True Love at Silver Creek Ranch (16 page)

Steph grinned. “That sounds awesome!”

Brooke was surprised to find herself equally excited. She'd enjoyed giving the occasional lesson to barrel racers like Steph, and the chance to help improve the skills of other teenagers sounded like a good challenge.

The corral fence suddenly loomed in front of them in the snow, and she realized that the weather had grown too bad. “I think we're going to have to cancel, Steph. I'm not sure you can even see the barrels.”

The teenager released a big sigh. “Guess you're right.”

They guided their horses in a circle and headed back the way they'd come. Brooke trusted the horses to find their way if things got worse.

Back in the barn, after rubbing down and oating the horses, then putting away the tack, Brooke insisted Steph couldn't drive in that weather, so the girl came inside for dinner and some Trivial Pursuit before the weather had cleared enough for her to drive home. It was an old game, but Brooke had grown up playing it.

After Steph was gone, Sandy sat at the dining-room table and studied her. “You were really good with her.”

Brooke blinked in surprise and pleasure as she picked up a bowl now empty of chips. “What do you mean? She's a nice kid—what was difficult about it?”

“I don't know, but some people can be impatient—including Steph herself—but when she got frustrated about not knowing a lot of the answers in the game, you were able to head off any problems. You'd have been a good teacher.”

“Why . . . thanks,” Brooke said. “Dealing with teenagers one-on-one isn't so bad. I can't imagine controlling a whole class of kids.”

Sandy grinned. “Guess you'll find out if the Chess Club takes you up on your offer.”

“Didn't I tell you you're in charge that day?” Brooke teased.

Sandy waved a finger at her. “Not this time, sweetie. You're on your own.”

T
he next afternoon, Adam was getting a lesson from Josh on repairing leather tack when Nate came into the workshop looking for him.

“You could have called my cell,” Adam said, smiling as he rose to his feet. “What can I . . .” His voice trailed off as two other men crowded behind Nate, trying to see in.

“You've got guests,” Nate said, wearing a wry grin.

“Hey, Adam!” one of them called over Nate's shoulder.

Adam thought he recognized them, but the light from the workshop didn't quite reach, and he didn't want them crowding Josh and asking questions.

“We can finish up later,” Josh said. “You go have fun with the boys.”

Nate and Josh seemed to know something he didn't. But he wiped his hands on a rag and went out into the open area of the barn between stalls.

“Remember these guys?” Nate asked in a dry tone of voice.

“It's Derek and Chad,” said one man, reaching out to shake Adam's hand.

“Derek and Chad,” Adam repeated, shaking the other man's hand, too. They weren't from his football-playing days but from before, when he'd been joyriding in cars and getting in trouble. He'd avoided them junior and senior year, when the two of them had been tag-teaming each other in detention and even the occasional suspension. Who was he to assume they hadn't straightened out in the past ten years?

Nate excused himself with a touch to the brim of his Stetson, buttoned up his coat, and left the barn, closing the door behind him.

Adam turned to the two men. “What can I do for you guys?”

“Nothing,” Derek said. “We just heard you were in town and thought we'd be neighborly.” He had dark hair that crossed a line into a mullet, curling out from beneath the back of his baseball cap.

Chad constantly smoothed the patch of sparse brown hair on his chin and gave a nervous twitch of his shoulders. “So you're out of the Marines?”

“Yep.”

“Had enough killing?” Derek asked.

Adam frowned. “I'm not sure what you're trying to say.”

“Oh, we know you were ‘serving your country' and all that,” Chad added. “But it's gotta be tough.”

“It was. What have you two been doing with yourselves?”

“We both tried getting married,” Derek began.

“To each other?” Adam asked innocently.

“Naw!” Chad looked offended. “We're not gay. We got divorced from
women.
Derek's even a dad.”

Poor kid,
Adam thought.

“We work for Sweet Brothers Construction,” Derek continued. “Good jobs and lots of building going on from Glenwood Springs to Aspen.”

“Good for you.”

“We didn't know you were a cowboy,” Chad said, a bit too slyly, as if it had been rehearsed. He braced a hand on the door of a stall, then pulled away when Brooke's horse, Sugar, tried to nip him.

“I wasn't. But the Thalbergs offered me a job as a ranch hand while I'm in town. I'm learning a lot.”

“Is Brooke teaching you?” Chad asked, then sent a significant glance at Derek.

Adam didn't know how he was supposed to miss that, but if they thought they were hiding something, then whatever. “Sometimes. Why?”

“Chad had a dance with her the other night,” Derek said. “They looked pretty good together.”

Adam arched a brow in surprise and just waited.

Chad rocked back and forth on his heels, wearing what he probably thought was a woman-magnet grin. “Think you can call Brooke here so we can say hi?”

Their bravado should be laughable—but Adam wasn't laughing. “So basically, you're using me to get to Brooke?”

Derek's brow wrinkled. “Don't see how anyone's using anyone. We came to see you
and
Brooke.”

“But I'm supposed to somehow . . . smooth your way?”

Chad and Derek exchanged grins. “That's mighty nice of you,” Chad said.

“Not today, boys. I have to get back to work.”

They looked confused but eventually left after Adam had to refuse them a second time. Hands on his hips, he watched them go, then turned and went back into the barn.

Josh was coming out of his workshop. “They left? You could have gone with them, you know.”

Adam grimaced. “They stopped maturing in high school.”

Josh cocked his head. “I heard them mention Brooke. Why didn't you call her?”

“Because she wouldn't want to see them.”

“Really? Good luck with that.” Josh grinned and returned to his workshop.

Adam went to search for Brooke and found her in the truck shed, starting and restarting the engine of the ATV that the teenager had stolen. “Is something wrong with it?” he asked, hoping he wouldn't have to mention the kid.

“No, I thought it hesitated when it started, but it seems fine now.”

Adam was relieved. “Just wanted to let you know that Derek and Chad from the old days stopped by.”

She grinned, climbing off the ATV and grabbing a rag to wipe her hands. “So they tracked you down. I thought they might.”

“It was only a ruse to see you. I sent them on their way.”

Her eyes widened briefly. “You did? Why?”

“I knew you wouldn't care to see them. They're losers.”

“I know that—and I can take care of myself. Besides, maybe I'm interested in one of them.” She met his gaze, and suddenly a rueful grin appeared. “Well, okay, maybe not. But regardless, it's up to me to choose, so please don't act in my place.” She touched his arm as she moved past him toward the tool bench.

Adam went outside and took a deep breath of the cold. He'd acted as her protector without even thinking about it. Protecting people had been his job for ten years, but still . . .

He was already acting like Brooke was his, as if they had some kind of a relationship. Would that be so bad? he wondered, thinking of his promise to move forward in life rather than linger in pain and regret.

Chapter Fourteen

F
riday evening, Adam went to spend time with his grandma, and once again, she was waiting for him at the door wearing her coat. He couldn't see what outrageous dress she might be wearing, and that had him worried.

“Where are we going now?” he asked patiently.

“The Silver Creek Community Center,” she said, smiling at him. “I'm entertainin' the Chess Club this evenin'.”

Adam blinked at her suspiciously. “Doing what?”

“Readin' their cards, of course!” She held up a little drawstring bag. “I'm goin' to teach them about the mysteries of tarot, too.”

Shooting pool and having a beer might be more enjoyable, but this night was his grandma's. He followed her into the community center, an old brick factory that had been converted for the town into meeting rooms and even a large reception room for small weddings and other events. Grandma told him about the huge deck where people gathered for the Music to Eat By programs during summer lunches. In the reception room, he saw various small booths along one wall, advertising local business like music quartets and romantic picnic baskets made to order. Someone worked hard to play up Valentine Valley's romantic reputation.

But his grandma kept walking at a slow but steady pace, and as he studied her gait, he noticed she wasn't acting quite so feeble as she had been the first week or so of his arrival. She must think he was completely under her spell—and he was, he admitted to himself. He followed her into a slightly smaller room, with kitchen cabinets and appliances in one corner, pool table, Ping-Pong table, a large-screen TV, and groups of comfortable couches and chairs.

And then he saw Brooke, Emily, and Monica huddled over trays spread on the kitchen counters. Brooke was dressed in black jeans, a patterned top, and a sexy leather jacket. Her brown hair hung loose though pulled back from her face. He realized he was staring, when his grandma stepped into his line of vision, unbuttoning her coat. He helped her take it off, then hid a wince as he saw her dress patterned with stars and moons. Where did she find these clothes?

Brooke glanced their way. “Hi, Mrs. Palmer!” she called, then, “Hey, Adam. Guess Nate didn't keep you forever.”

Adam smiled. “Yeah, I finally got it right.”

Monica wiped her hands on a towel. “Got what right?”

“I couldn't manage to cut a cow from the herd and rope her. Nate needed to doctor her. I probably galloped through that herd a hundred times, but he insisted I needed to learn.”

“It must have taken hours,” Brooke said solemnly. “Adam's a slow learner. Maybe he's even saddle sore.”

Monica and Emily both laughed, and Adam tolerated being the butt of their jokes.

“So when do the kids arrive?” he finally asked, when the women headed toward the kitchen.

“Anytime now,” Brooke called back.

“How did you guys get involved with this?” He followed them, while Grandma Palmer limped away to claim a small square table and spread out a glittery cloth.

“Steph heard about your grandma's many talents through her own mom,” Brooke began.

“Faith is into all the mystical stuff,” Monica confided. “Steph, not so much, but they were looking for a fun guest, and who's more fun than your grandma?”

“I offered to provide refreshments,” Emily said, coloring a bit.

He understood why. She was eager to become closer to her new little sister and probably relieved and excited that Steph had accepted.

“So what do we have here?” he asked, checking out the spread that covered the counters.

“Little samples of everything,” Emily said, coming to his side. “Help yourself.”

Everything had its own little paper cup for display—little cookies, mini cupcakes and cheesecakes, and squares of her delicious brownies. He went for one of those first.

“I'll try the others later,” he promised.

“So you're sticking around?” Emily asked in surprise. “I couldn't even get Nate to come, and he's engaged to me.”

“I guess a grandma can be more persuasive than a fiancée.” He paused. “Brooke's told me a bit about your problems with Steph.”

“She has?” Emily asked, her blue eyes round.

He shrugged. “We're together most of the day, and we talk to fill the time.”

Emily looked past him, wiping the concern off her face and replacing it with a cheerful smile. Adam turned his head and saw the teenagers arriving in groups of twos and fours, staying clustered together. Someone turned on music, and the beat thumped through the room. None of them approached the adults at first, as they hung up their coats and spread out around the Ping-Pong or pool tables.

Then Grandma Palmer waded right into the center of them and started talking.

“I really like her,” Emily said, her voice wistful.

Steph came toward them, smiling up at Adam. To her credit, the smile only dimmed a little when she turned to Emily.

“Thanks for making the food,” Steph said.

“I'm glad you asked.”

“How much do we owe you? We keep money in our budget for snacks.”

“No, please, it's my treat. Think of it as advertising, right?”

“Well, okay, thanks.” She turned away.

Emily gave a quiet groan and closed her eyes. “Advertising,” she murmured, her voice laced with disgust. “I couldn't have just said it was a gift?”

“She might not have taken it,” Adam said.

“But it sounded . . . all business and professional, not like she was my sister and I'd do anything . . .” Emily's voice trailed off.

Adam felt awkward. Should he pat her on the back?

She cleared her throat. “Sorry.”

Brooke approached and bumped shoulders playfully with Emily. “Don't worry, it'll be okay. At our lesson the other day, she said she felt sorta bad that it might be her fault you didn't discuss the wedding on Thanksgiving Day. Baby steps, right?”

“She said that?” Emily's sad expression turned hopeful.

“And she came to you for the food—that was my idea, too,” Brooke added.

“Oh, Brooke, I'd hug you, but it might make Steph think you're conspiring with me.”

“Well . . . I am.”

Emily put a finger to her lips. “Shh!”

Adam smiled at Brooke, enjoying how easily she found a way to encourage her friend and make her feel better. She was a protective woman, he knew, especially about her family, but also the other people in her life.

Monica broke out the sodas, and Adam helped set them out on various tables, but then he retreated, knowing the kids would feel more comfortable pretending he wasn't there. Many of the girls had already gathered around Grandma Palmer, who was holding court in a quiet, but firm voice. He remembered her booming laugh, bigger than life, embarrassing his mother but not him. He could always hear his grandma from across any football field. He hoped to hear that booming voice again soon, but he couldn't very well spoil her plans.

The adults stood near the kitchen while the kids played games. Gradually, almost all of the girls but Steph clustered around his grandma. In between laughter, there was an occasional “oooh” of recognition as she talked about the pattern of the cards.

Steph was sitting on a stuffed couch near the TV, talking to a boy whose back was to Adam.

Brooke grabbed Emily, and said quietly, “That must be Tyler. He's the boy I told you about, that she asked to join the Chess Club. Guess he and his friends have been in some trouble.”

Emily frowned. “I heard her mention a boy during the week, but didn't realize he had . . . issues.”

“Lots of kids have issues,” Brooke said, then glanced at Adam. “Remind you of anyone?”

He nodded. “Yep. And someone gave me a chance to turn myself around. But she should be careful until he does make some kind of effort.”

To Emily, Brooke said, “Since she's already mentioned him to you, perhaps you can ask her how it went, helping him, I mean. Hey, it's something to talk about.”

Emily nodded, then asked, “Can I change the subject?” She gestured to Monica and brought her over. “I have some news to tell you.”

“Should I leave you ladies alone?” Adam asked.

“No, I won't banish you to the corner by yourself.” Emily smiled up at him. “As it is, it's pretty easy to notice you'd rather be with us girls than the kids—or your grandma.”

Monica and Brooke both chuckled.

“Hey, I'm not about to let my grandma think I put stock in her wacky musings. I'm glad she has a hobby, but I don't have to believe in it. As for the kids, they'd rather be with each other than me.”

“Oh, come on, you remember what it was like to be one, don't you?” Monica demanded.

Brooke was watching him silently, and he guessed she understood what he meant.

“Of course I remember being a teenager. Some of it I wish I could forget.”

Brooke glanced at Monica. “Like a couple dates he had . . .”

“Hey!” Monica said, hands on her hips. “I get your implication, Brooke Thalberg!”

“Do I need to step between you ladies?” Adam asked mildly, even as the two women grinned at each other. “But Monica, Brooke is right in one sense—I'd like to forget the way I treated you. If you'd accept my apology, I'd appreciate it.”

Monica waved a hand. “Oh, please. If I had to apologize for every stupid thing I did as a teenager, I wouldn't have time to work. Of course you're forgiven. But that doesn't mean Steph and her friends don't have something to learn from you.”

“I don't know about that.”

“Wait, wait, I didn't get to tell you my news!” Emily cried, then looked around at the teenagers and lowered her voice. “Nate and I have decided to move in together.”

Monica practically squealed as she gave her a hug, and although Brooke also fell into the hugging line, she gave Emily a worried look afterward.

“This isn't some kind of proof to Nate that just because you haven't set a date—”

“No, no, nothing like that!” Emily interrupted.

“Because he's a big boy, and he loves you enough to wait for whatever makes you happy.”

“Thanks for that,” Emily said with a soft smile. “But no, I want to be with him. I don't need to wait for the wedding. But I had another reason to tell you the news—would you mind helping me pack and move?”

Brooke grinned. “What are friends for?”

Adam watched the three women chat happily about Emily's plans and realized they shared a bond of friendship that was just as close as family. They'd created this themselves, something he wasn't ever going to do by hanging out at the bunkhouse alone each night. It was hard to be happy, really happy, when his men—his brothers—were dead. That's what he'd been telling himself for months now.

But he
was
happy—being with Brooke was making him happy, whether at night wrapped up in their secret, or during the day, working at her side. He looked at the teenagers, so involved in their own lives, oblivious to what might await them out in the world. He remembered those days, when the world had seemed full of possibilities. It could be that way again for him.

A
fter the teenagers had gone, and Brooke wiped down the last table, she approached Adam, who was helping his grandma into her coat.

“Did I mention how much I love your dress, Mrs. Palmer?” Brooke asked, smiling.

“It catches the young people's attention, of course,” the older woman said. “And that's often the first battle.”

“Did they enjoy your readings?”

“I think they did. Oh, they giggled a bit, and the boys rolled their eyes, but some of them left here feelin' more calm about their future, and that's all you can ask.”

Brooke looked up at Adam and found that having to keep herself so friendly and neutral around him was much harder than she'd thought. They worked together much of each day, even had lunch together, but there were so many people around them at the ranch, and everyone was busy. She could concentrate on her work, or her discussion of work, and include Adam as a coworker rather than a lover.

It was much more difficult being around her best friends—who knew her so well—and Adam's grandma, and finding a way to be pleasant and friendly, although not too friendly. She kept almost touching him, or leaning against him, all because of the physical intimacy they'd been sharing. It was making her tense, and she was glad the evening was almost over.

She put her acting skills to use and smiled up at him. “Josh and I came to town together earlier, and I told him to take the truck, and I'd find a ride home. Adam, would you mind?”

“We'd love your company, dear!” Mrs. Palmer said, patting her arm.

When the maintenance worker arrived to lock the doors, they all left, waving good-bye in the parking lot. The drive to the Widows' Boardinghouse passed quickly, and Adam helped his grandma inside. As he got behind the wheel again, Brooke jumped into the front seat and saw Mrs. Palmer's purple drawstring bag.

“Whoops, she left her cards,” Brooke said. “I'll be right back.”

She dashed up the kitchen stairs and opened the door without knocking, as she always did. To her surprise, she found Mrs. Palmer still in her coat, the cane on a hook by the door, a giant plate in her hands as she ate voraciously. At the community center, she'd picked at her food like an injured bird.

Brooke came to a stop, unable to hide her grin. “Ah-ha, caught you!”

Her guilty expression gave everything away. “Oh dear. You already knew?”

Brooke nodded. “I didn't share my suspicions with Adam.”

The widow put a hand to her chest. “Thank goodness.”

“Why don't you tell me what's going on?”

With a sigh, Mrs. Palmer crossed to the table with her usual brisk gait and set down her plate. “I've been . . . exaggeratin' a bit. I was desperate to get Adam to visit and perhaps stay. Oh, every year he flew in for a couple days, or he had me come visit him, but these last six months since his discharge . . . I've had a bad feelin'. Even my cards were tellin' me somethin's wrong. You see, I never got to be with him all that much when he was a child. Funny, isn't it? He lived right here, but his mother, my only child, resented how close he was to me. She used me when she needed me, and when she wanted to punish me, she didn't let me see Adam.”