Discover the Made in Montana miniseries—where all your cowboy dreams come true!

Seven years ago, a vicious lie drove Becca Hartman to run away from Blackfoot Falls, Montana, with her best friend, Amy. Now the truth has finally brought Becca home...with Amy’s little boy in tow. Becca’s raised Noah as her own, so watching Noah meet his family—including Becca’s old crush, rancher Ryder Mitchell—is terrifying. If Ryder finds out that Noah is his nephew, will he take the boy away?

Ryder wants to blame Becca for his sister’s wild behavior. Yet as he spends time with the loving single mom and her son, he realizes she might be someone he could love...if he can ever learn to trust her again.

DEBBI RAWLINS grew up on the island of Oahu in Hawaii, but always loved Western movies and books. When she was twelve she spent the summer on the Big Island of Hawaii, and had the dubious honor of being thrown off her first horse. A year later, minutes before a parade started down her street, she managed to find the most skittish horse in the lineup and...you can probably guess the rest.

These days, sixty-five-plus books later, she lives on four acres in gorgeous rural Utah surrounded by dogs, cats, goats, chickens and free-range cattle who just love taking down her fence every couple years.

Also by Debbi Rawlins

Stealing the Cowboy’s Heart

Her Cowboy Reunion

Alone with You

Need You Now

Behind Closed Doors

Anywhere with You

Come On Over

This Kiss

Come Closer, Cowboy

Wild for You

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

To Trust a Rancher

Debbi Rawlins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07768-2

TO TRUST A RANCHER

© 2018 Debbi Quattrone

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Becca Hartman’s heart pounded. Today was the start of a new phase of her life. One where she’d have the time to give her son dinner and put him to bed every night, instead of just checking in on him after he was already asleep. It felt like the best gift she’d ever been given, and she didn’t want to screw it up.

She checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to remember the last time she’d worn a dress. The second it hit her, she wished she hadn’t tried so hard. It had been her grandfather’s funeral. Two years ago. She’d rushed back to Montana but had almost missed the service. Grams had taken one look at her and cried for an hour straight.

Oh, God, Becca couldn’t think about that now. She smoothed a wrinkle on the blue dress, then dabbed on some lip gloss. Satisfied that she looked presentable for the first day in her brand-new position, she went to the kitchen.

Noah sat at the table in his booster seat, making designs in his cinnamon-topped oatmeal.

“Hey, sweetie. What do you think about you and me celebrating my promotion tonight?” Becca opened the fridge and brought out the orange juice. “Pizza sound good to you?”

He was too quiet.

Reaching into the cupboard for a glass, she glanced over her shoulder. “Noah? Did you hear me?”

Making a face, he stuck the wrong side of his spoon into the cereal.

“What’s wrong? You love oatmeal.”

“I want bananas.”

“I’ll pick some up after work,” she said. “For now, you eat it like that, okay?”

From the window, she saw Isabella coming up the crumbling cement walkway, sidestepping the neighbor kid’s rusty bike. The relief that swept Becca was more proof she was far too anxious over her new job. The woman hadn’t been even a minute late in the four years she’d been watching Noah.

“Mommy?”

Becca turned a smile on him.

A glob of oatmeal hit her chin. She gasped, looked down and watched the goop slide down the front of her dress.

Noah broke into peals of laughter.

People always said the twos were terrible. Yeah, well, four was no picnic either.

Although, as a rule, Noah was a very sweet little boy. It was usually after he’d spent time with Amy that he acted out like this. She spoiled him terribly, all because she felt guilty for abandoning him. And then, consistent with their longtime friendship, Becca was left to clean up the mess.

“Noah?” She grabbed a paper towel. “Why did you do that?” She heard Isabella’s quick knock, then the door squeaked open, but Becca kept her eyes on him as she dampened the towel. “Noah? Answer me.”

He bowed his head and shrugged his thin shoulders.

Isabella quietly set her tote aside. Becca sure hoped the woman knew a trick to get the stain out, or she would have to wear the only other dress she owned. The black one, stuffed far, far back in her closet.

Her stomach rebelled at the thought.

“I’m sorry,” Noah mumbled.

“You must never do that again. Do you understand?” Becca waited for his nod. “Now, aren’t you going to say hello to Señora Rios?”

He looked up with a tentative smile. “Hola, Señora Rios.”

Señora came out garbled, and Becca had to stifle a grin.

Isabella ruffled his hair. “Mmm, I smell cinnamon,” she said. “Better hurry up and eat your oatmeal before I do.”

Noah giggled and shoveled a big spoonful into his mouth.

“They’re making you wear dresses now?” Isabella joined Becca at the sink and took the paper towel from her.

“No one said I had to.” Becca gladly handed over the task before she made a mess. “I’ve never worked in an office before so I thought I’d go all out for my first day.” She worried her lip. “Pants better be okay. I can’t afford to buy new clothes.”

“I bet my daughter has some things that would fit you, if you don’t mind secondhand.”

Becca smiled. If she did, she wouldn’t have a couch or a dresser, or much of anything, really. “You don’t mean Lydia...”

Nodding, Isabella used a tiny drop of dish detergent to rub out the cinnamon smudge below Becca’s collarbone. “Sure I do. What’s she going to do with a closet full of size sixes?”

“She’d be crazy to give up anything.” Becca guessed most of it was designer stuff. “She’ll lose the pregnancy weight.”

“No, she won’t. And now she’s pregnant again.”

“Well, you must be thrilled. Another grandchild for you to spoil.”

Isabella snorted but couldn’t help looking pleased. “There you go, good as new,” she said, stepping back and inspecting her handiwork. “Don’t worry if you have to stay late. Just call and I’ll feed him his dinner.”

“Thank you. I’ll try not to be past five thirty, and I can always call Amy to come over...” Becca trailed off as she looked into Isabella’s kind, knowing eyes. Amy was about as reliable as a broken watch.

“I pray for her,” Isabella said, lowering her voice and glancing at Noah. “Maybe one day she’ll surprise you.”

Becca nodded. No prayers had helped so far, just like no amount of Becca’s determination had managed to bring Amy to her senses. First, it had been Derek who’d gotten his hooks into her, and later, so had the drugs. But Isabella was a devout, churchgoing woman, and who knew, maybe her prayers carried more weight.

Noah slammed down his empty cup. “More milk.”

Becca gave him a warning look. “Is that how you ask?”

“Please.”

“And no more slamming your cup,” Becca said, turning toward the fridge.

Isabella had already opened the door. “Go. Don’t miss your bus. I’ll take care of Mr. Cranky Pants,” she said, the last of it loud enough for Noah to hear. It always made him laugh.

“What would I do without you?” Becca asked, giving the woman a quick hug.

“You’d do just fine.” She smiled and patted Becca’s cheek. “That little boy is very lucky he has you.”

Becca was the lucky one, she thought as she stepped back to let Isabella pour his milk. Isabella had been a social worker and was at the hospital the day Noah was born, had been there when Amy had asked Becca to take care of him. Isabella was the only other person who knew about their complicated situation, but even she didn’t know everything.

With his dark hair and blue eyes, Noah didn’t resemble Amy or Derek, and sometimes it was very easy for Becca to forget that he didn’t belong to her. She had no parental rights whatsoever, but Noah was hers in every other sense.

It hadn’t been Amy who’d changed his first diaper or stayed up all night with him when he was sick. It had been Becca. From day one, she’d bought his crib and bottles and pretty much everything else he’d needed. Not easy on a waitress’s tips. But she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

As for Derek, he hadn’t once acknowledged the child, which was a true blessing. The guy was scum. An abuser. And every time Becca pictured her beautiful, bright-eyed friend the day she and Amy had left Montana for the neon lights of LA, Becca wanted to cry.

Amy was a mere shell of the person she used to be. Her skin was sallow, her green eyes dull and lifeless, and it seemed she could only muster a smile for Noah these days. Every time he asked Amy about the bruises and she made up a different excuse, it broke Becca’s heart.

Ironic, really, that Amy had fled Blackfoot Falls to escape her abusers and then run straight into the arms of an even more sadistic man. Actually, it wasn’t ironic. Becca knew better because of all the reading she’d done and the pamphlets she’d collected. It was a vicious cycle—one only Amy could break, if and when she was ready.

The knowledge didn’t make Becca feel any less responsible. After all, she’d helped Amy get to LA.

She hurried to the bathroom for a tissue and to check her makeup. Getting emotional wouldn’t do her any good. This promotion was a big break for her. The money, the hours, everything was finally falling into place. In a year, two tops, she hoped to have saved enough to get them out of this crappy neighborhood.

After grabbing her purse off the dresser, she stuck her head into the kitchen. Isabella was standing at the sink, humming, looking like a ray of sunshine in one of her flowery handmade dresses. Noah was still eating, his head bent over his bowl, as he intermittently hummed a few bars along with Isabella.

He looked happy.

Seeing him like that was all it took to brighten her day. She couldn’t possibly love him more if he were her own child. But he wasn’t, and she hoped with all her heart the day never came that she’d be forced to give him up.

Which could happen if Amy ever got clean... Though of course that was what Becca wanted for her friend. She did. Anyway, Amy would never keep them apart.

* * *

RYDER MITCHELL SAT in the dirt in the middle of the corral, waving the dust away from his face, ignoring the hooting and hollering of the three troublemakers who’d convinced him to show Toby the finer points of breaking a horse—one that was supposed to be used to a saddle.

“Hey, boss, let me give you a hand.”

Ryder ignored that, too...until he heard the applause and realized Lance was being a smartass. The other two hired men, Toby and Bear, were leaning against the corral railing with him, still laughing.

“Yeah, that’s right, keep it up. Better hope some other sucker springs for your beer.”

That wiped the smirks off their faces.

“Oh, come on now, we’re just having some fun,” Lance grumbled.

“Not all of us,” Ryder muttered and pushed to his feet.

Shaking his head, Wiley snatched Ryder’s dusty Stetson off the ground and handed it to him. “You ain’t hurt, are you?” the foreman asked in a quiet voice.

Ryder shook his head. “Just my pride.”

“Sure you didn’t break your check-writing hand with that stupid stunt?” Wiley asked, loud enough for the horses in the pasture to hear him.

Wiley ignored the kid as he glanced toward the house. “Does Gail have their paychecks? I can go get them from her. Unless they’re still in your office.”

The bunkhouse door slammed, giving Ryder a few moments to think it over. Otis, who did the cooking for the men, hobbled outside, using his arm to block the late-afternoon sun as he joined the other men at the railing.

Ryder looked back at Wiley. The poor guy had developed a thing for Ryder’s mother. Gail didn’t have a clue, and he doubted Wiley would ever act on his feelings. The man had been a friend to Ryder’s father until he’d died three years ago, and Wiley had started working for the family long before that.

In his mid-fifties now, he had some gray at his temples and in his sideburns. But he was as lean and muscled as any of the younger men who worked under him. He was also honest and hardworking. Gail could do a lot worse...once she finished grieving. It sure would help if his flaky sister called more often. Better yet, Amy needed to pay their mom a damn visit once in a while.

It was coming up on Thanksgiving—maybe she’d surprise them. Yeah, he wouldn’t take a dollar bet on that happening.

“I’m not sure where I left the payroll,” Ryder said finally. “If you don’t mind, check with her.”

“No problem.” Wiley took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair as he headed toward the house.

The truth was, Ryder didn’t know how he’d feel if the two of them ever got together. He wanted to see his mom happy again, though. And if Wiley could bring a sparkle back to her eyes, well, who was Ryder to judge?

Hell, he had no business having an opinion, period. He hadn’t been able to make his own marriage work. Clearly, he was better at ranching.

He looked around, filled with a bone-deep sense of satisfaction. The main barn had been completely overhauled, and next, he planned to reinforce and repaint the barn behind the stable, which now had a new roof. As did both the calving and equipment sheds.

Over the winter, they’d have to move the north fence line since he’d just bought another seven hundred acres from Alvin Medina. By staying focused and investing well, Ryder had the cash to get a good deal. And he still had enough money to do more remodeling in the house.

So far, he’d made the kitchen and family room easier to navigate now that his mom used a cane and sometimes a walker. She’d always enjoyed cooking, up until the day his dad had passed. Since then, she’d lost interest in most of her hobbies. But now, with all her new, high-end appliances, she’d been trying out different recipes like she used to.

“You were joking about the beer, right, boss?” Toby said, pushing his long hair out of his eyes. “It’s a tradition. You buy us a case every Friday.”

“So now you expect it?”

“Well, yeah.”

Ryder just shook his head. “I think Wiley put it in the barn fridge.”

Toby grinned. “Sweet.”

Watching him walk toward his pal, Bear, something occurred to Ryder. “Hey, Toby.”

He stopped, turned. “Yeah, boss?”

“How old are you?”

Looking sheepish, Toby hesitated. “I’m not leaving the property. Just playing cards in the bunkhouse tonight.”

Ryder sighed. “How old?”

“Almost twenty-one.”

Almost.

Well, hell. Basically, he’d been buying beer for a minor. He wondered if Wiley knew. With Ryder away on business so much, Wiley had a better handle on what was going on. “What about Bear?”

“Oh, he’s twenty-three.”

Ryder slapped the Stetson against his thigh, sending up a cloud of dust. “Look, even if you have only one beer, you and your truck don’t leave the property. Got it?”

“I swear I won’t, and my birthday’s in six weeks, so I’ll be all legal and everything.”

Nodding, Ryder headed toward his office. Not that he’d admit it, but he’d been drinking beer since he was eighteen. Just on weekends, along with his college roommates. None of them had been the type to get too drunk or do anything crazy. It had been a rite of passage, a part of the college experience and nothing more.

It puzzled him that he’d suddenly thought to ask. Toby had been working for them for about five months. And at over six feet, with a husky build, he could easily pass for mid-twenties.

Ryder was the problem. Some of the newer hires were beginning to look young because he felt old. Arguably, at thirty-two, he should be in his prime. But in the ten years since graduating from college, he’d been married, divorced, lost contact with his only sister, buried his father, had been consoling his mother and had nearly doubled the size of the family ranch. So yeah, he felt like he’d already lived two lifetimes.

He heard the front door and glanced toward the porch. His mom had walked out with Wiley. Wrapped in a coat that was too warm for the relatively mild November air and leaning on her cane, she waved at Ryder. Wiley stood beside her, looking uncertain and helpless.

Ryder understood completely.

Maybe he was wrong about the attraction. Maybe Wiley was just plain worried about her like Ryder was. They hadn’t talked about it, but Gail hadn’t been the same since his dad’s death, and anyone who knew her would have to be blind not to see how much she’d aged.

As if the tragedy hadn’t been enough, one of their neighbors had been taken by cancer a short time later. Shirley Hancock and his mom hadn’t been particularly close, but the woman’s granddaughter, Becca, was the little hellion who’d dragged Amy off to LA with her. Though as it turned out, Becca had been much better about keeping in touch with her grandparents, who’d shared everything with the Mitchells. But after they’d passed, news of Amy had dried up.

Ryder stopped midstride and redirected his steps toward the house. Toward his mom.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before, probably because he’d been too damn focused on expanding the ranch and doubling profits. But maybe it was time for him to take a little personal trip.

And drag his selfish baby sister back by the scruff of her neck.

Chapter Two

Becca had just sat down—no, collapsed was a better description—when she heard the doorbell. Waitressing wasn’t an easy job. But who knew being confined to an office all day trying to familiarize herself with a bunch of different terms would drain the life out of her? And it was only day three.

It took some effort to get off the chair, and then she heard the patter of little feet rushing to the door. “Noah, do not open—”

“Aunt Amy!”

Becca sighed. Well, at least it wasn’t an ax murderer, but Noah knew better.

“How’s my little man?”

Becca came from the kitchen just as Amy scooped him up in her arms and swung him around.

“Ouch!”

His shoe had hit the doorframe.

“What happened?” Amy asked, her eyes wide and surprisingly clear.

“Come in so I can close the door.” Becca noticed the kid from two houses down loitering on the sidewalk with his scary friends, trying to get a look inside. She probably should let him see. He’d find out real quick there was nothing worth stealing.

“You’re getting heavy, kiddo,” Amy said as she set Noah down. Then she turned a quizzical look at Becca. “I stopped at the restaurant. They said you’re not there anymore.”

“No, but I still work for Warren. He promoted me to an office job.”

“Wow, look at you.” Amy grinned. “I always knew you’d end up some big shot.”

Becca laughed. “Yeah, that won’t be happening anytime soon.”

“What’s that?” Noah asked, tugging on Amy’s T-shirt and pointing to the bag she was holding.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Your mommy was talking. Don’t interrupt her.”

Noah stuck out his bottom lip and pouted.

Becca was shocked. She was pretty sure this was the first time Amy had ever corrected him. For anything. As for referring to Becca as Mommy, that had been the first recognizable word he’d uttered, directed at Becca. They’d agreed it was for the best, certainly less confusing for him. But she sometimes worried that it hurt Amy’s feelings.

“How about some lemonade, you two?”

After briefly hesitating, Amy said, “Sure. I have time for a glass.” Her hair looked freshly washed, and was pulled back in a neat ponytail. Even her face had cleared up a bit. A small thing but still progress.

On her way to the kitchen, Becca smiled when she heard Noah ask about the bag again. She brought the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge, her gaze catching on the veggies she’d been cutting up at the table. “Hey, Amy, can you stay for dinner?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

Becca would’ve been surprised if she’d agreed. Derek kept her on a short leash, which made her visits infrequent and brief. Next week was Thanksgiving. Even though Becca knew the calls home had dwindled, she would remind Amy while she seemed clearheaded.

Noah let out a whoop.

A toy, of course.

Becca hoped it was age appropriate so she wouldn’t have to be the bad guy. Again.

She carried the glasses and Noah’s plastic cup into the tiny living room. The torn bag was on the floor next to him. Amy was perched at the edge of the couch, holding two plain white envelopes as she watched Noah tear into the package.

“Don’t worry,” she said, taking her lemonade. “It’s a Lego truck. Age three and up.”

“Perfect.” Becca returned her smile. “Noah? I’m putting your cup right here.” She set it on the corner of the end table. “Look up, please.”

Grudgingly, he did.

“Do you see it?”

“Yes, Mommy. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Be careful you don’t spill it.” She sat next to Amy and watched him, noting his frustration at being unable to open the box quickly enough. She didn’t want it escalating into a tantrum.

“You’re so good with him,” Amy said softly, her gaze as wistful as her sigh.

“So are you. He loves it when you visit, or take him for an outing.”

“Yeah, but you’re here day in and day out. Plus work a full-time job. How do you have the patience?”

Becca smiled. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Seriously,” she added when Amy looked doubtful. “I still have faith you’ll get it together and leave you-know-who.” They were speaking softly, but Becca glanced over to make sure Noah wasn’t listening. “My new job pays a lot more, and I’m hoping to find a bigger place. You’ll be able to move in with us.”

Amy sniffled, not from a cold or allergies—it was the drugs. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

“It’s going to happen. You’ll see.”

“Sometimes your optimism really annoys the sh—crap out of me.”

“I know,” Becca said, laughing.

Amy smiled.

“Wow!” Noah freed the truck from its box and held it up high as he jumped up and down. “Neato.”

“Wow is right,” Becca said. “Did you thank your—” The word got stuck in her mouth.

“Yes,” Amy said, “he was very good and remembered to thank his aunt Amy.”

They didn’t speak for a while but watched Noah play with his toy and fill the silence with vroom sounds as he rolled the truck around.

“What time is it?” Amy asked suddenly.

Becca patted her pocket. Her phone was in the kitchen. “About six thirty, I think.”

Amy cursed under her breath. “I wish I could stay longer, but I don’t need Derek getting pissed off or paranoid.” She glanced at the envelopes in her hand, then looked at Noah. “I’m gonna do it,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’m gonna leave him.”

Not sure she’d heard correctly over Noah’s excitement, Becca leaned closer to Amy. “Derek?” she whispered. “You’re—”

Amy nodded. “I’ve stashed some money. It’s not much,” she said, pushing one of the envelopes at Becca, who refused it. “But it should help a little—”

“Wait. When?”

“Soon.”

“Soon? Come on, Amy. You can’t just—”

“Please, just listen. It’s important.” Amy’s voice shook. Her gaze darted to Noah, who was happily playing with his new toy and paying them no mind. “Derek’s going to meet someone at the border next week. I don’t know when for sure.”

“You’ll come here, right? He doesn’t know where I live.”

“I’m not coming anywhere near you or Noah. Not for a while.” Amy swallowed. “He’s dangerous, Bec.”

“I know.”

“No.” Amy’s eyes closed briefly. “You don’t.”

Becca bit her lip. Every part of her wanted to hang on to her friend so tight she couldn’t go back to that monster. When Becca had first met Derek, he’d been all dimples and charm. She’d seen him twice after that and thought something was off about him. But not Amy. She’d fallen hard and fast.

“Where will you go?”

“I don’t know yet. But I’ll call you. Take the money, Bec.”

“Okay, now you listen, because you aren’t thinking clearly. You’re going to need cash, a lot of it. First thing you should do is buy a phone he can’t track. They sell cheap ones, no contract. You don’t have to give your name or anything.” Becca’s mouth was so dry she had to stop and take a quick sip of lemonade. Damn, she wished she had more cash in the house. “What about a women’s shelter? You’d be safe. Even if he knew you were there, he couldn’t get to you—”

“Becca?”

“I still have some pamphlets.” She started to rise, but Amy caught her arm.

“Becca, I’ll be fine.”

“But you don’t even know where you’re going. You haven’t thought this through.”

“No, I haven’t, but only because I just found out he’ll be gone. Without dragging me along with him. That almost never happens. I can’t blow this shot.”

“You know the Mexican border is only four hours away. He might not be gone very long.”

“A deal went sideways, and he’s in deep shit over it.” A nasty smile lifted her lips. “He’s gotta make things right, whatever it takes.”

“So let’s make a plan. Right now. We can figure it out.”

Amy shook her head. “If I’m away too long, he’ll get suspicious,” she said, sniffling again and making Becca wonder if it was the next fix that had her anxious to leave. “I have money, okay? So don’t worry about that.” She inhaled deeply. “There is something you can do for me, though.”

“Name it.”

“If you don’t hear from me in a week, I’d like you to take Noah home, to Blackfoot Falls. To my family. His family. Let my mom raise him, out in the country where he’ll be safe and happy. Derek still doesn’t know anything about where we came from.”

Shock spread through every part of Becca’s body. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t seem to make her jaw work.

“I know you’re surprised,” Amy said quietly.

“Surprised? Are you forgetting why we left in the first place?”

Amy slowly shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “You can have your life back, Bec. I bet you haven’t had a date in five years.”

“You think I care about that?” Becca hadn’t meant to raise her voice. Thank God Noah was still occupied. “How can you ask me to put him in that—that environment?”

Amy dropped both envelopes on the couch. “If you don’t hear from me in a week, open the second envelope.”

Becca stared at it, her insides clenching. When she looked up, her friend looked away. “Amy, you’re scaring me. Let me help you.”

“It’s just a letter, but it’ll explain a lot. Just promise me you’ll wait the week.”

“Watch this...” Noah lifted the truck, pretending it was an airplane.

Amy turned and smiled at him. A tear slipped down her cheek and she dashed it away.

“Mommy, look.”

Becca managed a smile, and her “look at you,” sounded somewhat natural despite the fear churning in her stomach. “Don’t go back, Amy,” she pleaded, lowering her voice. “You’ve already made the decision. Just stay. I have clothes for you, anything you need...”

Amy stood. “If I wait till he’s gone, I’ll have a head start. God, I hope he doesn’t remember you worked at the restaurant. Don’t underestimate Derek—he might come looking for him,” she said, staring fearfully at Noah.

“Why?”

“For leverage. Hell, for just about anything, if it means saving his own ass.”

The air fled Becca’s lungs. “I’m begging you, Amy. Let me help you.”

“Remember, wait a week.” Amy took a step and stopped, her moist eyes dark with misery. “Please don’t hate me,” she whispered, then picked up Noah and hugged him so tight he whimpered. “Bye, little man. I love you with all my heart.”

“Amy, wait.”

“I love you, too, Becca,” she said, and was out the door before Becca could take another breath.

* * *

BECCA STOOD AT her bedroom window, staring out into the gathering darkness. A gang of rough-looking neighborhood kids huddled at the corner, oblivious to the police cruiser that had circled for the third time.

Six days, and not a word from Amy. Becca was a complete wreck. She tried to remember how they’d left it, exactly, but she’d been too rattled. Shouldn’t Amy have called by now? Just to let Becca know she’d gotten away from Derek. A few seconds. That’s all it would’ve taken.

Unless she couldn’t because the bastard had caught her.

Becca shuddered at the thought.

Trying to concentrate at work took all her energy. Hard to learn anything new with the attention span of a two-year-old. Her mind kept spiraling to dark places and robbing her of hope.

Her gaze strayed to the envelope she’d stupidly left in full view on the dresser. Every time she saw it her anxiety level rose. Twice now, she’d almost given in to curiosity. But, no, she hadn’t read the letter.

She had checked the envelope with the money, though. Not a huge amount, but more than she’d expected. Which bothered her. A lot. If Amy had truly thought she could escape, she would’ve known she needed every penny.

Becca briefly closed her eyes. Why had she let Amy leave? If she’d had just a little more time to convince her...

Noah stirred. Curled up on her bed, sound asleep, he wrapped one small arm around the pillow. It was seven thirty. If she didn’t wake him soon, tomorrow morning he’d be springing out of bed before the rooster crowed.

The thought surprised her. The saying had been one of her grandmother’s favorites. Even as the memory made Becca smile, it saddened her. She missed both her grandparents, but she’d been especially close to Grams. No kinder, more generous woman had ever walked the earth. Always ready to listen, never judging. Oh, how Becca would’ve loved her advice right about now.

Her cell rang, startling her. It wasn’t Amy, though.

Maureen managed the downtown restaurant where Becca used to work. The busy dinner hour was an odd time to call. “Hey, Maureen, what’s up?”

“Listen, I only have a minute and it’s probably nothing, but I thought you should know. Some creepy-looking dude was in here asking for you. Long hair, lots of tats, rides a Harley. Didn’t give his name.”

Becca’s heart nearly stopped. “How long ago?”

“Thirty minutes, maybe? We’re swamped or I would’ve called sooner.”

“No, that’s fine. I appreciate the heads-up.” Her voice sounded remarkably calm considering she could barely breathe. “What did you tell him?”

“Just that you didn’t work here anymore and I didn’t know where you were. I hope that was okay.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” She knew Maureen was curious, but the restaurant was busy and Becca easily ended the call.

She pressed a hand to her roiling stomach. Did this mean Amy had gotten away and he was looking for her? He would assume Becca knew her whereabouts. But if Amy had escaped, wouldn’t she have called? She knew Becca was worried...

In a few steps, she had the envelope in her trembling hand. She glanced at Noah, still asleep, before she tore through the flap.

The letter was short, written in Amy’s scratchy handwriting. Moving to the doorway where the light was better, Becca started to read.

Her stomach lurched with each sentence, and she finished in a stupor.

She blinked, but the haze wouldn’t clear.

Amy had lied. About her father, her brother, the abuse. About everything. And she’d used those lies to get Becca to come with her to LA.

Anger overwhelmed every other emotion spinning uncontrollably inside her. Becca hadn’t wanted to leave. She’d enrolled in community college, paid for it herself with her savings. She’d found a part-time job that had accommodated her school schedule, and best of all, she could’ve done it all while staying with her grandparents.

A sob slipped past her lips and she quickly covered her mouth.

Oh, God, how she’d hurt them, the two people who’d loved her more than anything else in the world. Who would’ve moved mountains for her. And she’d done it all for nothing.

The disappointment in Grams’s eyes the day Becca had left still haunted her. It would always haunt her. All because Amy had lied out of complete and utter selfishness. And her dad and brother? The hatred that had burned in Becca’s gut when she’d thought Ryder had—

Another sob threatened. She turned away from the bedroom at the same time her cell rang. Noah lifted his head, rubbing his eyes.

She didn’t recognize the caller’s number. Maybe the burner phone she’d suggested to Amy?

Becca answered quickly.

“You have something that belongs to me, bitch.” Derek’s menacing voice came through loud and clear. “And I want him back.”

Chapter Three

Blackfoot Falls had changed in the years since Becca had last been home. Lots of shops that had closed because of the poor economy were now open again, as well as new stores she didn’t recognize.

Someone had bought the old boardinghouse on the south side of town and turned it into a cute inn that kept the early-1900s feel intact. It would’ve been fun to stay there, but the new motel on the opposite end of town had larger rooms and was ten dollars cheaper. Since Becca had no idea how long they would be away, she needed to watch every penny.

After Derek’s call, she’d known she had to get out of town, and coming home was the most sensible option. Noah’s safety was her first concern while she waited for Amy to call. But if Amy didn’t, and that was a real possibility no matter how much Becca hoped otherwise, she needed a clear head to tackle the gut-wrenching decision that would change her and Noah’s life forever.

So she’d called her boss and pleaded for some personal leave due to a family emergency, which wasn’t a lie at all. She’d worried, though, about where they’d stay until she found out what was going on with her grandparents’ house. It was old to begin with, and being vacant for so long could mean it wasn’t move-in ready.

Becca was happy with her choice. Their second-floor room was clean and comfortable, the queen-size bed had a mauve and green comforter that matched the curtains. A small round table with two sturdy chairs stood near a window facing the Rockies. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed the mountains, and a sky that was actually blue.

It took her two trips to bring up their gear, three bags of ice and the cooler she’d packed with Noah’s snacks and drinks. Next on the list was a run to the Food Mart. After driving for sixteen hours, all she wanted was to curl up and sleep for a week. But they needed some reasonably healthy food they could eat in the room. Restaurant meals weren’t in her budget.

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Noah said, almost on cue as they stepped out into the corridor.

“I know, sweetie. We’re going to the store right now.” She pulled the door closed and tested the knob to make sure the lock had engaged.

“I’m hungry now,” he whined and took her hand.

“Would you like an apple?”

He made a face.

Becca smiled, knowing he was hoping for a cookie. “Guess you’re not that hungry then, huh?”

He started to pout, then saw the elevator. “Mommy, let’s ride that again.” His hand slipped out of hers and he raced ahead. “I’ll push the button.”

“Wait. You don’t know which—” Sighing, she caught up to him just as the doors slid open. Oh, well, they’d ride up first. She held onto his arm. “Noah, don’t touch the button until I tell you. And no more running inside. You know better.”

His sulkiness didn’t last long. He was too excited about their big ’venture. Becca had encouraged the idea to keep his spirits up. Sometimes, when her mind started wandering to bad places, she needed the illusion herself.

The grocery store was only a five-minute walk but she took the car. Inevitably she’d be running into people she knew, and there would be questions. Many, many questions. But she wasn’t prepared to be an open target yet.

She thought again about Amy’s family and the decision that had to be made. Becca felt sick every time she remembered the vile thoughts she’d harbored toward the Mitchells. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she sometimes wished she’d discover that Amy hadn’t lied back then and that her letter was the lie. Maybe now that her father had passed and Ryder was married, she’d felt it was all right to bring Noah to her mother.

No, that was panic talking. Becca didn’t want the lies she’d believed to be true at all.

She sighed. This trip would tell her a lot. She just hoped she was strong enough to make the hardest decision of her life.

* * *

RYDER TURNED INTO the parking lot of the Food Mart, not at all surprised that it was jam-packed. He’d tried to warn his mom. With Thanksgiving in three days, naturally the place would be a zoo. Why so many people waited until the last minute was one of life’s eternal mysteries.

“There’s a spot,” she said, pointing. “Three down from the entrance. It’s a good thing we brought my car. Your truck never could’ve squeezed in.”

Ryder didn’t comment. He hated driving the compact. It was too uncomfortable for someone over six feet, but since her stroke, he knew getting in and out of the car was easier on her. Since she didn’t drive anymore, he’d considered trading it in for a medium-size sedan. But she loved the old Ford, and even after two years, her doctor insisted that a great deal of her problems were psychosomatic.

The prognosis had nearly earned poor old Doc Heaton a whack from his patient’s cane. She’d even used a couple of words Ryder was surprised she knew. He and the doc didn’t talk about it anymore...at least not in her presence.

On occasion, Ryder suggested she try setting the cane aside for an hour, just to see how she fared. She always looked so hurt that her only son didn’t believe her.

After he helped her out of the car, he brought her a shopping cart so she could lean on it instead of the cane.

In truth, she didn’t have to do any of the shopping. Otis came into town once a week to keep the bunkhouse well-stocked. He always offered to take her list with him. But Ryder knew this was more a social outing for her, so even though he’d rather have a tooth pulled, every week when he wasn’t away on business, he brought her to town.

Sometimes they’d go home with only a head of lettuce and a bag of carrots. Since he hadn’t provided her with a single grandchild before he and Leanne had divorced, he figured the penance could’ve been a lot worse.

While she ambled down each aisle, stopping every few minutes to talk, he headed over to the deli case. The ready-made food choices had expanded. Marvin, the owner, was stepping up his game.

“Are you sure you’re only four? You eat like a horse.” The woman’s voice sounded vaguely familiar. Ryder turned toward it.

“I’m not a horse. I’m a boy.” The kid was grinning and tugging on the woman’s hand.

She had her back to Ryder, her wavy brown hair spilling down just past her shoulders. Average height. Slim build. Wearing jeans and a sweater like most of the shoppers. Being a regular now, thanks to his mom, he’d gotten to know more people in the past two years than he had throughout most of his youth. But he didn’t know her.

Laughing, she grabbed a bag of chips off the shelf and dropped it into her cart.

Ryder still couldn’t get a look at her face.

“Oh, my word, I haven’t seen you in years.” Millie Perkins stopped her cart seconds from colliding with the mystery woman. “Becca, right? Becca Hartman?”

Ryder’s chest constricted. Becca? Here in Blackfoot Falls? Was Amy here, too?

“Nice to see you, Mrs. Perkins. How are you?”

“Oh, can’t complain. Wouldn’t do any good if I did, now would it? How’s your mom? Is she still living up in Alaska?”

“She sure is.”

“You have such an adorable little boy.” Millie smiled at him. “What’s your name, sweet pea?”

“I’m not a pea,” he said, scrunching up his face. “I’m a boy.”

Becca gasped. “Noah. Mind your manners.”

“Oh, he’s fine.” Millie bent to ruffle his hair.

Ryder grabbed a box of crackers and pretended to read the label, while he listened and studied Becca. Last time he’d seen her, she’d been eighteen and as thin as a fence post. He’d just married Leanne and they’d been working on plans for their new home when Becca had convinced Amy to run off with her.

His sister had sworn up and down she’d be back in a year, two tops. The plan had been to help Becca get settled, then come back to attend college an hour away. After Amy had missed three Christmases in a row, it was clear to Ryder that she’d made a new life for herself. And she wasn’t coming back. His parents had refused to believe it.

Ryder wished she’d had the decency to be straight with them. Whoever had coined the phrase blood is thicker than water had come up short.

“So are you here for good?” Millie asked.

That got Ryder’s attention again.

Becca shook her head. “Just visiting.”

“What about your friend? You know, Gail Mitchell’s girl,” Millie said. “Amy? Is she here with you?”

The stricken look on Becca’s face caught Ryder off guard. Her posture changed. She reached for her son’s hand. And when she finally smiled, he saw a slight quiver, and he knew in his soul that something had happened to Amy.

“No,” Becca said calmly. “Amy couldn’t make it.”

“Ouch.” The kid scowled at her. “You’re squeezing too hard.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I bet you’re hungry.”

He nodded vigorously.

“Let’s see what we can do about that.” Becca looked at Millie. “It was nice seeing you, Mrs. Perkins. Please give my best to Mr. Perkins.”

“Well, maybe we can have a cup of tea and a nice chat before you leave.” Millie glanced at the contents of Becca’s cart. “Looks like you’ll be here awhile.”

Becca laughed. “Have you forgotten how much a four-year-old can put away?” she said, already steering the cart and the boy around Millie.

“Oh, heavens, yes. I remember.”

Ryder did a quick mental calculation. The boy would’ve been two years old by the time Becca’s grandmother had died. As far as he knew, Shirley hadn’t mentioned anything about Becca having a kid. When it came to news from LA, his mom never skipped a word.

As soon as she made it past Millie, Ryder put the crackers back on the shelf. Time to see what Becca had to say about Amy to his face. He sidestepped the boxed stuffing display so he could cut her off, then remembered his mom. Dammit. He needed to get to Becca first.

He circled around the refrigerator case and stepped in front of her cart.

Eyes widening, she gasped. “Ryder.”

“Hello, Becca.”

“Hi.” Her gaze darted briefly to the boy. “This is a surprise.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Right.” She cleared her throat. “I planned on calling you and your mom later.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“You know, after we settled in. We just got to town an hour ago.”

Okay, maybe she was telling the truth and she had intended to get in touch. But why look so nervous? “Where’s Amy?” he asked, holding Becca’s gaze.

She shook her head. Sadness flickered in her hazel eyes before she blinked and looked away. “I think she had other plans for the—” She pressed her lips together and swallowed.

“What? For Thanksgiving? Let’s see, that makes seven of them that she’s missed now?”

“I’m not her keeper,” Becca said, her voice barely a whisper. “Amy does what she wants.”

“Aunt Amy gave me a neato truck.” The kid grinned up at him. “You wanna see it?”

“Noah.” Becca tugged at his hand. “It’s not here.”

“It’s in the car.”

“No, it’s not...”

Ryder felt a surge of relief. He didn’t know what had given him the sick feeling that something had happened to his sister. If that were true, she wouldn’t be buying the kid toys. “Hey, sport, when did your aunt buy you the truck?”

“Sport?” The boy wrinkled his nose. “My name is Noah.”

“Ah.” Ryder knew Becca was watching them closely, and something sure was making her jumpy. What the hell did she think he was going to do to her kid? “Sorry. Noah.”

“What’s your name?”

“Ryder.” He stuck his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Noah.”

The little guy just frowned at his hand at first, then looked at Becca.

She smiled at him. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she said, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “Ryder just wants to shake your hand.”

His mouth formed an “oh” but without the sound, then he slapped his palm against Ryder’s and started giggling.

In spite of himself, Ryder smiled. Whatever was up with Amy wasn’t the kid’s fault. “That’s quite a grip you’ve got there,” he said as his hand swallowed Noah’s.

“Becca! Oh, my goodness!”

At the sound of his mom’s voice, Ryder flinched. Why now? Dammit.

Becca jumped.

He turned and watched his mom, gripping the cart with one hand and her cane with the other, hurrying toward them.

“Hello, Mrs. Mitchell.” Becca’s gaze flew to the cane.

She looked as if she didn’t know how she should greet his mom, which really pissed him off. Becca had spent most of her teens at their ranch, eaten a lot of dinners with the family. He was seven years older than Amy and hadn’t paid much attention to her and her friends, but he remembered that Becca loved horses. Always wanted to hang around the stables. She’d been close to her grandparents, but the Hancocks weren’t ranchers.

Becca finally stepped forward and embraced his mom in an earnest hug. When she moved back, he saw the tears in her eyes before she blinked them away.

The relief he’d felt over Amy disappeared. Something was wrong. And damned if he wouldn’t wring every last detail out of her.

Chapter Four

Becca shouldn’t have been surprised to run into Amy’s mom and brother. Less than twenty-five hundred people lived in the county and half of them ended up in town for one reason or another most days.

“So when did you arrive?” Mrs. Mitchell asked, her hopeful gaze sweeping the area. “Amy didn’t mention you all were coming. She’s here with you, isn’t she?”

Becca felt terrible over the woman’s attempt to sound casual when she was anything but. She swallowed and made the mistake of glancing at Ryder. The contempt in his eyes startled her. While he hadn’t jumped for joy over seeing her, he’d been okay a few moments ago.

She refocused on Mrs. Mitchell. “No, I’m sorry,” Becca said, saddened by the woman’s obvious disappointment. A mother never gave up hope. Becca understood that now. “Amy wanted to come, but the trip was a last-minute decision on my part and she already had plans.” Becca paused. “She sends her love, though.”

The ensuing silence couldn’t have been more awkward. Becca wanted to disappear. Gail Mitchell had always been so kind to her. Becca could’ve tried to sound more convincing.

Mrs. Mitchell gave her a resigned smile. “Well, I’m very glad to see you, Becca. You look all grown-up, and so pretty,” she said with a brief glance at her son. “Isn’t she pretty, Ryder?”

Heat stung Becca’s cheeks. She tried not to look at him. He hadn’t responded, which was more than okay with her. Except then she had to look, couldn’t stop herself.

He hadn’t changed all that much in the seven years. His chest and shoulders looked a bit broader, but then ranching tended to breed muscular men. His sandy-brown hair was longer now, waving just above his shirt collar very much like—

Stricken by a sudden realization, she jerked her gaze up and met Ryder’s dark blue eyes.

Why hadn’t she seen the resemblance before?

“Mommy?” Noah frowned up at her. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”

She held back a sigh. “Nothing, sweetie,” she said, giving him a smile.

Gail blinked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. “And who is this adorable young man?” She bent down to Noah’s level, and Ryder was instantly at her side, holding on to her arm while she leaned heavily on the cane.

Becca’s gaze went straight to the stubborn wave in his hair in the exact spot and angle as Noah’s.

At one point in her teens, she could’ve described Ryder down to the very last detail. She’d been such a pathetic cliché, crushing on her best friend’s older brother. “Noah, this is Mrs. Mitchell. Answer her, please.”

“I’m Noah.” He grinned big. “You wanna see my truck?”

Mrs. Mitchell laughed. Even Ryder smiled.

“Of course I do. Where is it?” She pretended to look around for it. “Is it in your pocket?”

“No.” Gurgling with laughter, he leaned into Becca. “It’s too big.”

Mrs. Mitchell beamed at him, her glow of delight taking years off her face. How had she aged so much since the last time Becca had been home? Her short dark hair had streaks of gray and there were new lines on her face that Becca doubted were from laughter. And a cane? What could have happened?

Becca resisted the urge to pull Noah closer. Cling to him for all she was worth. How could she have forgotten...

This woman was Noah’s grandmother.

“So, where did you put it?” the older woman asked him.

He shrugged his shoulders. “It might be in the room,” he mumbled, distracted by a child sitting in a cart passing them. The little boy was licking an orange pumpkin-shaped sucker and eyeing Noah.

“The room?” Clearly puzzled, Mrs. Mitchell looked at Becca. “Where are you staying?”

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Noah whined, and Becca couldn’t have been happier for the interruption.

“I know. But you need to keep your voice down, and what have I told you about interrupting grown-ups when they’re talking?”

Noah muttered an apology, though he was far more interested in keeping track of the lollipop.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Mitchell, but it was a long drive and I really should go feed him so he can take a nap.”

“Don’t you worry. I understand all too well. This one here,” she said, inclining her head at Ryder as he helped her straighten, “he would’ve eaten twenty-four seven if I’d let him. I doubt he ever went long enough between snacks to be hungry. And mind you, it lasted until he left for college.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me that,” Becca said, laughing. “My food bill is already more than my rent.”

“Come on, Mom, let’s go,” Ryder said. “She needs to feed the boy.”

“I really do.” Becca smiled. “But it was so nice seeing you, Mrs. Mitchell. And you, Ryder.”

He didn’t respond. She wasn’t surprised. Something had triggered his apparent disdain for her. Did he think she should’ve dragged Amy here under protest?

“For heaven’s sake, you’re an adult now. Call me Gail. How long will you be here? I’d love to have you come to the ranch for a visit.”

Ryder had gotten his mom moving. She’d taken a few steps but stopped, waiting for Becca’s answer. Ryder’s piercing stare was unreadable. Regardless, if Gail wasn’t there, Becca didn’t doubt that she and Ryder would be having an entirely different conversation.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Becca told her. “How’s that?”

Gail’s face lit up. “You still have the number?”

Becca nodded.

“Oh, and where is it that you’re staying?”

“At the motel,” Noah announced before Becca could stop him. “There’s a elevato and I get to push the buttons.”

His words tended to run together when he was excited. Becca supposed it was too much to hope that they hadn’t caught the first part.

“The motel?” Gail looked to her for confirmation.

Even Ryder seemed interested.

“Gail?” The shrill voice came from somewhere behind Becca. “Yoo-hoo, over here.” The woman waiting at the deli counter was waving frantically. “Don’t go anywhere. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, it’s Irma.” Mrs. Mitchell didn’t seem pleased.

“Mommy, that lady intrumted,” Noah said with a mischievous grin.

“I know.” Becca stifled a smile. What a little imp. “Now, say goodbye.”

Gail’s chuckle did nothing to erase her troubled expression. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said. “In the meantime, I’m going to throw something out that I’d like you to really think about. We’ve got a lot of room at the ranch and you’re welcome to stay with us. In fact, I would love it. A motel is no place for an active young boy.”

Ryder’s jaw tightened and he pinned her with a hard stare. Clearly he didn’t share his mom’s enthusiasm. He’d be relieved to know Becca wouldn’t accept the offer. Not in a million years.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, Becca and Noah went down to the lobby to check out the complimentary continental breakfast. Everything from the locally made muffins and cinnamon buns to the bowls of fresh fruit looked amazing. They even offered two varieties of dry cereal. Eating breakfast here every day would give her pocketbook a small boost.

She poured some orange juice and a glass of milk for Noah, and filled a mug of coffee for herself. Of course he had eyes only for the sweets. Becca picked out an apple and a banana and let him have half a cinnamon bun as a special treat.

Patty, the woman behind the front desk, had kindly loaned her a tray so she could carry everything back to their room. Patty had even grabbed a couple of oranges from the back and set them on the tray with a second cinnamon bun despite Becca’s protest.

Ten minutes later, sitting at the small table across from Noah, Becca had finished the bun and her coffee. How could she have forgotten Marge’s cinnamon rolls? Back when she and Amy were teenagers, they’d gone to Marge’s Diner for the sweet gooey buns at least once a week.

The pleasant memory faded in seconds. Becca checked her phone, even knowing it was useless. Still nothing from Amy. Derek’s call had chipped away some of Becca’s hope, but not all of it.

Glancing up, she saw a little arm slowly reaching across the table. “Noah, stop. Finish your banana.”

“No. I want that,” he said, pointing a sticky finger at the other half of the bun, which she’d already wrapped up in a napkin.

“I said you could have half.”

“No!”

“Don’t yell. Drink your milk.”

His cheeks growing pink, he stuck out his lower lip, and she prayed a tantrum wasn’t brewing.

She’d always limited his sugar intake, for the usual health reasons, but also to temper his intermittent outbursts. Isabella had assured her that Noah was no different from any other four-year-old, but that didn’t stop Becca from worrying. She wanted to believe Amy, who swore she hadn’t done any drugs while she was pregnant. In fact, her addiction hadn’t taken hold until after Noah was born. Still, Becca would be a fool to dismiss the possibility.

Fortunately, Noah’s pout gave way to a big yawn.

Neither of them had slept well last night. Becca knew exactly what had made her restless, but she had expected Noah to conk out.

Before she got lost in thoughts of Ryder and Gail and how she would handle the phone call that she’d promised to make, she rose and went around the table to Noah’s side.

She crouched down and slipped her arms around him. “I love you, sweet boy.”

“Love you, too, Mommy.”

She leaned back to look at him. “What do you think about taking a nap?”

His dark blue eyes turned stormy. So much like Ryder’s yesterday that her heart rate doubled. God, she wished she’d never seen the similarity.

“I’m going to lie down, too. I was hoping we could take a nap together.”

Noah frowned, clearly trying to decide if he liked the idea or not.

“Then later, when we wake up, we’ll go for a drive. There are all kinds of horses and cows around here.”

His face brightened. “Where?”

“Not too far from town.”

“Can we pet them?”

“Maybe,” she said, using his napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth. “Finish your milk and banana, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, drawing out the word into a sigh as he picked up his plastic cup.

Becca got to her feet and cleared the table, making sure she hid the remaining half of the cinnamon roll where he couldn’t see it. Maybe they’d split it later.

“Can we ride the horses?” Noah asked, setting down his empty cup and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Horses are very big. And you don’t know how to ride.”

“Do you?”

Becca nodded. “It’s been a long time, though.”

“Will you teach me?”

“We’ll see,” she said, knowing that wouldn’t happen. “Go wash your face and hands, please.”

After putting out the Do-Not-Disturb sign, she pulled back the sheets she’d tidied earlier and fluffed Noah’s pillow. He left the bathroom and headed straight for the bed, not grumbling once. But he didn’t close his eyes until she joined him.

She hadn’t tried to trick him. She welcomed sleep: twenty minutes, a half hour, three hours, whatever she could get. It didn’t take long for the guilt and fear to sink their teeth into her. Forgetting that Noah wasn’t hers by blood was much easier when she wasn’t staring his grandmother and uncle in the face.

In the plus column, Becca knew returning to Blackfoot Falls had been the right thing to do. Here, she was spared the fear that Derek might suddenly show up and drag Noah away. Aside from the Mitchells, and worrying about Amy, her other problem had to do with work.

Her boss was a nice guy but his patience extended only so far. And she needed a paycheck. Soon. Just because she’d left LA didn’t mean she didn’t have to pay her rent. And Isabella, God bless her, had refused the money Becca had tried to give her since it wasn’t her fault she wouldn’t be needed for a week...or two. But Becca preferred to be optimistic.

Later, she figured she’d go take a look at her grandparents’ house. See what kind of shape it was in. Thinking about the modest homestead surrounded by blue sky and open space calmed her. Her pulse had slowed and her eyelids drooped. She snuggled into the pillow and started to drift off...

A knock at the door jarred her awake. She looked over at Noah. Thankfully he hadn’t moved.

She leaped out of bed and raced to the door. Forestalling a second knock, Becca skipped the peephole and pulled the door open. “Ryder?”

He took off his Stetson and ran a hand through his sandy-brown hair. “I hope this isn’t too early.”

“Um, no.” Her heart pounded, and for a second she considered telling him it was a bad time. But not knowing what he wanted would drive her crazy. She glanced back at Noah, who still hadn’t stirred. “Come in,” she whispered, stepping aside to let him pass. “We’ll have to keep our voices down.”

As Ryder crossed the threshold, he saw Noah curled up in the middle of the bed. “I can come back later.”

The faint scent of leather and saddle soap drifted in with him, bringing with it memories of long ago afternoons, her hanging out in the stables with him and his dad, asking endless questions. Until now she hadn’t fully appreciated how patient they’d been with her.

“Now is better,” she said. “We’re going for a drive later.”

“I’d hate to wake him.”

“He’ll be okay. We don’t exactly live in the quietest neighborhood in LA.” She led him to the table, suddenly conscious of her sloppy gray sweatpants and her oversize black sweatshirt sans bra. Not that he’d notice. Anyway, she was too nervous to care. He hadn’t smiled once and she couldn’t imagine what was so important that he’d show up unannounced like this.

She sat in the same chair she’d used earlier, and he took Noah’s. The table was small but perfectly adequate...until Ryder rested his elbows on the wood veneer surface and leaned across it. Her first impulse was to scoot her chair back. Then she realized he’d leaned close so as not to disturb Noah.

A flicker of amusement relaxed his features. “I woke you. Sorry.”

“No,” she said, her hand going to her messy hair. “I was just trying to get Noah to—” Becca sighed. She had a pretty good idea what she looked like. “I might’ve drifted off.”

“This won’t take long,” he murmured in a pitch so low she had to lean forward to hear him. “Have you thought about my mom’s offer?”

Becca should’ve known why he’d come. “Yes, I have. And the answer is no, we won’t be staying at your ranch. So you don’t have to worry about it.”

A wry half grin rested on his well-shaped mouth. “I want you to take her up on it.”

“Why?”

“Come on, Becca, are we really going to do this?”

“Do what?”

He stared silently back at her, though not as if he were considering the question. Ryder looked as he had yesterday. Just plain disgusted.

Pretending to check on Noah, she turned her head. Between Amy’s lies and Becca’s guilt over believing the worst about him, and of course, the biggie—the secret she was keeping from the Mitchells—it was difficult for her to keep all the confusing emotions in check. No telling what her face was giving away.

Something else occurred to her. If Amy had lied to her, she’d probably lied to her family. About what, though? Becca couldn’t ask. No way she could stir that hornet’s nest and expect to come out unscathed.

“Because you owe her,” Ryder finally said.

Chapter Five

Ryder watched a flush creep across Becca’s cheeks as she briefly met his eyes. Guilt, no doubt. Which was fitting. If she hadn’t manipulated Amy into running off with her, his sister would have probably married Billy, whose folks owned the Circle K. She would’ve settled down right there in Blackfoot Falls and given their mom a couple of grandbabies by now.

Something Ryder had failed to do.

Damn, he couldn’t let that line of thinking sabotage him. He’d already wasted too much time steeped in regret, wondering how everything in his marriage had gone so wrong.

Becca hadn’t said a word. And now that she’d turned back to look at her son, Ryder couldn’t read her.

He’d never had a problem doing that when she was a kid. Back then, when she’d followed him around with big puppy dog eyes, her expression could tell a whole story. His mom had threatened to ground him for a year if he said one word to embarrass her.

At the time he’d been twenty-one, too old to be grounded, but he hadn’t done anything to make her feel awkward. He’d liked Becca. She’d had a healthy respect for horses and ranching in general. Except for that year after her mom had moved to Alaska with her new husband. Becca had practically transformed overnight.

When she stubbornly refused to look at him again, he asked, “Does the kid have a father?”

“He has a name. It’s Noah,” she said, turning back to Ryder with a fire in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. “I didn’t use a sperm donor, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He almost smiled. “Are you married?”

At first, she just stared at him. “How is that your business?”

“It’s not.”

She blinked. “How about you and Leanne? You must have kids by now.”

Ryder winced a little. “We’re divorced.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It happens.”

“Any kids?”

He shook his head.

Becca sighed. “I’m not married. Never have been. It’s just Noah and me.”

Ryder turned to look at the boy snuggled under the covers. “He’s a cute kid.”

“He is.” Her lips lifted in a gentle smile, then all of a sudden her guard went up.

Ryder hadn’t said or done anything to provoke it. Yet the barrier between them was so obvious it was almost tangible.

“Frankly, I don’t understand why you’d want us around,” she said. “You certainly didn’t hide your feelings yesterday.”

“All right. While we’re being frank,” he said, and she blinked at his mocking tone, “I think you know something about Amy you aren’t telling us.”

“I don’t even know where she is. And that’s the truth.”

“What do you mean?”

Becca sighed. “I don’t know how to say it any plainer than that.”

“Noah said she gave him a toy.”

“Yes. When she came by my place last week, but I haven’t seen her since. I’ve tried calling her cell but she hasn’t answered.”

“You guys don’t share a place?”

“Not for a few years. She lives with her boyfriend.”

Ryder heard a trace of scorn in her voice, saw her tense. Clearly she didn’t like the guy, he thought, then noticed the tiny quiver at the corner of her mouth. No, it was more than dislike. She was afraid. “Tell me about this boyfriend of hers.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know him, not really. I’m not a fan so Amy doesn’t bring him around.”

“You know enough to dislike him. What is it about him that you—?”

“Look, ask Amy, okay? It’s her business. I won’t discuss it with you.”

“I’d be more than happy to ask her if she’d ever bother calling. Or if she would give us her damn number. Did you know we haven’t heard from her in a year? And that she blocked her number?”

“Keep it down. You’re going to wake Noah.”

“Come on, Becca. Work with me here. You look worried, so naturally now I’m concerned.”

She briefly closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her right temple.

He waited for her to continue. And got nothing. “Guess I should’ve listened to my gut. Hell, I can still drive down there. How many hours did it take you?”

“No.” Eyes wide, she stared at him. “Don’t. Please.”

Ryder felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. “You want to tell me why I shouldn’t?” he said. “Because I gotta say, by the look on your face, I’m thinking I should’ve left a week ago.”

“Please, Ryder.” She reached across the table and clutched his hand. “Amy’s leaving him. She might’ve done it already.”

“The boyfriend?”

She nodded. “If you show up, it’ll make things worse.”

That made no sense at all. Something sure had rattled her. She hadn’t let go of his hand. In fact, she was squeezing tighter, though he doubted she was aware of it.

“Look, if you’d just tell me the truth,” he said, “maybe I can help.”

Becca blinked, then looked at her fingers curling over his hand, her fingernails digging into his palm. Her eyes widened a fraction. Oh, yeah, she was rattled. She hadn’t even figured out he’d been bluffing. How could he show up when he didn’t even know where Amy lived?

Straightening her spine, Becca slowly withdrew her hand. She clasped it with her other one. “I’ve told you the truth. I can’t help it if you choose not to believe me.”

“Fair enough. But now I’ve got another problem. Going by what you just told me, I have to believe you know exactly where Amy is, you know what kind of trouble she’s in, and yet you left her behind to fend for herself.”

Becca’s faint smile was tinged with bitterness. “You obviously don’t know your sister very well.”

“How could I? She was still a kid when you dragged her to LA.”

The smile vanished. Her eyes filled with disbelief as her lips parted. He could see her mind working. She’d probably tell him to go to hell, which wouldn’t be entirely undeserved—Amy had always been headstrong. But he knew Amy hadn’t been keen on going to LA because she’d told him so. She’d gone for Becca’s sake.

After several moments of charged silence, Becca pushed back in her chair and stood. “Well, I believe we’ve said all there is to say, so if you’ll excuse me...we have a full day planned.”

“You haven’t answered me.”

“Oh, was there a question in there?” She hadn’t bothered to keep her voice down. Apparently she’d rather wake her son than have to finish their conversation. “It sounded more like an accusation.”

Her expression startled him.

She wasn’t just angry. Becca looked hurt. Hell, what did she expect? She had a lot of nerve to show up and pretend she didn’t have news of Amy. Then to admit she’d deserted his sister. He saw her hand tremble slightly. No. No way. He wouldn’t feel sorry for her.

He thought back to yesterday at the Food Mart. The way his mom had fawned over her had pissed him off. The memory put him to rights. If Becca was upset, it was her own doing.

“Look,” he said, “how about we call a truce?”

“I have no quarrel with you. Anyway, I doubt we’ll run into each other again.”

He bit back a curse. “You promised to call my mom.”

“And I will.” She walked past him, waving a hand as if she were dismissing him.

Ryder caught her wrist. “Don’t wake the boy yet. We need to settle this first.” He moved his thumb against her inner wrist. So soft.

She glared at him. “Let me go.”

He released her and cleared his throat. “Look, I’m asking you on behalf of my mother.”

“Did she send you?”

“She doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“I won’t say anything.” Becca absently rubbed her wrist.

His grip hadn’t been tight enough to hurt her. Was she trying to play him? Good luck. He’d run low on sympathy long before today. Unfortunately, he could tell she wasn’t going to accept his mom’s invitation.

“Come on, be smart. Staying at the Sundowner means you’d save some money.” Unlike Becca, he continued to keep his voice low. “And Noah would have lots of space and plenty to occupy him. Don’t let how we feel about each other influence your decision. You’d hardly see me.”

Her brows rose. “How we feel about each other? I hadn’t given you a single thought before yesterday.”

“If I recall, neither of us were exactly overjoyed.”

“Oh.” She blushed and looked away. “Right. Anyway, moot point.”

Ryder wondered about the sudden awkwardness, then remembered Amy teasing him about Becca having a crush on him. But that had been kid stuff, at least ten years ago. Something else was bothering her.

She stood beside the bed where Noah was curled up, gazing down at her son with so much heart it stopped him in his tracks. Whatever her faults, she certainly loved that child. With no husband in the picture and living in an expensive city like LA? Maybe the kid’s father helped out some, but Ryder had the feeling that wasn’t the case. Either way, he gave her credit.

“Wait,” he said when she was about to wake the boy. She was a mother. He knew how to appeal to her. “I doubt Amy told you. She might not even know since her calls had dropped off, but my mom had a stroke.”

“Oh, no. When?”

“A couple years ago.”

“I wondered about the cane. I’m really sorry. Despite...everything, I’ve always liked your mom. A lot. Your father, too. They were both nice to me.” She winced. “Even after my mom left and I wasn’t at my best.”

Ryder laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Hey, I could’ve been worse.”

Noah stirred.

Ryder hurried on. “After seeing you and Noah yesterday, she was the happiest I’ve seen her in years. As soon as we got home, she started freshening up the guest rooms and writing out meal plans...”

Becca briefly nibbled at her lower lip, eyeing him suspiciously. “Playing dirty, are we?”

“Just telling it like it is.”

She hesitated, then turned back to her son. “Noah? Time to wake up, sleepyhead.”

Ryder sighed. So she was willing to use the kid to avoid answering? Fine.

Noah jerked his head up with a start. He blinked, looked around, but didn’t see Becca behind him. He rubbed both eyes with small fists and immediately started to cry.

“Hey, Mr. Cranky Pants...” Placing a hand on his shoulder, she sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m right here.”

Those weren’t crocodile tears. He looked genuinely afraid until he turned and buried his face against his mom’s chest. She held him close and stroked his back. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’re in the motel with the elevator you like to ride, remember?”

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