The Rancher's Holiday Hope

“I don’t need to be checked on. I’m very capable of taking care of myself.”

Isaac kicked back in the chair opposite her and had the nerve to put his booted feet on the corner of the oak desk that happened to be her pride and joy. It was an antique, passed down through generations. Not generations of her family, but a family.

“Get your feet off my desk,” she growled.

He quickly moved his feet to the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked, showing his serious side.

“I’m fine.”

He studied her. “It wasn’t a bad thing he did, caring enough to call and have someone check on you.”

“He doesn’t know me. It was intrusive. I’m not sure why he felt he had a responsibility to call in a welfare check on me.”

Isaac’s expression went from serious to amused and she was thankful. Amused, she could deal with.

“You’re so prickly sometimes.”

“I’m not.” She opened the wedding file. “I’m fine and I have work to do.”

“Right.”

She looked up, seeing the skeptical expression of a man she considered a friend. “I survived it. There, that’s honesty for you. I can admit that it took me by surprise. It’s been at least a year since I’ve had a flashback. But I’m still standing and that’s a win.”

“That’s always a win.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated.

“I never said you weren’t,” Isaac said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

Sierra sat back in her chair. She rubbed her hands down her face and sat silent for a moment, face buried, trying to think of something that would put his mind at ease. “I heard the helicopter, but I held it together. I was nice to a child. I made sure she was safe.”

“If you were nice to a child, that’s a definite win.”

“You know I’m not fond of them. And this one—” She shuddered. “She’d been outside and she had that outdoor kid smell. You know the one.”

“Yeah, I know.” He leaned back, deceptively relaxed. “You have to let people in, you know. Friends. Family. You can’t always shut down and keep people out of your space.”

“I know that. But I don’t trust easily.”

He arched a brow. “Isn’t that the truth. I’m still not sure if you trust me.”

“I do trust you. I just don’t trust you to stay out of my business.” She smiled.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes and she knew that there was more. Isaac could be intrusive. He knew when to push. He also knew when to give a person space. He was still here, watching her, waiting.

In the silence, she had too much time to think. Her mind kept replaying the moment when Max St. James walked up to her, dark-skinned, curly hair, piercing gaze. She’d been taken aback by his presence, by him. Unfortunately she hadn’t seen the last of him. The file sitting on her desk meant that he would be in her life for the next couple of months as she planned Melody St. James’s wedding.

“Will you be at the holiday dinner this Sunday after church?” Isaac finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Holiday dinner?” She had no idea what he was talking about.

“The Hope Community Church holiday dinner. We have it on the last Sunday in November every year. It’s open to the community, so we serve food all day, because we never have enough room for one big sit-down dinner.”

“And what do you want me to do?” She asked because she knew from his tone that there was more. He wanted her involved. They all did.

“I only want you to join us. We’re all still family.”

Sierra smiled. The residents of Mercy Ranch were more than family. They’d seen each other through some of the roughest times. They kept one another motivated. In the past couple of years, a few of them had gotten married, including Kylie’s marriage to Carson West, Isaac’s brother and the oldest son of Jack West. Jack owned and operated Mercy Ranch. It was his way of giving back to soldiers who had fought and been injured.

“You want me to help, don’t you?” she asked, knowing his real purpose for bringing up the dinner.

He grinned. “Yeah, I want you to help.”

“I’ll help,” she said. She wasn’t excited about it, but it would show them all that she hadn’t closed herself off completely.

“Good.” He lifted his arm to check the time. “About Max...”

“Another interfering male?” she added.

“No, he isn’t. He had a friend, a business associate. Max understands PTSD.”

“Right, but I don’t need him mucking about in my life.”

“Mucking about?”

“Go! I have work to do. Remember, I run this wedding venue for your father. And if you see him, tell him I’m not good at all of this happily-ever-after stuff.”

“I think he’s hoping it’ll rub off on you. I’m starting to think it must be working. A person who says stuff like ‘mucking about’ has obviously been reading some romance novels.”

“I don’t believe in romance.” She hid her face so he wouldn’t see the heat traveling up her cheeks.

“Don’t let Max get under your skin. He’s not much of a romantic, either. Too busy. I keep telling him women like it when a man shows up. Maybe someday he’ll find one he cares enough to show up for.”

“I don’t need to know about Max St. James.” Sierra shot him a look and then picked up the file and walked out of her office. She had a meeting and the last thing she wanted was to have her client’s brother on her mind as they met to discuss wedding details.

Max stood outside the doorway to Sierra Lawson’s office, catching the last few sentences of her conversation with Isaac West. He hadn’t planned on coming back today, but when he’d gotten home, his sister had informed him she had an appointment at the Stable wedding venue and he had to accompany her because, after all, it was his money she was spending.

He definitely hadn’t planned on listening in on a private conversation. But he hadn’t walked away quickly enough and had heard his name mentioned. Both were reasons to stay and listen. Now he had to make another decision: make himself known or walk away.

“Max, did you find her?” Melody’s question made the decision for him.

“That dirty rat.” He heard Sierra gasp, accompanied by Isaac’s deep laugh. “Listening in on private conversations.”

He stepped into her office, trying hard to be his normal composed self. After all, he was Max St. James. He knew how to keep his expression neutral to make the best deal. He didn’t let anything or anyone get under his skin.

So why did he feel like a teenager being called into the principal’s office? He pulled on the brim of the cowboy hat he wore and managed to not shuffle his feet.

“I didn’t hear much, and most of what I did assured me we won’t be best friends.”