The Cowboy's Valentine Bride Page 6

  “I always liked a redhead,” he said with a low laugh.

  Her hair was auburn, not red, but she doubted that this guy cared about such distinctions. Kaitlyn hated giving ground because it made her look weak, but his breath was nauseating and she took a step back. He followed her in a smooth movement that made her retreat useless.

  “Leave me alone,” she said pointedly. “I’m not interested.”

  “You don’t know me,” he responded. “You’ll like me when you know me better. What’s your name?”

  He reached out and fingered a lock of her hair, and she swatted her hair back over her shoulder. He dropped his hand and that hungry, flirtatious look turned slightly meaner.

  “Stop it,” she snapped, and in that moment, she saw her challenge reflected in those gray-flecked eyes. This ranch hand—Nick—wasn’t going to back down until she kneed him in the groin. It was unfortunate that he’d gamble with his ability to father children like this, but—

  “She said to leave her alone.” Brody’s bass rumble came from the barn, and Kaitlyn looked over at him with a wave of relief. He filled the doorway, and even stooped slightly over his crutches, he was an intimidatingly large man. Brody’s black gaze was directed at the ranch hand.

  “Just saying hello,” Nick said tersely. “It’s a free country.”

  “A country I fought for,” Brody growled, and he took two swinging steps forward with his crutches. “Don’t lecture me about freedoms, cowboy. And trust me, I’ve got what it takes to bring you down from here. I suggest you back off.”

  Brody’s gaze had changed to something Kaitlyn had never seen before—steely, laser sharp and controlled. It was the soldier shining through, the military-trained efficiency that turned a cowboy into something more. The ranch hand muttered a curse, spat on the ground and sauntered off, and as Brody watched him go, that drilling gaze morphed into an expression of mild disappointment.

  He wanted to take him down.

  That realization hit Kaitlyn like a hoof to the stomach. The army had changed him more than she’d realized. The Brody she’d known had been strong and dependable, but he hadn’t been quite so...dangerous. She’d expected him to be dealing with some PTSD from the trauma, but she hadn’t expected the changes to be so deep. When Brody turned back toward her, his eyes were soft and familiar again, the soldier in him buried once more.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” She nodded quickly. “Are you?”

  Brody winced as he took another hop toward her and then glanced in the direction the ranch hand had disappeared behind the barn.

  “He scared you,” he said simply, ignoring her question.

  “Yeah,” she admitted. He’d had the look of a man who took what he wanted, regardless of a woman’s interest, but Brody had scared her a little bit, too.

  “I’ll fire him,” Brody said. “I don’t want a guy like that around here.”

  “Can you do that?” Kaitlyn asked, squinting up at him. Mr. Mason had always kept a pretty firm hand on the running of this ranch. He was a man who wouldn’t retire gracefully.

  “Yeah, well...” Brody shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I’m back now, aren’t I? Trust me. He’ll be gone by morning.”

  He was back. Did that mean he’d stay? She pushed down any lingering hopes she’d indulged about that.

  “What is your pain level?” she asked, bringing the conversation back to the job she was hired to do.

  “It’s pretty bad.”

  “You need rest.” She nodded toward the truck. “Let’s head back.”

  He must have been in a considerable amount of pain, because this time he didn’t even bother putting up a fight. When he was settled in the passenger seat of the old Chevy, she noticed his steely, controlled gaze move slowly over the barn like the sweep of crosshairs. She looked over her shoulder and saw no one.

  Brody had left this ranch a cowboy, and he’d returned a soldier. She wondered if he’d ever be able to look at a field the same way again, or if he’d earned a lifetime of sweeping perimeters for an enemy locked in his memory.

  She headed around to the driver’s side of the vehicle and shivered.

  I’m his nurse, she reminded herself. And that mattered more when she realized what Brody was dealing with. Whether he realized it or not, he needed her for a whole lot more than a wounded leg.

  Chapter Five

  That evening Brody sat at the kitchen table, watching his father scarf down a roast beef sandwich. Ken Mason was a solid man with a weather-reddened face and iron gray hair that stood up from his head as if he’d had a bad fright. He ate like he did most things—in silence.

  Brody chewed the last bite of his own sandwich and glanced at the clock. Kaitlyn would arrive in the next hour to help him with his leg, but he’d been thinking of her ever since she’d left that afternoon. He hadn’t liked the way that ranch hand had been moving in on her, and her tone of voice had been fierce and slightly scared. The thought of that man laying one unwanted finger on her brought back his army training like a jolt of electricity.

  Had Nick tried anything after Brody’s warning, he wasn’t sure what he would have done, and that scared him a little. He wasn’t in Afghanistan now. The kind of force he was trained to use wasn’t justified here on the ranch. He knew that, and it would have taken all of his self-restraint to rein himself in.

  Luckily, Nick had taken the warning.

  Brody’s mother opened the back door and came clomping into the house. She wore a quilted jacket and a pair of loose pants tucked into tall rubber boots.

  “Don’t fill up!” she said, glancing toward them at the table. “I’m making a chicken for dinner.”

  This was the image of his mom that he’d held on to through the years—and she hadn’t changed much since he was a kid. A bit grayer, maybe, and a few more lines around her eyes, but that smile was the same, and so were her protective boundaries when it came to their appetites for dinner.

  “I’ll have room,” Ken said with a half smile cast in the direction of his wife. “I’m going back out to check on the herd after dinner, though. We’ve got a heifer that’s limping.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about something first,” Brody said, and his father raised his bushy eyebrows.

  “What about?”

  “That ranch hand—Nick Something. He needs to go.”

  “Out of the question.” Ken frowned and put down the last of his sandwich. “It’s Nick Sutton, and he’s got a real intuition when it comes to the cattle. He’s a good worker—he’s the one who pointed out the lame cow. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a ranch hand I could rely on?”

  “He’s a creep.” An image of Nick leaning hungrily over Kaitlyn rose in his mind, and the anger came with it. It didn’t matter how good he was with the cattle if he couldn’t be trusted around a woman.

  “Well, you’ll have to man up if he makes you uncomfortable,” his father chuckled.

  Anger sparked in Brody’s chest. He was army trained. If anyone should be nervous, it was Nick, because without some serious self-restraint, old Nick would have been in need of some round-the-clock nursing of his own.

  “It isn’t me. It’s Kaitlyn.”

  “What was she doing with Nick?” Ken asked with a frown. “She’s your nurse. She isn’t supposed to be wandering the ranch.”

  “She was with me,” Brody replied. “And Nick wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

  “Well, I’m saying no. Nick Sutton stays.”

  This was the way it had always been—his father’s word was law around here. Ken didn’t follow anything but his own gut when it came to the running of this ranch, and so far he’d done just fine for himself. But not for Brody.

  “How are you feeling, dear?” his m
other asked, running a hand across Brody’s shoulder on her way past.

  “I’m fine, Mom.” He tried not to let his annoyance show. “Dad, I’m serious. What if it had been Dakota? What then?”

  As if on cue, a truck’s engine rumbled into the drive. It was probably Dakota come back from the fields.

  “She’s never mentioned him to me,” his father replied. “And if he’d been a problem, she would have. You know your sister.”

  He did know his sister, and it looked like his father had started to rely on Dakota’s instincts over the last year. She’d always been fighting for him to take her seriously, and it looked like Brody’s time away had changed that dynamic.

  “All right,” Brody said slowly. “Here’s the thing. I’m going to inherit this ranch when you’re gone, aren’t I?”

  “Eventually,” his father said. “But I’m not exactly wilting away yet, my boy.”

  “Ken...” Brody’s mother’s voice cut through the room, and she dropped a fresh chicken into a roasting pan with a rattle. “If you want to work with your son, you’d better let him have some input. If he’s man enough to fight for our country, drink and vote, then I think he’s man enough to make a few of these calls.”

  Ken was silent, and it was obvious that Brody’s parents had discussed this at some point, because his mother didn’t say anything else. She turned back to the fridge and Brody’s father chewed on the side of his cheek.

  “Fine. This time, we’ll do it your way. I’ll fire him, but I’m giving him a reference.”

  The concession was the best that Brody would get, even if the reference suggested that Brody was somehow being unfair in the ranch hand’s treatment. The side door opened and Dakota came inside, Andy Granger behind her.

  “Dakota,” Ken said. “Do you know that new ranch hand—Nick?”

  “Sure.” She bent to slip off her boots.

  “What do you think of him?” their father asked gruffly.

  Dakota undid her coat. “He’s a creep. Why?”

  Ken sighed, and Andy raised an eyebrow questioningly. This wasn’t Andy’s domain, and Brody wasn’t about to invite him into the discussion.

  “It’s already settled,” Brody said with a sigh. “He’s being let go.”

  Dakota didn’t seem to care a great deal about the ranch hand’s fate. She and Andy were exchanging private smiles as Andy took off his jacket. They were in love—as irritating as that was to watch.

  “Mom invited us for dinner,” Dakota said.

  Dakota gave Andy’s hand a squeeze then crossed the kitchen to talk to her mother. Brody cut a glance toward his brother-in-law. They were related now, and Brody wasn’t used to this yet. The webcammed wedding hadn’t seemed real somehow, but being back home with Andy sauntering through his kitchen—that was real.

  “Glad you’re back,” Andy said, putting a hand out. Brody grudgingly shook hands with him.

  Ken had settled back into his habitual silence, sipping a cup of coffee. Brody had won this round with his old man, hadn’t he? They’d always butted heads like this—his father holding the line like a stubborn bull. Ken Mason didn’t bend for anyone except his wife, and frankly, Brody was tired of having to go through his mother to get his father to see any sense.

  Andy sat in a chair opposite him, and Brody pushed his empty plate away. “So how’s married life?” Brody asked.

  “Blissful.” Andy grinned in Dakota’s direction.

  “You sure marriage will suit you?” Brody asked. “That’s one woman for the rest of your life, you know.”

  Andy had a bit of a reputation for being a ladies’ man, and Brody didn’t think the clarification was off base. Andy had to convince her family now, and Brody wasn’t as easily swayed by sweet talk and kisses. At least not from Andy.

  “Brody!” Dakota retorted from across the kitchen. “Leave him alone!”

  Brody rolled his eyes. Yeah, the poor helpless cowboy. He was irritated, but he couldn’t fairly blame Andy for it, either. It was all of them—he was back at the family home again, and while he was supposed to feel safe here, he didn’t. That’s what Home had meant to all of the boys overseas...all those old feelings of belonging and security. That’s what he and the other soldiers overseas had talked about—how great it would be to get home again and be with their families, how great it would be not to have to sleep with a gun.

  Except he missed the gun. He found himself reaching for it in the night and his hand closing over nothing but pillow. He always woke with a start when he couldn’t find it.

  “I’m not that kind of guy anymore,” Andy said. “I know I’ll have to prove it to you, but I’ll treat her right. You’ll see.”

  Brody didn’t answer. Dakota was her own woman, and she’d married the man she wanted to marry, so Brody knew exactly how far his opinion went. Besides, much as he hated to admit it, Andy was proving to be moderately civilized.

  “Well,” his father said, pushing his coffee cup aside. “I’m going to check on that cow. I’ll be back for that chicken dinner.”

  “You firing Nick tonight, or waiting until morning?” Brody asked. He wanted this nailed down.

  “In the morning,” his father replied. “I said I’d do it. Trust me.”

  Trust him. The words echoed inside of him. How could Brody trust any of them? That was the problem—the big, unspoken issue everyone had been dancing around since he got back. Everyone was acting like life was the same as it had always been, but nothing was the same.

  Brody used to feel safe at home, and he no longer did. He used to like the feeling of wide-open spaces, and now the fence posts made his shoulder blades tingle. He used to take his ornery old father at his word, and he couldn’t do that anymore. That wasn’t only because of the lie—it was because of the war and the things he’d seen, too. Humanity was capable of brutal, terrible acts, and civilian ignorance truly was bliss. So he’d seen all of that and parts of him had broken that just weren’t going to heal up again. A man couldn’t witness that kind of destruction and go back to feeling safe on this planet. His sense of security was officially blown. And to top off that mangled mess, he’d discovered that they’d all lied to him. It was the last straw. Some of the burdens he carried had been unavoidable, like seeing his best friends die, but the deception from home hadn’t been necessary. It was just...cruel.

  “I did trust you, Dad,” Brody said, his tone quiet but carrying. “I trusted all of you.”

  Silence descended onto the room, and Andy looked away uncomfortably. But if he wanted to be part of this family, he’d better be able to deal with the uncomfortable parts, too. Maybe Andy should know that he’d married into some of the most accomplished liars in the county.

  Emotion choked off Brody’s throat, and he swallowed with difficulty. Jeff had trusted him with his life, and he’d been blown to bits. So had Steve, and Raj. All three men had saved his hide more times than he could count, and all three were dead.

  I’ve got your back. That’s what they’d say when they lifted a rifle and got their eye level with the scope. I’ve got your back, man. That meant something in the army. You spoke the truth, or you shut your trap. Anything else was a waste of words. So how come his family felt so comfortable writing him lengthy letters and reassuring him that all was just as he’d left it when that was the furthest thing from the truth?

  “You mean Nina?” his father said, shaking his head. “Brody, we explained—”

  “Yeah, you did.” Brody had been holding this in since his arrival, and the words came out before he could think better of them. “But here’s the thing—when you’re in the desert, you learn what it means to count on someone. My army buddies had my back every time I even went to the latrine. We said what we meant. No games. Who had time for games? And they could count on the fact that I’d rain down bullets to get them back safe. That
’s the kind of loyalty I learned in the army. Then I got home and—”

  He didn’t finish. They all knew what he’d come home to.

  “We did what we thought we had to,” his mother said, her voice shaking. “That was us raining down bullets for you, son! Do you think it was easy?”

  “I trusted those guys with my life,” he said huskily. “So you ask me to trust you, and I’m telling you that I don’t think that’s possible anymore.”

  “Son...” His mother’s chin quivered with suppressed tears, and he felt a stab of guilt. He hated making her cry. His sister watched him warily, and his father just looked at that empty coffee mug. They’d disappointed him, but he could tell that he’d done the same to them. He wasn’t the kind of returning hero they’d expected. Some homecoming this had turned out to be.

  Then the back door opened again, and in stepped Kaitlyn. She stood there in the doorway, cold air whipping into the kitchen. She seemed to assess the scene pretty quickly, because her expression changed from one of cheerful greeting to caution. She shut the door behind her and glanced around. She was a part of this mess, but somehow, she was comforting, too. He hated those kinds of uncomfortable tangles in his emotions. Why couldn’t anything just stay simple and unsullied?

  “I could come back—” she began.

  “No,” Brody grunted and used his good leg to push back his chair. “There’s nothing else to say.”

  His chair fell backward with a clatter as he pushed himself painfully to his feet, and all eyes stayed riveted to him as he grabbed his crutches and heaved himself toward the sitting room. All eyes, that is, but Andy’s. Andy was staring hard at the table top. And ironically enough, Andy was the only person in that room who hadn’t lied to him. Yet.

  * * *

  THE MASONS LOOKED DEFLATED—all of them. Mrs. Mason wiped tears from her cheeks with the palms of her hand, and Mr. Mason stared vacantly in the direction his son had gone. Dakota gave Kaitlyn a wan smile. Andy Granger sat at the table, but she couldn’t see his face.