This Thing Called Love (Forget-Me-Not Ranch Book 2) Read online

  This Thing Called Love

  Sara Richardson

  Wisar Publishing

  For my incredible boys: Will, AJ, and Kaleb

  You carry me through.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  First Kiss With a Cowboy Sample

  Home for the Holidays Sample

  About the Author

  Also by Sara Richardson

  Chapter One

  Every time Kyler Donovan opened his garage and saw that sensible silver minivan sitting next to his Harley Fat Bob 114, he stopped dead in his cowboy tracks, his heart plummeting into his gut yet again.

  Still, two months after the first time he’d driven it home, the sight of that minivan brought on a cold sweat.

  It wasn’t the vehicle itself, with its sleek modern lines and larger alloy wheels that attempted to disguise the family mobile into something more rugged. Nope. The roiling in his gut came from what that minivan represented. His new role. The one he hadn’t asked for but found himself walking into anyway. Dad.

  He knew nothing about being a father. He knew nothing about six-year-old girls. He knew nothing about carpools and bedtime stories and French braids. He was a bull rider. Or at least he had been until his sister and brother-in-law had been killed in a car crash.

  Seven years ago, after his niece had been born, his sister Michelle had made some offhand comment about designating Kyler to Brielle’s legal guardian if anything happened to her and her husband Steve. He’d joked about it with her that day. Sure, he’d said. I’d be a fun dad. He had no idea Michelle was serious. He had no idea they’d written him into their will. He had no idea they would die. Steve was an insurance agent and Michelle was a nurse. They weren’t supposed to die. Hell, he rode bulls for a living. There was no way he should’ve outlived two adoring parents…

  Kyler’s phone buzzed in his back pocket, lurching him into the present moment. He dug it out, already knowing it would be a text from the principal at his niece’s school.

  Please let me know you got my message. You need to pick up Brielle ASAP.

  He texted back that he was on his way and looked between the motorcycle and the minivan for another few seconds before making a decision. Harley it was. Brielle loved the bike. The only time he ever saw a shadow of a smile on his niece’s haunted face was when he plunked that pink helmet onto her head.

  Bypassing the minivan, Kyler walked over, pulled on his helmet, and swung a leg over the bike, easing it back out of the garage. He could almost see his sister scowling at him from Heaven. There were a lot of moments like that. Moments when he accidentally swore in front of Brielle. Moments when she refused to eat the vegetables he put on her plate and he didn’t do a damn thing about it. He could almost hear Michelle sigh every time he screwed up as a parent. And there were plenty of screw ups, trust him.

  It’s your fault, he wanted to tell his sister. He wasn’t father material. She should’ve known that. Their own father had walked out on them by the time Kyler was nine years old, so he’d had no good example. He hadn’t had a father to shoot baskets with, or to talk to about girls, or to fix cars with. He had no idea what being a dad looked like.

  He wished he could ask Michelle what she’d been thinking. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be Brielle’s father, it was that he didn’t know how to be. She deserved better. That was the plain truth of it.

  Kicking the motorcycle into gear, Kyler flipped a U turn in his driveway and cruised the three miles to Brielle’s elementary school, an ache building in his ribs the closer he got. He parked the bike in front of the square brick building and hurried to the doors, punching in his security code.

  As had become his custom, he veered into the School’s main office, bypassed the friendly receptionist, and headed down the hall to the principal’s office. As per usual, Bri sat on a bench just outside Mrs. Shockey’s door.

  “Hey kid.” Kyler took a knee in front of her, meeting those big brown eyes with his own. “You okay?”

  Bri didn’t answer him. She rarely spoke at all. Before the accident, he used to call her chatterbox, but since her heart had shattered her vocabulary had been reduced to occasional quiet yeses and nos.

  His heart clenched at the sight of her, at the despair swimming in her eyes, at the somber slump of her shoulders, at the sad state of the lopsided pigtails he’d done his best to fashion earlier that morning. Once again, an overwhelming sense of helplessness nearly debilitated him. He hadn’t been prepared for that when he’d taken custody of his niece. The helplessness that seemed to hollow the very core of him. God, he would do anything to help her. Anything at all. But he didn’t know how.

  “I gotta go talk to Mrs. Shockey,” he murmured, standing up underneath a backbreaking weight. “Then I’m gonna take you home on the bike.”

  The corners of Brielle’s mouth twitched as though she wanted to smile but had forgotten how. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten what her smile looked like. How carefree it used to be. There’d been many times over the last two months that he’d wanted to beg her to smile, to giggle the way she used to so he could see that her bubbly spirit was still in there somewhere, but he hadn’t wanted to push her.

  “Sit tight.” Holding back a sigh, he gave her shoulder a squeeze before rapping lightly on the principal’s door.

  “Come in.” The woman’s voice sounded muffled behind the heavy wooden door. Kyler gathered himself with a fortifying breath and pushed into the office that had become so familiar to him.

  Mrs. Shockey sat behind her desk, her hands folded on the surface as though she’d been waiting for him. He didn’t bother with polite greetings. Since Bri had started school four weeks ago, he’d met with Mrs. Shockey twelve times, and the thing he liked most about the woman was that she always got right down to business.

  “Where’d you find her this time?” Kyler asked, taking a seat in the chair across from her. He’d been hesitant to send his niece to school so soon after the accident, but everyone had insisted it would be best for her to be in a routine, that she needed her friends around her, she needed something to take her mind off everything she had been through. But school only seemed to be pushing her further inside herself. Lately, Bri had made a habit of running off, leaving the teachers and aides to search high and low for her.

  “She made it off school grounds this time.” Though always stern, Mrs. Shockey’s expression also somehow held a degree of compassion when it came to Brielle. “She was at the park three blocks away sitting on a bench.”

  Kyler blew out another sigh, but it didn’t alleviate the heaviness in his heart. “I’m sorry.” What else could he say? “I’ve talked to her. I don’t know what else to do.” After his mom passed away from cancer three years ago, he used to think sadness was the heaviest emotion to carry. But now he knew. Helplessness weighed more.

  “Mr. Donovan…” the principal tucked a lock of her long graying hair behind her ear. “I’ve talked with our school psychologist, and we’ve also consulted with some grief specialists in the district.” She paused as though searching carefully for her next words. “We all agree that Brielle cannot continue coming to school. At least for the time being. I’m sure you understand what a liability it is to have her running away nearly every day.” The words were firm, yet also apologetic. “We couldn’t live with ourselves if something happened to her.
If she was hit by a car. Or if, god forbid, some dangerous stranger found her before we could.”

  Kyler shuddered. He’d had those same nightmares. In the two months she’d been living with him, he hadn’t gotten a full night of sleep once. It seemed every hour he’d wake up in a panic and run down the hall to her bedroom to check on her.

  “We think it would be best for her to take some time off while she continues to heal from the emotional trauma,” Mrs. Shockey went on. “We can set up an online learning platform so she can keep up with her studies, but we need to think about what’s best for Brielle right now. And we simply don’t have the resources to keep an aide with her one on one every day all day to make sure she doesn’t slip away when someone’s not looking.”

  “I understand.” He didn’t. He didn’t understand any of this. Why his sister had to die. Why his niece’s heart had to break. Anger raced in to drown those feelings of helplessness.

  The principal gazed at him for a few silent seconds, a genuine sadness evident in her frown. “Have you thought about getting away for a while?” she finally asked. “I know of some pediatric in-patient counseling programs that might be beneficial. Maybe you could find a place for Brielle to get more intensive therapy.”

  “I’ve looked into a couple.” But they almost seemed like hospitals to him, so cold and uninviting. How would those places be able to help her? There had to be something else. Someplace she could be free instead of confined. Someplace she could start to come back to life. It wouldn’t happen when she was confined to a small room in some unfamiliar place. A six-year-old kid should be able to roam outside like he did when his mom moved them to an acreage on the outside of town.

  “Or you could even take an extended vacation,” Mrs. Shockey murmured as though desperate to help him figure this out. “Maybe to the beach. Someplace she can find separation from her sadness.”

  A vacation…

  Kyler thought back to the sympathy card he’d received from his friend Nash Campbell shortly after Michelle’s death. If you and Brielle ever need a place to get away, you’re welcome at the Forget-Me-Not Ranch anytime. “What about an animal ranch?” he asked, his pulse picking up. The first surge of hope he’d felt in two months spilled through him. “I have a friend in Colorado. He owns some horses and rescue animals…”

  “Animals can be very therapeutic.” Mrs. Shockey’s eyes seemed to have brightened too. “From what I’ve read, children respond very well to animal-assisted therapy. Something like that could be exactly what Brielle needs to start healing.”

  Kyler nodded, the details already coming together in his head. Colorado wasn’t that far from Texas. He could load up the minivan tonight and they could leave first thing tomorrow morning if Nash and his wife Mack would have them…

  “I can send you an email with details regarding the online learning platform,” Mrs. Shockey said. “That will be a great way for her to keep her up learning. And we can stay in touch on her progress, both emotionally and academically.”

  “Yes. We will definitely stay in touch. Thank you so much.” Kyler stood, ready to run out the door and whisk Bri away. Away from pain and from fear and from this strange sad new world she found herself living in. “I appreciate your help.” At least his niece had more people than only him fighting for her. God knew he’d need all the help he could get figuring this out for both of them.

  “You’re welcome.” The principal offered him a warm handshake. “Take care. Of both Brielle and yourself. She’s very lucky to have an uncle who loves her so much.”

  A sudden sting in his eyes caught him off guard. “I do love her.” He wasn’t enough for her—he might never be enough for her— but he loved Brielle more than anything in the world. And he had to find a way to save her.

  Chapter Two

  Every time Emery Quinn pulled her truck up in front of Otis Bunn’s feed store, her dog Cupid would bat at the door handle and let himself out, usually before she’d even managed to turn off the engine.

  “You wait for me,” Emery called from the driver’s seat, already knowing the dog would plop himself down on the outside of the store’s glass door until she opened it for him. That was the thing about huskies. They liked to act as though they maintained a high standard of independence, but when it came right down to it, they respected and protected the hand that fed them.

  After not being fed for the first year of his life before she’d found him, Cupid rarely let Emery out of his sight.

  Shoving her wallet into her back pocket, Emery left the keys in the truck’s ignition and slid out of the driver’s seat. Maybe she’d get lucky today and someone would steal the hunk of metal she’d paid two grand for and had spent every day since repairing. Thank God for YouTube.

  She took her time walking to the door, letting the early morning mountain sun warm her face. Snow sparkled on the tops of the peaks that surrounded her, but she could feel the promise of late summer still lingering in the air, refusing to give in to fall’s chill.

  With each step she drew nearer to the door, her dog whined a little bit louder, until he had that husky howl going on. “I know, I know,” she murmured, picking up the pace. She didn’t blame the dog for being so impatient. Otis’s feed store was her favorite place to shop too.

  Where else could you find all the supplies you needed to care for the animals at the Forget-Me-Not Ranch, and a new pair of cowgirl boots, and a new little duckling or two they could bring home to add to the gaggle they already had? She could spend hours in there, wandering the aisles, trying out the new lawn chairs they’d gotten in, flipping through sales racks. And Cupid could spend hours sampling the different dog treats.

  “All right you.” Emery swung the glass door open and her boy leapt inside, already a good two feet in front of her. “Stay away from the catnip this time,” she reminded him. Last time Otis had had the samples out, Cupid had spent an entire night tromping in and out of the house to use the bathroom. “Willpower is your friend.” She swore the dog looked back and smiled at her.

  “Hey Em.” Otis stood behind the checkout counter tidying up. That was the other reason she loved coming in here so much. Since she’d started making the supply runs for the ranch, Otis had become her friend. Usually she kept to herself—even in River Haven—but one day, a few months back, Otis had parked his restored vintage 1967 white Shovelhead Harley outside in the parking lot, and that was it.

  She had no choice but to start a conversation with the man. Since then, they’d bonded on their love of motorcycles. He’d even let her ride that bike once since she couldn’t afford one of her own.

  “’Morning.” She approached the counter noting that he was dressed in his leathers, long curly gray hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Where are you going riding today?” she asked, already trying to decide if she could clear her schedule for the afternoon to tag along. What she wouldn’t give for a couple of hours with her hair blowing in the wind…

  “Perfect day to head up the pass.” Otis grinned, showing the wide gap between his two front teeth. “You in?”

  “I might be able to get away.” If she was able to get all her charges at the ranch fed and happy before noon. She could take the ATV around. That always cut off a good half hour of hiking from one pen to the next.

  “Deb would probably bake you pie if you went with me.” Otis’s wife wasn’t exactly thrilled about riding on the Harley, but she never wanted him to go out alone.

  Emery laughed. “Tell her I like apple the best.”

  “You got it.” The man straightened a row of fishing lures lined up by the register. “The order’s in for the ranch. I can help you load it up after you check out the new Husqvarna 54-inch Yard Tractor we got in.”

  She gasped. “It’s finally here?” She’d been waiting for the model TS 254G for months. “The one with all the bells and whistles? The dual pedal drive, deluxe gauge package, and cruise control?”

  “She’s got it all,” Otis confirmed, gesturing to the display of
tractors set up along the far wall. “I betcha she’ll help you shave a good half hour off of your mowing time, easy.”

  “At least.” Agatha’s old tractor out at the ranch had broken down three times the last time Emery had mowed the meadow. “We still get the nonprofit discount, right?” She’d asked Mack to add the tractor to the budget, but things would still be tight. Things were always tight at the ranch.

  “Plus ten percent off for the fall sale. Come on.” Otis gestured for her to follow him. “Let’s go take a look.

  Approaching the shiny orange machine, Emery couldn’t stop the low whistle that seeped out between her pursed lips. “It’s gorgeous.” She walked around the tractor, getting a good look at the cast-iron front axle and the anti-scalp wheels. It wasn’t a Harley Davidson, but it would be fun to take it for a spin around the meadow. “How fast—”

  “Excuse me.” A man walked up from behind them, and Emery automatically took a few steps in the other direction. He wasn’t from around River Haven—she could tell that much. Dark leather jacket, jet black hair cropped short, and dark sunglasses. He looked like the guys she’s served with in the Army. Unease locked her ribcage tight. Trying not to be too obvious, attempted to get a better look at his face.

  “Hey there.” Otis hurried over to the man, likely sensing he had money to spend. “Can I help you find something?”

  “I’m looking for someone who might be staying somewhere nearby.” The man didn’t remove his dark sunglasses. “Kelly Pryor. You know her?”

  Kelly Pryor. Emery’s heart plummeted, aching so badly it might as well have hit the concrete floor. Don’t panic. She couldn’t panic. Slowly, she turned and meandered to a rack of cowboy hats a few feet away, keeping her back to Otis and the man. Cupid trotted over from the dog treat aisle as though he’d sensed her distress.