Page 62 of Red Hot Rancher

“Rick?” He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. In Moore, running across Rick would’ve been a coincidence. In a city with like two million people? No. “Is everything okay?”

The man looked tired. His graying blond hair was disheveled, and his shoulders hung like a ton of weight had been dumped on them. “I think it might be. But if you’re looking for Brigit, you won’t find her here.”

Ice collected in Caleb’s veins. Rick Walker was intercepting him at the airport to keep him away from Brigit? At her request? Had Justin called ahead?

But just as his brain reached maximum panic, Rick said, “She’s in Moore.”

Caleb stared at the guy. “Who’s in Moore? Brigit?” His mind couldn’t reconcile the information.

“Justin’s picking her up. When we called, he told us you were rushing here for her.” Rick shrugged, his expression lightening back to the laid-back dad Caleb had known. “I guess you each were so intent on getting to the other. Maybe one of you should’ve called first.”

“I…didn’t know if she’d answer.” And he’d wanted his surprise to prove how committed he was. Long-distance or selling the ranch and moving here—he’d do it. As long as she still wanted to be with him.

“She must’ve thought the same. Or maybe it didn’t matter. She quit her job and moved out.”

“She did what now?” Brigit quit to move back to Moore? For him? He didn’t dare hope.

“Did you know she only took a job out here because she thought she had to pay us back?”

He nodded.

“But you knew how much she wanted to go into the family business?”

He nodded again. “She wanted to be a part of it, not just a worker bee.”

The weight dropped back on Rick’s shoulders. “That’s all she would’ve been too. Her mother was right. But now will be different. Brigit will make sure of it.” He sighed and straightened. “There are no more direct flights to Moore until next season. Why don’t you come back to our place, get a bite to eat, and we’ll book a flight back. We need to talk anyway.”

Caleb tried to process the abrupt change in plans on the way to Rick’s car. For his part, Rick rattled on about Phoenix on the way to his house. Caleb dipped his head occasionally to let the guy know he was listening, even if he wasn’t paying attention. The architecture, the difference in weather, and factoids about the neighborhoods they were driving through were of little interest to him.

Brigit had flown back to Moore. She’d obviously talked to her parents. She’d quit her job and gone home to do what she wanted. Yet, Rick made it sound like she’d gone back for him.

Too soon, Rick pulled into the garage of a reddish-tan stucco house that looked like every other house on the block. So different from the older homes of Moore, and all in a style he’d never seen outside of TV until now. It would be fascinating if his mind didn’t keep returning to Brigit.

Joan was here. Rick had never intimidated him, and he’d always been friendly and congenial, asking about his grandparents and the ranch. Sometimes they’d joke around, but Rick had always been busy with his own work, and Caleb and Justin had been up to their own shenanigans.

Joan, though.

Acid roiled in his stomach. Was she the one who’d deliver the “stay away from my daughter” talk? How would he deal with that? What happened between him and Brigit was their business only, but her mom was important to her. He didn’t have to have a close relationship with his own to understand. If anything, he understood the importance of that relationship because he didn’t have one of his own.

Rick led him inside, waving off his attempt to take his boots off. “We always wear our shoes here. The floor’s too hard not to.”

Caleb’s boots clicked on the floor, echoing off the walls. He passed frames of Brigit and her brothers. Photos of Travis and Kami, and even more of their kids—school pictures of Kambria and baby photos of Ben. Turning into the kitchen, he spotted Joan. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she had a mug of steaming tea between her hands.

When she looked at him, her eyes were haunted. “Have a seat, Caleb.”

A plate waited for him at the table, in a spot between her and where Rick was settling in.

God this was uncomfortable.

A muffin rested on the plate. If he tried to eat it now, it’d turn to dust in his dry mouth.

As his butt hit the hard chair, he realized this was the first time Joan had set a place at the table for him. Growing up, it was always, “Oh, I thought your mom was picking you up.” He and Justin had cruised through the kitchen whenever they’d wanted, grabbing food as they went, but when it came to meal times, Caleb was not part of the family.

Joan sniffed and raised her watery gaze to him. “I’ve been awful to you.”

Caleb laid his clammy hands on his jeans. Had he heard correctly? Did he agree like a bastard kicking her while she down? Or did he continue this farce by politely demurring?

Joan’s gaze switched to her mug. The tea bag floated inside. Had she even taken a sip? “I didn’t realize how private Brigit was until today. But it’s all in what she doesn’t say, isn’t it?” Her chuckle was as dry as the rocky landscape outside. “Oliver was insulting and degrading. It was subtle, and she hardly mentioned it at the time. It’s why we helped buy all that furniture. But we thought she was in love.”

---