“Okay. I’ve got some leftover chili, if you’re hungry?”
“I won’t say no.” He paused. “Thank you for taking care of Beau.”
“You’re welcome, Audy.” And she hung up.
But her voice saying his name set all the hair on his arms on end—and the back of his neck, too. An odd ache landed in his chest and, for a split second, he almost considered the idea that maybe he was wrong. What if love wasn’t a trap, but a gift to give and a treasure to receive?
“Where did that come from?” he asked out loud. He’d never been one for entertaining nonsense, he wasn’t going to start now. He shook his head and turned up his music.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HOME. BROOKE BALANCED Joy on her hip, unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Even though they’d only been gone a little over four hours, it seemed longer—way longer—and she was exhausted. Not that she could relax, not yet. She’d brought the...enemy home with her. No, enemy wasn’t the right word. He was—he seemed like a nice kid. All “yes, ma’ams” and “no, ma’ams”—even with a concussion. But that doesn’t mean I want him spending time with Tess.
It was her fault, really. Tess had texted that they were still at Doc Johnston’s office, so Brooke had stopped by after the Ladies Guild meeting had wrapped up. Once she’d learned Beau was stuck there until Audy was reached, she had a moment of weakness and felt sorry for the kid. Somehow, that had turned into offering to watch him until Audy was home again.
Audy, who’d been off doing who-knows-what with... She didn’t want to think about it. He’d gone with RJ and RJ was nothing but trouble—meaning Audy was out doing nothing good. Not that I care.
Instead of leading Beau to the small living room at the back of the house, where it was comfy and cozy, she turned on the lights in the formal living room. “Let’s get you set up in here.”
“Ba ba,” Joy said, adding a long string of noises before giggling.
“All that, huh?” Brooke asked, looking over her shoulder to see Beau holding the front door open for Tess. The kid has a concussion and he’s holding the door open for her. Tess beamed up at him and the two of them stood there, all googly-eyed and...and...
“Let’s get you set up in here,” Brooke repeated a little louder this time, loud enough for the two of them to snap out of it. Thankfully. “Audy said he’d be here soon.”
I’ll be home shortly. Audy’s words. He’d been talking about her house... Not his.
“Ma ma ba,” Joy said, patting Brooke on the chest. “Daw.”
“No doggie,” Brooke said, rubbing noses with Joy. “Harvey isn’t here.”
“No no no,” Joy said.
Unfortunately, no was Joy’s first official word. Her noises and gurgles were taking on more defined tones, but most of it was still gobbledygook.
“Are you comfortable?” Tess asked once Beau sat.
Brooke watched the two of them and swallowed another sigh. He might be hurting some, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m good. Thank you.” He nodded up at Tess, a crooked grin on his face.
Apparently, the grin was a Briscoe thing. Brooke suspected her little sister’s knees were all rubbery and her chest weighed a thousand pounds... Where did that come from? Wherever it came from, she did not like it. Not one bit. Audy grinned all the time and...and she rarely had rubbery knees or... She didn’t finish that thought. She couldn’t. There was no point in lying to herself.
“Ma ma.” Joy patted her chest again, ending Brooke’s rather alarming stream of thought. “Ma ma.”
“I told you,” Tess said, crossing to them and smiling at Joy. “She calls me Teh. But she doesn’t call you Brooke. To her, you’re momma.”
One second her heart was warm and full, the next, twisted and frozen. “She’s just jabbering. Aren’t you? Just talking away?” Brooke let Tess take the baby, brushing aside Tess’s assertion. “I’ll get some chili warmed up. We could all eat, I’m thinking?” Hungry or not, she was making food to occupy herself. Besides, she needed a few minutes to herself.
“You need a hand?” Beau offered.
“Beau, I appreciate the offer but you have a concussion. How about you sit right where you are, don’t move, and Tess and Joy can keep you company while I cook?” Brooke didn’t wait for an answer.
The kitchen was quiet and dark, two things that suited Brooke’s mood. She flipped the switch over the stove, and it gave off all the light she needed. Then she carried the large pot of chili from the refrigerator to the still-warming stovetop and put the lid on so it could come to a slow simmer.
You can’t have chili without cornbread. She turned on the oven, then gathered everything she’d need. Her grandmother’s cast-iron cornbread muffin pan from the cupboard, the ladle that held the perfect amount for each muffin, and the cornbread mix from the pantry, plus flour and eggs from the refrigerator. She mixed it all up, added a pinch of salt and set the batter aside to rub shortening on the insides of the corncob-shaped muffin pan.
Slowly, her mind settled enough for her to sort through what was bothering her—thread by thread—while slowly filling each mold with the golden batter.
Tess. In love. Real love? As if I’d know. Real or not, it made her uneasy.
Beau. In love with Tess. And concussed and too big and manly and adult looking for her little sister...
Breathe. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she scooped up more batter. She needed to think about something else or she’d lose it.
The First Tree debacle. How had Martha Zeigler not known about it until today? Martha was a bit of a hermit but that wouldn’t have stopped one of her friends from saying something. Then again, who would want to be the one to tell Martha her nephew was the one who had cooked up the idea? All that mattered now was that Martha did know and she was about as all-powerful as a person could be. But...could this happen? Could Garrison lose The First Tree? No more proposals and birthday parties, weddings and picnics beneath its sprawling branches? No more Der erste Baum Festival? It couldn’t happen. No, it won’t happen. She’d do her part to make sure of it.
She scooped out more batter and forged ahead.
Joy calling her “momma.” Her heart about melted every time Joy said it. But it’s wrong. Dara was Joy’s momma. She always would be. Brooke could never, ever take Dara’s place—she didn’t want to. Hearing Joy call her momma, liking Joy calling her momma, felt like a betrayal of her and Dara’s friendship. I’d never do that. Surely Dara knew as much. I miss you. I wish I could talk to you. I need your advice... On Tess and Beau and The First Tree and Audy.
Audy. She paused, mid-pour. Where to start? Those blue eyes. The way he danced with Joy and called her Miss Muffet. Audy calling her place home...well...everything about Audy. Especially his smile. She sighed. Thinking about him wasn’t helping clear things up. And since she’d promised herself she wouldn’t think about him unless it was absolutely necessary, she shouldn’t be thinking about him now. But she was and there was no stopping it. The more she thought about him, the more twisted up and hollow her insides felt. Enough. This isn’t his home. So why had hearing him say I’ll be home soon made her...happy?
No. Nothing about Audy made her...happy...
He was selfish and reckless and clueless. Tonight was a perfect example. What sort of risks had he taken, without giving a single thought about her or Joy?
She frowned. Why would he think about me? She didn’t want him to think about her. She didn’t...did she? “No. I don’t. Definitely not,” she snapped, dumping the rest of the batter from the ladle and drizzling more than half across her clean counter. That’s what I get for thinking about Audy Briscoe. “Of course.”
“Of course, what?” Audy’s voice.
She spun around, the ladle in her hand flinging a streak of cornbread batter in a semicircle around the room—ending on Audy’s shirt
.
He glanced down at the stripe of batter across his chest. “Guess I should tie on my towel as soon as I walk in the door from now on, huh?”
She smiled. “You scared me.” Stop smiling.
“I feel like I’m interrupting a conversation?” He glanced around the kitchen. “Not that I can see anything in the dark.”
“I wanted it dark. It’s quiet and calming...” Not that she was especially calm. She opened the oven, slid the cornbread tray inside and closed it, wiping her hands on the apron she’d tied around her waist.
“Okay,” he whispered. “I can be quiet.”
“I doubt it.” But there was no bite to her words. He was making it very difficult for her not to smile. Especially now, when he was standing there, staring at her, wearing an all-too-disarming grin. She didn’t know if it was the standing or the staring or the grin that started it, but there was no stopping the sudden rush of heat rising in her chest. Rolling. Molten. Pressing against her chest from the inside and knocking her so off-balance she had to grip the kitchen counter and lean back against it for support. This is bad.
“Who are you talking to?” he asked, whispering.
Her throat was just as tight, but she managed to say, “No one.” She rolled her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice her hands shaking or how uneven her breathing was. Get a grip.
“I saw that.” He pointed at the stove, and the light she was standing next to, before he crossed the room. He opened the stew pot and took a deep breath. “Smells good.” Eyes closed, leaning forward, his thick dark hair windblown and the beginning of stubble lining the rigid angle of his jaw...
Clearly, the getting-a-grip thing wasn’t happening. She shook her head. “It’s my gramma’s recipe.” She’d never thought life was fair. But having Audy Briscoe stir up all of these...feelings took the whole unfair thing to a new level.
“I’m surprised you let those two alone.” He leaned against the counter beside her.
He’d said something but she’d gotten caught up in how blue his eyes were beneath the bright white bulb over the stove. “Who? What?”
His head cocked to one side and those blue eyes wandered. Her jaw, her neck, her eyes, her mouth... Real or not, the brush of his gaze had substance. Enough that she could almost feel the brush of his fingers where his eyes touched her.
He stepped forward, too close, but she didn’t move.
She couldn’t.
She didn’t want to.
“Brooke...” His voice was low and gruff, plucking along each and every nerve. His right hand came up, hesitant, hovering beside her cheek.
And even though it was a terrible idea that she’d deeply regret, she leaned into his touch. Once it was done, there was no undoing it. She couldn’t breathe or move or think. All that registered was his touch. His calloused fingertips were rough against her temple. His large palm gently cupped the side of her face. The brush of his thumb along her cheek was featherlight. And all together, it felt...right.
Another step and the air between them seemed to wrap around them, drawing them closer, reeling her in until she no longer remembered all the reasons this was wrong. How could it be wrong when he was looking at her like she was something to cherish. That was why she stopped fighting the pull between them. That was why she leaned into him.
He smoothed the hair from her forehead as his left hand rose, then stopped suddenly. Audy jerked back, his right arm supporting his left arm as a sharp hiss of air slipped between his tight-pressed lips. His features twisted, his jaw locked and he drew in a deep breath. Seeing Audy in such pain was more effective than being doused with ice water.
“Audy... You’re hurt?” she asked, taking his left hand in hers.
He winced but didn’t pull away. “Not bad.”
She turned his hand, eliciting a muffled moan from Audy. “Not bad?” she asked, carefully releasing his hand. “What happened?”
“I fell.” He shrugged. Well, his right shoulder shrugged.
Not bad. His left hand and his left shoulder were hurting him so much it hurt to move them. “You fell off of what? Onto what?” she asked, crossing the kitchen. Within seconds, she had the lights on, effectively erasing any and all lingering traces of what had just happened—almost happened. Nothing had happened. It didn’t matter. Audy was hurt. “Audy?”
He sighed. “Off a bull. Onto the ground.”
A bull. Of course. What had she expected? She’d been with his brother while he’d sustained a concussion playing a game of catch. Audy had willingly put himself in a situation where a concussion was insignificant to the damage a bull could cause. Because Audy is Audy. He would never change. “And?” She waited, crossing her arms over her chest.
“And, I got hung up on the fence bailing out. Wound up dislocating my shoulder.” Another one-shouldered shrug. “Mikey popped it back in, all good.”
All good?
“He sends his best,” Audy added, his eyes narrowing.
She was still picturing Audy hanging off a fence. “Who?”
“Mikey.” Audy’s gaze shifted to the floor. “Good guy. I got the impression he might be asking you out soon.”
Brooke shook her head. “Let’s finish the important bit first—”
“We did. I fell. My shoulder popped out. Mikey popped it back.” Audy tried to cross his arms, gritted his teeth and went back to leaning against the counter. “And he said he’s going to ask you out. Actually, he told me to give you his best. But he told me he wanted to ask you out.”
“Mikey Woodard?” She shook her head.
“Do you know any other Mikeys?” He ran his right hand along the back of his neck.
“He’s going to ask me out? I doubt that.” Mikey was a friend. A nice guy. Smart and funny and hardworking. If he’d been interested, he would have asked her out by now.
“Fine. Don’t believe me.” He pushed off the counter. “Just don’t be surprised if he calls offering to give you a one-on-one baby CPR class.”
“At least one of us should be certified,” she murmured. It had been on her list of things to do.
Audy was frowning at her now, the line of his jaw clenched tight.
“You are going to frown at me? No, that’s not how this works. I didn’t do a thing to deserve you frowning at me, Audy Briscoe. I certainly didn’t go off, willy-nilly, and leave my little sister on her own so that a near stranger could sit with her in a clinic after she’s been hurt because no one could reach me.” She hadn’t meant to say a thing. She certainly hadn’t meant to get so worked up over it. But now that she’d started, the words just kept coming and she was walking toward him as she kept talking. “You come here after that and act like it’s nothing that you were thrown in the dirt by an animal that would be all too happy to kill you. And then you frown because I say one of us should be CPR certified for Joy?” She jabbed her pointer finger into the rock-hard wall of his chest. “You know what? I’m warming up chili and making fresh cornbread so you and Beau and Tess are fed before I feed and bathe Joy and put her to bed. That’s what I do. Take care of everyone. All the time. Instead of frowning at me, you should smile and say thank you.” She stared at him, waiting, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment or apology.
“No one asked you to do all this.” He was still frowning as he stared down at her. “You could ask for help. You could voice your opinion instead of saying nothing and then getting your nose out of joint because someone goes off and does something they didn’t know you didn’t want them to do—’cause you never said so.”
“You can’t be serious.” She was quivering with anger. “You know how I feel about bull riding—”
“Knowing you don’t like it doesn’t mean I’m not supposed to do it. If I find out you don’t like broccoli, am I supposed to assume I’m not supposed to eat it?”
She blinked. “Are you serious? You’re comparing
broccoli to riding a bull? That makes absolutely no sense.”
“Um... Brooke? Audy?” Tess leaned in the doorway, waving them over. “I think you want to come see this. Right away. Like now. Quick.” She disappeared.
Brooke swallowed down the litany of words she wanted to unload onto Audy and hurried after Tess. But what she saw made her come to a complete stop in the doorway... “Audy,” Brooke whispered. “Come here—”
“I’m fine where I am,” he snapped.
“Fine. Be a stubborn idiot and miss seeing Joy crawling,” Brooke said, too entranced with Joy rocking on her knees, smiling from ear to ear at Beau and Tess, to care what Audy did.
Audy was at her side in an instant. “Look at her go.” He was smiling. “She’s smart. Like...” He swallowed.
The sudden sting in her eyes and the lump in her throat made it impossible to speak. I hate that you’re missing this, Dara.
Joy took off, her turbo-powered crawl sending her across the floor into Tess’s outstretched hands. She was so delighted that she squealed and, once Beau had scooped her up high, she clapped her little hands with glee.
“I’m pretty sure Beau shouldn’t be doing that,” Brooke whispered. “His head. You know? I don’t want him to hurt himself.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Audy’s hand was warm at the base of her spine before he headed into the room. “Look at you, Miss Muffet. Who knew you had jet engines under those ruffles and bows?” He took her from Beau and tickled her tummy until she was giggling. “You rest that big head of yours,” he said to Beau. “Brooke’s orders.”
Beau looked her way. “Yes’m.” He sat back.
Brooke was pretty sure she’d never seen a person more uncomfortable-looking than Beau at that moment. But, even with Beau’s swollen nose and general awkwardness, and Tess being doe-eyed over Beau, and Audy favoring his left arm and shoulder, they were all smiling and laughing when Audy set down Miss Muffet and she sped across the floor—only now Joy was headed straight for her.
The Rebel Cowboy's Baby--A Clean Romance Page 16
