With Family In Mind (Saddle Falls Book 1) (2 page)

T
here was no reason to be nervous, Rebecca told herself as she climbed out of her car and smoothed a damp hand down her jeans. She was here on legitimate business.

But she hadn’t been back to Ryan’s Creek in almost twenty years, and as she approached the double wooden doors of the sprawling main ranch house, she glanced around.

The ranch covered almost five thousand acres of land dotted with a various assortment of trees, shrubs and wildflowers. Lack of rain, always a problem in this desert oasis had left parts of the land scorched a mangy brown.

Separating the ranch from its nearest neighbor was a low creek that ran the length of the land, ending in a small, but enchanting waterfall near the back of the
property. Hence, the ranch’s name: Ryan’s Creek. In addition to the main ranch house, numerous other buildings were spread out across the property. A four room coach house, stables, a barn, a henhouse as well as numerous two-story buildings that housed the ranch hands who both lived and worked on the ranch. In the distance, when clouds didn’t shadow the skyline, the tip of Mt. Charleston could be seen soaring above the land like a majestic eagle.

Rebecca had never actually walked or ridden the entire length and breadth of the ranch so she wasn’t certain of exactly how many other structures were there, but she knew it was more than enough to accommodate the numerous people it took to keep Ryan’s Creek running smoothly and efficiently, with more than enough room left over for the Ryans to build any other accommodations as needed.

Approaching the large double wood front doors now, nerves got the best of Rebecca. Her hand trembled as she rang the doorbell.

The answering sound had her backing up a step in her strappy sandals.

There was a loud crash, a couple of high-pitched whoops and then the sounds of stomping feet, not to mention the ferocious yelps of what sounded like a very large dog.

Or a very sick horse.

She was just about to turn tail and bolt back to her car when the front door was yanked open.

“Thank God.” The man reached for her arm and dragged her inside, slamming the door behind her. “Reinforcements,” he said.

More stunned than frightened, Rebecca couldn’t speak so she merely stared.

With his tall frame, wide shoulders, frayed jeans and plaid chambray shirt, the man probably could pass for normal—normal, that is, if she didn’t take into account the fact that he was wearing a catcher’s mask over his face, which concealed his identity. He was also carrying a child’s giant water-pumper squirt gun in a screaming shade of neon-green in his rather large, rough-hewn hands.

His shirt was soaking wet, as was his sleek black hair, which also happened to be standing on end as if he’d just seen a ghost.

“They’ve got me outnumbered,” he said in a voice she could only describe as desperate.

“Outnumbered?” Rebecca looked at him carefully, not certain if he was dangerous.

“Definitely. I sure hope you’ve got a lot of experience with…exuberant kids or deranged.”

“K-kids?” Rebecca’s stomach rolled at the thought.

“Never mind. Here they come.” He gave her a helpless shrug. “Duck,” he yelled, just as a stream of water pelted her right between her breasts, soaking the maroon silk blouse she’d just paid a hundred dollars for.

“Gotcha, we gotcha.” Two small whirling dervishes with matching mops of black hair and freckles, identical jeans and T-shirts—one blue, one green— came racing into the foyer. They were followed by a large, lumbering mop of fur that slipped and slid across the sparkling marble foyer, barking and racing
around the boys in circles, collapsing every couple of steps and then scrambling back up to his feet.

“Yeah, we gotcha.” The dervishes were whirling in circles, high-fiving each other and giggling. “We win. We win!”

“Time out,” the man yelled over the din, slipping off the catcher’s mask as one of the boys let loose another pelting stream of water, this time hitting him right in the mouth.

Sputtering and wiping water from his face, the man stepped in front of Rebecca to protect her from the whirlwinds, the dog and a potential drowning.

“Time out,” he yelled again, dragging his wet hand down his jeans.

Stunned, Rebecca merely stared. From the research she’d done the past two days, she surmised these little boys who looked like they were about to bounce out of their tennis shoes in glee had to be Jared Ryan’s adopted five-year-old twin sons, Timmy and Terry. Jared was the second oldest of the Ryan brothers, she remembered, smiling at the boys. They were undeniably adorable.

“We gotcha good,” one of the dervishes said proudly, throwing himself at the man’s knees and hugging him tightly.

“Yeah, we got you
real
good!” Yelping, the twins jumped in the air. Unwilling to be excluded, the mop of fur began to bark and jump, nearly knocking Rebecca off her feet.

“No,” the man said, pointing to Rebecca with one hand as he corralled the barking, jumping beast with
his other. “I believe you got
her.
” He glared down at the mutt. “Sit, Ruth. Sit!”

The dog immediately obeyed, looking up at Rebecca with sad, soulful eyes.

The two boys, who looked like a matched set, grew still, noticing her for the first time.

“Uh-oh,” one of the twins said, looking first at Rebecca, then at the quickly spreading stain on her new silk blouse.

“Double uh-oh,” the other twin whispered, shifting his pumper squirt gun to his other hand to scrub at his itchy, freckled nose.

“Well, boys,” the man said, rocking back on his heels and crossing his arms across his broad chest, “what have you got to say for yourselves?”

The twins exchanged perplexed glances, then shrugged.

“Is this a test?” asked the twin scrubbing his itchy nose. “Cuz we don’t do so good on tests.”

“Yeah,” the other twin added, glancing at Rebecca and flashing her a charming smile. Apparently he’d lost a front tooth somewhere. “We don’t do so good on tests. That’s why we don’t wanna go to school.”

“Yeah, we hate school.” To show solidarity, the boys linked arms. “They have girls there,” the little boy with the itchy nose explained with a scowl. “Yuck. We
hate
girls!”

“Yeah, girls are yucky.” It was the other twin’s turn to scowl.

“Yeah, well, tell me that in about ten years,” the man said with a laugh, holding up one large hand. “And let’s discuss school at a later time, shall we?”

Jake Ryan glanced at the woman standing in his foyer. He did a quick visual inventory and smiled in approval at her long, leggy frame, the pile of ebony hair that was caught atop her head, and a face and body that would make angels sing. He was surprised that she wasn’t having a hissy fit over her ruined blouse, not to mention the rampaging kids and the marauding dog.

Looking at her, he found his spirits improving considerably. He had to admit that his brother Jared’s taste in nannies was sure improving. Maybe this nanny had a chance. Jake glanced at her slender, delicate frame. Nah, probably not. He sighed. She’d be gone like the wind in a couple of hours, just like all the others.

For the first time, he noticed her eyes, and decided to take another, closer look. Now that he was so near, he could see that those gorgeous blue eyes were red rimmed. She’d obviously been crying. Deep, dark smudges of worry or fatigue shadowed her face.

Obviously this woman had some kind of trouble.

Female trouble.

Uh-oh. A warning bell went off in Jake’s head, and he gave himself a mental shake. No, he wasn’t going to wonder and he wasn’t going to worry. He was done trying to rescue every damn damsel in distress. Once burned, twice shy. Experience had taught him that women were never as vulnerable or as fragile as they looked. Especially beautiful women.

Unfortunately, he’d learned that lesson like all the rest—the hard way.

Intrigued in spite of himself, he continued to stare
at her appraisingly. What, he wondered, would a beautiful woman like her have to worry and cry about?

He didn’t know and he wasn’t even going to think about it, he told himself firmly. Beautiful women and their problems were not
his
problem. Not anymore.

“School sucks,” his nephew Terry announced glumly, earning a cautioning look from Jake.

Jake’s brow rose and he tried not to grin at his nephew’s colorful vocabulary. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” Terry mumbled, glancing down at the toe of his dirty sneaker before giving a woeful shrug.

“The dreaded school starts in three months,” Jake whispered to Rebecca by way of explanation. “Kindergarten,” he added, before turning his attention back to the boys. “Now, guys, what do you have to say to…Mrs.?”

“St. John,” she said hurriedly, glancing from the man to the boys with a smile. “Rebecca St. John, and it’s Miss.” She hesitated for a fraction of a moment, heart suspended, wondering if there’d be any recognition.

Even though she bore no resemblance to that terrified seven-year-old girl she had once been, and she’d changed her last name—choosing it from the phone book—once she’d left the orphanage, it was a relief that apparently there was no hint of recognition in this man’s eyes. Clearly, he was one of the Ryans, but she wasn’t certain which. “And really, Mr. Ryan—”

“It’s Jake.” He slid a hand over his tousled hair, then tucked the mask under one arm, along with his own squirt gun, before extending his hand to her.
“I’m Jake Ryan, uncle to these two…adorable delinquents,” he added with an irresistible grin.

“Jake.” She forced her smile to remain, though her nerves were scrambling as she reached for his hand.

Jake Ryan.

The rush of feelings that came with recognition surprised her, since it had been so long since she’d allowed herself the luxury of
any
feeling.

First came the anger, the resentment, and then came the relief that he hadn’t recognized her, that for the moment, at least, she was safe. But that relief was also tinged with fear.

Rebecca struggled to swallow her emotions, to put them back in their guarded place deep inside her heart, where she’d hoarded them all these years.

She hadn’t expected or anticipated an emotional response when she came face-to-face with the Ryans again. She’d been concentrating only on the task confronting her, not considering the emotional consequences.

She’d have to be very careful, she realized, taking a long, slow breath to get her rampaging heartbeat under control. She couldn’t afford to allow her emotions to interfere with what she had to do. She knew better, had trained herself to react differently. She couldn’t afford any slipups or mistakes—not now, not in this. This was far too important.

She had to remain detached and emotionally uninvolved, just as she’d taught herself, if she was ever going to learn the truth about the past.

And her mother.

This would be her only chance.

With clearer eyes, she looked at Jake Ryan carefully.

She remembered him now. The oldest of the Ryan boys. Even as a child there had been something darkly dangerous about him. Something fearless. He’d carried that look, exaggerated now, into adulthood.

His shock of sleek black hair was worn longer than was considered entirely respectable. His shoulders were wide, his chest broad and his waist slim. His legs, long and well muscled, looked as sturdy as tree trunks. The worn, scarred leather cowboy boots only added to his impressive height.

An image from her childhood suddenly flashed before her eyes. She remembered once, on the playground at school, being taunted by a bigger boy who’d teased her about her awful, ugly glasses. Near tears, she’d looked up and seen Jake Ryan, headed in her direction, his three brothers trooping behind him.

Frightened, she’d turned and fled, but not before she heard Jake giving the bully a dressing down.

From that moment on, she’d always thought of him as “the protector” because he was always keeping a keen eye out for his brothers and apparently ready to ride to the rescue of anyone else smaller or weaker.

Another memory surfaced. She recalled he’d been a hellion as a child. Always mischievous and always in trouble, or looking for trouble.

That remembrance almost made her smile, because from the look of him now, he still appeared to be hunting for trouble.

And no doubt he’d found plenty in the ensuing years.

Forcing her nerves to settle, Rebecca took his outstretched hand in hers, then made the mistake of glancing into his eyes. She felt her breath back up in her throat.

Why hadn’t she remembered he had the most glorious blue eyes she had ever seen? Deep, unbelievably blue, they looked as if they could see deep within her. It almost made her shiver.

Without the mask covering it, his grown-up face wasn’t a hardship, either. Oh, it was rough and rugged, with sharp planes and angles, and a couple of probably hard-earned scars here and there, but the total effect was enough to buckle a woman’s legs. Well, a woman who allowed herself to let her hormones go astray at the sight of a gorgeous man. Rebecca certainly wasn’t about to let something so ridiculous sidetrack her.

Shrugging off her immediate physical response to him, she forced a cool smile and met his gaze as she shook his hand.

“Mr. Ryan—”

“It’s Jake,” he repeated with an easy smile. “And the boys have something to say, don’t you, boys?” he asked, glancing back at his nephews. “Boys?” he prompted.

“This really isn’t necessary.” Rebecca glanced at the twins, who were watching her curiously. “I think I’d better explain why I’m here.”

“It
is
necessary,” Jake insisted with a grin destined to speed up any woman’s heart. “And I know why you’re here.”

“You do?” That took her by surprise and she blinked up at him. Even in her strappy three-inch heels
she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. He had to be at least six feet four inches tall. A very well proportioned six feet four to boot.

He continued to hold her hand, much to her chagrin. She would have felt better if he wasn’t actually… touching her. His hand was strong, warm, callused and incredibly gentle. It was doing unusual things to her normally calm heart.