She knew the stories. She knew he’d committed crimes and raised hell when he lived around here. But he’d helped her beyond measure today. And now he needed help. “Look, Wade and Lori are leaving for their honeymoon right after the reception. They’ll be gone for a few weeks. If you need to speak with your brother, now’s the time.”
Arch looked over her head toward the barn door. “I can’t walk in there.”
“No, you can’t.” She paused, willing her tired brain to think. “Can you wait awhile? Maybe forty-five minutes? Let them cut the cake and have another dance or two. Then I’ll send Wade to talk to you.”
“You don’t have to do that.” But the relief in his eyes said the opposite.
“Of course I do,” she assured him. “It’s the right thing.”
“And you’re someone who does the right thing.”
His words had all the old guilt and regret knotting in her stomach. Tears pricked. Her mom should be here today, seeing Lori marry. Maybe if Mandy had done the right thing all those years ago, that would be possible.
“Whoa.” Arch’s hands took hold of the opposite side of the tray, steadying it. “I said the wrong thing. Damn, I’m sorry, I...” He broke off.
“No, it’s okay.” Damn was right. When would she learn to control the feelings that lived just under her skin?
“Hey, here’s a thought. You deliver this cake and I’ll go look for that mysterious donkey of yours before it causes any more trouble.”
The donkey. She’d forgotten about it. Her worries over the cake and this magnetic man had wiped that responsibility from her memory. “I’d so appreciate that. If you find him, he can go in with the goat. There’s a small paddock behind the other barn, further down this lane.”
“Right.” He squared his shoulders. A task was probably just what he needed right now to get his mind off his troubles. “Hope that goat is ready for a new roommate.”
“She’ll have to make do. She was dropped off here just last week.”
His grin softened all the angles of his face. “You must have a reputation for being a softie.”
Mandy couldn’t help but smile back. “I think you’re right.”
“Why so many strays?”
“It’s getting worse with the drought. Ranches are downsizing. People are losing jobs. I never thought I’d be running an animal shelter.” She felt her smile fade. “It breaks my heart. Especially when a dog shows up. They seem so lost and confused when they’re abandoned.”
“The world could use more people like you. I can see that already.”
Her skin warmed again. She wasn’t used to being noticed. “Thanks. I’d better head into the barn. See you soon?”
“As soon as I find that donkey.” Arch walked away with a lanky stride that covered ground with zero effort. The guy was a giant. And in his faded jeans and that T-shirt, he was gravity for the eyes. Handsome didn’t begin to describe him. But he was also Arch Hoffman.
And he’d just turned back to her. And said something.
“What?” She blinked. He’d caught her staring. At his backside.
“You sure you’re okay? After that fall?”
“Yes.” A squeaky syllable was all she could manage. She’d been ogling him.
“So head in there and show off that cake. It’s something to be proud of.”
Surprise, gratitude, relief. He could have mentioned her staring at him. Instead he’d given her a compliment. He was nice. Arch Hoffman, the car-stealing, drug-dealing, bad-boy legend of Benson, California, was kind of nice. “Thanks, Arch,” Mandy called softly.
She turned toward the entrance to the barn, stepping carefully through the wide double doors with the oohs and aahs of appreciation rising in gratifying waves around her. She shoved all of her worries about Arch Hoffman’s arrival to the side of her mind. He’d just have to wait. This was her sister’s moment, and Wade’s moment. A moment of sheer happiness, meant to be savored like the perfect wedding cake she held in her hands.
THERE WAS NO sign of the renegade donkey. Arch scanned the dry lawn in front of the ranch house that looked just like it should. Historic, its wood siding painted white and perfectly maintained. The cushioned rocking chairs on the front porch looking so comfortable he wanted to sink into one and sleep. For months.
Freedom was the best thing to ever happen to him, and the most exhausting. Crazy how much the world could change in a decade. Or maybe it was him that had changed, ten years stuck in the prison time warp, now out and wandering lost between who he’d been and who he hoped to become.
Which had led him here. To this hometown he didn’t want to come home to. To this low place, begging help from a brother who hated him. And now on this fool’s errand, to retrieve a miniature donkey who clearly didn’t want to be found.
But no way was he giving up. Because catching that cake had meant something more than just a lucky save. It was one of the few times in his life that he’d done something besides try to save his own skin. And the look of gratitude in that pretty woman’s eyes had warmed his chest and thawed something there. If she could look at him that way, maybe he finally had a chance at being a better man than he’d been before. He’d do a lot to get her to look at him like that again.
Arch rounded the house and spotted a rope draped over a railing near the back door. Coiling it, he looked around. It was quiet here behind the house. A small patch of grass ran into an orchard off to his right. There were a few apples still hanging from the trees, and he picked one. Donkey bait.
To his left was a stand of pines. He walked toward them, suddenly needing their wholesome scent. He closed his eyes to better hear the hiss of wind though their branches. The sound ran soothing hands over his skin. He’d imagined this in prison. Funny how something he’d never appreciated when he lived around here became something he longed for once he was locked in a cell.
A huff of breath broke his reverie. Arch opened his eyes, homing in on where the sound came from.
The donkey’s knee-high nose peeked out from behind one of the pines. It was probably terrified. Maybe only just abandoned here. That would explain why it charged past that woman in such a panic.
That woman. It wasn’t right to call someone so beautiful such everyday words. But he hadn’t asked her name. He guessed she had to be one of the Allens. They’d owned this ranch, Lone Mountain Ranch, forever. He’d grown up just down the road, but he didn’t recall ever meeting her. She was clearly several years younger than him. Probably still a kid when he’d left.
She was all grown up now, but she was tiny. With her slight frame, her golden curls, her wide blue eyes the color of the sky over the mountains, all she’d need was a pair of wings to be Peter Pan’s fairy pal. Tinker Bell. That suited her.
He inched a step closer to the donkey. “C’mon, little dude.” Arch kept his voice quiet, just above a breath. “Let’s get you back home.”
The tiny animal huffed out a breath and disappeared behind the tree. Arch knelt, like he would with a dog, and held out the apple. The donkey peered around the pine again, its internal war of curiosity and caution apparent in its flicking ears. Finally one long ear tipped forward. Then the other. Curiosity and the promise of a treat won out. The donkey minced up on dainty hooves, blowing and snuffing at Arch’s knuckles, and reached for the apple.
One slow, careful motion and Arch had the rope around its neck. While the