took a bite of egg. The dog came to sit on the floor next to her. The white bit of fluff stood on its hind legs and begged. She tossed it a piece of egg.
“Where did you get the dog?” she asked, hoping to ease the tension between them. “A Maltese? She isn’t really the kind of dog I pictured a bull-riding cowboy to have.”
“I’m not a bull rider anymore. I’m just a guy living on a ranch, running some cattle with my brothers.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. She knew he’d wanted to be a world champion. She knew about dreams and how they drove a person. She’d dreamed of seeing a little more of the country before settling down into the rest of her life.
He’d had other dreams he’d shared with her. He’d wanted to find the mother who’d walked out on them. He didn’t want to be a man who gave up the way his dad had. He rarely talked about how his mom’s abandonment had affected him, but it was there, not so far beneath the surface. He had a hard time trusting.
He cleared his throat and tossed the dog a piece of bacon.
“I got the dog at the grocery store in Austin. She was thin and her hair was matted. The guy who had her wanted twenty bucks. I couldn’t leave her.” It was easier for him to talk about the dog than about bull riding.
That unwillingness to leave a stray was why she’d come here. Because as hard as he tried to be coldhearted, he wasn’t. He couldn’t leave behind a stray. He would never leave a friend to suffer.
“Brody, for what it’s worth, I am sorry.”
“I’m sure you are.” He gave her a pointed look, his gaze lingering on her bruised face.
“I’ll go. After I eat, I’ll leave.”
He slid his plate to the side. “Where would you go, Grace? Your parents are out of the country. What’s your plan?”
She shrugged, aching inside because she didn’t have a plan. She’d taken off in the middle of the night knowing she needed to put miles between herself and Lincoln. She hadn’t really planned on coming here. But when she’d put her car in gear, she’d found herself on the road to Martin’s Crossing.
“We’ll figure something out.”
With that he got up, cleared the plates and fed the scraps to the dog that was dancing around the kitchen. On hind legs, her toenails painted pink and a bow pinned between her ears, she was the last dog on earth Grace would ever expect Brody Martin to own.
For a long while Brody busied himself at the sink washing dishes. He kept his back to her, his attention focused on the plates he washed and the window over the sink. He probably expected Lincoln to show up anytime. But she’d taken the battery out of his truck, so it would take him a while.
A second wave of nausea hit, taking her by surprise. Grace ran for the bathroom and this time she didn’t shut the door. As she lost her breakfast, Brody appeared at her side. He didn’t say anything. A moment later she heard water running, then felt a cool cloth settle over the back of her neck.
Brody’s hand rested on her shoulder. He didn’t stay at her side, though. She heard his booted footsteps going down the hall, away from her. She pulled the cloth off her neck and wiped her face free of tears.
When she returned to the kitchen he was sitting at the table, his leg propped up on the empty chair. He had a cup of coffee in his hands and the dog on his lap.
“So how far along are you?” His gaze brushed down her body, lingering on the loose button-up shirt she’d pulled on over her T-shirt.
Grace leaned against the counter and tried to shift her focus from his face, from the disappointment she would see. Emotions clogged her throat, making it hard to speak. She rubbed hands down cheeks that felt warm and took a deep breath.
“About four months,” she admitted, shifting her focus from the living room with worn leather furniture to the man sitting in front of her.
“I see.” Brody brushed a hand through his dark hair. “I guess he knows and isn’t too happy?”
“No, he isn’t.” It hurt too much to think about the clinic Lincoln had driven her to in another state. They’d sat in the parking lot for an hour as he’d tried to talk her in to making a choice she didn’t want to make. In the end she’d refused. He’d been angry, but he hadn’t seen a way to force her into the building.
She’d ended their relationship that day. But Lincoln kept coming back.
“We need to find you a place to stay.”
Because he wouldn’t let her stay with him. That went without saying. “Brody, I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”
“Me, too.” He said it so quietly that she had to lean in to catch the words. He limped to the living room and grabbed keys and his cell phone off the table. “Let’s go.”
On the way out the door he grabbed his hat, shoving it down tight on his head.
She followed him out the door to his truck. Rain was still coming down, heavy and cool. He opened the passenger side door for her and she slid in. Without asking he reached for the seat belt and pulled it across her lap. As if she was five years old and couldn’t do it for herself.
The movement put them too close, and that was the last thing either of them needed. “I can do it, Brody.”
“Yeah, I guess you can.”
She clicked the seat belt in place and reached to close the door. Just then, a truck came up the drive and parked. Brody limped to the vehicle and his brother Jake got out. The other man studied her for a moment, then resumed his conversation with Brody. She’d met Brody’s brothers a time or two at different events. She doubted they knew much about her, other than her name.
The two men continued to talk, acting as if they didn’t notice the rain that soaked their clothes, dripped off their hats.
Jake Martin said something else to Brody. Brody raised a hand in a wave that became a salute. Grace knew the brothers were close. They’d raised each other and saved this ranch together. She also knew that having two older brothers sometimes got under Brody’s skin.
Finally, he joined her in the truck, grumbling about older brothers who should stay out of his business. He jerked off his hat, tossed it in the backseat of his truck and brushed a hand through damp hair that formed loose curls. The tan skin of his face, stretched taught over lean cheeks and a strong jawline, was damp. He raised his arm and used his sleeve to wipe away the moisture.
“I don’t want to cause you problems with your brothers.”
“You aren’t causing me any problems. They can’t think of me as an adult.”
She knew better. “No, they can’t stand to see you hurt by the woman who cheated on you.”
“They don’t know about you. About us.” He started the truck and eased out of the driveway. “I think I know where you can stay.”
He didn’t expand on that. Details weren’t Brody’s thing. She’d just have to trust him. Who else
