A Ranch Between Them Read online

  He needs time to heal...

  ...but is she willing to wait?

  Injured former rodeo star Brady O’Neil is looking for solitude in his Montana hometown when he takes a job at his best friend’s ranch. Then he finds out he’ll be living with Katie, his friend’s sister and the woman he fell for years ago. His recent failures make him feel unworthy of love, so Brady tries to keep Katie at arm’s length. But is this girl next door exactly what he needs?

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you to the clinic to make sure you don’t have a broken foot.”

  His hand covered hers on the steering wheel and she hit the brakes, bringing the truck to a stop.

  “No.” Her mouth opened, but before she could speak, he shook his head. “You have no say in this, Katie.” He paused. “I can’t afford the clinic.”

  “Are you drowning in medical bills after...” Katie’s voice faltered “...what happened?”

  “That’s not really any of your business, Katie.”

  He’d hoped to squelch her rescuing tendencies with the blunt statement but failed.

  “I’ll ice it. Tomorrow I’ll evaluate. If it’s really broken, I’ll go to the clinic.”

  “How will you get there?”

  “Katie, believe it or not, I can do lots of things with broken bones. It’s kind of what I do.” Or rather what he had done. His rodeo career was over.

  After a long staredown, her lips tightened, then she eased her foot off the brake and headed in the direction of the ranch.

  Dear Reader,

  I enjoy reading stories with rich family dynamics, and that’s what the Sweet Home, Montana series is all about. In this first book of the series, Katie Callahan returns home to the family ranch after discovering that the goals she’d worked toward for so long were not the right goals for her. She plans to use her time alone on the ranch to rest and reflect and find a new direction. But the thing is that she’ll be sharing the ranch with the new temporary manager—a man Katie had once been madly in love with.

  Brady O’Neil has made some poor life choices, and now that he’s too injured to continue his rodeo career, he’s dealing with the aftermath of those choices. The last thing he needs is to have sweet, warmhearted Katie Callahan living a stone’s throw away. Katie is a rescuer, and the last thing he needs is to be rescued—or to mess up Katie’s life by succumbing to his feelings for her.

  I hope you’ll come along with me and read about Katie’s and Brady’s journeys of self-discovery as they work their way toward a happy ending.

  Happy reading!

  Jeannie Watt

  A Ranch Between Them

  Jeannie Watt

  Jeannie Watt lives on a small cattle ranch and hay farm in southwest Montana with her husband, her ridiculously energetic parents and the usual ranch menagerie. She spends her mornings writing, except during calving season, and during the remainder of the day enjoys sewing, doing glass mosaics and fixing fences. If you’d like more information about Jeannie and her books, please visit her website at jeanniewatt.com, where you can also sign up for her newsletter.

  Books by Jeannie Watt

  Harlequin Heartwarming

  Her Montana Cowboy

  Harlequin Western Romance

  Montana Bull Riders

  The Bull Rider Meets His Match

  The Bull Rider’s Homecoming

  A Bull Rider to Depend On

  The Bull Rider’s Plan

  Harlequin Superromance

  The Brodys of Lightning Creek

  To Tempt a Cowgirl

  To Kiss a Cowgirl

  To Court a Cowgirl

  Molly’s Mr. Wrong

  Wrangling the Rancher

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

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  I’d like to dedicate this book to Wanda Gooby. Thank you, Wanda, for all you do for the people in your life.

  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

  EXCERPT FROM KEEPING HER CLOSE BY CAROL ROSS

  CHAPTER ONE

  BRADY O’NEIL GRITTED his teeth, mustered his strength and tried to pull his foot free from the boot trapped beneath the four-wheeler. No luck. His lower leg was going numb beneath the weight of the heavy machine that pinned his foot to the ground, and if something didn’t change soon, he’d be spending the night in a cold, damp ditch at the edge of the river pasture. Hello, hypothermia.

  Cursing under his breath, Brady rested his forehead on the wet ground, and debated his options.

  It didn’t take long to conclude he had no options other than to try to get his foot free. He was hidden by grass and no one had any reason to look for him. He could be there for a long, long time. A meadowlark trilled nearby, its melodic notes reminding Brady of better times. Times when he wasn’t about to die in a field due to his own inattentiveness.

  He sucked in a breath, squeezed his eyes shut with grim concentration and once again tried to wiggle his foot free of his boot, his leg muscles burning with the effort. His foot moved ever so slightly and then...nothing. Brady relaxed his muscles, allowed himself a couple of deep breaths as he did his best to fight a growing sense of panic. This wasn’t happening. Not on top of everything else. He let out a choked laugh, startling the meadowlark into silence.

  Until six months ago, he’d have been the first to admit that he lived a charmed life. He’d had some serious issues with his parents, but he’d had the Callahans to fill the void left by a mother more interested keeping her husband—Brady’s stepfather—happy than in paying attention to her son. Brady had accepted his reality early on, and built his own life. Amused himself by taking risks, just as his real father had done when he’d been alive. Enjoyed himself immensely, in fact. Narrow escapes had been his stock and trade for almost thirty years, and his ability to live recklessly and somehow dodge trouble had served him well during his years as a champion saddle bronc rider...and then it had all caught up with him. Today’s mishap was the proverbial frosting on the cake.

  Brady reached for his phone, which he’d dug out of his pocket after the four-wheeler had hit the rock that started its slow-motion sideways slide into the ditch before it rolled onto his foot, firmly trapping him. Maybe if he stared at the phone long enough, he could will it into showing some bars. The phone’s reception icon remained stubbornly blank. He dialed 911, anyway.

  The low rumble in the distance brought his head up.

  Holy...

  The deep throb of a diesel engine vibrated through the ground as the vehicle turned onto the gravel road that passed twenty yards from where Brady lay pinned by the ATV. Ed Cordell, maybe?

  Ed had managed the Callahan Ranch until Rosalie Callahan moved to town a little over a month ago. Believing his job was in jeopardy, Ed had found employment elsewhere, leaving Rosalie high and dry, which was why she’d sought out Brady and offered him a three-month contract to manage the ranch until her grandson, Nick, moved back to Montana. Everything had worked out well—until today, anyway.

  Brady had wanted solitude, but the downside of living like a hermit had been driven home today. Ranching alone could be dangerous. If he didn’t flag down this vehicle, he was going to be in a world of hurt. Make that a bigger world of hurt.

  Brady grimaced as he twisted his body and grabbed the ball cap that had fallen off his head when the four-wheeler had lurched over, bringing him with it, even though he’d tried to jump free. His stiff leg had made the move impossible. Brady, who’d made a career of dismounting bucking horses, hadn’t been able to get himself free of the four-wheeler in time to save himself.

  He got hold of the hat and stretched his arm skyward, hoping the cap showed above the grass as he waved it wildly, yelling for good measure.

  The truck didn’t slow.

  He kept waving; then, as it appeared that his potential rescuer was going to drive by him, oblivious to his predicament, he tossed the cap in the air. It came back down close to his head and he tossed it again. This time a gust of wind caught it, lofting it high in the air before dropping it back to earth well out of reach.

  But the truck had slowed. He started yelling and shaking the grass next to him. It was unlikely the driver could hear him over the sound of the engine, even if the window was down—and why would it be down on a cold late-October day—but maybe the moving grass would attract attention. He flailed his arm, making as much of a ruckus as possible, then let out another yell as the truck rolled to a stop. The door opened, and he heard the sound of feet hitting gravel.

  He swallowed dryly as his body went limp with relief, his voice sounding all croaky as he called, “Over here.”

  The grass rustled and the earth made small hollow thudding sounds as whoever had stopped made their way toward him.

  Rescue. Thank you, thank you, whoever you are.

  He looked over his shoulder as the grass parted behind him and then swallowed a groan. Of all the people in the universe that might have found him like this, the Fates had sent Katie Callahan. Nick’s little sister. Who had always driven him crazy in a way he’d have never confessed to his friend for fear of getting a fist in the face. Not that he wasn’t glad to see her. He was beyond glad. He was ecstatic.

  “I thought you weren’t coming home anytime soon,” he muttered. Rosalie had told him how well her granddaughter was doing in San Francisco and how it was doubtful Katie would make it home for Thanksgiving, which was a month away.

  “Change of plans. Been here long?” She walked around him and knelt close to the ATV, sizing up the situation. She shook her head, her long dark hair shifting over her shoulder. Even now, trapped beneath a ton of machinery, he noticed her hair, the way the late-autumn sunlight glinted off the dark strands. Bad sign.

  “About half an hour.” The pain in his lower leg was getting worse, and of course it was his good leg trapped beneath the heavy hunk of machinery, rather than the one that had been annihilated last May by a rogue bronc named Pinky. “Maybe you should go for help?” he asked from between his teeth. The McGuire Ranch was only three miles away. Surely Travis or his dad, Will, would be there, much as he hated to ask them for help. After all, Will had implied that if Brady didn’t go to college he’d end up in a ditch somewhere, and here he was.

  “First I’m going to try to get you out from under this thing.”

  “Yeah? How you going to do that?” Katie was small, but judging from the way her expression shifted, she wasn’t going to let her size slow her down.

  She got to her feet and dusted off her palms. “Wait here.” She started back through the grass.

  “Not funny,” Brady called. Once again his forehead met dirt and he swallowed, and then started working his foot again. An eternity later, Katie returned with a short thick-handled shovel, the kind one used to put out a campfire.

  “You aren’t going to pry with that.”

  “Yeah? I’ve been working out.” She turned the shovel over and worked the cupped metal end under the ATV next to his boot, getting a fairly decent purchase on the rock the caved-in running board rested on.

  “Katie... I’m hurting. Maybe you should just go for help.”

  She pressed her lips together, then bent her knees and pressed down, using the rock as a fulcrum. To his amazement, the machine moved, and Brady managed to move his foot a fraction of an inch before it came back down.

  “Again,” Katie said.

  This time he didn’t argue or try to tell her what was and was not possible. He braced his palms in the dirt, waited until the pressure eased, then pulled as hard as he could. This time when the machine came back down, his foot was far enough out of the boot that he was able to wiggle it, then pull it the rest of the way free.

  “Never underestimate the power of a lever,” Katie said as she got to her feet.

  Or a smallish, determined woman. Brady was amazed that she’d gotten him out from under the thing.

  Katie braced her hands on her thighs and let out a breath. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Better now.”

  She gave a low laugh, the husky throaty laugh that was at such odds with her delicate appearance. The laugh that had always made him think that she knew something he didn’t, which had both intrigued and alarmed him. She’d never been put off by the distance he’d tried to keep between them and a couple of times he’d teetered dangerously toward closing that distance. And then he’d remember why he couldn’t do that, and it wasn’t entirely because of her brother’s fists. Brady had the same wild streak his father had had, and he would not make Katie as miserable as Colton O’Neil had made his mother. Maybe if he’d had a more conventional father, then his mom would have been a more conventional mother...and maybe he’d have found other excuses to stay away from Katie. But regardless, he wasn’t going to hurt Katie.

  “How’s your foot?” Katie stared at his sock-clad extremity. “Shouldn’t we take a look?”

  “I’d rather get to the ranch first.” A shudder went through him, partly due to reaction, partly due to hugging the cold ground for so long.

  “I guess so.” She got to her feet and held out a hand. Brady ignored it, putting his weight on his right palm and awkwardly pivoting his body to get his feet under him. It was the way he had to do things now. No more jumping to his feet. Or jumping period. He was at the point in his life where he had to let the four-wheeler roll onto him.

  Katie ran her hands down the sides of her jeans, looking a touch self-conscious at having her offer of help rebuffed. He couldn’t help that, but he could explain.

  “I have to move in certain ways now.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Yeah?” she asked softly.

  He shrugged, not wanting to get into it. “Can you give me a ride to the ranch?”

  “No offense, Brady, but that’s kind of a dumb question. What’s my other option? Leaving you here to walk with only one boot?”

  “Point taken.” He took a cautious step forward and pain shot through the foot he’d pulled free. Great. He gritted his teeth, took another limping step; this time his limp was due to his bad leg, which was now slightly shorter than his newly injured leg. Katie made a move as if to put a hand under his elbow, but his expression must have made her think twice, because she took an instant step back. He fixed his gaze on the truck, which was way too far away, and continued through the grass, one painful step at a time. Behind him, he heard scraping noises as Katie pulled her shovel free—or attempted to. Finally, she ran through the tall grass to catch up with him.

  “Shovel’s stuck good.”

  “I know the feeling,” he said grimly. He could smell the fresh scent of her shampoo or body wash or something. Here in the middle of a grassy meadow, with a dozen other scents fighting for dominance, he smelled her.

  “You know, you don’t have to be super tough all the time.”