True Love at Silver Creek Ranch (18 page)

Since he was betting on the pool game in the back room, she offered to get him a beer. She was waiting for her order when she saw Adam walk right past her, eyes on her ass as she leaned on the bar.

He did a double take of recognition, then his gaze flew to hers. They collided, and the vivid awareness was more than any man had ever made her feel.

“Don't say it,” she said in a low voice.

He gave a slow grin, and in his eyes she could read,
I recognized you by your ass.

He elbowed his way to stand beside her. “Hey, boss.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were hibernating in your cabin for the winter.”

He shrugged. “Met up with Deer Deering today when he brought his little family for a sleigh ride. He invited me to watch him play. Am I late?”

“They just started. I'm getting a beer for a friend, then heading in.”

“A friend?” he echoed, cocking his head, that sly smile playing on his mouth.

“A friend of Monica's brother,” she explained patiently. “I have been set up, and Monica seems to have disappeared. I don't want to be rude,” she quickly added. “We're just watching the tournament with everyone else.”

“Guess I'll leave you to it, boss.” Wearing a devilish grin, he tipped his cowboy hat and moved back out through the crowd.

“Boss,” “babe,” she had lots of names tonight, she thought, giving a reluctant smile. She glanced over her shoulder, where she could just see Adam saunter into the pool room. Damn, he looked good from behind. The evening had just gotten more interesting—and more dangerous, she reminded herself.

As she carried two bottles of beer into the back room, LeVar came up to her with a grateful, “Thanks, babe,” before slurping down some beer.

“So how's the tournament?” She had to raise her voice to be heard.

“Some guy named Howie Junior is up next.”

“I know him.” She looked around the bar. “In fact, I know most people here—except you. So tell me about your family business.”

She dipped her lukewarm fries in ketchup and listened, but her gaze kept roaming to Adam. He stood with Chris Sweet and Howie Junior—she couldn't imagine calling him Deer. Adam was listening with only an occasional laid-back comment, as expressive Howie talked about something and used his hands the whole time. Once Adam had to pull his beer back, or Howie would have knocked it to the floor. They both laughed.

Something inside Brooke eased at this evidence that Adam was trying to meet people again. She didn't want to watch him stay hunkered down in his cabin every night, letting whatever was bothering him fester.

But it was a little harder to watch the women begin to gather, like they were seagulls, and he was the only snack food on the beach. Amber was a couple years older than Nate, divorced with three kids of her own, but she haunted the bar looking for the next guy. Nicole was a year or two younger than them, and had been in the 4-H club with Brooke, relentlessly cute and cheerful, and knew just how much cleavage to show to hook a man's interest. Then darkly exotic Shannon, way too young for him, arrived to the women's admiration party, moving sultrily to the music, as if she'd lure Adam to dance.

“Hey, babe, who you looking at?” LeVar asked, craning his neck to follow her line of vision.

“A guy who works as a hand for us. He's just out of the Marines, and the ladies are welcoming him tonight.”

She thought about what it would be like if Adam were her date. Maybe he would have taken her dancing, and she'd let him lead her anywhere he wanted to go.

But it was Shannon who was pulling him into a corner to dance, and Brooke lost track of him in the crowd. A good thing, because she was worried her lustful look might give her away.

“Wow, this guy plays an impressive game of pool,” LeVar said excitedly.

It was her turn to follow where he pointed, and she saw a slim man playing pool with a prosthetic arm. He'd had a special piece made for the end to rest his pool cue on.

“Scott Huang,” she said. “We go to the same church. I wonder how good he is at pool.”

“I'll let you know.”

LeVar walked away from her to get a closer look, without asking if she wanted to go. She had no problem with that.

And then she saw Adam standing alone, watching the disabled vet play pool. His expression was so impassive, it was a little scary.

She approached him and nudged his arm. “Scott's pretty good, isn't he?”

Adam nodded and glanced at her while taking another sip of beer.

“He works for Outdoor Tours here in town. They do everything from take guests on rugged cross-country ski weekends, where you camp outdoors, to fly-fishing weekends in the summer, where guests are catered to like royalty. His specialty was rock climbing.”

Adam studied her. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You looked interested. It took him a while after the Army, but he found himself again. He's an incredible skier, and he still leads mountain-biking expeditions. There's lots of stuff he can do. You know that veteran's housing project I mentioned? He's the next recipient.”

“Hey, babe!” LeVar suddenly called as he worked his way back across the room.

“Babe?” Adam whispered, amusement laced through his voice again.

Without glancing at him, she murmured, “Maybe a little sexier than ‘boss.' ”

“So I should use ‘boss' at more intimate moments, is what you're saying.”

“Shh!” But she wanted to laugh.

When LeVar arrived, she introduced them, and they shook hands. For the next ten awkward minutes, the discussion ranged from the pool tournament, to the plumbing and ranching businesses, to the Denver Broncos. Not the Marines, of course.

LeVar finally glanced over his shoulder toward the pool table. “Next game's up. You want to go watch, babe?”

He started away, and as Brooke politely moved to follow him, Adam whispered, “I think he forgot your name.”

She bit her lip as another bubble of laughter threatened to erupt.

Two hours later, when a winner had been declared and her feet were killing her, Brooke politely declined LeVar's offer to walk her to her car—and his cell-phone number. As she was donning her coat beside the front door, she saw a poster she hadn't noticed before. In bold colors it said, “Come to the December 8 town council meeting. Stand up for freedom in America. Stand up for Freedom of Choice, of Business.” And in little letters at the bottom, “sponsored by the Valentine Valley Preservation Fund committee.”

Great. She was going to have to attend.

A
fter Brooke had gone, Adam thought how hot she'd looked, her dress hugging every curve, but no hotter than she looked first thing in the morning going out to feed cattle.

Guess he found her hot no matter what.

He extricated himself from the tavern without a woman on his arm and started to drive home. He passed the house being renovated for Scott Huang.
And I thought I came home with scars.

Brooke's jeep was already in the yard when he arrived, but she didn't come to him. He missed her, and knew it wasn't just about the sex. He was feeling more for Brooke than she wanted him to feel, but he didn't regret it.

Chapter Sixteen

L
ate the next afternoon, before he could change his mind, Adam drove into town and stopped at the house renovation project, a two-story cottage with dormers jutting from steep gables and decorative trim along the front porch. Scaffolding was built along one wall as people worked on the siding. Several pickups and minivans lined up along the curb. When Adam knocked on the front door, a middle-aged woman on the scaffolding ducked her head beneath the porch roof to look at him.

“Go on in,” she said with a smile. “We're glad for the help.”

Inside, there were a couple people working on the trim in the living room, including an old guy in his seventies with a bald dome of a head and scruffy white hair circling the base. But he still had a white beard and mustache, and this was how Adam recognized him.

“Coach McKee?”

The man straightened a bit slower than he used to, his grin broad. “Adam Desantis. How good to see you, boy.”

Wiping his hands on a rag, he came toward Adam and they shook hands. George McKee was still a big man, barrel-chested, but a bit more stooped with age. He'd done a couple years early on in Vietnam, and he still had the bearing of a man who took care of himself—and who didn't take “any guff,” one of his stock phrases as a coach.

“I heard you were back in town,” Coach said. “I was starting to think I'd have to track you down. Want some coffee?”

“Sure, thanks.”

Coach led him into the kitchen, where a big pot had been brewed. The room was obviously finished, all done in light woods, with a big picture window overlooking a snowy backyard with a swing set.

“I saw the man who'll get this house last night,” Adam said after accepting a steaming styrofoam cup.

“Scott Huang, yes. His family will put that swing set to good use. Three little boys.”

“How many other houses are in the works?”

“Three in various stages, from the initial sale or donation to one that's being moved into this weekend. You're working for the Thalbergs, right? They donated one of the houses.”

Adam blinked, and a brief sense of unease touched him. “That was decent of them.”

“Sure was. Doug's a Vietnam vet—you knew that, right?”

“It might be part of the reason he hired me,” Adam said dryly.

“Maybe.” Coach's eyes twinkled. “Those Thalbergs, they care about the community. Your grandma's a part of the Welcome Ceremony. Good people, those ladies, although they had some strange ideas about how to welcome the vets and their families into their new homes.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Coach chuckled. “They were convinced every home should have a puppy, the perfect welcome gift from the preservation-fund committee. It took a while to talk them out of it.”

Adam smiled. “Even without a puppy, this is a good program. So do the vets have to pay a mortgage?”

“A small one, but nothing compared to what the final product is worth. All of our time and most of the renovation supplies are donated.” He paused. “So you're out of the Marines?”

Adam's smile faded a bit as he nodded.

Coach looked at him way too astutely, but only said, “Your grandma bragged about you making staff sergeant. I hope you knew the great honor.”

“I did, sir.”

Coach shook his head. “Hard to believe you ever doubted yourself as a commander of men.”

Once it would have been hard to hear that, but Adam was trying to honor the memories of his friends rather than avoid them. They deserved that.

“By your senior year, you had the football team in lockstep. I just knew. But then again, there was a time where you didn't want anyone telling
you
anything.”

“Yes, well, now that I'm working at the Silver Creek Ranch, I have a lot of bosses telling me what to do.”

“Fair people, of course, so I'm sure it's no hardship.”

“Speaking of family, I was overseas when I heard about your wife's death, sir. I'm very sorry for your loss.”

His expression sobered. “Thanks, son.”

“She was very kind to the team. I'll never forget those meals she coordinated for us before every big game.”

Coach smiled. “She was good at getting all the moms involved.” Then he winced. “Sorry.”

“No, don't worry. I've long since come to terms with my mom's selfishness.” Adam took another sip of his coffee and realized it was the truth.

“Still, her death was a terrible thing. A fire like that . . .”

“Her own fault,” Adam said. “Thanks for being there at the funeral for my grandma when I couldn't fly back in time.”

“Oh, please. The way that woman looked after me when my wife died? She and the widows organized two
months'
worth of delivered meals, and they visited me several times every week. I'd do anything for her. I don't know if I ever told you, but back when you stole my car—”

“Borrowed it,” was the automatic answer Adam had always given when he was on the football team.

Coach grinned. “Okay, okay, ‘borrowed' it. It was your grandma who came to me before your court appearance and encouraged me to attend.”

Adam tensed. “I didn't put her up to that.”

Coach touched his elbow. “Of course you didn't. You know Renee—she always believes she knows best, and she was determined to help you however she could.”

Adam had known his life changed forever because of Coach McKee—he could hardly be surprised that his grandma was behind it all. She could never do things up front to help him, knowing how his parents took it, but she was always there behind the scenes. She still was, he thought, swallowing to ease the tightness in his throat. She wanted him to come to Valentine Valley, and she'd found the perfect scheme to get him there. And he was glad for it.

“Thanks for telling me that, Coach.” Adam set down his cup. “I know Grandma wasn't the only one supporting me in those days. I've never forgotten what you did for me. There aren't many who get a second chance.”

Coach waved a hand, and said gruffly, “I just needed a team manager.”

Adam grinned. “Now tell me where to start. I haven't done much home renovation, so I might need some instruction.”

“No problem. We'll find plenty for you to do. How much can you work?”

“I never really know—depends on how the day goes at the ranch. I'm thinking a few times a week after work. Do you need to know in advance?”

“Nope, just wanted you to know that if you arrive here and we're gone, we could be working at one of the other houses. I'll write down the addresses for you. You're hired!”

They shook hands, and Adam felt good about being a part of an important cause. The Thalbergs could donate a house, a Desantis could donate labor. It all evened out in the end. But it was a reminder how different he and Brooke really were, their backgrounds, their families.

A
s Brooke waited for Steph to arrive for her barrel-racing lesson, she noticed that Adam's pickup was gone and wondered if he was visiting his grandma.

Or maybe he was going out with one of the women he'd met last night.

Stop it,
she told herself. She admired the blue sky and reminded herself the weather was mild, and Steph would get a good workout. She didn't need to think about Adam. Or the fact that it had taken everything in her not to go to the bunkhouse last night when she saw his lights. It would seem . . . awkward, when they'd both spent time socializing with other people. But it had taken her a long time to sleep, with her body feeling achy and restless and not her own.

When Steph arrived without her horse trailer, Brooke frowned as the girl jumped out of her rusted old pickup.

“I thought we had a lesson,” Brooke began.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” Steph said, her blond ponytail bobbing where it was threaded through the hole in the back of her baseball cap. “I needed to talk to you. Guess I didn't explain that . . .”

“It's okay. Give me a chance to let Sugar out with the other horses.”

Steph accompanied her to the barn, saying little, her expression troubled. Brooke was concerned but could be patient, knowing it was best not to push a teenager in the middle of a crisis.

After putting away the tack, Brooke walked Sugar outside and sent her galloping into the horse pasture with a brisk pat to her haunches. Then she turned and studied Steph. “Is this a private talk? Maybe we want to avoid the house. My parents are home.”

“Is that little cabin yours?”

Brooke didn't even have to look where the girl pointed. “That's the bunkhouse. Adam's living there right now.”

“Oh. Must be easy for him to be right here.”

Brooke barely caught herself before wincing. “It is, but that means we can't talk there. Come on into the tack room. My saddle can use some cleaning.”

The room, situated in a corner of the barn, had two windows that let in lots of light. Halters and bridles hung from many hooks in the walls beneath long rows of shelves. Portable saddle racks were placed beneath each person's tack. Brooke pulled her saddle rack into the center of the room, gathered rags, leather cleaner, and oil, and sank onto a stool. Steph sighed and picked at a ragged fingernail. Brooke gave her time, focusing on rubbing the dirt out of her saddle with a rag.

Steph let out a deep breath. “I have a favor to ask. Tyler Brissette needs a place to do community service. I don't think he'd do well sweeping up someone's store, with everyone watching him. I just think he needs someone who's patient with him. Is there any chance he could work here for you after school on weekdays and Saturday mornings?”

Surprised, Brooke put down the rag and studied the girl. “This isn't a
little
favor, is it?”

“I wish I didn't have to ask. But did you ever feel with someone . . .” Her voice trailed off, and her blue eyes looked wistful. “ . . . that maybe you were the only one who could help him? Me, I mean, not you. But you, too!” she added quickly.

Brooke chuckled. “I know what you mean. I guess I'd be willing to take a chance on him if you think we can help him.”

Steph let her breath out in a rush. “Oh, thank you! I
know
we can help him. We just need time.”

“What about his family? I know his brother just got out of jail.”

She nodded. “I haven't seen his brother at all. I think my dad would be mad if I went near him. But . . . aren't we supposed to give people a second chance?” she asked plaintively. “His dad is gone, I guess, so it's just his mom working two jobs every day. His brother is trying to find a job, but since he's been in jail . . .” She trailed off.

“Fire is a terrible thing to ranchers and farmers,” Brooke said. “People won't forget that for a long time.”

“I know. But that was Cody, not Tyler. So can I give your name and number to his probation officer?”

“Sure. We'll give him so much to do he won't be able to do anything but sleep when he gets home.”

Steph gave her a big hug, and Brooke gladly returned it.

“Thanks, Brooke. You're awesome.”

It felt pretty good to be awesome, she thought, walking across the yard after Steph had gone. Then she straightened her spine and headed for the office. At the end of each day, her dad and brothers often gathered to talk over what needed to be done the next day.

They were all drinking coffee and eating cookies when she arrived.

Her dad put a finger to his lips. “Shh, we're spoiling our appetites on Gloria's cookies. Have some.”

She pulled up a rolling office chair and grabbed a chocolate chip cookie. “Got some news. You know the Brissette kid who Joe Sweet caught joyriding on his land?”

Their nods were sober.

“He got community service for his first offense. Steph Sweet asked if he could serve it working for us after school, and I said yes. Is that okay with everyone?”

Her dad rubbed his chin. “Well, as long as you don't mind acceptin' the challenge of ropin' a teenager into line.”

“I don't mind at all,” Brooke said. “Figured I'd deal with him and not bother any of you.”

“That's a nice thing you're doing, Brooke,” Josh said, throwing his napkin in the garbage.

“Maybe naïve, too,” Nate cautioned.

Brooke at last allowed herself a small smile. “I know. But if you'd seen the pleading look on Steph's face . . . how could I say no?”

At dinner, when she told her mom about Tyler's community service, Sandy smiled proudly. “Told you you'd make a good teacher.”

Brooke blushed with pleasure even though she knew that her mom wasn't exactly objective. She was standing for minutes each day braced on a walker now, slowly regaining the strength in her legs. It took everything in Brooke not to stand beside her mom in case she weakened, but Sandy didn't want that.

As she set the table, Brooke said, “Mom, I'll be his boss, not his teacher.”

“Bosses are teachers. I've seen you working with Adam.”

Brooke paused at the silverware drawer, keeping her face neutral. “You have?”

“Well, I've mostly looked out the window, but your brother Josh has told me a thing or two. You're good at explaining yourself, and you have patience.”

“Says my mom,” Brooke said, surprised to feel embarrassed about the praise. “But thanks. Adam is a willing worker. Tyler's being forced. It probably won't be the same thing.”

“No, but as I said, you have patience. You'll make it work.”

The one person Brooke forgot to tell? Adam. When she went to his cabin after everyone had gone to bed, he swept her into his arms, kissing her greedily, pulling off her clothes, and then she was pulling off his. Everything else completely left her mind.

T
wo days later, the sky was blustery and overcast, with gusts of wind and occasional snow flurries, making every job on a ranch harder. Adam didn't much care. He was floating on a feeling of satisfaction, and not just from his erotic evening with Brooke. Though he'd been tired after work, renovating Scott Huang's future home had felt good. A house wasn't some kind of platitude, “Thanks for your service to your country, now pretend everything's the same.” A house was a way without words to say “Thank you,” and Adam was surprised to feel deeply grateful for the chance to say that to people who'd given up far more than he had. Every piece of trim he cut, every nail he hammered, he knew would be appreciated by Scott and his family.