The Rancher's Homecoming (17 page)

Staying away from Cody was the smart thing to do. But he could barely walk, much less cook. Especially with no appliances. He needed her help.

“So where have you been since you left the rehab center?” She leaned her hip against the breakfast bar.

“I stayed with Grandpa in Medina until this morning.” He stood across the island from her, making quick work of the soup.

“Medina is almost a six-hour trip. You should be resting.” She scanned the open floor plan, just to keep from looking at those mesmerizing eyes. Large roomy kitchen with a peninsula and a big eat-in area. The former owner had installed new cabinets and tiled floors a few years back, but Cody didn't have a stick of furniture. No pictures or personal items, nothing on the paneled walls. Not to mention necessities like a refrigerator. “Do you at least have a bed?”

“Grandpa sent one with me from his spare room until I get my own.”

“So instead of resting in your borrowed bed—” she rolled her eyes “—you try and walk to my house on uneven ground after your doctor warned you to be careful? What were you thinking?”

“Taco soup.” He grinned, deepening the cleft in his chin. “And four-layer delight.”

Her heart did a flip. He seemed a bit more serious and mature than the Cody she'd always known. Until it came to food.

He wolfed down another spoonful of soup. “Mmm.”

Gravel crunched in the drive and vehicle doors opened, then closed.

“Expecting company?”

“No one knows I'm here.”

Ally peered between the miniblind slats. “A blue pickup.”

“Oh no, they've found me.” Cody hung his head.

“Who?” Ally frowned.

“My folks.” His tone was filled with dread.

Why? He'd always had a great relationship with his family. Unless something had happened between them. “They didn't bring you home?”

“One of Grandpa's ranch hands was headed to Fort Worth to buy a bull. I hitched a ride with him.”

“Why?”

“I don't want to be fussed over.”

Audra Warren, Cody's mom, entered first without knocking. “Cody, what were you thinking?” She splayed her hands. “Grandpa said you came home to surprise us.”

His dad, Wayne, followed. “We were worried when you didn't answer your cell.”

“I forgot to charge it.”

Despite Ally's attempt to blend into the corner, Audra noticed her. “Ally? How nice to see you.”

“You, too.” She waved her fingers.

“Why all the secrecy?” Audra's attention swung back to Cody. “We had to call the local Realtor to even find out where you were.” Her eyes were teary, a testimony to a mother's love and worry over her recently injured son.

“I just didn't want a bunch of fuss.” Cody hugged his mother, evidently feeling guilty now for upsetting her. “I'm pushing thirty—I don't need a lot of fanfare. And I figured y'all would insist I stay with you. I just wanted to come home. To a place of my own.”

“We love you, Cody.” Audra sniffled. “We merely want to help you get settled. But if you'd stay with us, we could at least gather the furniture we all have in storage and get this place livable for you.”

“You should have called.” Wayne's jaw tensed. “Your mother was worried sick.”

“Sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“You don't even have a bed.” Audra's voice cracked. “You can't stay here.”

“That's the one thing I do have. I'm fine.”

“I guess I should just be glad you're well enough to be home.” Audra pushed away from him and gave Ally a quick hug. “Just like old times with you looking after Cody. Thanks for seeing to him.”

“No problem.”
Act natural.
She and Cody had been friends since grade school. That was all he was to her, a friend. “I brought a dessert to welcome my new neighbor, but once I saw it was Cody and he didn't even have a microwave, I brought soup over.”

“Isn't this some setup?” Wayne winked at Ally. “You and Cody right next door to each other. Y'all could get into all kinds of mischief.”

Like the mischief they'd gotten into twelve years ago. No way. Ally's lips would steer clear of Cody Warren this go-round.

In fact, all of her would. “Since y'all are here, I'm gonna go.”

Cody grabbed her hand. “I wish you'd stay. We've still got catching up to do.”

Electricity moved up her arm. Ally pulled away. “I've got chores to do and a surgery in the morning. It's good seeing y'all.” She aimed for the door and put it in high gear.

Distance. She'd have to keep lots of distance between her and Cody. Her heart couldn't take any more teasing.

* * *

Cody scanned his cozy house, grateful to have a loving family. Even though they sometimes smothered him.

Only twenty-four hours since his parents had caught up with him and his new house was already furnished. There would have been even more fuss if he'd told his family he was leaving Grandpa's. And if he'd accepted a ride
home
from his parents, he'd have likely ended up at their house. Yet because of them, he actually had a table to sit at to savor his last serving of four-layer delight.

In a day's time, his dad and his brother, Mitch, had brought over Mitch's old dining room set, appliances and dual recliner couch, along with Cody's old bedroom suite from when he lived at home. He'd moved out twelve years ago and Mitch had given up his bachelor pad two years ago, but they had kept everything. His family officially ranked as hoarders.

The rich coffee aroma still permeated his house, as they'd offered him countless cups throughout the day.

If only he could have the real stuff instead of the fake. The empty maker mocked him from the counter. He'd die for a cup. Literally. He filled the carafe with water, poured it in the back, scooped decaf grounds into the filter and turned it on. It would have to do.

The doctor's list of aneurysm triggers included intense nose blowing, vigorous exercise and strain. Since he had no allergies, he should be okay unless he got a cold.

It was a genuine wonder the aneurysm hadn't ruptured during his physical therapy, which came to a screeching halt after his doctor found the bubble during a follow up scan after his last concussion. Hopefully, his leisurely walks on his new treadmill would help with his limp.

Anger and surprise would be easy to avoid since he was laid-back and not easily startled. But real coffee? He came from a family that joked about having caffeine in their veins instead of blood. Having his dark roast again just might be worth the surgery that could kill him or reduce him to vegetable status.

He scraped all the excess chocolate and crumbs out of the glass dish and polished off the last bite of the lip-smacking dessert. The tang of cream cheese lingered on his tongue.

Despite all the activity and furnishings, Ally had stayed away. Her mom had brought him a casserole, but he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Ally since yesterday.

Maybe moving next door to her hadn't been the best plan. It was the only land he'd found to lease, but it wasn't a good way to relieve the tension between them and get their friendship back on track.

He stood and waited until the stiffness eased in his knee before shuffling to the sink, then made short work of washing the pan and poured a cup of decaf.

Since they'd grown up in the same church, hung out in youth group and been in the same class, he, Ally and his now-sister-in-law, Caitlyn, had been best friends all the way back to kindergarten.

But Ally had avoided him at Mitch and Caitlyn's wedding. And after his bull wreck, when Ally had visited the rehab center with her dog program and had realized her patient was him, she hadn't been able to get out of there fast enough.

She was obviously uncomfortable because of that kiss that had spun his world into a blur faster than any bull ever had.

But hadn't affected her.

Maybe they needed to talk about the kiss. Agree to forget it. He dried the glass dish and tucked it under his arm. If he walked slow and careful and took the stupid stick, he could handle the uneven yard. He gulped the useless coffee, grabbed the cane and stepped out his back door.

Must have been after hours for her clinic. Only one other truck and a car were parked next to Ally's—probably one of her youth group volunteers. He continued past the house to the block structure with a neon open sign in the window.

A cowbell clanged when he opened the door.

“I'll be right with you,” Ally called from the back. “Is it an emergency?”

“It's just me.”

Silence.

A deep woof came from behind the counter. Cody eased closer. A male German shepherd lay sprawled on the floor, his ears perked up.

“Hey, buddy, don't worry—the vet's nice.” He lowered his voice. “And she's a looker, too.”

He set the dish on the counter, settled in a chair in the waiting area, picked up a livestock magazine and thumbed through it.

“You know I'm on your side, Ms. Curtis.” A man's voice came from the back. “I love animals as much as you do. But you're not in compliance with the cats. You're supposed to provide eighteen square feet per cat.”

“The mama cat and two kittens just came in yesterday.” Her words came fast, desperate. “Their owners moved and abandoned them. I just couldn't turn them away. I planned to buy some more acreage so I could expand, but someone else beat me to the property.”

He'd tied up the land she needed. Cody closed his eyes.

“I'm sorry, but I'll have to write you up.”

A pause.

“I understand.” She sounded so broken.

And now she was in trouble.

Cody had to find a way to fix it.

Copyright © 2016 by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

ISBN-13: 9781488007453

The Rancher's Homecoming

Copyright © 2016 by Deborah Rather

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical,
now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

www.Harlequin.com