To Trust A Rancher. Debbi Rawlins

it memories of long ago afternoons, her hanging out in the stables with him and his dad, asking endless questions. Until now she hadn’t fully appreciated how patient they’d been with her.

      “Now is better,” she said. “We’re going for a drive later.”

      “I’d hate to wake him.”

      “He’ll be okay. We don’t exactly live in the quietest neighborhood in LA.” She led him to the table, suddenly conscious of her sloppy gray sweatpants and her oversize black sweatshirt sans bra. Not that he’d notice. Anyway, she was too nervous to care. He hadn’t smiled once and she couldn’t imagine what was so important that he’d show up unannounced like this.

      She sat in the same chair she’d used earlier, and he took Noah’s. The table was small but perfectly adequate...until Ryder rested his elbows on the wood veneer surface and leaned across it. Her first impulse was to scoot her chair back. Then she realized he’d leaned close so as not to disturb Noah.

      A flicker of amusement relaxed his features. “I woke you. Sorry.”

      “No,” she said, her hand going to her messy hair. “I was just trying to get Noah to—” Becca sighed. She had a pretty good idea what she looked like. “I might’ve drifted off.”

      “This won’t take long,” he murmured in a pitch so low she had to lean forward to hear him. “Have you thought about my mom’s offer?”

      Becca should’ve known why he’d come. “Yes, I have. And the answer is no, we won’t be staying at your ranch. So you don’t have to worry about it.”

      A wry half grin rested on his well-shaped mouth. “I want you to take her up on it.”

      “Why?”

      “Come on, Becca, are we really going to do this?”

      “Do what?”

      He stared silently back at her, though not as if he were considering the question. Ryder looked as he had yesterday. Just plain disgusted.

      Pretending to check on Noah, she turned her head. Between Amy’s lies and Becca’s guilt over believing the worst about him, and of course, the biggie—the secret she was keeping from the Mitchells—it was difficult for her to keep all the confusing emotions in check. No telling what her face was giving away.

      Something else occurred to her. If Amy had lied to her, she’d probably lied to her family. About what, though? Becca couldn’t ask. No way she could stir that hornet’s nest and expect to come out unscathed.

      “Because you owe her,” Ryder finally said.