A Rancher for Christmas Read online

  A Family for Christmas

  Raised on the run, free-spirited Breezy Hernandez has never stayed in one place too long. But now that she has joint custody of her late brother’s twin daughters, she’s determined to give them a stable home. Even if it means cooperating with the twins’ bossy uncle. Texas rancher Jake Martin learned the hard way that women can’t be trusted. But as he and Breezy care for the orphaned girls, Jake begins to open his heart. Is Breezy ready to put down roots in Martin’s Crossing, or will she run from the one thing she’s always wanted: a family?

  Martin’s Crossing: In this small Texas town, every heart finds a home

  When was the last time anyone had looked out for Breezy?

  “Are you okay?”

  He kneeled next to her, bending those long legs and folding his arms over his knees. He pushed back the black cowboy hat and peered at her. He looked concerned.

  She took a breath and waited.

  “Of course I am.” Breezy made sure to smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Jake grinned. “Well, you were almost toast out there with that bull.”

  “I am glad you came along when you did.”

  “Me, too,” he replied. His voice was soft, like wind through the trees, and it undid her a tiny bit. “Here, you’re probably cold.” He slipped off his jacket and eased it around her shoulders. “This should help.”

  Words failed her. Yes, the jacket helped.

  Or did it?

  It smelled of Jake Martin, like pine, mountains in the fall and cold winter air. She wanted to bury her nose in the collar and inhale his scent. At the same time she wanted to tell him she didn’t need his jacket or the unexpected emotions it stirred in her.

  Books by Brenda Minton

  Love Inspired

  Trusting Him

  His Little Cowgirl

  A Cowboy’s Heart

  The Cowboy Next Door

  Rekindled Hearts

  Blessings of the Season

  “The Christmas Letter”

  Jenna’s Cowboy Hero

  The Cowboy’s Courtship

  The Cowboy’s Sweetheart

  Thanksgiving Groom

  The Cowboy’s Family

  The Cowboy’s Homecoming

  Christmas Gifts

  *“Her Christmas Cowboy”

  *The Cowboy’s Holiday

  Blessing

  *The Bull Rider’s Baby

  *The Rancher’s Secret Wife

  *The Cowboy’s Healing Ways

  *The Cowboy Lawman

  The Boss’s Bride

  *The Cowboy’s Christmas

  Courtship

  *The Cowboy’s Reunited

  Family

  *Single Dad Cowboy

  His Montana Bride

  †A Rancher for Christmas

  *Cooper Creek

  †Martin’s Crossing

  BRENDA MINTON

  started creating stories to entertain herself during hour-long rides on the school bus. In high school she wrote romance novels to entertain her friends. The dream grew and so did her aspirations to become an author. She started with notebooks, handwritten manuscripts and characters who refused to go away until their stories were told. Eventually she put away the pen and paper and got down to business with the computer. The journey took a few years, with some encouragement and rejection along the way—as well as a lot of stubbornness on her part. In 2006 her dream to write for Love Inspired Books came true. Brenda lives in the rural Ozarks with her husband, three kids and an abundance of cats and dogs. She enjoys a chaotic life that she wouldn’t trade for anything—except, on occasion, a beach house in Texas. You can stop by and visit at her website, www.brendaminton.net.

  A RANCHER FOR CHRISTMAS

  Brenda Minton

  Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.

  — Philippians 4:11

  Dedicated to my sweet ladies at the residential care facility. Your prayers, hugs and love have meant so much to me. Lola, this one is for you.

  And to friends who are always just a phone call away. Pam, Lori, Tracie, Steph and Shirlee.

  Melissa Endlich, as always, thank you!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Questions for Discussion

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Breezy Hernandez stood in front of the massive wood door on the front porch of her brother’s Texas Hill Country home. When she’d met Lawton Brooks two months ago, he had filled in the missing pieces of her life.

  Now he was gone. In one tragic accident Lawton, his wife and his mother had been taken. The lawyer in Austin had given her this address. He’d told her in Martin’s Crossing she would find Jake Martin, executor of the estate.

  She knocked on the door and then looked out at the windblown fields dotted with small trees, waiting for someone to answer. No one did. There was no muffled call for her to come in, or footsteps hurrying to answer the door. She leaned her forehead against the rough wood, her hand dropping to her side. Her heart ached.

  After a few minutes she wiped away the dampness on her cheeks and reached for the handle. It wasn’t locked. She pushed the door open, hesitating briefly before stepping inside. Why should she hesitate? Nothing would change the reality that Lawton and his wife had been killed in a plane crash two weeks ago. She’d missed the opportunity to see him again. She’d missed the funeral and the chance to say goodbye.

  But she could be there for his girls.

  As she stepped inside she flipped a switch, flooding the stone-tiled foyer in soft amber light. The entryway led to a massive living room with stone flooring, textured walls in earthy tan and a stone fireplace flanked by brown leather furniture.

  Enveloped by silence and the cool, unheated air, she stood in the center of the room. There were signs of life, as if the people who had lived here had just stepped out. There were magazines on the coffee table, a pair of slippers next to a chair. Toys spilled from a basket pushed against the wall. Her throat tightened, aching deep down the way grief does.

  “It isn’t fair,” she said out loud, the words sounding hollow in the empty space.

  She should have come to Texas sooner but she’d needed time to come to terms with what Lawton had told her. His father, Senator Howard Brooks, had an affair with her mother, Anna, a drug addict from Oklahoma City. Breezy was the result of that brief relationship. She’d known for years that she wasn’t the true granddaughter of Maria Hernandez, the woman who had taken her in years ago. Maria had given her that information shortly before she passed away.

  Now she knew who she was. But what good did that do her?

  She left t
he living room and walked to the kitchen. The room was large and open, with white cabinets and black granite countertops. She moved from that room, with sippy cups in a drainer next to the sink, to the dining room.

  A table with four chairs and two high chairs dominated the room. On the opposite wall were family portraits. She stopped at the picture of an older man in a suit, a flag of Texas behind him. Her father, Senator Howard Brooks.

  In the next picture his wife of over forty years stood next to him. They looked happy. Evelyn Brooks hadn’t known about her husband’s brief affair or his daughter. He’d confessed the secret on his deathbed one year ago.

  Breezy drew in a breath and fought the sting of tears. She’d never been one to cry over spilled milk. Not even if that meant she might have had a real family.

  This was different, though. This was a family lost. Her family. She had a habit of losing family. It had started more than twenty years ago, after her mother’s death, when she and her siblings were all separated. Mia was adopted by the Coopers and Juan went to his father’s family. Breezy had been taken in the night by Maria because she had worried they would eventually learn the truth, that Maria’s son wasn’t really Breezy’s father.

  Out of fear, Maria had kept them moving from town to town, living in cars, shelters and sometimes pay-by-the-month hotels.

  Breezy brushed off the memory. It was old news.

  A wedding photo hung on the wall. She studied the image of her brother and his pretty bride, both wearing identical looks of joy. At the last picture her heart stilled. Lawton, his wife, their two baby girls.

  Just then, a sound edged in, a door closing. Footsteps, heavy and booted, echoed in the empty house. She held her breath, waiting.

  “Who are you?” The deep male voice sent a shiver of apprehension up her spine.

  Breezy turned, not quite trembling in her shoes, but nearly. The man filled the doorway. His tall, lean frame in jeans and a dark blue shirt held her attention, and then her eyes connected with pale blue eyes in a suntanned face. His dark hair was short but messy, like he’d just taken off a hat. She let her gaze drop, almost expecting a holster, Old West style, slung low on his hips.

  Of course there wasn’t one.

  “I’m Breezy. Breezy Hernandez.” Chin up, she swallowed a lump of what might have been fear.

  His eyes narrowed and he frowned. “The missing sister.”

  She wanted to argue she hadn’t been missing. She hadn’t known she was lost. She’d needed time to process that she had this brother. She’d needed time alone to figure out what it meant to find out who her father was. The ache in her heart erupted again. She’d been on the run for most of her life; it had become second nature to take off when things got a little dicey. Maria Hernandez had taught her that.

  “So we know who I am. Who are you?” She managed to not shake as she asked the question, meeting his somewhat intimidating gaze.

  “Jake Martin.”

  “Of Martin’s Crossing.” The town in the middle of nowhere that she’d driven through to get here.

  “Yes, Martin’s Crossing.”

  “The girls?” She glanced back over her shoulder and saw that he was moving toward her.

  “They’re safe.” He stepped close, smelling of the outdoors, fresh country air and soap. “I got a call from Brock, the attorney in Austin. He said he told you to come here and talk to me.”

  “Yes, he told me about Lawton and asked me to find you.” She shook her head. “I missed the funeral, I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t give him explanations.

  She guessed the Goliath standing in front of her wouldn’t want to hear explanations. He wouldn’t want to know how much it hurt to know that all these years she’d had another brother. And now he was gone.

  “Right.” He looked away, but not before she saw the sorrow flash across his face, settling in his eyes. She started to reach out but knew she shouldn’t. Her hand remained at her side.

  Maybe they were feeling the same sense of loss but he didn’t seem to be a man who wanted comfort from a stranger. From her.

  “So, you came for your inheritance?” He dropped the words, sharp and insulting.

  “Is that why you think I’m here?”

  “It would make sense.”

  She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t. It’s insulting.”

  He shrugged one powerful shoulder. “Your brother was my best friend. His daughters are my nieces. I have every right to keep them safe.”

  “I’m not here for any reason other than to see them.” She turned and walked back to the kitchen.

  “Running?” He followed her, light on his feet for a man so large.

  “Not at all. I need a minute to cool off so I don’t hit you with something.”

  At that, the smooth planes of his face shifted and he smiled. She was slammed with a myriad of other emotions that seemed more dangerous than her rage. At the sink she filled a glass with water and took a sip. He scooted a chair out from the island in the middle of the big room and bent his large form to fit the seat. She ignored the lethal way he sat, like a wild cat about to attack. She ignored that he had beautiful features, strong but beautiful. She could draw him, or chisel his likeness in stone.

  Or grab a chunk of granite and...

  His eyebrows lifted, as if he guessed where her thoughts had gone.

  “I’m not here to take what I can and leave.” She remained standing on the opposite side of the island, not wanting to be anywhere near him. She needed that force of wood and stone between them.

  “Really.” His voice was smooth but deep, and full of skepticism.

  “Yes, really. I had a father and a brother that I never got to meet. I wanted to come here because this is where Lawton lived. I thought I might somehow...” She shook her head. “Never mind. He’s gone. I want to meet his daughters. Please, just let me meet them.”

  * * *

  Jake stood, rethinking what he’d come to tell her. Rethinking her. She stood on the other side of the counter, as if the granite could protect her. As he eased out of the chair, she moved a little to the right, her back against the counter. Brown eyes the unfortunate color of caramel watched him.

  Unfortunate because her eyes were strangely compelling. And more, there were emotions that flickered in their depths—sadness, anger, loss. He hadn’t expected to feel anything for her other than distrust.

  “I’m going to get a glass of water, nothing else,” he said.

  He opened the cabinet and found a glass, filling it with cold water from the fridge. He took a drink and studied the sister of his best friend, looking for similarities. She had long straight dark blond hair that framed a face that he’d call beautiful but strong. She was tall and slim but not thin. The peasant skirt and blouse gave her a bohemian look. She would stand out in Martin’s Crossing. If she stayed. He doubted she would. She had city written all over her.

  Yes, she looked enough like Lawton for him to believe she was his sister. Lawton had obviously believed it. Even before the DNA test.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “You remind me of your brother.”

  “I hope that’s a compliment.”

  “It’s an observation.” He watched her, still unsure. He’d been unsure from the beginning when Lawton first told him about her. “I need to head back to my place. You can meet me over there.”

  Jake poured out the remaining water and put the glass in the dishwasher. She had moved away from him again. He didn’t comment, just walked past her and headed for the front door, grabbing his hat off the hook on his way out. She followed.

  He had more on his mind than a sister who suddenly showed up when it looked as if the gravy train might have derailed in her front yard. Back at his place he had a mare about to foal. He’d lost a good cow that mornin
g and now had a calf to tend to. He had fifty head of cattle heading to the sale tomorrow and a brother who couldn’t get his act together.

  They both stopped on the porch. The temperature, typical of late November, had dropped fifteen degrees while they’d been inside. Clouds were rolling, gray and full of rain.

  “How far?” She looked past him to the open land and seemed unsure. Then she focused her attention on the horse he’d tied to the post.

  “Not far.” He untied his horse, tightening the girth strap and watching her over the top of the saddle. “Since I’m riding, you’ll need to go back down the drive, turn left and in a mile take a left at the entrance to the Circle M.”

  “How long before you get there?”

  “It’ll take me a little longer but I’m cutting through the field, so not much.” They stood there staring at each other and he noticed the softness in her brown eyes. The last thing he wanted was to give in to the softness. Lawton had immediately trusted her. That wasn’t Jake’s way. He had to be the one to draw lines and make sure no one got hurt. But he wasn’t an ogre. “I’m sorry.”

  She gave a quick nod her eyes registering surprise. “Thank you.”

  “He was a good man.” More words of kindness. His brother Duke would have been proud. He’d told Jake to be nice to their new sister. He’d almost laughed at that. She was not their new sister.

  Jake didn’t need one more person to watch out for. His plate was full of siblings that couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble.

  With a goodbye nod, he put a foot in the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle. She shot him a wary look and headed for her car.

  He watched her go, holding the gray gelding steady as the horse tossed his head, eager to be on his way. The car was down the drive when he turned the horse and headed for home. The rain had blown over but the air was damp and cool. It felt good, to let Bud loose. The horse was itching to run. So was Jake. But he knew he couldn’t outrun the problem that was driving to his place in a compact car with Oklahoma tags.

  Fifteen minutes later, with his horse unsaddled and back in the pasture, he headed for the house. Breezy was standing on the front porch of the stone-and-log home he’d been living in alone for more years than he cared to count. He’d be thirty-four soon. He guessed that made him a crusty bachelor.