The Rancher's Secret Son

Emma.

He swallowed as an idea lodged in his mind and refused to budge. Emma, with her child psychology degree. Emma, who was staying nearby at her mother’s and had nothing to do until Cody graduated the camp in a month.

Emma, who’d been the only other person at the table to speak up during the teens’ impromptu concert and showed ability to handle this group of unpredictable, miniature adults.

No. He couldn’t.

But as his eyes swept across his three female campers and landed on Stacy’s pointed smirk, resignation took over any lingering trace of pride. He had to ask her. There was no one else available on such short notice, certainly not anyone qualified. She could still keep her space from Cody since the majority of their activities were gender-separated. The first day trail ride was an exception, to get all the curious boy-girl stares out of each other’s systems. He’d make sure Cody didn’t feel smothered having Emma on the grounds.

But would she do it?

And could he really ask her?

“The details will work themselves out. I’ll get someone in here ASAP. For now, let’s go ahead and saddle up.” Max clapped his hands together, sending a few teens scurrying for their mounts and the others groaning and eyeing their horses with dismay. He knew the feeling. He pretty much wanted to moan and pout, too. God, I know this camp was Your idea, so I’m hoping You have a plan here.

His sinking heart confirmed what he knew and didn’t want to admit. God had a plan, all right.

He just really wished it weren’t going to have to involve Emma Shaver.

Chapter Four

Emma swung on her mom’s front porch swing the next afternoon, her bare feet pushing off the wooden deck. Clanging dishes sounded through the screen door, where her mother was cleaning up from lunch, erasing all evidence of their chicken salad sandwiches. She’d offered to help, but Mom insisted Emma stay outside and enjoy the afternoon.

Sort of how she’d insisted she do the laundry that morning without help. And cleaned the kitchen last night after their snack without help.

Day two, and already Emma wondered if her welcome was fading. That was her mom, though, especially since she became a widow—routine, routine, routine. And Emma wasn’t fitting inside it. Maybe that answered her question about Thanksgiving.

She sighed. Could they really make this last a month without driving each other crazy? They had a temporary routine figured out when Mom visited them in Dallas. Everyone had their own room, their own space. They kept a busy schedule so they wouldn’t be on top of each other all day. Home, however, was a different story.

Did she really just think of Broken Bend as home?

She didn’t want to go there.

Emma tilted her face to the sunlight streaming across her lap and released a deep breath, trying to erase the tension of the past forty-eight-plus hours. The verdict at court. Seeing Max, leaving Cody. The secrets, the burden. She still had to figure out what to tell Max, and when.

Later looked pretty appealing.

She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the October afternoon sink into her skin. This entire situation left a bad taste in her mouth, and it had nothing to do with the fact her mom had used a little too much mayo in the salad. Her past had caught up to her—and not only caught up, but taken over. She had to deal with it. But what was best for Cody right now?

Tires crunched gravel and she opened her eyes to see a red, extended cab truck pulling into the drive. She squinted at the driver, drenched in shadows as he exited the vehicle. Surely her mother didn’t have male visitors... No.

It was Max.

They really had to stop meeting like this.

“What’d he do?” The question sprang from her lips and carried across the yard before she realized how heavy it sounded. Heavy with fear, with accusation. With expectation of failure. How ugly of her. She swallowed the rest of it, clamping her teeth on her lower lip. Max being here didn’t automatically mean bad news.

But it probably didn’t mean good.

“Hey.” Max took the steps in a single hop and came to face her, pausing to remove his hat. His brown hair wilted across his forehead and he shoved it back before replacing what she always thought of as his natural appendage. Max always had two arms, two legs and a hat. Some things never changed.

And some things did.

“Did something happen?” She crossed her arms over her chest, willing away the heartbroken girl from thirteen years ago that rose inside, urging her to run to the safety of her room and lock the door. Shut him out. Convince herself she hadn’t made a mistake and wasn’t making another one by trusting her son to Max’s supposed expertise.

But the professional adult stood her ground and forced what she hoped was a natural-looking smile. At least forming her fears as a generic question made them sound more approachable. Less assuming.

“Happen to who? Cody?” Surprise lifted Max’s brows. He shook his head, and relief melted her from the inside out. If Cody got kicked out of the program...

“Sorry. I didn’t think how my showing up would seem.” He did look sorry as he adjusted his hat for the second time. Worry wrinkled the skin above his nose, and his smile faded to a half quirk. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t scared.” Terrified was more like it. The adrenaline abandoned her limbs, and she sank back on the porch swing. “Just concerned.”

“Cody’s fine. Doing great.” Max edged closer to the swing, though he chose to lean against the porch rail instead of join her. Which was as he should. She wouldn’t remember the times they’d sat on that same swing well after midnight, while her parents were asleep, and laughed. Whispered. Kissed.

Wouldn’t remember that at all.

“We took a trail ride this morning, and now the campers are having a rest time in their room before we introduce them to barn chores.” Max shook his head, as if he realized he’d been stalling. “That’s not why I came, though, obviously. I had a question, and it wasn’t one to ask on the phone.”

Nerves twisted her stomach, and she gripped the rusty chain of the swing. Surely he hadn’t come for her. To talk about the past. What if he’d somehow noticed how similar he and Cody—

“I need help.”

The blatant admission took her off guard, and she snapped her gaze to meet his. “With what?” Max Ringgold never needed anyone. Except maybe his dealer, back in the day. He’d made that clear more than once. He didn’t need family. God. Her.

Maybe some things had changed since then, but how much could a person really transform?

He tucked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans, another signature Max move that threatened to sweep her back in time. She kept her gaze riveted to his, determined to ignore the memories desperate for review. She was here for Cody. Her son. Not for some traumatic, tormenting stroll down best-left-forgotten lane.

She straightened slightly, steeling herself for his request. Whatever it was, she had no obligation to answer. He would treat Cody—and her—like any other camper or parent on the ranch. Just because they had a past didn’t mean she owed him a thing.