Free The Rancher's Second Chance (Martin's Crossing Book 3) by Brenda Minton Page A

him.
    “Yeah, you’re kind of a thorn in my side,” he teased.
    “I’ll go with you, to see your mother. If you want.”
    “No, I don’t think so. When I’m ready I can do this on my own.”
    “Wouldn’t it be easier with a friend?” She studied his face, the firm set of his mouth, the blue eyes that caught and held hers.
    “I’m not sure anything can make this easier, Grace.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Do you want water? And to stop talking about this before we ruin a good meal?”
    She followed him to the sink. It was a mistake. She knew before she got up and took those few steps. But she couldn’t stop herself. When he turned around, she was there, waiting for him.
    She touched his face, tracing that serious expression with a fingertip and stopping on his cheek where a dimple hid, waiting for his smile. But he didn’t. Instead, his breath held, and she reacted in kind. He leaned close enough that she thought she felt his lips brush hers, but there was still air between them as he held there, just a breath away. The moment stretched between them, connecting them.
    Brody suddenly stepped back, shaking his head. “This is wrong. I’m all about helping you out. I’m even okay with dinner. But I don’t think either of us needs this complication right now.”
    Of course they didn’t. Grace put distance between them, trying to get her emotions firmly in check. Neither of them needed more regrets.
    The small flutter in her abdomen caught her by surprise.
No, baby girl
, she thought.
I don’t regret you.
She only regretted that she hadn’t waited for the right man. She hadn’t waited for the person she would spend her life with. She hadn’t waited for a man worthy of her, worthy of her child.
    She knew one worthy man, and his name was Brody Martin.

Chapter Six
    T he blow-dryer almost kept Grace from hearing the pounding on the front door Sunday morning. She heard a few short raps, then a pause and a few more raps. She shut off the blow-dryer and glanced out the window. Brody stood on the stoop, freshly shaved, his hair still damp, his plaid shirt unbuttoned over a T-shirt.
    She went to the door, opening it to let in cool morning air and the spicy scent of his cologne. She tried to pretend it didn’t matter. After their dinner last night she should take a step back, let things cool off. Instead, she stood in the doorway reliving their almost kiss.
    “How are you this morning?” she asked as she motioned him inside. “I have coffee for you. I only drink one cup so there’s almost a full pot.”
    “Thanks.” He made his way to the kitchenette and poured himself a cup. “Go ahead and finish getting ready. We have time.”
    “I’m almost done.” She stood in front of him, unsure. She really disliked being unsure. “Want me to button your shirt?”
    “I’m fine.” He sat down at the table, sipped his coffee. When she continued to look at him, he cocked an eyebrow at her. “What?”
    “I don’t mind.”
    He leaned back in the chair. “I’m fully capable of buttoning my own shirt. This is just easier, and I choose easy over a daily struggle. I can button my own buttons. I can even cook a decent dinner, fix a fence and saddle my own horse.”
    “I know you can, I just...” For some crazy reason she started to cry.
    So this was what it meant to be an emotional, pregnant female. She swiped the tears away and tried to get mad at him, but she couldn’t. He muttered something under his breath, shoved back his chair and he was at her side, gathering her in his arms.
    His lips grazed the top of her head. “Shh, I’m sorry. I’m taking steroids and you’re hormonal. Probably a bad combination.”
    She nodded against his shoulder and his arm circled her, keeping her close.
    “Go get ready. And I’ll have a cup of coffee that isn’t cold,” he whispered, his breath warm on her ear.
    It was good advice. She would finish getting ready and she’d manage to get control of her heart,