Between a Rock and a Cowboy (Rocky Road Ranch Book 1)

Chapter 4

He pulledon his anger to tamp down the rush of desire that hit at the look in Amanda’s eyes. She stared at his torso as if she wanted to lick him. Shit. He’d never had anyone look at him like that, at least that he could remember. Granted, it had been a good long while since he’d been with a woman. Why wasn’t she with his dad? “Well?”

She finally lifted her gaze to his, and he caught his breath at the desire in the depths of her blue eyes. She blinked, taking a step back.

On second thought, he didn’t want to know. Turning on his heel, he strode back toward the gate.

“Wait.”

At her voice, he didn’t hesitate, just kept walking. He needed to get as far away from her as possible.

A long loud moo, however, stop him in his tracks. Shit. If it wasn’t one female then it was another. Changing direction, he headed for Lulubelle and the birthing enclosure he’d locked her in so he could help the new calf be born without his lovesick cow interfering. That heifer didn’t care about anyone or anything else except her own needs.

“Tanner?”

At the moment, he’d take Lulubelle over Amanda Hayden in a heartbeat. Continuing to ignore Amanda, he unlocked the gate of the individual birthing enclosure and stepped back.

It must not be his lucky day because Lulubelle wasn’t happy with him and instead of running out to join the other pregnant cows, she turned toward him, backing him into the fencing and pushing her head into his chest. He grabbed her chin to pull her face up just as she stuck out her tongue and licked.

“Ugh, not again.” Turning her head to the side, he slipped out from between her and the fence and quickly headed back to the exit, not unaware of Amanda’s laughter. Not knowing or caring if she followed, he slipped through the gate and closed it before he untied Fury, jumped on his back, and kicked him in the direction of the stables.

He was halfway there before his stomach growled, reminding him it was lunch time and Brody must be giving dad his lunch. That still didn’t give Amanda the right to ride out on Dad’s horse to the birthing enclosure. Then again, he doubted the calf would have made it without her. Seeing as how she’d helped with that, he wouldn’t yell at her for taking Dad’s horse, and call it even. He’d be damned if he’d be beholden to a Hayden for help.

Stopping at the stables, he jumped off and brought Fury inside for some well-deserved water. He heard the sound of horse’s hooves approaching and made the mistake of turning to watch her ride in. Despite her years at college and whatever else she’d done since marrying her lawyer, she still sat a horse well. Not just well, but as if born to it, which he didn’t doubt she was. What he hadn’t expected was the spark of attraction that hit him in the gut like a one-ton bull ready to stud. “What the hell?”

Returning to Fury, he added some fresh oats for him and started for the other exit, seeing no reason to talk to her anymore. But when he passed by Maximus’ stall, his irritation got the best of him and he stopped, turning to face her just as she jumped down from her mount. “Make sure you rub him down, give him plenty of water and extra hay. He wasn’t supposed to go out today.”

She smiled, as if happy to do all of those things. “Of course.” She hugged the horse around the neck. “I’m very pleased to have met you, Maximus.”

He shook his head and started out, when one of his ranch hands came out of a stall. “Ernesto, what are you doing back here?”

His man looked past him then gestured toward the stall.

This couldn’t be good. Following Ernesto, he expected the man to show him a lame horse, but instead the man stopped and lifted his phone, pointing to it. “I gotta go.”

Since Ernesto kept his voice low, he did as well. “Why? What’s wrong?” He hoped the man wasn’t sick.

“My mom. I just got a call from my wife. They rushed Mom to the hospital. They’re not sure what’s wrong, but they’re running tests. I gotta go be with her.”

The second the man said hospital, his insides froze. He’d rather go to hell then back to that place. “Of course.” Now he would be down another man, but what could he do? “Go. Keep me updated.”

The man scanned the stable as if checking that everything was in its place. “I know this isn’t good for you. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

He clapped the man on the shoulder. “Hey, I get it. I’ve been there, remember? You go take care of your mom. Don’t worry about us.”

“Thanks.” Ernesto quickly strode out.

He stood there staring after the man, mentally trying to figure out how he could cover all that needed to be done with one less man when he was already short two. Maybe he’d have Brody put that ad online for another hand. He’d been in no hurry to vet another worker, but there was no way he’d make it through the next few weeks of calving season down two men and now Ernesto.

“That was very nice of you.”

“What?” More surprised by how Amanda could get so close to him without hearing her boot heels on the stable floor than by the statement, he was caught off guard.

She pointed to the open stable doors. “You letting him leave for who knows how long when you’re short staffed. That had to be hard.” She stood on tiptoe, her hand on his bare shoulder as she kissed his cheek.

He wasn’t sure if it was her understanding of his situation or her vanilla scent that had him turning his head to capture her lips with his. Not that it mattered. Her lips were so damn soft. At the touch of her hand on his neck, he wrapped his arm around her. She opened her mouth, and he didn’t decline the invitation.

As their tongues met, a crack of desire shot through his gut and he pulled her hard against him. She tasted of sweet tea and something more. Whatever it was, a craving started in his stomach as need began to build. He could feel himself growing hard, when a horse neighed and he remembered where he was and who he was. More importantly, who he was kissing.

He dropped his arm and pulled his mouth away abruptly, not even sure why the kiss started, but not happy about it.

Amanda immediately dropped her hand from around his neck, leaving a cool spot where she had touched him. “I better change and get back to your dad.”

Before he could catch her reaction, she turned and walked purposefully from the stables.

He took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow, then placed it back on his head, the spot on his neck still feeling oddly cool. That wasn’t happening again…ever. Suddenly uncomfortable, he scanned the building to make sure no one had seen him act like an idiot. Luckily, the only one staring at him was Fury. “What? Eat your oats.”

The horse didn’t do as he was told, which was hardly a surprise. Ignoring Fury, he headed for the exit. What the hell had he been thinking to kiss a Hayden? So what if she rode well, was attractive and soft, and smelled good. There were plenty of women out there like that. What he needed was a night out in town. But that wasn’t about to happen. There was a reason he hadn’t been out at night since his dad’s stroke and that reason hadn’t changed. In fact, now he was in worse straits than before.

Part of him wished Jackson would come home, but he always wished that. His brother’s deployment caused a cloud over him that just never went away. There was always a niggling worry. Dad would tell him he coddled everyone, but his father wasn’t there when Devlin fell.

He halted even as he reached for the door to the house. Instead of opening it, he placed his palm flat against it and took two deep breaths, counting to ten both times. Then he turned around and scanned the ranch from the front porch. The habit was the only way he kept from going down the dark tunnel of guilt that opened up every time Devlin entered his head.

From where he stood, most of the ranch was west of him with the driveway to the east. It was still theirs. He could be proud of that and that his father was home and getting the best care. His men were well-trained and safe. He still had control. He just had to focus on the next step, which was having Brody place the ad. Maybe he should let Brody vet any responses down to his favorite three. Even as the idea hit him, some of his tension left. Though Brody had no interest in taking the reins one day, it would still be good experience for him.

Turning back toward the door, he opened it, and strode in. Brody was putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher as he entered the kitchen. “Did Dad eat everything?”

His brother shook his head. “No. But he ate half. I ate the other half. Another day and those leftovers would be rotten. Didn’t think we needed to throw out good food.”

“Good.” Of course, that meant he’d have to make his own lunch. “Remember how you keep hounding me about hiring more men?”

Brody halted, the dish in his hand hovering over the top rack. “You going to?”

He walked to the fridge and pulled out a water bottle. “You’re going to.”

Brody’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Mostly.” He pushed out a stool, opened the bottle, and took a gulp before sitting. “Go ahead and send out the ad you wanted to on that website. You get it narrowed down to three and I’ll talk to them. Then we can decide who’s best.”

“Why now?” Brody added the dish and closed the dishwasher then washed his hands.

“Ernesto just left. His mom was rushed to the hospital.”

“Well, flippin’ A.” Brody dried his hands with the towel. “It’s like it’s a pandemic. Is she going to be okay?”

“He doesn’t know.” Even as he said the words, the chilled feeling he got when he rode to the hospital with his dad skittered up his spine. “He says they’re doing tests.”

“That sucks.”

Yeah, it did, for Ernesto and them. “So you think you can get that ad up tonight?”

“Sure thing.” His brother gave him a wise smile. “Unless you’d like me to do it now, and you head back out to the pond.”

The pond was a polite way of saying mud hole, which it only was when the monsoons came through. “No, tonight will do. I have to eat and get back out to the birthing pen to check on the new calf. Almost lost it.”

“Was it stuck?”

“Yeah. She didn’t dilate enough. I wish we had only experienced mothers, but there’s always first-time ones to look out for.”

Brody’s sly smile was back as he motioned with his water bottle. “That why you’re prancing around without a shirt? And here I thought it was to impress Miss Hayden.”

The comment struck far too close, and he scowled. “Wiseass. Get back to work. I have lunch to make.” He stood, pushing the stool back at the same time.

“I’m going.” Brody held his hands up as if being robbed. “Don’t shoot me over it.”

He ignored his brother as he moved to the fridge, Brody hustling out of the kitchen. He had the roast beef, tomato, and mayo out by the time the front door closed. As he made his sandwich, he mentally calculated the budget in his head. He could hire two men if he had to, but one would have to be less experienced. That could be good or bad, depending.

He tried to stay focused on his lunch and his responsibilities, but Amanda’s voice in the den kept distracting him.

“Come on, Jeremiah. You don’t really want Brody feeding you for the rest of your life, do you?”

Her laugh followed. No surprise there. His father was probably being a wiseass. Brody was like him in so many ways.

“Very well. I was going to bring you Mrs. Silva’s famous Cake Batter ice cream tomorrow, but if you can’t eat it, there’s no reason to bring it.”

He shook his head even as he chewed. That wasn’t going to work. His dad could never be bribed. He’d tried far too many times as a teen.

“Just think, if you master using a spoon, you can check off one utensil from your list of skills to master. But if you want to give up before the first one is even attem―oh.”

He grinned. Now that was how to rile up his dad. Tell him he was a quitter and watch things happen. A soft pang hit his heart as a memory of his mother using that very tactic filled his head. She hadn’t used it often, but that and telling his dad she’d hire someone who could take care of something would jolt his father into action faster than a bronco bucked off its rider.

Finishing his lunch, he set the dishes in the sink and headed to his room to grab a shirt. The last thing he needed was a sunburn. Grabbing a white and tan checked button-down that had seen better days, he buttoned it as he strode through the house, intent on getting back out to the new calf. If she wasn’t nursing, he’d have to play mother, like he had with Lulubelle. He slowed his step. If that was the case, he’d put Brody on calf duty tomorrow. The last thing he needed was another lovesick heifer.

Walking into the entry, he grabbed up his hat and reached for the door.

“Tanner?”

Her voice was barely a whisper and still it sent a shiver through him. Turning, he was surprised to find that she looked as if she’d just seen a ghost, her face paler than usual and her eyes wide.

Immediately, every muscle tensed. “Yes. Is something wrong with my dad?”

She gave a short nod.

Hell. There was no one in the house, so they couldn’t talk outside and leave his dad alone.

He pointed down the hall, and she started that way. As he followed, he forced himself not to look at her ass. Instead, he focused on her blonde ponytail. Her hair was very straight and fine. Most of it was white blonde but there were golden strands mixed in.

When she stopped, he did too, careful to keep at least four feet away, though he’d prefer four fields away. He kept his voice low. “What’s wrong?”

“I just discovered your father can talk.”

“What? That’s great.” The joy that rifled through him had him forgetting his volume and she pushed her finger against his lips. He froze, ignoring the urge to suck her finger into his mouth.

As if just realizing what she did, she dropped her hand. “Shh.”

Why would the fact his father could talk have to be kept quiet? “I don’t understand what the problem is.”

She crossed her arms even as her brow furrowed. “Because of how I discovered it.”

He didn’t care how as long as it was true, but to humor her he asked the expected question. “How did you discover it?”

She leaned in. “He was talking to your mother.”

His heart hiccupped at that. “My mother?”

“Yes. Did he do that before the stroke?” Her gaze was so hopeful, he didn’t want to crush it.

But he shook his head. “Not that I know of. Dad never told me he spoke to Mom, and I never heard him. But I can ask Brody.”

Amanda’s look turned pensive. “That means it’s a new behavior.”

He didn’t care if it was new. His father could talk! “But he’s talking. That’s a good thing, right?”

She met his gaze. “It’s not clear. His words are formed, but barely. It’s more like garbled mumbling, but he is vocalizing.”

That sounded good to him. “To me that’s excellent progress.” If his father could talk, then he could ask him questions, get advice. Amanda still didn’t seem to share his optimism, and it pissed him off. Did she have an ulterior motive? “What is it? Why aren’t you thrilled that my father is talking?”

She uncrossed her arms and leaned against the hallway wall. “It was the way he did it. He was staring at something I couldn’t see and having a complete conversation.”

Even as she said the words, a chill raced up his spine. “Are you saying he’s talking to my mother’s ghost?”

“No, of course not. At least not a real ghost. But he sees her, even in his own mind and that worries me. It’s another behavior that points toward suicidal thoughts.”

A wave of anger hit him hard, and he clenched his fists. “My father is not suicidal.”

Her blue gaze studied him like he was some scientific experiment she needed to figure out. “I didn’t say he was, but I have concerns about his mental state.”

“Well, you should. You said yourself that the stroke affected his brain.”

“Yes, but in the sense of physical modalities and possibly his personality, not in his emotional state.” She took a deep breath and stood straight, facing him head on. “You need to hire a psychologist. Even if it’s just―”

“A what? You mean a shrink?” His brows lowered and his jaw tightened. “Dad is not mentally ill. He’s dealing with his limitations. I get that. I’m sure it frustrates the hell out of him. He may be talking to my mom because he doesn’t feel comfortable revealing his feelings to us. That’s understandable. He still deserves to have his privacy, at least in this. His every move involves someone taking care of him, even bathing him. That would certainly piss me off.” Now that he really thought about it, how little privacy Dad actually had made himself uncomfortable.

“Tanner, just give it some thought. What harm can it do?”

“A hell of a lot if he knows he’s talking to a shrink. If he’s fine, he’d never forgive me.”

Her gaze turned cold. “Then that’s just a risk you’re going to have to take.” Without another word, she brushed by him and started back down the hall.

He turned. “I don’t have to do anything. I’m the one in charge, not you.” Even as the words left his mouth, he grimaced. He sounded like a two year old.

She didn’t turn around, but she threw her hand up, making it clear she was done talking to him.

He stalked after her, planning to continue the conversation, but she had packed up her fancy laptop and was heading out the door. “Wait, where are you going?”

“You’re the one in charge, so take charge. He’s all yours. I’m so done for the day.” She opened the door.

“You can’t. I’m paying you for the whole day.”

She slammed the door shut in his face.

What the ―a sound from the other room had him halting. Listening, he heard it again. It wasn’t a creak. It was more like a squeak. Worry wormed its way through his mind, and he quickly headed to the den. Fearing his dad was trying to get out of his recliner on his own, he made it there in seconds.

Dad was right where he was supposed to be, in his recliner taking his afternoon nap. Relief washed through him even as he scanned the room for where the sound could have come from, but nothing made sense. Isaac was probably out on the back porch until his lunch break was over, so the room was empty except for his dad. Even the television was off.

Could Dad have moved and caused the recliner to squeak? He stepped into the room carefully, so as not to wake him. The tile beneath his feet didn’t creak, but his cowboy boots could make a lot of noise. As he stepped closer, he could see his dad’s lips moving. Maybe he snored and that was what made the sound.

Drawing closer, he could see his dad wasn’t snoring. He was talking, but so softly and garbled that he couldn’t make out what was being said. As he stood there listening, the sound happened again, but this time he could tell it wasn’t a squeak, so much as a whistle.

They had a dog when he was younger who used to come when his dad whistled. Maybe Dad was dreaming about the past. Back then, the ranch was thriving, Mom and Devlin were alive, and they were happy. Even as his memory filled in the pieces, the joy of the time gave way to bitterness. How far they were from those happy times.

Quietly, he retreated back to the kitchen, wishing his father pleasant dreams, before the struggles, the betrayal, and the death. Life would never be like that again. Hell, he wasn’t even thirty-one yet, and all he had to look forward to was survival? The thought had his mouth going dry and he grabbed another water from the fridge. Opening it, he took three full gulps, emptying half of it. He’d been so busy with Dad and the ranch, the daily tasks and concerns, he’d not thought about what happened beyond the next day.

He moved to the family room to sit on the couch, setting the bottle on the end table. Staring out the sliding doors opposite him, he frowned at the mountains in the distance. He’d always known Rocky Road would be his one day. Maybe when his dad was in his seventies. He’d been excited by that prospect. Now, it felt like a monsoon storm ripping through him, taking out chunks of him as he sought to hold on. What the hell had happened?

Amanda rolled her eyes at Jeremiah. “I’m not falling for that trick. I know for a fact you aren’t tired. In fact, Isaac told me you overslept this morning.”

Jeremiah shrugged, his shoulders unequal still, which concerned her. He should be progressing more, but he spent all his time goofing off. It had already been four weeks, and he continued to be stubborn about what he would and wouldn’t do.

“Very well. If you aren’t going to try to improve, then there’s no reason for me to keep coming. I’ll just tell Tanner he doesn’t need me anymore.” That would certainly make things easier for her after that kiss they shared. What had she been thinking? She covered the squeeze ball with her hand and started to pull it off the table, when Jeremiah grabbed her wrist.

“Nah!”

Part of her jumped with glee that she got him to speak in front of her, but his grip was far too tight to be happy. “Why not?”

He shrugged again, not looking at her, but didn’t let go.

“If you want me to stay for some reason, you’d best be telling me why. I don’t see why Tanner should pay me when I can’t help you.”

“Hep. Tanna. Stay.”

“So you want me to stay, so you can help Tanner?”

Jeremiah thrust her arm away from him and spat at the floor.

Rubbing her wrist, she frowned, thoroughly confused. Could Tanner’s dad really dislike him that much? She’d seen their relationship was contentious, though Tanner’s love for his dad was painfully clear. “So you don’t want to help Tanner?”

Jeremiah scowled before he slammed his good fist down on the table. “Kent!”

She jumped, surprised by the outburst since she hadn’t seen Jeremiah mad since she started, but anger could be good. If she understood, the man felt that he couldn’t be of any help. “Not now. You can’t help until you gain your strength and coordination back. Then you can―”

“Kent!” He slammed his fist down again.

“Can’t or won’t?”

Jeremiah whipped his arm back into his lap and scowled at it, his lips stubbornly closed.

She understood the frustration more than he knew. At fifty-two, the once robust man was barely strong enough to lift a spoon and his body and mouth wouldn’t work like he wanted them to. It had been demoralizing for herself as a teenager, but for a man of his age, a patriarch of a family, the head of a business, it had to be devastating. The more he acted out, the more she grew convinced he needed psychological help beyond her rudimentary understanding.

Somehow, she had to get Tanner to agree to hiring that help. That might mean forcing him to understand that his father would never be what he once was, or worse, admitting her own weakness. She didn’t look forward to that conversation. Glancing at the clock, she realized she didn’t have much time to prepare for it. Tanner would be in to make his dad’s lunch soon. She’d avoided him for the last week when he served his father lunch, slipping out of the room to eat herself.

Their kiss had been a surprise that had her blood singing right down to her toes. That shouldn’t be, not when he was a Dunn. She’d gone out dancing last weekend with girlfriends, hoping her reaction to Tanner’s kiss was just her lack of time spent with men, or rather cowboys, to be specific. Unfortunately, the cowboys she danced with did nothing for her, and when one particularly bold fellow had moved in for a kiss, she had quickly turned away.

It had taken everything she had to tell Tanner about his dad talking to his mom. She’d been so thrilled when she walked in to hear Jeremiah talking, but when she moved close enough to hear him, her worry grew. However, when she’d stepped in front of Jeremiah and he kept looking at the empty space to her right, she knew something was very wrong. To have Tanner be so stubborn as to deny his father help because he refused to believe what a stroke could do to someone’s mental state had just been too much.

She’d gone straight home and called LaReina in case Tanner called to complain, but he never did. Maybe he realized he was wrong and instead of avoiding him, she should have been talking to him? Maybe he was ready to listen. She didn’t actually believe that, but she couldn’t discount it as a possibility.

In the meantime, she had to try again to motivate Jeremiah. “Okay, so you’re pissed. I get it. The least you can do is work on the words so you can make your anger heard and understood.”

He didn’t look at her, but his brow relaxed as did his mouth.

“I mean, if you’re going to swear at someone, the least you can do is get the words right.”

Jeremiah looked at her. “Shut.”

She should have known he’d be happy to work on swear words. Pretending she had no idea what he meant, she rose. “You want me to shut the bedroom door?”

His scowl was back. “Shut.” He shook his head.

“Remember those mouth exercises I’ve been teaching you?”

He lifted his good hand and pretended to yawn.

“Very funny. If you practiced them, you could swear right now like an angry trucker at a skunk in his cab.”

Jeremiah frowned at her like she’d lost her mind.

“Never mind. Just focus. You already have the “sh” and “t” sound, so you only have to work on the short “i” sound.”

The sound of the front door opening, told her she had an even harder discussion to look forward to in the adjoining room. “I’m going to let you practice while I talk to Tanner.”

Jeremiah grinned and stuck out his tongue and wiggled it.

“Really? That’s not the exercise for the short “i” sound. Now if you practice that one you can swear at Tanner.”

The man’s eyes lit with glee as he started to practice.

Now why did that motivate him? Was he that resentful of his son? She walked into the kitchen expecting Tanner but found Brody instead. “I thought it’s Tanner’s turn today?”

Brody took leftovers out from the fridge and popped open the container. “He called. He’s running late. He had to go into town to meet with some of the Town Council members. Some planning committee or board or something. He should be here soon, but he didn’t want dad to starve.”

As Brody continued getting out a plate and silverware, she moved to the counter where her laptop was. Now, she’d have to wait until he arrived home. He’d probably be in a terrible mood like he was last time he had to do something for them. Rocky Road Ranch was obviously planning some kind of expansion or change, but it wasn’t her place to find out what. The last thing she wanted was information about the ranch she would have to hide from her father.

Maybe she should wait until the day after tomorrow. The only time she saw him was when he had lunch duty. But she hated to wait much longer. She’d at least like a psych evaluation done.

“So how’s Dad doing?”

She looked up from her laptop notes. Not sure what Tanner had told his brother, she kept things vague. “He’s making progress, but only on what he wants to do.”

“Yup, sounds like Dad.”

She had to ask. “Was he always a jokester?”

Brody froze just as he opened the microwave. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t know the youngest Dunn that well, but even she could see he’d grown a bit paler. “I mean, making faces, being a wiseass, that kind of thing.”

“He was.” Brody pulled the warm meal out and set it on the tray for his father, not looking at her. “Before Mom died.” He turned with the tray and strode into the den. “Lunch time, Dad.”

She stared at the empty archway to the den. It was another connection to the late Mrs. Dunn. Something definitely didn’t feel right. Maybe it was the stroke that changed Jeremiah’s personality. That could be, but her gut was telling her it was something more serious, and they needed to address it. It also made it clear that the only way she could be sure, or somewhat sure, to get through to Tanner was to tell him her own story. She’d mentioned it, but hadn’t given him the embarrassing details.

Closing her laptop, she stared at it a minute. Should she tell Tanner about the joking, or had he already noticed? Not sure, she pulled her satchel over and opened it, digging out her protein bar. It was not nearly as appetizing as the warmed-up lasagna Brody had on the tray for his father. She had to wonder if he’d cook for his wife one day.

Just as she unwrapped the bar, she heard a truck pull into the front. Immediately her hunger dispersed. It had to be Tanner, and they had to talk. Now.

Hopping off the stool, she strode to the front door, determined to get the conversation done and over with in private. She stepped outside and halted in her tracks.

Tanner strode toward her in a suit and tie, clean shaven and looking good enough to be on a billboard for men’s clothing. Holy shit, did he clean up nice! She hadn’t realized exactly how broad his shoulders really were.

He approached her. “Brody get my message?”

She nodded, her throat tight at the sight of him.

He looked at her quizzically. “Is he in with Dad?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes.” The word came out gruff.

“Good. I’m going to go change and head out to the north pasture then.”

She nodded, then found her voice. “No, wait.”

He had already brushed by her but came back. “What?”

As much as her stomach felt like the wave action in a one-person swimming spa, she had to tell him now. “We need to talk about getting your father some additional help.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Another person?”

She could feel the perspiration trickling between her breasts despite the fact they stood in the shade of the front porch, where it had to be only a hundred and five. “Yes. Your dad spoke to me today.”

The tension left him, and he leaned his handsome self against the porch post. “That’s a relief. What did he say?”

“He said he can’t help you with the ranch.” Though she knew it was a long shot, she hoped that that, in itself, would convince Tanner of the need for a psychologist.

Instead of being concerned, he grinned. “That sounds like Dad. Stubborn as the day is old.”

Really? It was far more than that. “Actually, he’s in there right now doing one of his mouth exercises so he can swear at you.”

Tanner chuckled as he nodded. “It sounds like my old dad is back.”

Despite the fact he was honestly thrilled with her news, she had to burst his bubble. “Exactly. Your ‘old’ dad is back. The one before your mom died.”

That got his attention. He straightened. “What do you mean? What do you know about how dad was when mom was alive.”

She shrugged, pretending a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “Just that he was a jokester and that disappeared when he became a widower, only to resurface after his stroke. That could be because the stroke affected that part of his brain, or…” she hated telling families that their loved one wished he or she was dead.

“Or what?” He took a step toward her, towering over her as if daring her to say what was on her mind.

Little did he know that tactic never worked with her. Growing up with four brothers, there hadn’t been a dare she didn’t take, usually proving to them she was right. “Or he’s reverted back to the happiest time of his life because living as he is now is impossible to accept. To be frank, your father would rather be dead.”

His jaw clenched and his neck muscles stood out against the white color of his shirt before he spoke. “You have no idea what my father thinks.”

She walked over to the bench set against the adobe wall and sat, not wanting to have Brody overhear her if he opened the door. “You’re wrong. I do know what he could be thinking.” She paused, staring at the dirt of the desert front yard. It was hard telling someone who cared about her what happened. It was almost impossible telling someone who didn’t want to hear her or care. “I know because I thought that as well. In fact, I was so convinced that I could never be myself again, never achieve my dreams of being a champion barrel horse racer, never graduate high school and go to college…never even speak normally that I attempted to take my own life.”

He turned toward her but he didn’t say anything.

She continued. “When you are in a hospital for as long as I was, you get to know the routines, what dinner will be on Tuesday, when the nurses change shift, where they keep the drugs when handing them out. What I failed to recognize in my messed-up mind was that since I was in the hospital, my condition would easily be noticed. One minute I had drifted into pure oblivion, and the next I woke with a sore throat and felt like gagging. They had pumped my stomach.”

“I didn’t know.” His voice was deep and low.

She clasped her hands, feeling as guilty and ashamed as she had at that moment, but what she also felt then, anger, was gone. Instead, she was grateful. “No one knew, except my dad, and of course he couldn’t let it be known publicly since he was a state legislator.” The old bitterness crept into her voice. “Just like no one ever knew why I was gone from school for so long and came back in a wheelchair. We were all told to keep it to ourselves.”

She looked up at him to find his gaze sympathetic, and she couldn’t stop herself. “It was just encephalitis that was so bad I went into a coma. It wasn’t like I had a venereal disease or something, but with all the hush-hush about it, I felt guilty as if I’d done something wrong. Shit, I may very well have gotten it from a mosquito bite. But no, it was a big secret, and now I don’t care if anyone knows.”

His brows furrowed. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Right?” Even as she said the word, she realized she’d gone off track. She rose, to bring herself back in line with her point. “The only reason I tell you this is that when you are in a condition like your father is, feeling like you’re a waste of space is not uncommon. I know you don’t want to hire anyone, but at least let me order a psych-evaluation. Maybe I’m wrong. I don’t pretend to be a psychologist. But isn’t it better to know either way?”

He stared at her a long time without saying a word. Then he lifted his black cowboy hat and wiped his forehead with a white handkerchief, before finally speaking. “Let me think about it.”

At least it wasn’t a definite no. “Of course. I apologize if I shared too much.” She reached for the door, but he caught her arm.

“I’m sorry you felt that way.”

She swallowed at the look in his eyes as if he’d like to take the memory from her. “Thank you.”

He let go then, and she opened the door, ducking inside. It wasn’t until she reached the kitchen that it hit her. If the Dunns were all about themselves, then why would Tanner care about what she’d gone through?

Brody walked in with the tray of leftover lasagna. “Didn’t you say his appetite should be improving?” He sounded accusatory as he set the tray on the counter with barely a fourth of the lasagna gone.

She cringed, the lack of appetite was not a good sign. “Give it time. He’s only been home a month.”

“How long does he need?”

Brody’s frustration was palpable. Yet it was nothing compared to what Jeremiah felt. “As long as it takes.”

He hmphed. “Talk about job security.”

Before she could respond, he stormed out the door, leaving the tray where it was.

She understood the man’s frustration. It often happened with family members, and she was often the brunt of the family’s feelings, but it all turned around eventually.

Then why did she feel as if she were failing…miserably?