The Reluctant Rancher Read online

  She can’t stay for long

  She just needs a place to hide. Now. Pregnant and on the run, Blossom Kennedy jumps at the opportunity to work as a caregiver to an injured, elderly rancher. While she tends to the man, his handsome grandson takes over at the Circle H. Logan Hunter is tough, loyal and a wonderful father to his young son. But Blossom needs a port in a storm more than she needs love, and soon enough she’ll be moving on. Unless she’s somehow stumbled into the exact place she and her unborn child are supposed to be...by Logan’s side.

  “The farther west I travel, the more...open I feel. Less closed in.”

  Logan couldn’t help but smile. “That’s how I feel when I’m flying.”

  “You’re a pilot?”

  “Private jets. Experimental sometimes—but mostly redesigns.” Until he got his promotion. Then his assignments would become way more interesting.

  “A test pilot,” Blossom said. “No wonder you don’t seem that happy to be here.”

  He looked outside the barn at that big blue sky. “Got me,” he said.

  “I think I know how you feel. Flying high must seem like being a bird. I suppose if I reached California, I’d feel positively free.” She didn’t sound that convinced. “Or maybe,” she added with that look again, “I’ll just run out of road.”

  He didn’t want to care, but still he had to ask.

  “Blossom, what are you running from?”

  Dear Reader,

  How much fun can a writer have? I loved fitting all the pieces together for The Reluctant Rancher. As a bonus, I got to write about cowboys—always a favorite!

  In his “real life,” Logan Hunter is a test pilot who needs an upcoming promotion with higher pay so he can fight for custody of his young son. But when the grandfather who raised Logan gets hurt on the family ranch, Logan becomes a temporary cowboy again.

  He’s not looking for love. And Blossom Kennedy, the caregiver he hires to help out, is clearly on the run. She won’t stay long and neither will he. But, of course, love has its own plans for these two.

  I hope you’ll enjoy this ride on the Circle H ranch, where the buffalo still roam. And there’s more good news: The Reluctant Rancher is the first book in my new miniseries, Kansas Cowboys.

  Happy reading!

  Leigh

  The Reluctant Rancher

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Leigh Riker

  Leigh Riker, like many dedicated readers, grew up with her nose in a book. This award-winning, USA TODAY bestselling author still can’t imagine a better way to spend her time than to curl up with a good romance novel—unless it is to write one! She’s a member of the Authors Guild, Novelists, Inc. and Romance Writers of America. When not writing, she’s either in the garden, watching movies funny and sad, or traveling (for research purposes, of course). With added “help” from her mischievous Maine coon cat, she’s now at home working on a new novel. She loves to hear from readers. You can find Leigh on her website, leighriker.com, on Facebook at leighrikerauthor and on Twitter, @lbrwriter.

  Books by Leigh Riker

  Harlequin Heartwarming

  Lost and Found Family

  Man of the Family

  If I Loved You

  Harlequin Intrigue

  Agent-in-Charge

  Double Take

  Harlequin Next

  Change of Life

  Red Dress Ink

  Strapless

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  To

  Aidan, Kaitlyn, Jackson and Lily, my youngest loves...

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  EXCERPT FROM SHADOW ON THE FELLS BY ELEANOR JONES

  CHAPTER ONE

  “THIS ONE HAD better be good,” he said.

  Because being a cowboy—or a nursemaid—wasn’t in Logan Hunter’s plan.

  His black Stetson cocked at an angle, he narrowed his eyes at the distant plume of dust rising off the dirt access lane to the ranch. The Circle H was cut off—literally, in bad weather—from the road by half a mile. One reason he didn’t want to be here, especially in spring when he knew the rains would come. Staring across the wide expanse of land, which looked as flat as an old mare’s shank, he studied the fast-approaching car.

  Logan wished he were in a car and headed the other way. Three years after the nasty divorce that had turned him into a hard man, he was still dealing with the fallout when his grandfather got hurt. He was more than willing to come back here and help Sam—he’d raised Logan and his brother after all—but April was the busy season. He couldn’t run the ranch and care for Sam at the same time. He needed more help. Fast.

  Certainly his brother hadn’t stepped up to the plate. Sawyer hadn’t even answered his calls. Everything was up to Logan, at least for now.

  Still watching the lane, he scooped up the tortoiseshell kitten that had kept twining around his feet. Cradling the little cat, Logan propped a shoulder against the front porch post and listened to her purr. He was a sucker for animals, with one exception.

  Bison.

  Why couldn’t his granddad run cattle like everybody else?

  The car barreled into focus, gathering speed the closer it came, as if someone was chasing the driver. The broken-down sedan crunched to a stop in the gravel by the front steps, and Logan envisioned another frustrating go-round with the Mother Comfort Home Health Care Agency’s latest candidate. The male caregiver he’d asked for was a rare commodity in the middle of Kansas, so he’d been told.

  He didn’t want excuses. The driver’s door opened and disappointment swamped him. Logan didn’t want another woman in the house—in his life either. Then the dust cloud settled and he really saw her. As she climbed out of the car, the denim ball cap she wore snagged on the door frame. The hat flopped off into the dirt, and a riot of russet curls spilled free. That bright hair bobbed everywhere. Hidden behind huge sunglasses, her eyes could be any color, but her chin hitched upward in her heart-shaped face and his stomach clenched.

  He might have been a fool at twenty-three, but at thirty-two he knew better.

  The woman’s clothing was something else. Baggy top, baggy pants, both in dark colors, which shouldn’t have made her look attractive, but did.

  She pulled off her glasses. Her eyes were brown, like the plain grass in winter, yet he saw something deep within them. Despair? Fear? He couldn’t tell.

  But her voice held firm. “Mr. Hunter?”

  “Yep.” From
his casual stance against the post, he gave her his best strong, silent cowboy stare. “You’re looking at him.”

  She took a breath. “I thought I’d never get here.”

  “So did I.” Idly, he stroked the kitten. He’d waited most of the afternoon for this newest applicant.

  She glanced behind her at the long drive. “Well. This is Kansas.” Suddenly, she grinned up at him from the bottom step. “I feel like I’m in The Wizard of Oz before the tornado whisked Dorothy away. Not much out here, is there?”

  “Not much.” Logan had almost flinched. He didn’t need any reminders of the ranch’s isolation.

  “I was sure I was lost. Even your driveway goes on forever.” She shot another look over her shoulder. Who was she expecting to see?

  Logan exaggerated a drawl. “Well, that’s the thing about Kansas. Straight roads. You can just keep goin’. Even fall asleep if you want, then wake yourself up when you get here—or there.”

  Her smile faded. Worrying her lower lip, she took a step backward toward her car. Logan couldn’t blame her. He wanted to run, too, and never come back. This was the place where he’d lost his parents, then his wife, his marriage. And, nearly, his child.

  “So,” she said, “this must be the Circle H.”

  “That’s what the sign says.”

  She tilted her head to study him. “That sign at the end of your road is hanging by a thread. It wouldn’t take a minute to put it back up.”

  “That part of your job description?”

  “No,” she said, looking away. “I imagine it’s part of yours.”

  “Look, we have ten thousand acres here. Miles and miles of fence line. Two men quit this morning, the cook three days ago.” Thanks to Sam’s grumpiness. “Things keep going this way, we won’t need a sign except one that says For Sale.” Her mouth fell open. “On top of that—”

  “Logan, where are you?”

  It was uncanny timing. His grandfather’s voice blasted from his upstairs bedroom down the steps and through the screen door onto the porch. It happened about ten times a day. He’d always been difficult, but since his accident...

  Sam was making a real racket now. Banging on his tray, probably, with the spoon he’d thrown at Logan earlier because he didn’t like canned stew for lunch. Stroking the kitten he still held, he stood frozen. If Sam continued to be the worst patient in medical history, Logan might never be able to get any work done. Or leave. He had to hire help. Right now anyone would do.

  “Coming!” he called and then studied the woman. “You still want this job?”

  She returned his hard stare. “I’m not sure yet. But I do need it.”

  Well, at least she’d made herself clear. He couldn’t keep from asking.

  “That bad?”

  She bent to pick up her ball cap. “Even worse.”

  Logan took another look. None of his business. Whatever had caused that haunted expression deep in her warm brown eyes, he shouldn’t care. Still, he could recognize the same look he often saw in his own mirror. Trapped, it said. So maybe she could help out for a few days until he found a man to replace her.

  “Come on. We’ll find out what Sam wants,” he said. “He’ll size you up then we’ll decide.” He added, “Call me Logan.”

  She sent the little cat a smile, not him. “Blossom Kennedy.”

  Logan peeled away from the porch post, set the kitten down with a gentle pat on her rump and watched her tumble down the steps then scamper away toward the barn. Feeling Blossom Kennedy’s gaze on him, he resettled his Stetson and headed inside.

  Blossom followed.

  “I’m told the senior Mr. Hunter is sweet,” she said, as if to convince herself that everyone on the Circle H didn’t have the disposition of a billy goat.

  Logan couldn’t help a wolfish grin. “Let’s see how long you think that.”

  * * *

  BECAUSE SHE HAD no other choice, Blossom trailed Logan Hunter up the steps to the second floor of the sprawling house. Really, with that dark hair and those broad shoulders, he was something to look at. Too bad she wasn’t interested, even for the brief time it would take him to fire her. And oh, she’d seen that intent in his dark blue eyes.

  The man himself was like a bruise: black hat, midnight eyes, blue jeans and ebony boots. Her first sight of him, holding that kitten, hadn’t matched what she’d been told by the woman at the agency. Or rather, warned about. She bit back a sigh.

  Considering her life experience so far, she should hate men. This one wasn’t very friendly, even if his shoulders did look just right for leaning on. But Blossom wouldn’t lean, or cry. That was behind her now. She would try to become a stronger person who relied on herself.

  “Has your father been sick long?” she asked, wondering why he’d called Sam by his first name. The agency hadn’t given her any details. All the woman had said was that the owner of the Circle H needed in-home care.

  “He’s my grandfather—stepgrandfather, actually. When my folks died, my grandmother was already a widow herself. This ranch—which my dad had run for her—belonged to my family. Then she married Sam and he took over. They raised me here on the Circle H. Sam adopted me.” He kept going up the steps. “He’s not sick. He broke his leg in three places.” Logan sighed. “He cracked his skull. And to complicate matters, he had an intracranial bleed.”

  Logan didn’t trip over the big word, which made her unsteady stomach churn. Maybe she should have thought twice before signing on with the Mother Comfort agency, which had admittedly been a last resort. As she’d heard often enough, she was no homemaker. She was surely no nurse. Frankly, she didn’t know what she was. Out of money and stranded in the nearby town of Barren, Blossom had largely faked her experience on the agency application.

  “He came home from the hospital a few days ago,” Logan went on, “but his memory’s not so good. He gets confused.”

  Predictably, her heart melted. “Poor man.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for him. He needed his head examined.”

  At his dry tone, Blossom couldn’t resist. She made a face at Logan’s back. If she didn’t need this job so badly, she wouldn’t work for a man who didn’t have so much as a soft spot for his own grandfather. Or was he smiling? She couldn’t see his expression.

  They’d just reached the top of the stairs when a crash sounded, and Logan lit off down the hall. He flung open the door of the end room and sent his black hat sailing onto the nearest chair, where it settled perfectly, like a lasso around a calf’s neck.

  “Still alive, I see,” he said, his tone gruff. “You’re not safe even from yourself.”

  Blossom followed him into the room, a sinking feeling in her uneasy stomach. Maybe she’d bitten off more here than she could chew—as usual.

  An older man who didn’t fit her idea of an invalid, except for the large cast on his right leg, sat in the middle of the hardwood floor rubbing his head. “Didn’t you hear me call?” Whipcord lean, he looked like a much younger person than she’d envisioned, and his dark hair had only a few broad streaks of gray. He peered around Logan, who had knelt in front of him. “Who’ve you got there? You finally get some sense and answer that ad I picked out for you in the paper?”

  “No,” he said. “She’s from the agency.”

  “The Department of Agriculture? Well, I’ve got something to say to—”

  “Not the government, the health care people.” His voice had gentled, the same way he’d treated the kitten.

  “I don’t need health care,” his grandfather said.

  Logan searched his limbs, probably for more fractures, then his head for lumps. He stared into his grandfather’s eyes. “What’s your name?”

  “Samuel...uh, Hunter.”

  Logan didn’t look happy with the hesitant answer. “I can’t leave y
ou alone for fifteen minutes. You know how dizzy you get when you try to stand up. Where did you think you were going?” He tugged lightly on his arm. “Come on, now. I’ve got you. Let’s get you back in bed.”

  “I’m dizzy because I was in bed. All day,” Sam said, still studying Blossom. “I told you those ads would pay off.”

  “Forget the singles ads.”

  Sam snorted. “I may have smashed my head, but you don’t know the first thing that’s good for you. One bad experience, you don’t stay off the horse—”

  “Are we talking about you or me now?”

  Sam sagged onto the bed, his face white. He gazed at Blossom again. “Come over here, girl. Let me get a better look at you. My eyes don’t work so good these days, but I sure do like what I can see, which is two of you.”

  Startled, she stepped closer to the bed. In her view he was a dear, all right. Crusty as the outside of a loaf of country bread, but with a soft center that she favored in bread and in people for that matter. Was that why she’d been called a pushover? She glanced out the window, past the lace curtains blowing in the breeze, to make sure the coast was still clear.

  “You’ve had a bad time,” she said.

  He grinned. “Not that bad, it turns out. I sure know how to pick ’em.”

  “Sam,” Logan muttered.

  “We’re going to get on just fine,” he continued as if Logan hadn’t spoken. His blue eyes twinkled. “What kind of cook are you?”

  “A...reluctant one.” She wanted to stay, to help, but she couldn’t fib anymore. She’d used up her quota on the agency application.

  Blossom waited for Logan to take her arm and steer her down the stairs to her car right that moment, but instead, he sighed then let Sam continue the interview.

  “Can you keep house?”

  “If I have to.” She added, “I try.” That was one thing you could say about her.

  Sam smiled. “A clean rag, some lemon oil...there’s nothing to it.”

  “You never cleaned house in your life,” Logan pointed out.