only that recklessness wasn’t so damn enticing.
* * *
“YOUR NEW NEIGHBOR seems nice,” Brock told his ma as he piled mashed potatoes onto his plate, trying to keep any hint of emotion out of his voice.
The old woman was terrible at hiding her exasperation. She had been so interested to hear what had happened that he was surprised she hadn’t been hanging out a window with binoculars and some kind of long-distance microphone like in an old spy movie.
Well, it served her right to be on tenterhooks for a while, after that bit of meddling. Not that she shouldn’t already know exactly how it went. She was well aware of his rule.
A bite of delicious fried chicken later, he felt he had tortured her enough.
“No kids, ma. You know that.”
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Brock, I can’t understand what you have against children, particularly those two. They’re sweet things. And being around them might do you, and them, some good. Howie, tell him,” she said, swatting her husband on the arm.
The elderly man looked up from his food slowly, clearly unwilling to join the conversation. His gray mustache shifted from side to side as he chewed. After it was clear he was expected to make some sort of contribution, though, he nodded slightly. “Fine boys,” he said.
Sarah looked triumphant, as if that settled everything.
Brock shrugged. “You know how I feel about raising kids. Between the rodeo circuit and the kind of life I live—”
His ma snorted, making her thoughts clear on that score. He plowed on, regardless.
“—I don’t want the responsibility of children hanging over me every time I go rock climbing or hop on my motorcycle.”
He didn’t need to say any more. His adopted parents knew that he would never want to leave children without a father. When his parents had died...well, it wasn’t something he would wish on anyone.
He turned his attention to his food, the air thick with unspoken words.
Still, if there was ever a woman who could make him consider breaking his “no kids” rule, it was this Cassie. Even then, the only type of relationship he was prepared to have with her would need to be something temporary, casual, especially when he’d be on the road again in another couple of weeks, and he doubted she would be okay with something like that. Not a widow with two young children.
It was best not to even start something, no matter how tempting the lady.
His ma shook her head at him. “Why you and your sister can’t be happy with a nice calm life, I’ll never know. With her always thousands of miles away and you doing reckless heaven-knows-what...at least your brothers don’t try me like the two of you.”
Brock bit his tongue, but he was sure Ma knew what he was thinking: what she called “reckless,” he called fun, interesting, exciting.
“Where’s Amy going after her visit?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.
“She said she needs to write an article about Morocco or something,” Ma said, still glowering. “It’s as if you two have a bet going to see who can make the last of my hairs gray the fastest.”
Brock had to laugh at that. He’d never told Ma about the time the previous winter that he’d nearly snowboarded off a cliff face when a storm blew up around him, or a dozen other adventures he’d had in the last few years, but he could imagine her hair going pure white if she ever found out about it. He wondered if Amy had been keeping similar secrets from their ma.
The older woman harrumphed, but didn’t say anything more on the subject, and for that he was grateful. They’d had the “When are you going to settle down?” conversation so many times that another run-through just sounded exhausting.
After eating, Brock climbed the stairs to his childhood room, too tired from the competition earlier in the day and the long ride home to think about much of anything. Before he went to sleep, however, the image of Cassie floated before his eyes, and he drifted off with a smile on his lips.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING dawned hot and still, the sky quickly turning from soft lavender to a bright, cloudless blue. Cassie was awake but kept her eyes shut, not wanting to let go of the luxurious feeling that had come with whatever dream she had been having. Most of it had slipped away the moment she awoke, but she remembered one part of it with a vivid clarity: strong arms encircling her, holding her close to a warm muscular body.
She sighed and opened her bleary eyes, pulling herself off her bed, which was currently nothing more than a mattress and box spring on the floor. The time for dreaming was over, and that dream in particular had no place in her very busy day. She looked around the bedroom full of cartons, her eyes passing from the unfinished Ikea dresser to the headboard leaning against one wall, waiting to be attached to a bed frame she hadn’t gotten around to putting together. She sighed again and started rummaging in one of the boxes for something to wear.
They had moved into the house two weeks before, but with the delays from the moving company and two raucous boys with no friends in town yet, she had hardly made a dent in the mounds of containers everywhere. Most of her time had simply been spent assessing what needed to be fixed and trying to organize the mass of paperwork the Wilsons left her about the property, none of which helped much.
What had she been thinking, buying this place and moving them all out here to chase some childish dream of hers? The thought had flitted through her mind over and over again since they’d arrived.
Without noticing, she had gotten to the bottom of the box of clothes, and her hand touched something silky. Curious, she pulled out whatever it was she’d found, promptly dropping it in surprise. The lingerie fell to the floor, a small pool of black silk and lace.
She didn’t remember packing it, had even forgotten she’d ever purchased the thing. It was years ago now, when she was trying to keep her marriage afloat. It was a reminder that she had once hoped to have an exciting love life, the sort of thing she was now avoiding.
Cassie shook her head slightly and shoved the thing into the bottom of the box marked “Pajamas,” then went back to picking something practical to wear. She pulled on jeans and a blouse, trying to forget the sexy black teddy, only to have the concerns about her new ranch rush back in on her.
She tried to make those thoughts go away, too. It was too late to second-guess her decision to put an offer on the ranch and sign the mortgage paperwork, so she might as well stop it and just look ahead to what needed to get done so their new home would run smoothly. Now that she’d have someone helping who might know a thing or two about how to do that, she felt hopeful about the progress that would be made.
If she could manage to keep her hands off him, of course.
She walked out of her depressingly cluttered room without looking at it again. That would need to wait until she dealt with more pressing matters, like when she could start seeing patients and figuring out how she could get the ranch to make money.
She let the worry drift to the back of her mind as she entered the living room, where Zach and Carter were using the piles of boxes and some blankets to make a fort. She smiled and crawled through the little doorway they had created using two kitchen chairs
