Page 8 of The Cattleman’s Unforgettable Love: Ford and Amelia (MacFarland Ranch #11)

When she got back to the ranch house – the big house, as they called it – she was disappointed but not surprised to see that there was no sign of Ford’s truck. She didn’t know if he had an official time that he finished work – she guessed he didn’t – but she hadn’t known him to get home this early.

That hadn’t stopped her from hoping he might be here.

She parked around the back of the house in what was effectively a parking lot. The ranch hands left their trucks, cars, and motorbikes there. There was usually a tractor or some other farm vehicle, too.

It struck her that, rather than feeling like she was just another person in the crowd who came and went around here, parking her non-descript rental sedan amongst the eclectic mix of vehicles made her feel like one of the gang.

Perverse, perhaps – but true.

When she let herself in through the kitchen door, it occurred to her that if she could manage to see it that way, she kind of belonged more than most. No one else came and went freely from the house like this.

Well, of course the family did — but not the people who worked here.

Even Shayna, Ty’s fiancée, who she’d met the other day, had been taping a note to the door rather than just coming inside to leave it.

She’d laughed and looked a little embarrassed when Amelia had found her there and invited her in. She’d explained that she knew she was welcome, but she still didn’t feel quite comfortable to just waltz in when no one else was around.

Amelia slung the strap of her bag over the back of one of the chairs at the big kitchen table. It struck her that, strangely enough, she herself felt perfectly at home here – and even stranger that she should use that phrase.

She’d normally describe herself as feeling at ease in a space, not at home .

She looked around the kitchen, wondering if she should attempt to make something for dinner. She wasn’t the most domestic of people, but she could probably manage to fix something if she set her mind to it.

She opened the fridge to peek inside and see if there was anything in there that might inspire her mostly dormant inner chef.

She laughed at the sight of an enormous pizza sitting on the middle shelf, with a Post-it note stuck on top:

Thought we could have this for dinner. One of the hands went to

the take-and-bake store in town. I asked him to get one for us, too.

Hope you like pepperoni. I should be back by six – but if you’re

hungry, bake it whenever you’re ready.

She stuck the note to her finger and smiled as she closed the fridge door.

Ford had been more than accommodating since she arrived – especially considering that he’d thought she was only here for a weekend visit, and she’d ended up staying indefinitely.

They hadn’t really had the chance to establish a routine yet.

She promised herself that she’d make more of an effort to take care of him.

He’d already cooked for her one night, brought a plate up for her from the bunkhouse another night – and now, even on a ranch thirty miles from the closest pizza store, he’d made sure that she’d be able to have the Friday night pizza she’d told him she enjoyed so much.

He was the kind of guy who not only picked up on little details, but also acted on them, it seemed.

She was going to have to figure out ways she could do something for him, too.

She didn’t want him to think he was the only one making an effort – or that she was the kind of woman who wouldn’t make an effort.

She took her laptop out of her bag and set it on the kitchen table.

After a few minutes of searching online, she had to admit that she didn’t know enough about what he liked to be able to order him a meaningful gift.

She made a face when she realized that if she wanted to buy Cash something, she’d have lots of ideas – that 18-year-old Macallan she’d mentioned earlier was the first obvious candidate.

But with Ford, she didn’t even know what he liked to drink.

He’d given her a glass of brandy the other night, but she didn’t know if brandy was his drink of choice.

And even if it was, she didn’t know what brand he preferred.

She glanced over at the liquor cabinet. She could go take a peek, but even then, she wouldn’t know if what he had in there was something special to him or just the generic stuff.

She blew out a breath.

During the course of their day together tomorrow, she was going to find out as many little details about him as she could.

With that decided, she closed her online shopping search and clicked over to the forum where she liked to hang out online.

It was one of the few places where she felt at home amongst her peers – computer security experts, known by some as hackers, by others as geeks – and always underestimated by anyone who didn’t understand how much power they actually held.

She was surprised to see a new private message in her inbox.

She didn’t often get into private conversations on there – she was more about the group chat, helping each other solve problems. She didn’t come for the social aspect, but rather to use and sharpen her skills.

She clicked on the message with an inexplicable sense of trepidation.

There was no reason she should feel that way – but all the little hairs on the back of her neck were standing up.

Strangely, she wouldn’t describe whatever she was feeling as fear. The word that came to mind was intuition .

But she’d never been a believer in that.

Her eyes landed on the message.

Rootless2: Amelia?

She stared at her name for a long few moments.

Now she felt as though she should be afraid – but she wasn’t. Her level of curiosity had just ratcheted up to max. There should be no way someone could associate this account – or her username – with her real identity. But someone obviously had.

And rather than making her fear them, their ability to find her here made her more inclined to respond. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she replied, under her handle:

Subroutine: Who wants to know?

She didn’t expect an immediate response – and didn’t get one.

After staring at the screen for a few more moments, she logged out of the site. She was used to having to wait. She’d check back tomorrow. She closed her laptop and decided she’d rather sit in the great room than here in the kitchen.

When she reached the great room, she only hesitated for a moment before settling into Ford's spot on the sofa. She didn’t like to admit it – even to herself – but sitting in his usual place had brought her a strange sense of comfort last night.

She looked around, feeling a little guilty for some reason.

But there was no one here. No one to see.

And even if there were, there was no way they could know what she was thinking.

She’d brought her laptop with her but resisted the temptation to open it and check the TangentOps forum again.

Instead, she stared out the window at the mountains.

There was something undeniably welcoming about them.

She knew people described the landscape here as harsh and rugged – and they weren’t wrong about that – but there was a sense of peace here, too.

Something she hadn’t found anywhere else.

She’d grown up in California. She supposed that before her mom died, she’d felt at home there.

They’d been a family back then – her mom and dad and Danny and herself.

But that felt like a different lifetime now.

Her mom had died when she and Danny were small.

Their dad had done his best to raise them, but he’d been busy hiding from his own grief in his business.

He’d been a great provider – they hadn’t wanted for anything financially – but looking back, she could see that all three of them had been starved for the things money couldn’t buy.

She’d found her own way out by immersing herself in code.

That was a world that made sense to her — a world where emotions were irrelevant.

Or at least a world where she didn’t have to face them.

She didn’t have to face her dad’s grief, or her own.

Didn’t have to face the sadness she felt over the path her brother Danny had chosen.

He’d started out like so many kids did — chasing a high in high school.

He’d gone on to college, and she’d hoped he’d outgrow his recreational drug habit there.

For a while after he graduated, it seemed like he had.

But then he’d lost his job at an advertising company and gone off the rails – although to this day, she didn’t know which came first. She supposed it didn’t matter anymore.

Either way, he’d become a full-blown addict.

He’d slipped into a world where she could no longer reach him.

She’d tried for years. Taken him to rehab. Taken him in when he checked out of rehab. But after their dad passed, and Danny had stolen all the valuables from the family home…

She shook her head sadly. She could have gotten past that.

She would have given him the house and everything in it if he could have just stayed clean.

Their dad had understood what was going on and had tried to help from beyond the grave – putting Danny’s share of the estate into a trust that would only pay out after he’d been clean for two years.

She closed her eyes, but the memories refused to be silenced.

The last time she’d seen Danny was after he’d broken into her apartment and stolen everything of value to sell for his next fix.

She’d cut him off. Refused to take his calls.

Not because she was angry – but because she couldn’t keep bailing him out and enabling him.

It was the last thing she could think of that might possibly help him.

She grabbed a cushion from the sofa and hugged it to her chest.

She hadn’t helped Danny. He’d died. Overdosed on fentanyl.