Since she had plans to open a store of her own one day soon, one that specialized in trendy fashions and quirky, unusual items, she’d moved back to Brighton Valley until she could sock away some money.
Working at the feed store felt like a step backward, but Papa was so happy to have her home again that she didn’t mind.
“I missed my little girl,” he’d said when he helped her carry her suitcases into the house.
She knew her absence bothered him, but since she was the oldest of his children by seven years, and with six younger siblings, there were still plenty of little ones in the house.
She stopped by the small display pen that held baby ducks, picked up the smallest one and rubbed its soft down against her cheek. Then, after she set it loose again, she brushed off her hands on her oldest pair of jeans.
All of her good clothes—the ones she wore for her old job—were still in a suitcase under the bunk bed she was sharing with her twelve-year-old half sister. She arched her back, thinking of the small twin-size mattress that was much firmer than the one she’d been used to.
While she didn’t mind coming home to help out her family and save money, she definitely missed living on her own in the city.
The first twelve years of her life, she’d been raised by her mother as an only child, so it was only natural for her to enjoy her solitude.
When her mom died, she moved in with her dad and stepmom full-time. She’d tried to help whenever she was needed, and before long, she was babysitting, cleaning up spills and wiping tears.
These days, she often had to referee fights. She loved her siblings, she truly did. But she’d enjoyed getting away from them, too.
A truck engine sounded outside, announcing that their first customer of the day had arrived. She secured the hair clip that held the thick, dark mass of curls away from her face, neck and shoulders while she worked.
Moments later, a man and two children entered the store. The kids both appeared to be Hispanic and didn’t resemble the blond-haired cowboy in the least. So her interest was immediately piqued.
When the little boy noticed the rabbits on display, he immediately brightened. “Conejitos! Bela, mira!”
The girl—his sister, Elena guessed—hurried to his side, and they each found a bunny to pet.
Elena turned to the fair-haired cowboy, who stood about six foot one. When he noticed her, a pair of dazzling green eyes locked on to hers and sent her heart rate on a mad scamper to find a normal pace.
Too handsome for a local cowboy was the first thought that came to her mind.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Not unless you run a day care center out back.”
Elena laughed. “Only when my mom brings my younger brothers and sisters by the store. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged a single shoulder. “Just my attempt to find humor in a sticky situation.”
She lifted a brow, and he slid her an easy grin.
“I’m looking after these kids for my brother,” he said, “and they don’t speak English. So I’m in a real fix when it comes to communicating with them. I’m doing my best, but I have to find a bilingual nanny—like yesterday.”
Elena felt a tug on her sleeve. When she glanced down, the little girl with large brown eyes and lopsided pigtails pointed to the rear of the store, where the boy had wandered over to a display of straw cowboy hats. He’d apparently knocked several to the floor.
“Sorry about that,” the handsome cowboy said. “I’ll get those picked up.”
“Don’t give it a second thought.” Elena strolled to the table display and smiled at the boy. “No es problema, mijo.” She helped him restack the hats, then took one and placed it on his head. In Spanish, she asked if he wanted to be a cowboy.
He smiled, revealing a missing front tooth, and nodded, the oversize hat flopping forward and back. “Si, yo quiero ser un vaquero como Señor Braden.”
So he admired “Senor Braden” and wanted a hat like his. She glanced at the fair-haired cowboy, then back at the boy, who was pointing to the man. Then it clicked.
“Now I know why you looked familiar,” she said. “You’re Braden Rayburn. Your great-grandmother owned a ranch near here.”
“Yes, and my maternal grandpa owned... Well, I now own the Bar M.”
“I was sorry to hear about your grandfather’s passing,” she said. “My dad told me that he attended his celebration of life. I’m afraid I was still in Austin at the time.”
“Forgive me, but I don’t recognize you. But then again, my grandpa was the one who always picked up supplies or had them delivered. After my rodeo days, I spent most of my time on the ranch.”
She reached out her arm in greeting. “I’m Elena Ramirez, Paco’s daughter.”
He took her hand in his, enveloping her in a warm, calloused grip that sent her senses reeling. “No kidding? I knew Paco had a lot of kids, but I had no idea that he...” His voice trailed off, but she knew what he’d been about to say. He hadn’t realized Elena was one of them. Well, that’s not a surprise. She found it difficult to believe at times, too.
“I’ve been away at college,” she said. “And for the past four years I haven’t been back to Brighton Valley as often as I should have.”
Before either of them could speak, the boy walked up carrying a black and white bunny. “Perdona me, señorita. Quanto dinero por el conejito?”
She smiled at the little guy and said, “Cinco dolares.”
“Did he want to know how much the rabbits cost?” Braden asked.
Elena nodded. “I told him five dollars. But you’re in luck. We’re running a sale this week. They’re two for eight.”
Braden put up the hand that had once gripped hers to motion a halt. “Sorry, but no way. I have two children more than I can handle as it is—not to mention a couple of stray cats they found this morning.”
She glanced at the kids, who’d returned to the rabbit cage, clearly enamored. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider? Look at them.”
“I’m tempted—but only because Beto has managed to stay out of trouble for five minutes.”
She smiled. “Actually, my brothers and sisters have pets. It teaches them responsibility.”
“What did you major in at college?” Braden asked. “Child psychology?”
She laughed. “Business, actually, with a minor in art.”
His grin deepened, creating a pair of dimples in his cheeks, and his green eyes sparked. “You’ve got a talent for sales. I’d say it might be wasted at a small-town feed store.”
She felt the same way, although she’d
