Page 12 of The Guy Who Stole My Ranch

The smack of wood on wood filled the air as the storm door of my dad’s house closed. He and Kathline stood on the porch, hand-in-hand, and waved at us.

“Grandma!”

“Grandpa!”

In an instant, I was forgotten as the suppliers of popsicles and cookies appeared.

Then my brothers, Rick and Todd, came outside.

Todd, the oldest, stood the tallest and looked the most like our mom. He had light hair, high cheekbones, and a smile that rivaled Christopher’s.

Rick, and his identical twin, Danny, were more obviously related to Xavier and me with dark hair and round faces. Todd could still wear the same suit he’d owned in high school, while the other two had had to upgrade a few sizes.

Nothing like my curves, mind you. The women of my dad’s family were blessed with the pin-up body, complete with a large bust, a small waist, and an ample derriere. In my case, there was an extra fifty pounds that wouldn’t let go unless I cut off a leg.

There was a reason I wore overalls most of the time. As advertised, they fitovereverything.

I was surprised to see Todd here. He lived in Houston, a couple of hours away, and worked as a radiologist. He usually called into our family gatherings.

Rick, his wife Mindy, and the boys lived about an hour away in San Antonio. He was a veterinarian who worked with larger animals, and in this part of the state, he had a never-ending supply of patients.

Whenever he got called out this way, he’d drop the boys off and we’d hang out.

They may or may not have gotten me stuck on a few action cartoons, but that was between me and my streaming services.

Rick left Todd and jogged down the stairs to offer me a hug. He almost always dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt. His strong arms engulfed me, and I let him try to squeeze the stuffing out of me.

An impossible feat, mind you, but it made him feel manly. Or something.

“Xavier was worried about Pidge,” Rick said, referring to the broken tractor.

“Nothing I can’t fix.”

Then Todd was there. He gave me a smile and a short hug. “How’s it going?”

Unlike Rick, Todd always wore fancy clothes, and I would swear before a jury that his goal was to impress us. “Good,” I said as I stepped away. “You?”

“Fine.”

The three of us stood there for a second, and I got itchy palms because Todd and I had come to the end of our conversational skills.

We’d been tight as kids, but after the kickball incident, I’d put a healthy distance between us.

My phone saved the day, buzzing from my bib pocket.

Could this finally be William? Why did my heart start beating faster at that thought?

“Give me a second.” I pulled my phone out and walked away.

It was a text from an unknown number.

Unknown Number:Brooke, this is William Harris. I saw you at the park today.

Like I could have forgotten that.

Unknown Number:Victoria gave me your number. I hope it’s appropriate that I use it.

Why had he bothered to spell out appropriate in a text when he could have used two letters, “ok”? Then again, that suited his personality.

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