Round Up (Lost Creek Rodeo #1) - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,1

was ungrateful to have those things.

He had just lost the passion of his life, and no amount of rehabilitation, physical therapy, or bribery could get it back for him.

If it hadn’t been for Kellie, he’d have been worse off.

His sister had been as torn up about his rodeo news as he had been, given she was his biggest fan and number one supporter. His first circuit in college, she’d had Team Ryan shirts made up for the family, every one of whom had turned out for the show. Rodeo was in his blood, and having that taken away was a brutal loss.

The very next day, she’d come to him with a job offer, paperwork and all.

Broken Hearts Ranch was hers, but it was getting too big to run alone, she’d insisted.

All because of her little side project.

The side project that had become bigger than the ranch itself, come to think of it. He was probably getting his wages out of the admission fees.

He’d balked when he’d first heard what she wanted to do with the ranch once she’d taken it over. A women’s retreat on a ranch? He’d even teased her about ladies sipping wine on the sofas while the cows roamed free, which had earned him a solid bruise on his arm.

He knew better now. He could see the good she was doing, and he was proud of it.

Women who’d had their lives completely upended, mostly by no fault of their own, came to their ranch to find themselves and start again. They worked on the land, they made the jams, they fed the animals, and did any other tasks they were willing to take on. Kellie had created a very particular list of options, and no one had to do more than they felt capable. Some of the ladies he’d seen come through here, just in the short time he'd been back, had a work ethic that could school him, which had shut up any and all snarky comments he could make.

Kellie was rebuilding lives on her side of things. The least he could do was rebuild the ranch itself.

Nodding to himself, as this pep talk always seemed to make him do, he shifted the truck into gear and turned around, heading back for the homestead. The gravel took care of the water on the main roads, but the side roads would be miserable. He’d need to have boards laid out in bad places, or there would be hell to pay.

Rain in Texas wasn’t unusual, but it sure was a pain in the behind.

He pulled into the circle drive of the homestead, heading over to the grass to keep out of the way, as usual. He couldn’t keep track of arrivals and departures, and his regularly filthy truck would not be a welcoming sight for anyone.

Why they had to pretend to be fancier than they were on this ranch, he’d never know. Dirt was dirt, and mud was mud, and high-maintenance guests would have a wakeup call being here. Maybe they should have tried a retreat down in the Bahamas or some such if they couldn’t handle the look of his truck.

Scowling at the insult nobody had given him, Ryan shut the truck off and got out, moving around the side of the house to the kitchen door rather than the main entrance.

Muddy boots weren’t allowed in the front.

Whatever.

He stepped inside and removed his hat, tossing it into the antique chair in the corner, as he always did. “Kells?” he called out, rubbing his hands together. “Kellie?” When there was no answer, he whistled.

As he predicted, two grey-colored dogs with black freckled fur came trotting toward him, tongues lolling.

He grinned and squatted down. “Hey, Casper. ’Sup, Frankie? Did you boys miss me? Huh?”

They sniffed and licked his face, their cold noses nudging at his hands.

“Nah, I don’t have any treats,” he told them reluctantly, revealing his empty hands. “Not this time. Sorry.”

Casper whined low, then turned and wandered off, his tail brushing Ryan in the face as he did so.

Ryan watched the dog leave, then turned to Frankie, who still stared at him, panting happily. “What’s his deal, huh?” He scratched Frankie’s head, paying particular attention to his left ear. “What’s his deal?”

“His deal,” his sister’s voice answered, “is that you’ve spoiled him, so now he expects treats all the time.”

He grinned up at her as she entered the kitchen, her hair in a loose ponytail over a black-and-white flannel shirt, trusty jeans tucked into her favorite sweater-like