Rancher's Refuge. Linda Goodnight

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      In a quiet tone, Cassie nailed him. “Neither does she.”

      Austin wrestled with his conscience. He was as sympathetic as the next person, but having Annalisa under his roof more than one day bothered him. A lot.

      “Something’s way off base with this woman, Cassie. Why won’t she explain herself?”

      “Maybe she has a good reason. Maybe she’s scared. Maybe she’s not sure who she can trust.”

      He’d wondered about that. “Did you notice that she’s never asked to call anyone? She has no personal effects, nowhere to go. What if she’s a criminal or worse?”

      “What could be worse?”

      “There’s worse, and you know it.” He shot her a meaningful look.

      “Austin,” she said gently.

      “Don’t want your sympathy, Cassie. I want your cooperation. For once, agree with me on something.” Taking in a troubled woman was setting himself up for a fall he couldn’t take. Not again. Irritation edging toward fear, Austin rinsed a plate and shoved it toward his nosy sister. “Something is way out of line, and I don’t want to be involved.”

      He’d bought this ranch out in the middle of nowhere for a reason. He wanted peace, quiet and solitude. He’d wanted to be as far away from speculation and suspicion as humanly possible.

      Adding a lying stranger with a broken arm to the mix wouldn’t work.

      “You can’t hide from people forever, Austin. Life goes on.”

      He jerked the plug from the drain. Water gurgled. “Don’t go there.” There were some things he didn’t talk about, even to Cassie. “This is my house and I said no. Tomorrow she goes.”

      “Where?”

      “That’s her business. Not yours. Not mine.”

      His sister slapped a hand on the counter. “She’s staying. She’s broke and injured—a soul in need. God sent her to us.”

      He scoffed in the back of his throat. “I don’t believe that garbage.”

      “Your unbelief doesn’t change the truth.” Cassie stood perfectly still, an unusual phenomenon, and asked in her sweetest voice, “Come on, Austin, please. Annalisa needs a place to stay for a few days while her arm mends and she figures out...something. We have room. We can help her. It’s not a big deal.”

      “It’s the something she needs to figure out that bothers me. She should be straight up with us, tell us what’s going on.”

      “Maybe she will when she feels more comfortable.”

      Her words chafed at him. He didn’t like when his sister was right.

      He yanked the towel from the rack to dry his hands. “I don’t like it.”

      “You like her. I think that’s the problem. It’s been so long since you’ve noticed a woman—”

      Austin spun, pointing a finger. “Three days tops. And then she’s out of here. Got it?”

      Cassie shot him a wounded look, lips tight and resentful. “As you said, it’s your house.”

      She flounced out of the room as fast as her ladybug slippers could flap against hardwood. Austin watched her go, feeling both victory and defeat.

      * * *

      He didn’t want her here.

      Annalisa leaned against the crack of the bedroom door, listening to the brother and sister conversation. Austin Blackwell wanted her gone. Truth be told, she wanted the same thing.

      Whirling, she went to the extension telephone on the cherry dresser and lifted the receiver. Just as quickly she put the instrument down.

      Who would she call? Olivia wouldn’t answer. And Annalisa had burned her bridges with Reverend Beaker. Her boss? She laughed a soft, bitter laugh. Her boss was James, the last man she’d ever call. James held the keys to her life. She’d handed him everything and received nothing but sorrow in return. As of today, she was alone, broke and unemployed.

      Tormented with regret, she sagged on the side of the bed. Thank God the cowboy and his sister had taken her in. Otherwise, she’d be sleeping under a tree, cold and hurt and alone.

      Her body ached all over, even her scalp where James had held her hair while he’d broken her arm.

      She resisted the image. No use reliving the nightmare. He was gone. Hopefully, he’d never look back. He was like that. He’d blow hot and then cold, and if he decided she was too much trouble, he wouldn’t give her a second thought. He’d find another woman by tomorrow.

      The painful truth shamed her further. How had she let herself get involved with a man like James Winchell? How could she have loved a man who showed so little care and respect for her?

      Annalisa knew the answer and she didn’t like it—a woman who didn’t respect herself.

      She pushed a hand through her hair. No use dwelling on James tonight. She roamed aimlessly around the tidy room, wondering about the owners. Friendly Cassie with the red lipstick and ebony hair who’d insisted she stay against Austin’s wishes. Austin. Rugged, handsome cowboy. Gruff and aloof, he both scared and fascinated her.

      Would she never learn?

      A breath of frustration and fatigue stirred the air.

      Nothing fancy here in the Blackwells’ guest room, but homey and pleasant. Sage walls and white woodwork. A cherry sleigh bed covered in a beige-and-brown quilt and piled high with pillows. A red throw tossed over an easy chair next to the double windows.

      Annalisa went to the window and gazed out. The night was deep and black. Except for the stars and moon, only the single floodlight near the barn shed any light. Quiet. Peaceful. Yet the silence made her jittery.

      Cast pressed to her side, she tried wiggling her fingers as the doctor had ordered. Her arm hurt but not as bad as she’d expected. The pain pill she’d taken had started to make her sleepy.

      From the kitchen she caught the rise and fall of voices. Male and female. Austin Blackwell didn’t like her but he’d helped her. She didn’t understand him. But then, she clearly didn’t understand men in general.

      Though tempted, she didn’t listen in on their conversation again. Tomorrow she’d figure out what to do. One thing for certain, she could not go back to California. At least not for a while. She couldn’t go home to Kansas, either. Not until she was strong enough, brave enough, healthy enough to face her regrets and start over alone.

      A knot of longing filled her with an ache greater than the one in her arm.

      Fresh from an awkward, one-handed bath, she lay down on the fluffy pillow, remembering her conversation at the doctor’s office. Dr. Ron had said people prayed beneath the falls expecting an answer. Was that true? Did God work that СКАЧАТЬ