Easing the battered wings over the cedar post, he turned the plane onto the narrow asphalt road that led to the county airport. He had vowed not to say or do anything to get his dad upset, but that plan was already rolling downhill and picking up speed.
The discussion to sell the monstrosity of a ranch would have to wait at least a couple of days, if not weeks. First, he needed to get a certified nurse in the house so he could go back to his own life without worrying about his father.
He parked the plane in the small hangar right next to his dad’s plane, a vintage Mustang. The faded gray Volvo station wagon pulled in behind him. Maybe she could stay on as a housekeeper and he could get an agency to do daily nurse visits. Firing Ms. Karly Kalakona would not be an option, unless she was lying about who she was and were she came from.
The clouds lit up again, and thunder shook the old metal walls. Scanning the building, he found nothing had changed. Half of his childhood happened in the barns, the other half here in this metal hangar. His father had spent hours teaching him to fly. It was a passion they shared and had brought them together—until Tyler had announced he wanted to leave the ranch and make flying his life, not just a hobby.
He forced his jaw to relax. The muscles burned from the tension. Pulling a duffel bag from the back, he glanced over at the plane he’d learned to fly in as a kid. Things had been so much easier back then. He hoped his dad was okay. He had to be.
Tyler stepped out on the concrete, stomping some of the mud off his boots. He checked a few damaged areas on the right wing before heading to the car.
In the gray Volvo parked behind him, Karly smiled. She was saying something to her son. He had to admit she was a dark-haired beauty. Not his usual type. There was sweetness mixed with a spine of steel. Like his mom and sister. He froze in midstride.
His dad wouldn’t dare. One of their long-standing fights the past few years was about Tyler’s love life. Every time Dub called, he told Tyler he needed to settle down with a solid family kind of girl. His father hated every woman he brought to the ranch. They all spent more time estimating the value of the ranch than appreciating the raw beauty of the land.
A knot formed in his gut. He wouldn’t put it past the manipulative old man to use his health crisis as a means to play matchmaker. One more attempt to get Tyler to do what his father thought was best for the Childress name.
Karly opened her car door and stood. She was taller than he expected.
“I called the ranch and told Adrian that I picked you up and we’re heading that way now.”
“Adrian?”
“De La Cruz, one of the trainers.” She looked at him as if he didn’t have a brain. “He has a little girl about ten. I was told you went to school with him.”
“Adrian works for my dad? When did that happen?” Surprise made his words sharper than he intended.
“Um...I don’t know?” Her stunning eyes went wider, and her fingers tightened on the door frame.
Way to go, Childress, scare the girl. Why was he barking at her? “Sorry. I’ve been gone too long, and it’s been a long day.” He made his way to the passenger side of her car and folded into the tight space. She smelled like his mother’s kitchen during the holidays. Now she was making him think of Christmas cookies before Thanksgiving.
Four weeks. Surely he could manage four weeks without yelling at his dad or getting tangled with the new hired help. He knew right away that Karly was not the kind for a casual relationship, and that was the only kind he had managed to have the past ten years. He lowered his gaze to the worn leather handle of his bag.
Definitely not looking at the exotic tilt of her dark eyes with hints of gold, or the silky ponytail that swung when she talked. No, none of that caught his attention. She’s a mother, Tyler. That alone should make her invisible.
For most of the ten miles to the ranch, Karly sat forward, her tight muscles sore from strain. She wasn’t sure what made her the most nervous, the storm or Tyler Childress.
The gossips adored talking about all the trouble Tyler got into while in high school. People loved to gossip—the more scandalous the better. She tried not to pay attention, but now that he was next to her she had to wonder how much was true.
Pulling through the stone pillars, she glanced up to the wrought iron archway where the letters spelling Childress boldly stood, surrounded by silhouettes of horses in motion. If things worked out, this would be their new home for the next year. Enough time to get Bryce’s physical therapy done, some of the medical bills paid off and a bit of breathing room to figure out where to go to next.
Living out of her car was getting old. She needed a plan and Bryce needed to be in school. This was the perfect job for her—that was, if the younger Childress didn’t kick them out.
He had spent the whole trip staring out the window. She’d glanced at him. He didn’t seem to want to be here. Maybe he would be leaving soon. “So how long do you plan on staying?”
He shrugged. “I’ve taken the next month off. I need to speak with the doctors tomorrow, figure out what Dad needs and when he can come home.”
Oh, no. He hadn’t been told. “Pastor John is bringing him home this evening.”
With his elbows resting on his knees, Tyler pressed the palm of his hands into his eyes. “John’s bringing him home today? I thought he had at least another week in the hospital.”
“The nurses can’t keep him in bed, and he tries to leave every few hours. He tells everyone he’s walking home.”
She drove around a cluster of twisted live oak trees. At the end of the narrow asphalt drive, the redbrick ranch house sprawled long and low behind a shaded yard of lush, green carpet grass. She slowed down and took a moment to find her breath.
A home. A real home that Bryce was going to get to live in, hopefully, for the next year. She blinked a couple of times to stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. Tyler would think she was crazy if she started crying. Thank You, God.
“Are you okay?”
She didn’t dare look at him. “Yes. I’m just not sure where to go. I haven’t been to the house before now.”
He pointed to the right. “Go to the back. We’ll pull into the garage and unload from there.” Facing her again, his blue eyes intense. “I don’t get it. Dad doesn’t have a way to leave. He can’t drive, and from what I understand he can’t walk that well, either. So why is John bringing him home?”
“He told the pastor that if someone didn’t drive him home he’d start walking. Your father seems very determined to get back to the ranch. So Pastor John’s giving him a ride. They should be here within the next couple of hours.” She skimmed the area around them, avoiding eye contact. “He’s leaving AMA.”
He threw his head back against the seat. “Seriously? A man with brain damage and a broken arm is allowed to leave against medical advice and no one calls me? That’s what AMA means, right? Against medical advice.”
“I believe that’s what it means.” She didn’t know what to say.
“Great. And no one thought to hire a real nurse?” His voice low as he stared back out the window.
“Horses! Momma, look. Horses!”
The drive forked. To the left, a couple of large barns, two outbuildings and several pens made what looked like a small resort for horses. A sharp right put them in front of a giant wooden garage door that belonged on a fortress. Rich wood and large wrought iron hinges brought to mind another time and place.
“Can we go see the