Page 8 of Rusty

"Rusty?" Janice's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Rusty answered.

“What kind of man is Chuck? Is he kind? Do you think I have any chance of convincing him to let me stay on the ranch a while?”

Rusty considered this. He knew full well that the reason Chuck had told Janice she couldn’t stay on the ranch was because of her history withhim. But he couldn’t tell her that, so instead, he simply replied, “Chuck is a fair man. He always does the right thing.”

Janice nodded, and it was then that Rusty noticed she was clutching a stuffie to her chest.

So, Janice was definitely still a Little.

That shouldn’t have been interesting. But itwas. Deeply interesting.

“Who’s your stuffie?” Rusty asked. “Anyone I’ve met before?”

Janice looked down at the stuffie then held it up to Rusty to show him. He recognized the soft toy at once. Not because he’d seen it before, but because he’d seen a picture of it. The stuffie was blue and round with red hair. It looked just like Little Miss Giggles from theMr. Menseries Rusty had read to Janice back when they were together. It was a series popular back in Scotland, where she’d grown up, and Rusty had bought a copy of that book for her as a present because of her infectious laugh.

A laugh which, he noticed, he hadn’t heard once since he’d seen her again.

“It’s Little Miss Giggles,” said Janice quietly.

Rusty smiled. “Hello, Little Miss Giggles,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

He didn’t reveal that he remembered the book he’d bought for Janice all those years ago. He couldn't bear to talk about their past. It was still too painful. Especially when they had no future.

“Well, here we are,” said Rusty as they arrived outside the main building. “Chuck’s office is just in here.”

Janice looked up at the doors. “Help me,” she whispered. “Please.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Janice

Janice's fingers traced theedge of her skirt, the fabric catching on a hangnail. She winced, more from the throb in her arm than the tiny snag. The cut pulsed in time with her heartbeat, an insistent reminder of why she sat here, perched on the edge of a chair that suddenly felt too big for her.

Chuck North's eyes bored into her from across his massive desk. She forced herself to meet his gaze, willing her face to reveal nothing. The office around them was a study in contrasts: cowboy hats hung next to gleaming file cabinets, a state-of-the-art computer nestled amid stacks of leather-bound ledgers.

A floorboard creaked. Janice's breath caught as Rusty shifted his weight by the window, his profile etched against the late afternoon sun. She still couldn’t believe he was here.

Rusty. Her old Daddy. Her fiancé. The man who broke her heart forever.

The realization hit her again, a jolt of . . . what? Anger? Fear? Relief?

Ten years,she thought.How is it possible he looks exactly the same?

But he didn't, not really. New lines framed those soulful brown eyes. His hair was shot through with more silver than she remembered. Yet the way he stood—feet planted wide, thumbs hooked in his belt loops—was so achingly familiar that Janice had to look away. Somehow, when she looked at him, she didn't just see Rusty. She saw herself, as a younger woman, happy.

She couldn't stand it.

Chuck cleared his throat, the sound harsh in the heavy silence. "Ms. Parker," he began, his voice as rough as his salt-and-pepper beard. "I believe you have some explaining to do."

Janice drew a steadying breath. She'd rehearsed this a hundred times on the long journey here, but now, faced with Chuck's scrutiny and Rusty's unsettling presence, the carefully prepared words crumbled to dust.

Start at the beginning,she told herself. But where, exactly, was that? The moment she'd made the decision to run? Or ten years ago, when Rusty had left her and her father had started making her life an abject hell?

The cut on her arm throbbed again, more insistent this time. Janice's fingers twitched, fighting the urge to touch the bandage hidden beneath her sleeve. There was no going back now. She had to make them understand.

"Mr. North," she began, hating the tremor in her voice. "I know I'm probably the last person you expected to see today..." The words died in her throat as Chuck's expression hardened.

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