The Cowboy's Bride. Carolyne Aarsen

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      Rebecca drew back from the window and glanced guiltily over her shoulder. But no one stood in the doorway watching her watch Joe Brewer. When she looked out again, Joe was driving his battered pickup away from the bank, and the beautiful young woman who had come running up to him still stood watching him.

      A real ladies’ man, she thought. Not her type.

      Rebecca sat carefully at her desk, forcing herself to forget how easily Joe had caught her when she almost fell in front of him. She still didn’t know what had caused her stumble. She hadn’t tripped like that in weeks, and of course it would happen in front of a man who, it seemed, had half the female population of this town falling all over him in other ways.

      She wrinkled her nose at the memory of his dark hair, dangerous eyes fringed with ridiculously long eyelashes and self-assured grin. Joe reminded her of some clients she had met in her job with the bank in Calgary. Self-assured young men who were cocky until things don’t go their way.

      Rebecca preferred her men more polished, less overwhelming.

      More like…Dale?

      Rebecca smiled as she remembered how delighted Jenna had been when Dale had shown interest in her. Jenna made no secret of the fact that she was pleased to see her sister willing to date again. It had been over a year since Kyle and the accident that sunny afternoon.

      Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut, fighting off the wave of panic as snatches of unwanted memory returned—her fear and panic as Kyle came after her, the weight of the horse falling on her.

      Clenching her teeth, she forced the thought aside. She hadn’t had a vivid memory of the accident for months.

      Must have been Joe and his reckless good looks. And all that talk about horses.

      Rebecca forced her thoughts down other paths, concentrated on her breathing, tried to relax. When her control returned, she slowly turned to her work, picking up the next piece of paper—a copy of a long-term promissory note. She read over the terms, frowning in her attempt to focus on her job.

      She only had a few days to familiarize herself with the files in her care. She was determined to show fellow workers that she got this job based on training and experience, not because her brother-in-law was the bank manager.

      The phone rang, and Rebecca picked it up.

      “Hi, Becks, how’s it going?”

      “Fine, Jenna.” Rebecca grimaced at her sister’s use of a name that no one except her family used anymore. “I had my first customer this morning.”

      “Who?”

      Rebecca twisted the cord of the phone around her finger as she glanced out the window again remembering bold eyes and an arrogant grin. “Joe Brewer.”

      “You must be kidding.”

      “Why do you say that?”

      “Honey.” Jenna’s voice took on that patient older-sister tone that could still rub Rebecca the wrong way. “You stay away from anyone in this town with the last name of Brewer. They are nothing but trouble.” Jenna took another breath, and Rebecca sensed that a unwelcome sisterly lecture was coming on.

      “Well, I think I scared him away,” Rebecca said, interrupting her. “He could hardly wait to get out of here.” Rebecca tapped a pen on her desk as she remembered how quickly Joe Brewer had left. “What can I do for you?”

      “I just wanted to see how things are going.”

      Rebecca resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Dear Jenna meant well, but she was a tad overprotective. “Things are going fine. This is only my second day on the job, after all.”

      “I know that. I was just thinking about you and thought I would give you a call.”

      “That’s nice.” Rebecca closed the file folder in front of her and set it aside. “But I should be getting back to my job, Jen. I’ve got a stack of work ahead of me and only so much time to do it in.”

      “You don’t have to make a good impression on your boss, Becks.”

      “Having my brother-in-law as my manager shouldn’t make any difference to my work, Jenna,” Rebecca reminded her as she tucked the phone under her ear, and reached for a new file.

      “I know, but don’t forget that you also came here to recuperate.” Jenna paused as if to let that sink in.

      Rebecca shook her head, wet her finger and flipped open the file. “Look, I’ve really got to go, Jen. I’ll see you tonight.”

      Jenna said her goodbyes, and Rebecca laid the phone on its cradle wondering if taking on this job in Wakely was a mistake.

      But she knew she came here to get help reaching her goal. As she thought of the alternative—living at home with parents who hovered even more than Jenna—she decided she could probably handle her sister.

      Joe leaned forward, arms resting on the steering wheel of his semi, his eyes staring sightlessly at the line of tractor-trailer units ahead of him at the weighing station. Not for the first time he winged up a prayer that his load would come underweight, and not over, as he suspected it was.

      Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he bit his lip in frustration. He had a Super-B full of six-by-six lumber that had to go to a resaw mill in Penticton, and he didn’t want to look at his watch to see how late he was.

      He pulled out the worn piece of paper that Dale had given him. Each time he thought about the choice between losing his plan to open a training arena or taking over the ranch that held absolutely no good memories for him, he felt almost ill. As he looked at the figure on the paper he remembered all too clearly Miss Rebecca Stevenson’s perfectly shaped eyebrow lifting oh so slightly when he refused their generous offer. He was still angry with Lane for maneuvering him into that awkward situation.

      Joe folded the paper and set it in the folder on the seat beside him, wondering at the direction of his life. Trucking was the only thing he knew. He had started driving as an escape, a way to see the world.

      Well, he hadn’t seen the world, he thought, staring sightlessly at the line of trucks ahead of him, but he’d seen enough of the highways of North America to realize that running from one end of the continent to the other had merely become a job. A way to save for other plans.

      Spending lonely evenings hunched over the wheel of his semi, his world narrowed down to the beam of his headlights, then pulling over on an empty stretch of highway to eat truck-stop food and get some sleep was not how he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Lately he yearned for a home, for a certain comfort and routine in his life. The same routine he once scorned.

      But what did he have?

      Other than his acreage and a small mobile home, his only asset was his innate knowledge of horses. He had gotten started with the help of Allister McLure, one of the local vets.

      Allister had fostered and encouraged Joe’s gift for working with horses. As an overworked and angry young man, Joe would periodically drop everything and go to the home of Allister and his wife, Lorna. It was Allister who showed him faith in action and Allister who showed СКАЧАТЬ