The Rancher's Second Chance. Brenda Minton

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СКАЧАТЬ back to cooking. If he spent too much time looking at her, he’d get all stupid and heartsick again. He’d start thinking about that ring he’d never given her. Start remembering all the dreams he’d had for the two of them. That had been his mistake, making plans when she hadn’t been interested in anything long-term. Not with him anyway.

      Young and stupid. Yep, that description fit him perfectly. If he gave her a chance, no doubt she’d apologize. Make excuses for why she’d left him. And he’d let her off the hook. The bacon sizzled in the pan, the aroma waking him up a little. He poured two cups of coffee and set one in front of her.

      “Have you called your folks?” he asked as he headed back to the skillet and the bacon.

      “No. They’re out of the country. They’re on a medical mission trip in South America for the next year.”

      He kept his back to her, his attention focused on the pan. “What about your grandparents? Or Aunt Jacki?”

      “Aunt Jacki went to Florida for a few months. I didn’t want to be there alone when Lincoln came looking for me. And my grandparents went to Africa for a month with a group from their church.”

      “What do you want from me, Grace?”

      She didn’t answer. When he turned away from the stove she was staring at the floor, her shoulders slumped forward. The dog had managed to get her attention and now slept in her lap. Brody’s heart caved a little.

      He had a hard time being strong around women, especially this woman. And weak was the last thing he needed to be when it came to Grace Thomas.

      “Grace, I can’t help you if I don’t know what you want.”

      “I need a place to stay. Somewhere he can’t find me. I tried breaking up with him a few months ago but he keeps calling. He won’t stay away from Jacki’s.” Her eyes closed and tears slid down her cheeks.

      “He isn’t going to come after you, is he? You’re gone and he’s probably feeling fortunate that you didn’t press charges.”

      “I did press charges. He’s in jail. And when he gets out he’ll be furious.”

      Brody smiled, imagining his old friend in the slammer. “Well, that ought to teach him. Good for you, Gracie.”

      “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

      “Yeah, well, it didn’t seem right to call you that once you decided to leave me for my best friend.”

      He fixed her a plate of cheesy scrambled eggs and bacon. When he put the plate in front of her she turned green, covered her mouth with her hand and ran down the hall to the bathroom.

      He had a real bad feeling.

      * * *

      The nausea eased, and Grace leaned back against the closed door of the bathroom. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She had made some bad choices in her life, really bad choices. But Lincoln had been the worst ever.

      She didn’t know how she’d become this person, forgetting herself, what she wanted out of life and who she had always known herself to be. She’d lost her way. That was what her granddad would say. Her life had been easy, smooth sailing. And then Lincoln had ensnared her.

      A light rap vibrated the door. “You okay in there?”

      “Oh, yeah. Wonderful.” She stood and turned on cold water to splash her face. He knocked again. She reached for a towel, wiped away the dampness, then stood there with the towel against her cheeks looking at the stranger in the mirror. A stranger with her eyes but with marks left by a man who had no right to do this, to take the best part of her and turn her into someone she no longer recognized.

      She shouldn’t have stayed in the relationship. She should have walked away the first time. If anyone had asked her a year ago if she’d ever let a man hit her, she would have told them she’d make sure he regretted it if he tried. But Lincoln had hit her. More than once.

      For a while she’d stayed in the relationship because Lincoln had a way of convincing her he loved her and that she could change him. And then she’d stayed because she’d been afraid to leave. He’d convinced her that the abuse was her fault and that she needed to change.

      When she finally had walked away, he hadn’t been willing to end things. Tonight she’d made the mistake of opening the door and he’d pushed his way in.

      She was going to find herself again. Calling the police had been the first step in that process.

      “Want me to feed the eggs to the dog?” Brody asked through the paper-thin door. She could imagine him out there, forehead against the door, hand on the knob.

      “No, I’m good. Please don’t let the dog have my breakfast.”

      She opened the door, trying hard to avoid looking at the man standing there so casually, leaning against the wood-paneled wall. While his stance said casual, he would never fit that description. At six feet with blue eyes that tripped a girl up and dark hair that she knew to be soft beneath her fingers, Brody Martin could be lethal. His cowboy charm fooled a girl. No, he fooled a lot of people with that good-ole-boy act.

      He shifted away from the wall and his steady gaze held her in place. She looked away at first, her hand going to her cheek. Feather soft his hand touched her arm. She flinched but didn’t mean to.

      “You okay?”

      She nodded but couldn’t form the words to assure him. If she spoke out loud, she’d cry. If he said anything, she’d cry harder. If he touched her, the dam would definitely break, and she’d probably never be able to get control again.

      He gave her a long look and kept his distance.

      “Let’s eat before that mutt gets our eggs. She loves ’em.” He motioned her to walk ahead of him.

      She poured herself a fresh cup of the coffee. Now that her stomach had settled, she thought she could keep it down. She needed it. She’d been awake all night. Through the kitchen window she could see that it was morning now. Not a sunny morning, but dreary like the night that had just passed. The world was gray and a steady rain fell.

      Brody walked up behind her. He took a plate off the counter and handed it to her. She watched him limp to the fridge. He didn’t say anything. He pulled out a jar of salsa and limped back to the table.

      “Your knee isn’t better?” she asked him as she sat.

      He sat across from her. “Nope.”

      “You’ve been like that since the surgery or before. You’re worse now than you were when...”

      He looked up, his blue eyes accusing. She glanced away, unsure how to continue.

      “Yeah, there are a lot of ways I’m worse off than I was then. Thanks.”

      “I didn’t leave you for Lincoln.” She at least owed him that explanation.

      “You broke up with me, and the next week you were with Lincoln.”

      “I know.” She closed her eyes, thinking back СКАЧАТЬ