The Rancher's Runaway Princess - Sample

Chapter Two

Lucy perched on a wooden stool, sipped on a cup of strong, rich coffee, and came to two important conclusions.

Number one, Brody Hamilton ran a good ship. Everything was kept in tip-top shape, and from what she'd seen, that extended to his horses. This was a good thing. You could tell a lot about a man's stock by the state of the rest of the farm. Prairie Rose was neat, tidy, and organized. Brody Hamilton paid attention.

And number two, Mrs. Polcyk ran the house. Full stop.

Lucy smiled into her mug, remembering how the housekeeper had put Brody firmly into his place. Brody had introduced her to the round, apple-cheeked woman who had instantly bustled her inside. Mrs. Polcyk had then ordered Brody to bring up Lucy's things and he'd obeyed without batting a single one of his obscenely long eyelashes. He'd done it without a grimace or an eyeroll, but with an innate respect and acceptance, and Lucy liked that about him as well.

Lucy, on the other hand, was ushered through to the kitchen where she was now watching Mrs. Polcyk taking some sort of pastry out of the oven. The room smelled of coffee grounds and cinnamon and fruit.

All of it filled her with such a sense of homesickness she thought she might cry. She missed afternoons like this. Tea in the drawing room was not quite the same as hot coffee and cookies in the kitchen.

"Your bags are in your room."

Brody's rich voice came from behind her, and she swallowed coffee and the tears that had gathered in her throat. She hadn't realized that coming here would hurt her so much. Hadn't realized that it would remind her of a place where she no longer belonged. And it was clear Brody took all that for granted. She wondered if he realized how lucky he was.

But she couldn't say any of that, of course. She put the smile back in its place and spun on the stool to face him. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

He took a few long steps until he was at the stool next to her. He hardly had to move at all to perch on its seat and Lucy was reminded again how very tall he was. His voice was deep and full of teasing as he leaned forward, egging on Mrs. Polcyk. "If you tell me that's cherry strudel, I'm yours forever, Mrs. P."

She flapped a hand in his direction, but pulled a thick white mug out of a cupboard and poured him a cup of coffee.

Lucy felt his eyes on her and she refused to meet them again. If she did, he'd see the tears that still glimmered there, and the last thing she needed was for him to see her vulnerable. And with him watching her so intently, there wasn't an opportunity for her to wipe them away. She opened her eyes as wide as she could, willing the moisture to evaporate. She'd thought of this trip as a chance to escape. Instead, the grief she'd tamped down for the last months rose up, leaving her raw and breathless.

For a few minutes they sipped in silence. He seemed to be waiting for her to speak and she couldn't come up with anything to talk about. Her personal life was strictly off limits. For one, she'd fall apart, and for another, he'd treat her differently and that was the last thing she wanted. Maybe it was jet lag, because she knew she should ask him about Prairie Rose and his breeding program and hundreds of other relevant questions. Instead her brain was riddled with personal questions. Why was he the only one here? Did he run this place completely alone? How was Mrs. Polcyk related to him? But for her to ask him those questions would be opening herself up to ones of a similar nature and she couldn't have that.

Instead, she stared into her coffee cup, fighting off memories and twisting her lips. It had to be fatigue; nothing else made sense. Certainly the feeling of resentment that was bubbling underneath all the other emotions didn't add up. He was teasing and comfortable. And she knew he had no idea how he was taking his situation for granted. No one ever did until they'd lost and then they were left with regrets. She'd bet any money that Brody didn't have regrets.