled his head back, not happy with the pace.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

She spun to face him, her blue eyes flashing sparks of anger that would have quelled a lesser man. He reckoned she ought to know he wasn’t going to be pushed around.

“Your posse left. Why didn’t you leave with them?” she asked.

“Because it seems as if we have unfinished business.”

She shook her head. “No, we don’t. We’ve been finished for a long time now. We were kids, Rem. We’re adults now and I don’t have time for this.”

“Why did you tell me not to make promises to that little girl?”

“Is that what this is all about?” She pulled a face at him, wrinkling her nose. “These kids have enough to deal with, and they don’t need a cowboy and his pony trotting into their lives, cheering them up, and then promising to come back.”

“But I am coming back. I’ve already talked to Dr. Jackson. I’m going to stop by every couple of weeks.”

“Great,” she said, not really meaning it. He half smiled, which would probably get him in more trouble.

“I made the offer before I knew you worked here. But surprise! I keep promises and I’m not going to back out on kids just because you don’t want me here.”

“It isn’t about me.”

He leaned in close. “Isn’t it?”

She shook her head and put a little space between them. “No, it isn’t. I just don’t want these kids hurt or disappointed.”

Hurt and disappointed. He knew right away that it was about her. But he wouldn’t push and make her admit it. She’d just have to get used to having him around.

Chapter Two (#ulink_b22bb257-9797-5a28-aef5-da7402ebcfc6)

The sun had long since set as Samantha drove through Martin’s Crossing after work. She could go home to her house on the Circle M, have a sandwich, go to bed and not sleep. Or she could take a run and calm her mind. She pulled into an empty parking space in front of her brother Duke’s diner. Duke’s No Bar and Grill was a long wood-sided building with a wide, covered deck running the entire length of the front.

She got out of her truck, leaving the keys in the ignition. After all, this was Martin’s Crossing; no one ever took the keys out of their ignition.

Sometimes they did. If there was a theft in the area, people might be vigilant for a week or so. But then they went back to their ways, leaving doors unlocked and keys in cars.

She’d missed this town. She’d been gone nearly ten years, only returning for holidays and a few weeks each summer. She’d missed her brothers. She’d missed rodeos. She’d missed graduating high school with friends. They’d all moved on in her absence. Many of them were married now. Several had moved away. They had children and homes of their own.

Why had she thought she could come home and everything would be as it had been when she left? No, she hadn’t left. She’d been sent away. Banished. And nothing had stayed the same. Her brothers, the town, the people she’d known—everyone was different.

She was different.

Pushing aside those thoughts, she stood on the sidewalk and stretched, loosening her muscles and preparing mentally for a run that would shake her loose from memories. Thanks to Remington’s appearance at the hospital, he was front and center in her mind.

The door to Duke’s opened. She was surprised to see her brother.

“Just getting off work?” he asked as he walked down the steps. Duke was a big guy, closer to seven feet than six. He was all muscle. And all heart. She’d been angry with him for a long time because she’d wanted him to take her side and keep her here, at home.

“Yeah. You?”

He didn’t answer right away. She stopped stretching and glanced his way, saw that he was watching her with eyes narrowed.

“Bad day?” he asked.

She shook her head and finished stretching before giving him her full attention. “No worse than any other. I just felt like I needed to run.”

“No one understands that better than me.” Because Duke had struggled when he first came home from Afghanistan. “Remington came in for dinner. With Gus. I guess he’s moving back to town.”

So many questions without actually asking.

“Why are you open so late?” she asked, ignoring the obvious. She didn’t want to discuss Remington.

“Late dinner crowd. There was a softball game and everyone came in after.”

Summer, rodeos and softball. The three went together in Martin’s Crossing. Samantha took a deep breath of summer air perfumed with flowers, sultry humidity and farmland.

“Go home to your family, Duke. I’m good.”

He watched her for another long minute. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I know Remington is back. I saw him at the hospital today. I survived. I’m running because I don’t feel like going home to an empty house.”

“Come down and visit us, then,” he offered.

She laughed. “Because Oregon and Lilly want company this late at night? I don’t think so. Go home.”

“I’ll go but you text me or call when you get home. If you don’t, I’ll have to come looking for you.”

She loved his protectiveness. “I’ll text you.”

He gave her a tight hug, then headed around the back of the building where he’d parked his truck. Samantha watched him go, then took off running down the sidewalk. She headed down Main Street to the intersection. Ahead of her the Community Church was dark and quiet, bathed only in the orange glow of streetlights. The park was equally dark. She kept running, breathing in deep and letting go of the tenseness that had built up during the long day.

She loved working with children. She wouldn’t change jobs for anything. But watching those children in pain was tough. She’d tried but couldn’t leave her work behind at the end of the day. Parker, Danny and the others, they were in her heart. She knew that the longer she remained in this job, the more she’d have to cry about.

She ran several miles, keeping to the few side streets that made up Martin’s Crossing. As she turned back up Main Street, she saw a truck had parked next to hers. She slowed her steps, going from a run to a jog and then a walk.

The driver of the truck got out. Even on the dimly lit street, she knew him. She knew the way he stood. She knew the way he pushed that white cowboy hat back. He shouldn’t be so familiar to her. But he was.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as she leaned over to touch her toes. When she straightened, he was leaning against the side of his truck, watching her.

“I would have gone running with you if you’d called,” he said.

She looked him over. Jeans, cowboy hat, boots. Her heart did a little flip she had to ignore. “Really?”

“I would have changed.”

She lifted one shoulder. “I like to run alone.”