Bride for the Rancher (Men of Valor Springs #8)

Chapter One

Cherry

I was just three days old when I was taken from my birth country and brought to the United States to live with a new family. But I was twenty years old when I first learned that the people I’d grown up calling Mom and Dad weren’t my biological parents…and I wasn’t an American citizen. Looking back, I suppose it made sense given my parents’ dark hair and brown eyes were so very different from my own pale skin, amber eyes, and fiery red hair. I’d always assumed it was simply a quirk of genetics.

Obviously, I have no memory of my biological family, and I have no way of knowing if they ever loved me, but until a few days ago, I’d believed my adoptive parents did, as much as they were capable anyway. They weren’t the warmest parents, never ones to shower me with praise or affection. Still, they gave me a good life. Maybe I didn't get the hugs that my friends did every time their moms picked them up from school or bedtime stories other dads read to their kids or even a parent attending my dance recitals, but I never wanted for anything. I always had nice clothes, could participate in whatever sport or extra-curricular I wanted, and there had been a new car waiting for me in the driveway on my sixteenth birthday. So what if my parents hadn’t actually been there to celebrate the day with me? They—or my father’s assistant—had made sure my gift was waiting when I woke up.

So, it came as a surprise when, only a day after my parents left on their anniversary trip, a federal agent knocked on our front door demanding to know where they were. Agent Jessica White from Immigration and Customs Enforcement had been the one to break the news to me that my parents weren’t my parents. She’d been gentle at first, but when I tried to call my parents only to learn their phones had been disconnected, her patience quickly turned to annoyance. She didn’t believe me that I didn’t know where they had gone or that I had no way of getting in touch with them. Afterall, Michael and Ingrid Dunbar had gone to great—and apparently illegal—lengths to adopt me; they wouldn’t just abandon me, right?

I prop my head against the cool glass of the bus window with a sigh, watching the world pass. The bus is filled with soft chatter from the other passengers, but the older lady seated beside me has already given up on trying to engage me in any conversation. It seems that I have mastered the art of discouraging people from conversing with me. All I need to do is give them clipped answers, and they’ll stop asking questions.

No, I would much rather be alone with my thoughts and try to pinpoint the exact moment my life turned to shit.

Was it when my parents decided to leave the country for their trip? I should have guessed something was wrong when they so quickly. Dad had “surprised” Mom with the last-minute trip, which was out of character for my normally methodical father. They’d grabbed their passports, hurriedly packed a couple bags, and rushed out the door, assuring me that everything was fine, they were just late for their flight. They were obviously lying.

Or maybe it all went downhill when ICE started investigating my legal status? God, when Agent White had told me that I’d been illegally adopted as a baby, that I had been trafficked into the country by a criminal group posing as an adoption agency, I’d nearly fainted. I had actually thrown up when she’d angrily informed me that unless I somehow told them where my parents had run off to, I’d be detained and deported to a country I had no memory of. She’d given me a week to come up with some answers. As the cherry on top of my shit sundae, Agent White had also let me know that my parents’ assets were all being seized and their accounts frozen, leaving me with no home and no money but what little was in my own meager savings account.

“Ugh!” I whine, knocking my head against the glass, part of me hoping that I might hit my head hard enough to wake up from this nightmare.

Once it had become clear that I was completely cut off, I’d done the only thing I could think of; I’d called my best friend Paula. I had met Paula when we were in high school, and even though she’d moved from the city where we’d grown up to the tiny town of Valor Springs, we still kept in touch. When I told her what had happened, she’d immediately suggested that I talk to her dad and invited me to stay in Valor Springs. Since I had nowhere else to go, I’d jumped on her offer.

Now here I was, on a bus to a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere.

The bus slows down, its brakes squealing as it comes to a stop. I feel a sudden rush of adrenaline sweep through me as my thoughts quickly snap to the present. I gaze out the window at the unfamiliar landscape that stretches before me—a strange little town with narrow streets and old buildings. My heart races as I realize that this is it.

The place that will be my last resort and hopefully provide the solution to all my troubles.

“Valor Springs!” The driver yells out, confirming what I already know. The man turns around to look at the now nearly empty bus when no one immediately gets up. His eyes lock on mine, and I fight the urge to shrink back into my seat. A part of me wants to shake my head and let the man drive me into the next town and forget all about the things that brought me here, but that isn't exactly an option.

I need to do this. My time is running out.

With a deep sigh, I get up and grab my meager luggage from the top rack, dragging my feet to the front where I flash the driver a smile I don’t feel. The doors swing open with a hiss, and I can almost hear my heart pounding in my ears urging me to stay put, to retreat back into the safety of the bus. I hesitate, my feet apparently glued to the floor as I try to talk myself into disembarking.

“Miss, are you alright?”

The driver's concerned tone is what I need to hear to unglue my feet. “I'm fine,” I say with another smile before finally stepping off the bus and dragging my small suitcase out with me.

I’m fine.

I’m here, so I’m fine. It’ll all be over soon. If anyone can help me, it’s Paula’s father.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, but the pit in my stomach only tightens. “I’m fine,” I say to myself when my feet touch the ground. I don’t care to admit that the ground feels unsteady beneath my feet. That the whole world feels like a tilt-a-whirl. I’ve felt unsteady for quite some time now.

I’m fine.

Maybe if I keep telling myself that, it’ll become true, and everything will go back to how it was before all hell broke loose. I just want to be a normal twenty-year-old again, excited about trying my first beer on my next birthday or finding my first boyfriend. Experiencing my first kiss.

I desperately wish for things to return to normal, but there is no returning to normal. I can only hope that my future won’t see me homeless in a foreign country.

Ugh!

Another wave of anxiety washes over me, and I instinctively glance back at the bus to watch the doors close behind me and then lurch forward, leaving me standing alone on the curb of the road.

“It’s fine,” I whisper under my breath. “It’s okay, Cherry; you’re fine.”

The bus stop is empty, Paula nowhere in sight, so I drag my suitcase to the bench, dropping down with a sigh as I look at my watch. It seems I’m early. I wasn’t due to arrive until four o’clock, so I have at least twenty more minutes before my friend shows up, which is plenty of time to wallow in my own thoughts.

I grab my phone from my purse and scroll through it, checking for any calls or messages from my parents, but there are none. I nearly drained my savings keeping my phone plan active in the hope that my parents will contact me; maybe all this would hurt less if they reached out at least to check on me. My mother had already called me their special girl.

I don’t feel special now. Not to anyone. Not anymore.

“Miss Dunbar?

I whip my head up at the sound of my name, and my breath catches in my throat when I see… him . There, stepping out of a black Chevrolet truck is the most striking man I have ever seen. One that makes my heart skip a beat. I watch him approach me, angling my head back to get a proper view of his face.

Do I know this man? I don’t think so. I would remember meeting a man like him. My stomach swoops as he comes to a stop a couple feet in front of me, and I have to tilt my head further to meet his eyes.

He's tall, easily over six feet with broad shoulders that taper down a muscular torso to narrow hips. His long hair is tied back in a man bun, but a few rebellious strands fall around his rugged face, doing little to soften his strong features. His eyes are green, a startling moss green that glints with a mixture of curiosity and something else.

Something…intense and heated.

But even that does not distract from his handsome features. He has to be somewhere in his mid to late thirties, but it’s hard to tell. The man is handsome, with a strong jawline and a beard that gives him a rough look. He’s wearing one of those red plaid shirts I’ve seen on cowboy shows that clings to his muscular chest, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms. His jeans are worn, perfectly fitted and accentuating his strong thighs.

He stands still, letting me look my fill, and when I shift my gaze back to his, my cheeks flush at being caught sizing him up, but can anyone blame me? The man is built like a Greek god. There is no way I would ever forget meeting someone this attractive.

My heart sinks as a thought occurs to me. Could this man be another ICE agent? He isn’t dressed like one, but maybe he was hoping to catch me by surprise. He carries an air of authority, like someone used to being in control without question. Nerves take over my stomach, making my skin heat and sweat dampen the back of my neck under my hair.

“Miss Dunbar?” he asks again, his eyes shifting to my side, and I follow his gaze to the suitcase.

Oh right.

“Sorry,” I say, jumping up and extending my hand. He takes it, his grip firm when he shakes my hand. I’m trembling and my palms are a little sweaty, but if he picks up on it, he doesn’t show it. “That’s me. I’m sorry, y-you are…?”

The man slides his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “My name is Dane Tate, I’m Paula’s uncle. She asked me to pick you up. “

Oh, so this is Paula’s uncle. She used to talk about him and the ranch he runs. She always spoke about how kind and quiet her uncle is. I remember he is the youngest brother of Paula’s father and always doted on his niece.

Conflicting feelings war inside me. On one hand, this is easily the hottest man I have ever seen in my life, and his presence is doing things to me that I’ve never felt before. On the other hand, this is my best friend’s beloved uncle. I wish Paula had given me a heads up that he’d be picking me up. I quickly double check my phone, but there’s nothing.

I shake my head. I can’t worry about that right now. It’s not like I have any other options anyway, and Mr. Tate seems nice enough. I can handle a short car ride to Paula’s place with the man without combusting from the heat building in me. I think.

Focus, Cherry. You’re here to get help before you’re deported. You don’t have time to drool over sexy ranchers.

“Are you alright, Miss Dunbar?” the man asks, and I realize with a jolt that I’ve been silently staring at him for too long.

“Cherry,” I say, clearing my voice in an effort to shake off my nerves. “Just call me Cherry. So, you’re giving me a ride to Paula’s? That’s so kind of you. Did she get held up at the school? Did she say what time she thought she’d be home?” He looks surprised and doesn’t respond right away, which pushes me to fill the awkward silence with more chatter. “I don’t know if Paula’s told you about me at all, but I’m so grateful for her willingness to help me. I don’t know what I’d do without her—”

“Cherry…”

I breathe out a relieved sigh when he cuts me off before I can word vomit my life story. “Yes, Mr. Tate?”

“You can call me Dane. There seems to be a misunderstanding here,” he says, and my brows knit in confusion at his words.

“What do you mean?”

Dane pulls his hand from his pocket and palms his nape, moving his head from side to side and stretching out the kinks. He looks tired, I notice for the first time, and I almost step forward to offer to massage his neck when I am reminded of the fact that I don’t know this man.

“Dammit, Paula,” he murmurs to himself before bringing that dark gaze back to mine. “My darling niece should seems to have left out some important details when she invited you to Valor Springs.”

Huh?

“What do you mean?” I ask, blinking up at the tall man.

“Paula and her boyfriend, Darrell, are traveling while their loft is being renovated. After you called Paula, they decided to cut their trip short and planned to join you at the ranch, but their flight was canceled. She won’t be back in town until tomorrow, so she asked if I could pick you up and bring you to the ranch, and I agreed. But I’d assumed you were in the know.” He lets out a little growl, then sighs heavily through his nose. “Look, Cherry, you’re welcome to stay at the ranch, there’s plenty of space for everyone, but if you prefer, I can take you to the local hotel and see if I can get you a room there. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Everything goes static. I can see his lips moving, but his words are jumbled in my ears, and I can’t make them out. Paula isn’t even in Valor Springs right now? Why didn’t she tell me? Now I have to choose between staying alone with her uncle until she gets here or pay for a hotel room. Do I even have enough money for that? I don’t think so.

My breathing starts to pick up and my vision goes hazy. I have just enough time to see Dane step forward and reach for me.

And then I see black.