Free A Cowboy's Heart by Brenda Minton

two boys to raise for the next year. He didn’t need more complications.
    She could be that and more.
    â€œI’ll miss her, Clint. But she isn’t hurting me by doing what she has always wanted to do. When I was a teenager, she talked aboutretiring to Florida someday. She wants to go with friends. She wants to learn to play golf, and figure out what shuffleboard is all about.”
    â€œDoes anyone really understand shuffleboard?”
    â€œSomeone must.”
    The day had started with a reporter ambushing her, and now they were talking about shuffleboard. She was a survivor. They had that in common.
    â€œShe’s afraid you’ll sell the bulls if she leaves.”
    He glanced away from the road, to see how she took that news. She was smiling.
    â€œShe’s always looking out for me. When my parents shipped me off to Chicago, Janie met me at the airport. They didn’t ask her to. She found out what they’d done, and she showed up without telling them. She didn’t want a little girl to get off the plane alone, in a strange city, to be met by strangers.”
    â€œShe bought our Christmas presents and put us through college.” Clint smiled at the memory. “She didn’t believe in storing up, for herself, ‘treasure on earth, when there were little treasures down the road, needing so much.’”
    â€œI will miss her if she goes.” She was looking out the truck window. “But I won’t sell the bulls. I’ll figure out a way to make it work.”
    â€œTell her that.”
    â€œI’ll tell her.” A short pause, and then she laughed. “That’s why she wants you working on the ranch. She’s making sure I have someone to help me. I was afraid it was all about matchmaking.”
    â€œShe’s always trying to protect the people she cares about.” But he had sort of thought it might be about matchmaking, too.
    They drove toward Grove and past the house that Clint still planned to remodel. Soon. Clint’s mind switched in that direction, and away from Willow, thinking about that house and what needed to be done. He thought about the cattle he wanted to raise on a farm that had been neglected for more years than he could count.
    And then his thoughts returned to a part of their conversation that he had heard, but hadn’t really thought about.
    â€œYour parents sent you to the States alone? Why?”
    She shrugged. “They had a busy schedule, school was starting. That summer they realized how bad my hearing was. I hadn’t really noticed. Or maybe I had adjusted without realizing. As it got worse, I paid more attention to lips when people spoke, and I asked a lot of questions. But that summer my hearing got progressively worse.”
    The information poured out of her, surprising him. She was so matter-of-fact, so accepting. But he was imagining how it changed a person’s life, to be unable to hear conversations, or to be left out of what was going on.
    â€œBut they sent you across the world, alone. That couldn’t have been easy.”
    She shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but he wondered if that was the truth. “Who has a perfect story, Clint? Not you, not me. Some have stories that are a little sweeter, with less pain. But almost everyone has a story. My parents love me, but they were busy with their careers. And frankly, I was a little embarrassing. I was a clunky kid with thick glasses, hearing aids and a penchant for hiding in corners.”
    â€œYou were a clunky kid?”
    â€œTall, scrawny, and clunky.”
    She had more stories, he knew that. What had sent her running to Oklahoma and Aunt Janie? What kept her hiding in that corner and pushing people out of her life? Did it all go back to a little girl who thought she’d embarrassed her parents?
    But she was right, everyone had a story. And he wouldn’t push for hers. His story sat in the back seat of his truck, two little