Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Unexpected Cowboy\His Ideal Match\The Rancher's Secret Son (45 page)

The teen's gaze lifted then, doused in hope and confusion. The sight of it nearly broke Max's heart. Had no one ever told him that in a way that he could relate to? But who would have if the boy didn't have a father or even, as far as he knew, a family member or friend taking on the role?

He swallowed the unusual level of empathy he felt toward Cody and pressed forward with his advice. “Anyone can throw punches and maybe land a few. But it takes a bigger man to walk away and to learn which battles to take on.” He paused. “Make sense?”

“Sort of.”

“It will. If you just follow my lead and quit attacking people.” Max rushed on as Cody's mouth opened in protest. “Even those who you feel attack you first. Trust me, it's the only way.”

His shoulders deflated. “Yes, sir.”

“And, Cody?”

The boy raised his eyebrows indifferently, but life flickered in his eyes. He cared—whether he wanted to or not.

Max continued before he could get too excited about the fact. “Man to man, I'm here for you. About anything. All right?”

A tiny smile lifted one corner of Cody's mouth before he shoved it aside with his typical, bored expression. He nodded, feigning disinterest.

It still counted. A small victory, but he'd take it. Max stood, relief coursing through his veins, and gestured for Cody to join him. “You know you have a punishment to fulfill now, huh?”

“I figured.” Cody sighed and trudged toward the game room door. “Potatoes?”

“Nope. Rope swing.” They'd kill two birds with one stone, however pathetically small it might be. And they'd stay out there until Cody got it right. “Potatoes will be dessert.”

He shot the boy a look that silenced his protesting groan and nodded in satisfaction at the “yes, sir” that abruptly followed. One step at a time, whether it was two forward and three back or not.

One thing remained certain—Cody Shaver was going to know what it was like to have a father figure.

Even if only for a month.

* * *

She shouldn't have listened. Eavesdropping was wrong, and disrespectful. But after Pastor Tim had intercepted Jarvis in the hallway and she'd gone back to check on Cody, she couldn't help but overhear the words Max murmured urgently to her son. Things she'd been trying to say to him for months but they had fallen on completely disinterested ears. Would Cody listen to Max any better than he had to her? Would it change anything? Detour him from the path he'd started walking down?

He'd attacked Jarvis. The memory made her hands shake. Clearly he'd been provoked, but still—her little boy had jumped another kid. At a camp for troubled teens, no less.

Was this hopeless after all?

She'd nearly gotten caught when they'd abruptly ended their conversation and headed her way. She'd ducked around the corner into the upstairs bathroom, which was thankfully empty, and hid behind the half-closed door until they passed, breathing the smell of the citrus plug-in and trying to calm her erratic heartbeat as Max's words replayed in her head.
I need you to meet me halfway. It takes a bigger man to learn which battles to take on.

Man to man, I'm here for you.

Her heart constricted until she couldn't breathe. Max had no idea the depth of what he was saying. Not the slightest clue—and it was her fault. But if Cody was starting to respond to him, even slightly, how much more harm would it do to tell the truth now? It wouldn't be letting a cat out of a bag—no, this would be more akin to unleashing a snarling tiger.

On her son.

No. She couldn't do it. No matter how much it hurt to hear Max be tender and compassionate with her son—
his
son—she wouldn't wield a giant red stop sign in front of Cody. Not while there was even a smidgen of hope that this program could save him.

She sagged against the bathroom wall, the towel bar digging into her back. But oh, Max had sounded so...sweet. Strong. Achingly familiar. Like all those nights he'd held her and promised he wanted a life with her. That she was a good influence on him. That he'd change.

Well, he had, sometime over the past thirteen years. And he'd never bothered to let her know.

She stiffened, the scent of the orange air freshener and the adrenaline churning in her stomach strengthening her resolve. This situation wasn't
all
her fault. The door swung both ways, after all, and the other side had never been knocked on. Max could have sought her out if he'd missed her as terribly as he indicated last night in the kitchen. She might have purposefully gone off the grid while pregnant, but there were always ways around that if someone wanted to make the effort badly enough. He could have found her.

The fact that he didn't pursue her after turning his life around said plenty about what she'd actually meant to him. She'd been a good time, just like all the other girls he'd been rumored to be with, and nothing more.

And she knew that going into it. She'd sought Max initially out of rebellion and a skewed sense of need and didn't deserve anything more than the heartache she got. That's what happened when good girls went rogue. God had taught her a lesson, and she'd learned it the hard way—in fact, she was still paying for her mistake.

But she refused to let Cody be a casualty of her spiritual battle. She'd do whatever—
whatever
—it took to make sure he didn't follow in his father's early footsteps. Max would be a good dad to Cody, when the time was right. But that time was not today—even if the memory of their gentle conversation would linger in her ears long after the lights were shut off in the dorm.

She pushed away from the wall. Enough of this mental back-and-forth. She couldn't hide in a bathroom forever, and debating with herself wouldn't accomplish anything. It was time to get back to work. Just because she had to be hands-off with Cody right now didn't mean she couldn't try to help Katie, Tonya and Stacy to the best of her ability. Those girls needed her.

And she needed to be needed.

Emma cautiously peered around the frame before slipping into the hallway. Surely it was safe to come out now.

Though anywhere near Max Ringgold could never be considered safe.

Chapter Nine

T
he weekend flew by, and with the activities Max had lined up, Emma didn't see him or Cody much.

Thankfully.

Instead, she focused on her girls, and Faith came by for the entire day Saturday to help out with the group projects. Max lightened the intensity of the workload on weekends, meaning the teens—and by default, Emma—got to sleep until eight o'clock in the morning instead of six-thirty. So she and Faith took the girls on a hike, since exercise was required every day, and then messed around at the rock climbing station until all their arms were too achy to continue.

Being outside under the impossibly blue sky had been therapeutic, providing Emma a temporary reprieve from the thoughts that circled as relentlessly as vultures. Her first week at Camp Hope hadn't been boring, that was for sure, though at least Cody hadn't had any more issues—that Max had made her aware of. Who knew what went on in their private counseling sessions? But being with the girls, facing physical challenges and inhaling the wheat-scented country air, made Emma forget the turmoil of seeing Max and Cody together. Forget her son was one breath away from serious trouble.

Forget that the man in the cowboy hat still carried a piece of her heart somewhere in the pocket of his Wranglers.

Now, Monday morning, they were taking their shift in the barn, an hour before the boys would arrive to do their chores. Faith had gone home to her family Saturday night late, meaning she'd missed the optional Sunday morning devotionals. Max didn't force that time on the teens, though he offered rewards for attending, so more than half the group showed up. Stacy and Tonya hadn't wanted to attend, preferring to sleep an extra thirty minutes instead, so Emma stayed with them in the dorm, grateful for the excuse. She didn't know if she was ready to see Max hold a Bible with the same hands he once used to take drugs and hot-wire cars. Her world had been rocked enough the past week. One mind-blowing event at a time.

She paced the barn aisle in a slow rhythm, feeling way too much like a prison warden as she checked the girls' progress on mucking stalls. Stacy, her curly hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, worked hard, though not exactly cheerfully. Tonya hoisted her pitchfork with much slower movements, a sheen of sweat dotting her brow despite the early November chill penetrating the barn walls. Then there was Katie, who actually whistled while she shoveled, pausing now and then to pet one of the horses or coo at them in baby talk.

Emma slowed in front of the stall Katie cleaned, rolling in her lower lip as she studied her. The teen was a mystery, seemingly completely unaffected by the bad moods of the others in the camp. Her file was thin, her transgressions not nearly as severe compared to the other campers. If it didn't sound so ridiculous, she'd think Katie
wanted
to be at Camp Hope.

The ambitious little redhead had thrived the most on the rock climbing wall, too, reaching a height the other girls couldn't, though Stacy had certainly given it a solid try. Tonya struggled with the challenge, her feet slipping off the rocks and sending her swinging in her harness several times. She'd wobbled unsteadily once back on solid ground but quickly wrote it off to a fear of heights. Faith had pulled Emma aside, worrying that Tonya was lying since she hadn't mentioned her fear previously, but Emma chalked it up to the fact Tonya probably hadn't wanted to admit her phobia in front of the other girls. From what she'd seen at Camp Hope so far, saving face meant everything to these kids.

She could relate. Wasn't hiding her fears from both Max and Cody her own daily goal?

“How's Buttercup?”

Emma turned at the unfamiliar voice behind her. A pretty woman her own age strolled toward her, shiny chestnut hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She wore a denim jacket and carried a large duffel-style bag, and her eyes gave each horse she passed a cursory glance before she focused on Emma with a smile.

She assumed Buttercup was one of the horses but couldn't for the life of her figure out which one or why this woman cared. Was she a visiting parent? Max hadn't mentioned another counselor, even a part-time one. She hesitated. “Buttercup?” Made her think of cupcakes, which made her miss her favorite indulgence in Dallas. Funny how she hadn't missed anything else in the week-plus they'd lived in Broken Bend.

The woman gestured toward the last stall on the right. “The bay mare? Max said she was limping.” She laughed. “Sorry, I always was guilty of getting right down to business. I'm Dr. Rachel Peters—veterinarian.”

“Oh! Of course. I didn't realize something was wrong.” Emma stepped aside for Rachel to pass her in the barn aisle, craning her head to make sure the girls were still working. “Go ahead. I'll go find Max.”

“No.” The doctor's expression darkened momentarily, and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder as if checking to make sure he wasn't already there. “That's totally not necessary.”

Weird. Now an uneasy feeling crept through Emma's stomach. Maybe she'd read too many spy novels lately, but why would the vet
not
want the horse's owner to watch her perform a treatment? Something wasn't on the up-and-up. She might not know much about horses, but Emma knew enough about body language to know this woman was hiding something.

She followed her into Buttercup's stall. “Listen, this might not be my place, but I am on staff here right now, and I don't feel comfortable with this. I think I need to get Max.” She crossed her arms, ready to argue further if necessary.

Rachel looked up from where she already knelt by Buttercup's left leg. Surprise highlighted her classically beautiful features. Then she laughed. “I guess that did sound sort of cryptic.” She shook her head, and wisps of her hair fluttered against her face. “Max and I...we have a history of sorts. So I try to stay out of his way when I make house calls.”

Another sick feeling spread through Emma's midsection, though she much preferred the first one to this. History. They'd dated. When? For how long? Had it been serious? A dozen questions vied for release at once, and Emma swallowed them all back. “I see.” She didn't see, not really, and the fact left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

Rachel rubbed her hand down various parts of Buttercup's leg, and the horse continued to pull hay from her feeder with stubby lips as if nothing unusual were happening. “He and I go way back.”

She nodded, though her heart shouted a contradiction. Not as far back as she and Max went.

Or did they?

Better yet, why did it matter?

“It's none of my business.” Understatement of the year. But at the same time...Emma began easing backward out of the stall, dying to hear more, yet desperate to escape before she did. “I shouldn't have interfered.”

Rachel lifted Buttercup's hoof and studied the shoe before carefully setting her leg back on the straw-covered ground. “It's sweet you're protective.”

Protective? Of Max? Hardly. She'd just wanted to make sure some stranger wasn't harming his horses under her own nose. She opened her mouth to argue but Rachel continued, brushing her hair back from her face. “It's good to know he has someone looking out for him again. He's been brokenhearted before, you know.” She knelt and rummaged through her bag.

Heat flushed a trail up Emma's neck and into her cheeks. She pressed her cold fingers against what surely had to be a telltale blush and sucked in a sharp breath. Brokenhearted. By her? By Rachel? Someone else?

Why did she have to care?

“By you?”

The words fluttered from her lips, and Emma bit back a gasp at having released them. Ever since she crossed the county line into Broken Bend, her self-control and restraint had been nearly nonexistent. She stifled words all day long in counseling sessions in Dallas. Why was she suddenly Ms. Loose Lips?

Rachel shook her head with a wistful smile. “Not me. That was the problem, actually. He was still hung up on someone from his past. Emma, I think was her name.” She shrugged as if it didn't matter, but the two syllables rammed into Emma's ears like a fiery dart. Her chest caught and her ears flamed. Max still cared about her—after all those years. Even after her sudden desertion. So much so, he hadn't been able to move on.

She hadn't, either, though she hated to admit it was for the same reason.

But it was.

Emma braced one hand against the stall door to steady herself. His hug in the kitchen the other night had lent to the idea, but this—this was proof. Facts. More than just an emotional hug between two friends who used to be more.

Why, oh, why, did this new knowledge have to affect her so strongly? If anything, it twisted the knife of her secret deeper. Max had really been hurt by her leaving—even though she made the best choice she could at the time, it'd be so much easier to think he never cared. Never missed her. Never regretted anything.

Now what was she supposed to say? She could barely breathe, much less form a sentence.

Thankfully, Rachel didn't seem to expect an answer. “There's mild swelling in the left pastern. I'm going to have to do an X-ray.” She stood and brushed her hands on the legs of her jeans. “We need to see what's going on in there.”

Too bad the pretty veterinarian didn't have a machine that could tell Emma the same.

* * *

Max saw Dr. Peters's truck pull up from the window of his office, where he prayed between One4One sessions, and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe now they could get to the bottom of what was hurting Buttercup. He shot a quick text to Tim to let him know he'd be right back before sending the next teen in, shoved his hat on his head and strode toward the barn.

Rachel preferred to treat the horses on her own unless there was a problem that required a decision on his part, and he couldn't really blame her. They'd dated a few times back when he worked for Brady, and while it'd been obvious she wanted to take things to the next level, he couldn't. Not honestly. Not without traces of Emma lingering in his heart. It just wasn't fair—Rachel deserved better.

So did Emma, for that matter. As she clearly realized on her own the day she disappeared from his life.

But today, he wanted to see Rachel. He hadn't needed her at the ranch in almost six months, and it was a little ridiculous that they still acted like junior high kids at a dance—Awkward City. He was tired of hiding. It was time to be adults. Besides, he wanted to hear her opinion on Buttercup's leg firsthand since the mare had been perfectly fine last week. Hopefully it wasn't anything too dire—or expensive.

He entered the barn, welcoming the familiar scent of hay, leather and horseflesh, and inhaled deeply. It never failed to amaze him of all he'd accomplished in the past several years. If it hadn't been for Brady's kick in the hindquarters to get his own spread and put feet to his faith, he'd probably still be assisting his best friend at the Double C Ranch. But God was good, and through hard work and more than a little patience, Max had planted himself where he'd never imagined he'd be. And now, he couldn't imagine doing anything else.

All the more reason to keep atoning for the past. He owed God, big-time, for that much grace.

A horse nickered to his left, and he glanced over in time to see Stacy finishing up mucking Winston's stall. He smiled at her, but her lips barely quirked in response. Uh-oh, someone was getting tired of manure. At least she withheld any sarcasm, which was a major improvement. He made a mental note to praise her for that in their next session together.

To his right, he glimpsed Katie, whistling loudly as she groomed Max's best quarter horse, Remington, not even looking up as he strode past. Of all his campers, so far Katie had shown the least improvement—because she'd started out so far ahead of them all. Her file had only vaguely explained she needed to get away from negative influences, but he had yet to determine what all they were. She'd clearly wanted to come, as evidenced by her personal statement in the paperwork, but he still felt as if he was missing a piece of her story. It couldn't be anything that terrible, though, if she functioned so well at Camp Hope. He'd try to figure that out at their next One4One. As far as attitudes went, Katie won the award for Miss Congeniality.

His stomach twinged in automatic response as he glimpsed Emma at the far end of the barn, leaning against Buttercup's stall as she chatted with someone inside. Clearly she'd already met Dr. Peters. His step hitched as he drank in the sight of her. She looked good in his barn, though he'd already known that. Still, watching her stand there with arms loosely hanging over the door, one booted foot kicked up against the side, made her look as though she belonged. Once upon a time...

He opened his mouth to call a greeting, give the ladies fair warning of his approach, but not before Rachel's crystal clear voice rang from inside the stall.

“He was still hung up on someone from his past.”

Oh. No. Max hesitated, unsure whether to hurry up or slow down. Interrupting would be embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as if Rachel actually said—

“Emma, I think was her name.”

He should have hurried.

Max came to a stop, his boots scuffing on the concrete floor. They couldn't be discussing what he thought they were—could they? She and Emma had known each other all of, what, ten minutes? His chest tightened, and he drew a deep breath against it, trying to talk himself down. No big deal. Emma already knew he cared about her—at least a little, after that encounter in the kitchen last week. He'd hugged her in the middle of the night, for crying out loud, and told her he wished he'd have been there for her at her father's funeral. But what Rachel said took it a little further.

If he recognized that as a dude, he could only imagine how much further Emma was taking it.

His fears—hopes?—were confirmed as an immediate red flush crawled up her face. Her mouth opened and closed, as if she were unsure what to say, and she grabbed for the stall door frame.