Page 19 of Red Hot Rancher

Caleb chuckled. He was the only one who saw humor in any of this. “Who knows? The cops, Social Services, the IRS? Could’ve been any of them.”

“Grandpa and Grandma Cruise were good people,” Farah said.

“The best,” Caleb agreed. “Not many people have to deal with what they went through, and at the time no one understood Mom’s attachment disorder well, much less how to raise a kid with it. So Mom never got the help she needed, despite my grandparents’ efforts.”

Brigit was still staring at Caleb. He talked so plainly about his past, a man comfortable with himself. She wanted to throw her arms around him, comfort him, but he didn’t need it. He didn’t need her.

The realization sank in. Caleb had never needed her. She’d left him, and he’d followed his dreams to the letter. He was in the career he wanted and had carried on his grandparents’ ranch.

Wasn’t that the ultimate point Mom had made, even if she hadn’t known it at the time? Caleb was strong enough to be on his own, but Brigit wasn’t.

She switched her gaze to Farah. The other woman was laughing as she and Caleb reminisced about his grandparents. The woman had also stayed in Moore and made a name for herself. She, too, lived with her parents—sort of. Her home apartment was a mother-in-law suite built into the shop. But she had a full-time job as a deputy and helped her dad ranch.

Mom had told her about the hubbub over Farah’s fiancé. Her voice had dripped with disdain, and all his heroic deeds—like saving Farah and Caleb’s neighbor post-tornado—would never redeem him in her eyes for what he’d done to Brigit’s cousin’s place. It didn’t matter that her cousin had forgiven Jesse or that Jesse was slowly paying him back.

When you’re a lawyer, you can make sure guys like that stay in prison.

I’m not going to be that kind of lawyer, Mom.

Brigit wasn’t going to be any kind of lawyer. Looking around the table, she was the only one who hadn’t amounted to anything.

Chapter 6

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Caleb turned off the highway, sneaking a glimpse at Brigit’s wan face in the glow of the dashboard lights.

“Yeah. Just tired I guess.”

One thing about Bridge was that she was a shitty liar. He’d suggested they head back to Justin’s when she’d grown noticeably quiet after the talk about his childhood.

She was probably marveling over what a close call she’d had. Not only did he not have a roof over his head, he had no reliable family left alive.

Or did she feel sorry for him? Pity was the numero uno reason he never talked about his life. He got enough of that, and even though his mom had made terrible mistakes and horrible decisions, he hated how her failures were all anyone saw.

There wasn’t much else to see, to be honest, but it was the kid in him. The one who’d sat by Grandma and sifted through Mom’s old school artwork and heard the stories of Mom’s first Christmas, the school play when she was ten, and how she’d loved riding horse with Grandpa.

But enough of Mom. He’d dwelled on his past too much lately. Perhaps it was Brigit back in his life, or rebuilding the house he’d grown up in.

He sailed down the gravel road, his brights lighting up the ditches with the heat kicking out the chill of a Minnesota November.

He’d just opened his mouth to comment on how she’d impressed Derrick when a flicker of movement in the grass caught his eye. Letting off the gas, he poised his foot over the brake. A deer with a modest-sized rack darted onto the road, saw his pickup, and stopped, right smack in front of him.

Caleb stomped on the brake, but he didn’t have time to lay on the horn. His seat belt tightened around him, and Brigit’s head flew forward, her hair swirling around her face as her belt caught her. A thud sounded over the skittering of gravel, and the body of the buck bounced onto his hood and slid off the driver’s side.

A whirl of dust surrounded them and quickly cleared away.

“Shit.” At least they were okay. It’d been a buck, but from his quick glimpse, the deer had been young. Big enough to dent and scratch his hood, though.

“Thank goodness it didn’t come through the windshield.” Brigit unhooked her seat belt and leaned over to peer out his window, but the animal had landed out of the glow of his headlights.

Caleb guided the vehicle to the side of the road, parked, and turned on his hazards. “I just hope it died on contact.” He didn’t like the idea of killing the animal, but it was better than letting it suffer.

He dug out his phone and hopped out. Brigit exited behind him. The road was empty and the Walkers who lived on each side were probably snug in their beds. Dillon’s and Cash’s houses were still a half mile away. The lights shouldn’t bother them.

Brigit rounded on the deer, the light on her phone shining on the face. The creature was on its side, its head at an angle few mammals could tolerate. She shone her light over the eyes.

“Dead.”

“At least there’s that.” He called the dispatcher. “Hey, Evie. I hit a deer by Dillon Walker’s. Can you send someone? Perfect.”

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