Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texan's Happily-Ever-After (22 page)

Shep opened the driver's-side door for her.

Rather than climbing in, she faced him, close enough to him to see the beard shadow on his face. “Do you want me to come out on Saturday?”

“You have to. You promised.”

“I know. I wasn't sure what to say. When Roy looked at me with those big eyes, I didn't know how to refuse.”

Shep chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“You didn't answer my question.” She needed to know if he wanted her here or not.

“I like you, Dr. Gibson. It won't be a hardship to take you on a trail ride.”

“Raina,” she said softly. “If we're going on a trail ride, first names seem more…comfortable.”

“Comfortable,” he agreed, looking down at her with interest she hadn't noticed in a man's eyes for years. He shoved his hands into his pockets, though he didn't step away. “Thanks for coming over tonight.”

“I really enjoyed myself.”

Awkwardness settled between them, the kind of awkwardness that happened after a first date, she thought. Only, they hadn't been on a date. Still, she felt pulled toward Shep. Yet something else urged her to move away—probably memories, heartache and regrets over a love lost.

After she slid into the driver's seat, Shep closed the door. Then he laid his hand on the open window and bent down, his face close to hers. “Remember, a promise given is a promise that should be kept.”

She had the feeling his boys had had promises made to them that weren't kept. He was protective of that and protective of them. “I'll remember,” she murmured, unable to take her gaze from his face.

Shep straightened and stepped away from the car.

With a trembling hand, she pressed her smart key to start the engine. As she backed out of the parking space and drove away, his words echoed in her mind.

A promise given is a promise that should be kept.

Did Shep McGraw keep
his
promises?

“Y
ou are wrong!” Roy yelled. “Wrong, wrong, wrong.”

“I am not,” Joey yelled back.

“Boys,” came a stern voice.

Raina had parked beside Shep's ranchhouse and, hearing voices at the barn, headed to it. She walked toward the corral, guessing the boys were outside the stall doors. At the fence, she stopped.

Shep had crouched down in front of Roy. His voice wasn't stern now, as he said, “It's still early. Not even lunchtime.”

“But she said she'd be here this morning.”

Raina had gotten tied up at the hospital and intended to phone on her way to the ranch, but her cell phone had lost its charge.

“Hey, everybody,” she called, cheerily now, letting them know she was there. “Am I too late for chores?”

“Dr. Gibson!” Roy cheered, brushing away his tears. “You came.” He turned to his brother. “I told you so. I told you she'd keep her promise.”

Shep slowly rose from his crouched position. Without any accusation, he said, “The boys were a little worried you'd forgotten.”

Opening the corral gate, she stepped inside the working area for the horses. “I'm sorry I'm late. I got tied up at the hospital.” She lifted her duffel bag. “I brought old clothes and riding boots.”

“You can change at the house or in the tack room,” Shep informed her.

“The tack room is fine.”

“She's a girl,” Joey said with disgust. “She thinks about clothes and getting them dirty.”

Raina could see Shep was trying hard to suppress a laugh. He knocked his Stetson higher on his head with his forefinger. “Listen, Joey, part of a woman's job is to think about clothes. You ought to do it once in a while.”

As Joey crinkled his nose, Raina laughed and headed for the tack room. A few minutes later, she returned in her old jeans and short-sleeved blouse, her dad's navy paisley kerchief tied around her neck. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“We saved mucking out the stalls,” Roy told her.

“I'm thrilled about that,” she responded with a straight face.

He took a good look at her and smiled. “You're teasin'.”

She ruffled his hair. “Yes, I am. I guess no one really likes mucking out stalls, but it has to be done.”

“You're really going to do it?” Joey asked.

“I did it before, when I was about your age. My uncle had a ranch and a couple of horses.”

“In Sagebrush?” Shep asked.

“Yep. On the east side of town. When hard times set in and he had to sell it, a developer bought it. There's a whole bunch of houses there now, where his ranch used to be.”

Her gaze met Shep's and one of those trembles danced through her body again. It was like a preliminary tremor to an earthquake. She told herself she was being foolish. She was just off balance, being out of her comfort zone, being with Shep and his boys again.

“We'll get the shovels,” Joey told Raina as he and Roy headed into the barn.

After they were out of earshot, Shep asked her, “Did you have second thoughts?” His blue eyes demanded a straight answer, not a polite excuse.

“I did. But I'd made a promise.”

“Should I ask why you had second thoughts, or leave it alone?”

“You're direct, aren't you?”

He shrugged. “I try to be. Life is complicated enough, without beating around the proverbial bush.”

When she hesitated before answering, he settled his hand on her arm. “It's okay. You don't have to explain.”

She'd worn a short-sleeve blouse because of the early September heat. Shep's long, calloused fingers were warm and sensual on her skin. When she looked up at him, she felt tongue-tied. It was an odd experience, because she usually wasn't at a loss for words.

Finally, she admitted, “There are a lot of reasons why I had second thoughts.” The awareness between her
and Shep wasn't one-sided. She knew that now. She could feel his interest, and she wanted to run from it.

He released her arm and held up one finger. “The first reason is me.” He held up a second finger. “The second reason is me.” He held up a third finger. “And the third reason is probably me.”

“No ego there,” she muttered.

He laughed. “It has nothing to do with ego. I just figure—Hell, Raina. I know about your husband. I also know for the past six months you did everything you could not to make eye contact with me.”

“Manuel was my patient.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“Well,
you
didn't show any interest, either.”

“No, I didn't. I pretended there wasn't any, just like you did.”

“I wasn't pretending,” she protested. “I wasn't interested. I'm
not
interested. I loved my husband, and when I lost him—” She stopped. “I can't ever explain what it was like—waiting and not knowing, waiting and hoping, waiting and waiting and waiting. And finally accepting, and having to deal with grief deeper than I've ever known.” She shook her head, struggling to maintain her composure. “I never want to feel anything remotely like it ever again.”

“I can understand that.”

She saw empathy in Shep's eyes. Real empathy. He'd lost his parents, and she didn't know who else he might have lost along the way. Maybe he knew, too, that nothing was forever…nothing lasted.

“I came because I made a promise,” she repeated.

A smile crept across Shep's lips. “Then Roy was right to trust you.”

The way Shep said it, she had the feeling
he
didn't trust many people. Because of the way he'd grown up?

“Roy and Joey don't fight often. For a couple of years, all they had was each other.”

“For a couple of years?”

“When their parents were killed in an accident, they were put into the system. But being biracial, and being brothers, the system had trouble placing them. So they stayed in foster care.”

“Maybe the fact that they're fighting means they don't have to depend on each other quite so much, since they have you.”

“I'd like to believe that's true, but they still hold back with me. Especially Joey. He likes to keep things to himself, and sometimes that causes him trouble.”

“Do
you
keep things to yourself?”

“Oh, terrific. My boys had to ask a
smart
lady to come to the ranch for a trail ride.”

This time
she
laughed. The scent of horses and the sun's heat beating on old wood rode the corral air. Although Shep didn't always say a lot, he was easy to talk to. He made her feel…safe. She'd returned to Sagebrush to feel safe, to be close to her mother and brother, to establish roots that had somehow slipped away on that terrible day in 2001. She'd felt safe in the Victorian with Gina, and now Angie. But not safe in this way. Not protected like this. She suspected Shep was a protector, and that gave her an odd feeling. Clark had been a protector, and because of that he'd died.

“You're thinking sad thoughts.”

How could Shep do that? How could he know? “Not for long. As soon as your boys hand me a shovel, I'll
only be thinking about getting finished and going on that trail ride.”

Shep motioned her inside the barn. “Then let's get started.”

The barn was old. Raina could tell that there were signs of it being refurbished—fresh mortar between stones on the walls was lighter gray and without cracks. Some of the wooden stall doors looked new, their catches and hinges shiny and untouched by time.

“How old is the barn?” she asked, realizing the boys were nowhere in sight.

“The buildings on the property date back to the 1850s.”

“You bought a piece of history.”

“That's the way I look at it. That's why I didn't raze everything to the ground and start over. I liked building on what was here, making the old stand up to the test of time. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do. It's nice to know something will last with a little help.” As she took in the stalls and the feed barrels, she asked, “Where are the boys and their shovels?”

Shep shook his head. “I know where they are. Come on.” He led her past the tack room, and when they rounded the corner, she saw Joey and Roy leaning over a pile of hay bales. The hay was stacked wide and high. But the boys were sort of in the middle of it, two bales up, peeking over the edge of one bale.

“Kittens?” she guessed.

Shep nodded, smiling. “You
have
been around barns. They wanted to bring them up to the house, but I told them the babies are still too little. They haven't even learned how to climb out of their nest yet. Give them a few more weeks and they'll probably be sleeping with the boys.”

“You sound resigned.”

He chuckled. “I know kids can get attached to animals. Pets can give them security, so I'm all for it.”

Without thinking twice, Raina climbed up the bale and sat next to Joey. She peered over the edge and saw a mama cat nursing four little ones whose eyes were barely open.

“They know where to go to eat,” Roy told her, as if that was important information.

Joey added, “Dad says we shouldn't touch them until they climb out. Their mama wouldn't like it.”

“Your dad's probably right. The mama cat might move them and then you wouldn't be able to find them.”

“Until they're old enough to run around,” Joey said, as if he were challenging her.

“Yep, that's true. But in here they're protected from the weather and anything else that might bother them. So it's a good place.”

Joey seemed to think about that. “Yeah. I like the barn. It's even neater when the horses are in here making noises.”

“I'll bet,” Raina responded, holding back a grin.

“Come on, boys. If we don't get those stalls cleaned out before lunch, you don't go on a trail ride,” Shep reminded them.

Without grumbling, they crawled down the bales, rushed into the tack room and emerged with three shovels. Roy handed one of them to Raina. “Dad uses a pitchfork, but he won't let us touch that.”

“It's locked in the tool closet,” Shep explained. “I'll go get it and meet you at stall one.”

Chores went quickly, and Raina noticed Shep did most of the work. He wanted the boys involved, to have
a good work ethic, but he wouldn't give them more than they could handle.

By the time they reached the third stall, Roy was slowing down.

Raina said, “Why don't I give you a hand?” She put her shovel aside and stood behind Roy, helping him scoop and carry to the outside bucket.

He grinned up at her. “That was easier.”

Joey didn't say a word, but there was no indication he resented his little brother having help when he didn't.

When they'd finished with the third stall, however, Shep suggested, “Let's take a break. Go on up to the house and tell Eva we're ready for lunch. Wash up. We'll be along.”

A few minutes later, Raina stood beside Shep, watching the boys race out of the barn through the corral gate and across the lane. “They're hard workers.”

“Yeah. And sometimes I think they'll do anything for my approval. That's not always a good thing.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“I want them to be themselves. I want them to be who they are with each other when they're in their room alone. When I'm around, they're more guarded.”

“They've been with you what—a year and a half?”

“Yep. And you'd think they'd be more comfortable with me by now.”

It was easy to see that Shep was the strong, silent type. She wondered how much sharing he did with his boys. How much he told them what he was feeling. But she didn't know him well enough to say that, so instead she said, “There's distance between me and my mom, even now. But my brother and I are really close.”

“You don't tell your mother what you're thinking?”