Love Inspired September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Montana Twins\Small-Town Billionaire\Stranded with the Rancher (26 page)

Maribeth jumped out of her car. She'd watched her steps as she'd left the barn to keep clear of the massive puddles forming around the barn entrance, but this time she didn't look down, her feet and ankles sinking into water as she made her way to the guy now lifting his head and squinting at her through the rain.

She knelt next to him and surveyed the damage. “Are you okay? What's hurt?” she asked, ignoring the water pouring around them.

Somehow his eyes looked even bluer as he peered up at her and grinned. “My pride?”

Relief flooded her like the water drenching them now. “Well, that's good, I guess,” she said. “Here, let me help you up.”

He pushed against the ground while Maribeth slid her arm around him to help him sit up. His shirt was soaked, and because of that, she easily felt the firm muscles of his back pressing against her arm. She swallowed past the sensation, waited until she was certain he had his balance and then pulled her arm away.

She'd almost forgotten about his broken leg, and she glanced at it now but couldn't tell if anything was wrong because of the jeans over his cast. “Your leg. Is it okay?”

“Hurts like—” He visibly swallowed and then that corner of his mouth lifted again and he answered. “Like, a lot,” he said. “But I don't think I did any additional damage, at least not to the leg. I'm pretty sure that's no longer usable, though.” He nodded toward one of his crutches, which Maribeth now saw had broken during his fall.

“Oh, my,” she said, as a crack of thunder caused her to flinch. She reached for the other crutch, also lying a distance from its owner, and said, “I'll help you to the house. Can you make it with one crutch, if I help?”

He looked doubtful.

“I'm stronger than I look,” she said, again putting her arm around him to help him stand and willing herself to stop enjoying the proximity. “Come on. We can do this.”

He took the good crutch and used it and Maribeth as leverage to stand. The rain refused to cooperate and actually seemed to come at them head-on as they started toward the cabin.

Ryan's height caused him to lean awkwardly against her, and their progress was slow, which only increased the intensity of having him so near. Added to the sporadic cracks of thunder that caused her to reflexively hang on to him tighter, Maribeth started to wonder whether she should've left Ryan in the mud and called someone else to help. Normally, Dana and John or Georgiana and Landon would be here, but they'd all taken Abi to a horse show in Atlanta this morning.

So Maribeth was on her own. And it wouldn't have been right to leave him there, no matter how difficult this journey to the cabin was on her senses.

Help me, Lord. I know You're in control of this, and for some reason, You've got me in this difficult situation. Help me be strong and keep those old feelings at bay. I don't need a guy like him. I don't need a repeat of the past.

By the time they reached the ramp, Maribeth felt soaked to the bone. Her body shivered, and although Ryan undoubtedly tried to keep the majority of his weight on the other crutch, her shoulder ached from helping him balance. Thankfully, the ramp had a rough-textured surface, and Ryan's crutch didn't slip at all as they made their way to the shelter of the porch.

“I'll be fine there, for now,” he said, pointing to the nearest rocker.

“Don't you want to go inside and get dry?”

“I will, in a minute. First I want—I need—to talk to you.” He urged her toward the rocker, and with Maribeth moving out of the way, he sat down.

Her tremble was instantaneous, a frisson that might have been caused by the cold rain or by the removal of Ryan's warmth against her side.

“Here,” he said, reaching toward a cedar chest not far from his chair and opening it to withdraw a blanket. “Use this to warm you up.”

“I really should go, and you need to get inside and change into dry clothes.”

“I'm all right,” he said, “but if you want some dry clothes, you could borrow some of Dana's. I'm sure she wouldn't mind.” He took a deep breath. “And I don't want you to go,” he said softly. “Not yet. Like I said, I've been wanting to talk to you.”

“I don't need to borrow any clothes. The blanket is fine.” She wrapped it around herself and sat in the next rocker. “But I did mean what I said about talking to you. You have to answer me before I'm going to feel any kind of obligation to answer you.”

He nodded as if he'd expected her stance. “Okay.”

She'd started rocking, but she stopped. “Okay?”

“I want you to hear me out, and if I have to talk first, then I'm ready. What was it you wanted to know?”

His tone said he hoped she'd forgotten, and he wasn't going to boost her memory. But she hadn't.

“Why did you react so strongly to Autumn's story, when she talked about her storm?” As if reinforcing the question, an earsplitting crack echoed through the woods—lightning striking nearby. She wrapped the blanket around herself tighter.

“I reacted so strongly,” he said, his words measured and gauged as though controlling the emotion behind them, “because her story, her storm, so closely resembled mine.”

Maribeth wouldn't have thought he had anything in common with the little girl, but then she thought about Autumn's story and recalled Dana mentioning her mother, and that she'd died giving birth to Dana. “She lost her mother when she was young, and you did, too,” she said.

“She said she was four. I was three.” He didn't look at Maribeth as he spoke but stared toward the fields instead. Maribeth followed his line of sight to see the black stallion in the distance, the only animal that hadn't attempted to get out of the storm. And she thought of Autumn in her storm, and Ryan in his. “That was tough on you, wasn't it? Losing your mom so young?”

He continued focusing on the stallion, but Maribeth noticed his hands gripping the wooden armrests on the rocker and his throat pulsing thickly as he swallowed. Then he said, “I think because I was so young, losing her wasn't the toughest part.” He turned toward Maribeth and she saw the depth of suffering, of loss, in his eyes.

“What
was
the toughest part?” she asked, her words so soft that she wasn't sure he could hear her over the rain.

He did, and he answered, “The toughest part was never talking about it, about her, or losing her.” He took a breath, let it out. “We didn't have the same type of situation that happened to Autumn, where our father dated and found someone new, and we eventually had a real family.” He paused, and Maribeth wondered if he'd say something about not having church or prayer, since those were two things Autumn had mentioned, too, but he didn't. Instead, he ended with, “I'm glad Autumn had that, a real family.”

“Why do you think your father didn't date or marry again? I mean, it could have been because he couldn't love anyone else,” Maribeth offered, thinking that it would be amazingly romantic for a man to not be able to give his heart to another after his wife died.

Ryan laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “You know, I think Dana may have believed that was the case for a while, that Dad couldn't love anyone but Mom, but then I'm pretty sure she figured out the same thing I did about why he stayed single.”

A shiver pulsed through her, and she wrapped the blanket around herself tighter. “And why was that?”

“Because Mom met Dad before he had anything, when he was a dirt-poor kid, raised by cotton farmers in Mississippi, who had a dream of making it big. He knew she loved him, because she'd loved him before there even was a Brooks International.” He shrugged. “How would he know if someone else loved him or simply loved everything he had to offer?”

Maribeth wondered if he had any idea how much he'd just told her about himself, because she suspected she'd just learned plenty about Ryan Brooks, maybe even why someone who looked the way he looked and had everything he had was still single.

And after seeing the way he'd looked at Autumn, then watching the sweet interaction he'd had with Nathan, and now learning that there was more to Ryan Brooks than she'd realized, she suddenly had the urge to put her arm around him again, not to help him walk but to hold him close.

“Ryan,” she said.

Then she remembered who he was, and that his world was different than her own, and if she were to comfort him, if she were to get that close to him...her past might resurface simply because of their association.

He looked a little uncomfortable when his eyes met hers and he apparently realized that she'd leaned toward him as she spoke. He cleared his throat. “Okay, now it's time to talk about what I wanted to discuss,” he said, back to business as usual and as though he hadn't opened up to her at all.

Another flash of lightning doused the sky with white, and then gray took over again, almost as quickly as Ryan's wall had closed once more. But Maribeth had seen beneath his tough veneer, if only for a moment, and it probably wasn't a good thing that she liked—really liked—what she'd seen.

“What did you want to discuss?” she asked.

“Consigning Women,” he said, “and the opportunity that you'll be losing if you don't consider letting me help you take it to the next level. You've got something that's hard to find nowadays—a unique idea and marketable concept. More than that, you have someone with the funds to take that concept and expand it to its ultimate potential.”

Maribeth stopped rocking, her back straightening in the chair as she prepared to tell him—again—that she wasn't interested. And now she knew it'd be easy to maintain her emotional distance; he wasn't interested in getting closer to her. He only wanted to get control of her business.

“Consigning Women is everything I want it to be already. It has achieved its potential, as far as I want it to go.” Letting him expand her business would only put Maribeth in the spotlight, as would any kind of closer relationship with Dana's brother. After the mess seven years ago, she liked where she'd landed: off the tabloid radar. And she planned to stay there.

“But why wouldn't you want to go bigger?” He frowned. “What is it
you're
not telling me? You have to see the potential here. Your dream could be huge, and you could make a difference, not only in making a name for yourself but also in helping others. Think of how many people would be able to dress the way they want, look the way they want, if you let me take your business to the next level,” he said as headlights appeared on the driveway and Landon's truck started toward his and Georgiana's cabin. Maribeth knew John and Dana wouldn't be far behind.

She couldn't deny the truth. “I wouldn't mind going bigger if I knew—” she started, but then didn't know how to complete the sentence without revealing too much. She had actually thought about the possibility of owning more stores one day, but the thought of getting bigger, especially to the magnitude that she could achieve with Brooks International on board, would only serve to bring Maribeth into the public eye. Again.

“Knew what?” he asked. “Tell me, Maribeth.”

“I've told you everything there is to tell,” she said. Or rather, everything she was willing to share. She'd gone seven years without discussing the mistakes she'd made when she was nineteen. Her store gave her the ability to support herself and maintain her anonymity. She liked it that way, and she wasn't about to let Ryan Brooks or anyone else ruin that.

“Do you realize the amount of money you could make if you let Brooks International back you? You could go national, or even global. It'd be huge. You'd be set for life. No worries. Isn't that what everyone wants?”

“No, it isn't,” she said. The only reason she'd want to grow her business would be to have the opportunity to help more people, not to grow her bank account. But she couldn't do either, because bigger meant more exposure. And she'd already been exposed enough for a lifetime.

A horn sounded as Landon, Georgiana and Abi clambered out of the truck and ran toward their cabin. Maribeth put her hand up in a wave but didn't manage a smile. She was too angry.

“Some people would rather make a difference in the world than have lots of money. Have you ever thought about that?”

“That's why you aren't growing your business? Because you want to make a difference?” he asked. “Who says you can't do both? You could make a difference
and
have plenty of income. You can't do either with your small store now.”

“I
am
making a difference with my store in the square. Right now, for example, I'm pairing Nadia Berry's jewelry with outfits at the store. All proceeds from her jewelry sales go toward helping an organization that is working to stop the sex slave industry in Thailand, the country Nadia was adopted from.”

He didn't miss a beat. “Think of how much more of a difference you'd make if you had more stores. You could sell that many more pieces of jewelry and
really
make a difference,” he said, and Maribeth realized this man was no stranger to making his point and winning an argument, two aspects that were admittedly her weaknesses.

She regrouped. “Okay, so you've obviously got a lot of money at your disposal where you could have an impact on the world. Tell me how
you
do it.”

He looked genuinely confused. “How I do what?”

“Make a difference. Because if I ever did decide to do business with someone or let someone have access to my business in any way, I'd have to know they also wanted to have a positive effect on the world.” She felt her pulse pick up. She had him now, because his love of money was no secret, and she suspected he probably didn't do a thing toward making a difference in anything but his bank account. Which was a shame, since she'd seen that he could be a compassionate person when he'd talked about Autumn.