The Rancher And The Runaway Bride Part Two

By Susan Mallery

36 Hours Serial

As a devastating summer storm hits Grand Springs, Colorado, the next thirty–six hours will change the town and its residents forever….

The Rancher and the Runaway Bride Part 2

Since Randi Howell fled her own wedding–and sinister gunmen–and made a new home at Brady Jones's Texas ranch, she knows this is where she belongs, with the work, the horses and especially Brady.

Randi doesn't know who the gunmen were planning to kill, but she heard enough that they're still after her. She's safe for now far away in Texas. But she hasn't told Brady about her past. The strong, handsome rancher is everything she has ever wanted in a man. He's a man of honor–how could he accept her if he knew she'd left her fiancé at the altar?

Read the conclusion in The Rancher and the Runaway Bride Part 3.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Apr 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781743649718

Susan Mallery

#1 NYT bestselling author Susan Mallery writes heartwarming, humorous novels about the relationships that define our lives—family, friendship, romance. She's known for putting nuanced characters in emotional situations that surprise readers to laughter. Beloved by millions, her books have been translated into 28 languages.Susan lives in Washington with her husband, two cats, and a small poodle with delusions of grandeur. Visit her at SusanMallery.com.

Book preview

Chapter Six

Cooperate, damn you, Brady Jones muttered when the large gelding took an unexpected side step and bumped him. Brady scrambled back to keep from falling on his butt. "I own you, he reminded the horse. Keep this up and I’ll sell you for glue. Or dog food."

Rita laughed. That’s telling him, boss. Remind him who’s in charge and how you hold his life in your hands. She stroked the horse’s head. Are you scared, big fella? Don’t be. She lowered her voice to a whisper. He’s all bark and no bite. Yes, it’s true. Cheap talk. Can you say cheap?

The horse snorted.

She’s got a way about her, that one does, McGregor said as he finished shaping the shoe and returned to the horse’s side. Come on, laddie. Don’t be givin’ an old man trouble.

The farrier bent over and deliberately bumped the gelding’s right front shoulder. The horse obligingly shifted his weight to the other three legs and allowed the man to pick up his hoof.

Good boy, the Scotsman crooned. Stay steady just a wee bit longer. We’ll be gettin’ you a nice new shoe. The ladies will be impressed. He set the shoe over the hoof and grabbed a handful of nails from a pocket in his oversize leather apron.

A few minutes later the shoe was in place, the edges filed to insure a perfect fit. McGregor released the hoof and straightened.

I do fine work, if I say so myself. No doubt you’ll be thinkin’ the same, Brady.

You’re the best, McGregor. I appreciate you taking the time to see to my horses.

Rita giggled. Brady shot her a quick look and winked. The old Scotsman was the best farrier in the business. He was also the only one close enough to come by on a moment’s notice. The gelding had thrown a shoe the day before. Until it was replaced, he couldn’t be worked.

The horse stamped his foot as if checking the fit. He tossed his head, then blew out air.

See, McGregor said. He approves. You’ll be wantin’ me to look at the other three?

Brady nodded. I think that back shoe is coming loose.

Shoddy workmanship, and not mine. Who have you had around pretendin’ to shoe these horses?

Your nephew. Remember? You took off for a cruise.

Aye. I remember. McGregor looked at Rita and smiled. The Caribbean, it was. Very lovely. You ever been?

No. I haven’t.

You’d like it. Lots of pretty girls, but not as pretty as you.

Aren’t you sweet?

Brady held in a sound of disgust. Not only was McGregor old enough to be her father, but his lines weren’t that good. Yet women everywhere always fell for him. It’s the accent, he muttered under his breath.

What did you say? Rita asked, but the glint in her blue eyes told him that she’d heard his comment.

Nothing.

Gee, I could have sworn you said—

Rita. Brady cut her off with a look designed to remind her he was her boss. She wasn’t the least bit intimidated, either.

She turned her attention to McGregor and said, I adore your accent. It’s very charming.

Accent? Me? McGregor moved around the gelding and lifted his left rear hoof. You’re the one who sounds funny, lass. He tapped at the shoe. This one’s loose, like you said. I’ll be havin’ a talk with my nephew. I taught him better than this. The boy’s lazy. You know how young men are. Still, that’s a lame excuse for bad work. He smiled at his pun, then set the hoof down and headed for his truck. Let me get another shoe and I’ll replace it.

The gelding shifted, again bumping into Brady. He pushed back. Unfortunately, the horse didn’t budge. What’s your problem?

He’s establishing dominance, Rita said.

I thought we’d taken care of that already.

Not really. She lowered her voice to a whisper. I think the basic problem is that he doesn’t understand enough English to know that you’re threatening him. Otherwise, I’m sure he’d be terribly respectful. She spoke seriously, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

Right, he said, fighting a grin of his own. Sort of like you.

I’m very respectful.

To whom?

She laughed.

The gelding took another step. Brady saw it coming and ducked under the animal’s head. The horse was just as quick. He shifted back, catching Rita unaware, pulling her forward and making her stumble. As Brady moved to keep her from falling, the gelding stepped between them. Rita hit the ground, knees first.

Her shoulders were shaking. Fear darted through his chest. Had she hurt herself? He grabbed the halter and forced the gelding back two steps, then crouched down beside Rita.

Are you okay? he asked.

She rolled onto her rear, and looked at him. Tears streamed down her face, but they weren’t from pain. She was laughing. He’s so bored, she said, motioning to the horse. He’s been bugging me ever since you brought him in. I think he hates not being outside with the cattle. She brushed the moisture from her face. No horse has caught me so off guard since I was fourteen.

Her reaction surprised him, then he reminded himself that it shouldn’t. Rita wasn’t like other women he’d known. Working on his ranch for only a few weeks proved to him that she was tough and sensible. Competent, not that she would consider his assessment much of a compliment, however he might mean it that way.

You fell pretty hard, he said, and touched her left leg. Are you sure you’re not hurt?

He squeezed her knee, trying to feel for swelling or tenderness. As he slid his hand a few inches down her shin, then up her thigh, he watched her face, looking for a hint of pain. He ignored the pleasure touching her brought. This wasn’t about desire, it was about making sure she was all right. Even so, it was difficult not to let his hand linger on her knee.

When he paused in his actions, she shrugged. It’s a little sore from the fall, but I’m fine. I’m tougher than I look.

I know. He stood up, then held out his hand to help her to her feet.

As she straightened, they were standing very close. He was once again reminded of their brief hug last week when her trial period was over and he said she could stay on. He swore under his breath. Every time he was close to forgetting that hug, along with the kiss he’d stupidly given her, something happened to make him remember. He didn’t want to remember. He wanted to take the whole thing back. It had been inappropriate behavior, and not his style at all. He’d had female employees before and had never once been tempted.

He couldn’t explain the impulse that had made him kiss her, and he couldn’t forget.

Rita didn’t seem to be having the same problem. She stepped up to the gelding and took his large face in her hands. Don’t do that to me again, she told the animal. You know better.

The horse snorted gently, as if apologizing.

Like I believe that, she said.

Believe what? McGregor asked as he entered the barn.

Anything a man says to me. You all tell wonderful stories that don’t have a lick of truth.

I’m wounded, lass. At least let me share a story or two before you start accusin’ me of somethin’. In fact, I’ll think up a good one to tell you at the barn dance next week. What do you say? Surely an old gent like myself deserves a wee bit of your time.

Rita blinked in surprise. I didn’t know about any dance, but I don’t think—

McGregor made a noise of disgust and glared at Brady. Did you mean to be keepin’ the lass to yourself?

No. The subject never came up in conversation.

Typical. These young men. They don’t know what’s important in life. McGregor moved to the gelding and lifted the animal’s rear hoof. Next Saturday night there’s a barn dance in town. Everyone’s invited. It’s at the lodge, so it’s not really a barn, but it’s called that. There’s lots of music and food. Perhaps a wee bit of drink, too. He held the metal shoe against the hoof, then lowered the animal’s leg.

Brady, who hadn’t been to one of the town dances in months, found himself suddenly eager to go. To dance. Specifically with Rita. Down boy, he warned himself.

They’re a lot of fun, Brady said, hoping he sounded casual. You’ll know a lot of people there. At her questioning look he added, The cowboys all go. Even Tex. You don’t need a date.

"But you