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Before she could react to that he was out of the truck to pull open the gate. She watched as he maneuvered the heavy metal structure with powerful ease. Found herself comparing his steady, rock-solid strength with Ry’s quick, panther-like grace. She had to quash the heat that rose in her at just the memory of that first day when he’d ridden up on that black horse that was his match in beauty and flash. She tried to use what they’d just been talking about, that step back, that artist’s eye, thinking about how she would capture with her lens the differences between the two brothers. Mentally she added another safety layer—Cody, the contrast to Ry with his opposite blond flash. She wondered where Chance, whom she hadn’t yet met, fit on the spectrum of beautiful Raffertys. She had no doubt he did, probably in his own unique way.
And suddenly she wanted more than anything to do an in-depth series on them all, this family. The brothers were so different. Yet at the core, in all the ways that truly mattered, they were the same.
A product of their father’s legacy, their mother’s unfailing love, and the power and history of these Texas hills.
Chapter Seventeen
Ry heard thesound of the truck and knew they were here. He’d been reluctant to let Keller pick Kaitlyn up, and had tried to think of a way out when he’d arrived to start the day’s coffee as required, but he couldn’t make a big deal about it without raising the suspicions of the whole damned family. Because it was only logical, since Keller had had to go pick up a shipment of horseshoes anyway. Of course he could have volunteered to do that, too, but their mother was already watching him a little too closely for comfort. As if she knew Kaitlyn got to him.
I wish I knew how. But I only know she does.
He reached to close out the browser on his laptop that sat on his workbench, but lingered one more moment over the image he’d just found. He’d spent at least an hour on the stock photo site, starting with searching by her name, then realizing with a little snap of wonder that if he searched by subject instead, subjects she’d mentioned, he could almost always pick her shots out of a page full of images, even in thumbnail size.
Including this one, a dramatic, early morning shot of the Alamo, at that time of day empty of tourists, and taken at an angle that cut out the stark modernity of the city that had grown around it. He’d known the instant he spotted it at the bottom of the page that it was hers. She’d caught the perfect angle of the sun’s rays, the beams of light sweeping the eye past the more modern touches around the old mission, putting the building itself in a spotlight.
It looked as it must have on that March morning just before the final battle of the thirteen-day siege began. The light even had that same quality, and if she’d taken it on March 6th, he wouldn’t be surprised. She was a Texan to the bone, after all. And it was the kind of detail she’d think of.
He heard the sound of his door opening. He jolted to his feet and spun around. Nobody ever just walked into his space, unless it was some urgent situation on the ranch and they needed help. They knew better. And then he realized.
Keller. He was pushing the door open. “Brought your photographer, bro,” he called out cheerfully.
Too damned cheerfully. He knew exactly what he was doing. Because he was doing it on purpose. He had a sudden, flashing vision, of Keller and Mom, plotting this together. He swore to himself. Just because Keller had found his perfect woman, and more unbelievably so had Chance, and Mom wanted that for all of them, didn’t mean they had to collude—
“Come on,” Keller said to someone—like Ry didn’t know who—behind him. As if the person were hesitant.Smart girl.
But then, he already knew that. Kaitlyn Miller was definitely smart. And quick. And clever.
And as tough as she’d had to be. Texas tough.
And then she was there, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail today, dressed in her worn jeans and a blue and white and black plaid shirt, half tucked in at the front, and with her backpack of gear slung over her shoulder. He knew how much it weighed, and today she looked almost too slight to carry it. His mother’s words came back to him.
That girl needs a little weight on her. I get the feeling she doesn’t eat right.
Right? From what he’d learned about where her money went, he’d guess the more accurate diagnosis was she didn’t eat much, period.
She’s paying her own way and for a couple of others.He hadn’t really meant to say it. The words just sort of slipped out under his breath. But his mother had heard—he could tell by the way her brow furrowed.
Or maybe, he amended now as he watched her nervously look around the open space of the small barn, she was just one of those people who ran at a high pitch, and burned off every calorie.
Keller backed away without ever actually setting foot inside, closing the door as he went. And Ry just stood there, fuming a bit at his brother, until he realized Kaitlyn had yet to meet his gaze. And it wasn’t simply that she was looking around his studio, although she’d taken a quick, wide glance when she had first come in. No, she was studying the floor as if the simple, gray barn wood was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.
“I’m sorry,” she said, still without looking at him. “Your brother is…”
“Yeah, I know.” Keller was impossible to say no to. But he’d earned that status the hard way, and no one in the family would ever question it. Since he’d been thirteen the man had been the father figure in his life, even at only four years older. And if Keller hadn’t stepped up, Ry had a pretty good idea of how things might have gone for the Raffertys.
Kaitlyn just stood there, but he could almost feel the tension coming off of her in waves. And it occurred to him, unsettlingly, to wonder what she and Keller had talked about on the ride here from the inn. Was it more than simply being here, in the place he protected so fiercely, that had her so nervous? Had Keller said something to put her so on edge? Make her so uncertain?
“You just going to stand there?” His irritation at Keller made his voice a little sharp, and her head finally came up.
“I know you don’t like people in here,” she began, and then stopped. And he didn’t like the sound of her voice. Didn’t like it at all. It wasn’t quite fear, but it was more than hesitancy, and it made the sharpness of his own voice jab at him. He suddenly felt like some winter-hibernating bear who’d been disturbed, snapping out at the one who’d dared intrude.
“I’m a little…protective,” he said, now sounding more like a sheep than that bear. “Come in, Kaitlyn,” he added, making sure his voice was much gentler now. Sometimes dealing with her was like dealing with a horse who’d been abused. Understandable, given her life to now. And that in turn irritated him all over again, and he had the passing thought that it would be best if he never ran into her mother. Not that he ever would, of course, but—
Her sudden, audible intake of breath broke through his rambling thoughts. And he realized she was staring at his laptop, still showing her photograph. He seized on it, hoping this would get them past this awkwardness.
“It’s a brilliant photograph,” he said.
“I…thank you.” She sounded disconcerted, and kept staring at the image.
