Safe In His Heart (McCormick's Creek Series Book 3)

by Jen Peters

  “That’s it?” Cliff let out a low whistle.

  “Yeah, well, meds can get expensive. Which might explain why I still have a rattletrap of a car, no matter how hard I work.”

  “What do you do?”

  She wished she could say she was doing something fancy, something with her degree, but she wouldn’t lie. “I’m a waitress at Nora’s Place. Nora’s my mom.”

  “I’ve eaten at her place—it’s pretty good. And yeah, a new car would be hard when you’re paying vet bills too.”

  She smiled. “Thanks. We think so, anyway. It would be nice if every night were busy, but the town’s been in a rough patch for a while now.”

  They sat wrapped in their own thoughts, but Robin’s musings about the town kept getting overlaid by the awareness of Cliff’s nearness. They sat on adjacent chairs—no other choice in the small exam room—and she could feel the heat from his body. His hand brushed hers once, and she could swear a tingle went from her fingers up her arm, across her torso, and down the other side.

  “Are you—”

  “What do you—”

  They smiled at each other awkwardly, then tried again.

  “You first.”

  “You first.”

  Then, “Jinx!” they shouted together.

  Cliff chuckled. “You played that as a kid, too?”

  “My brother Justin used to set me up just to jinx me and keep me from talking for an hour.” Robin rolled her eyes. “One time it took all day for someone to say my name.”

  “He’s older than you?”

  “Three years. He’s turned into a great big brother, but boy could he tease me when I was little.” Robin glanced at the door the vet had taken the dog through. Still nothing. “So, do you have brothers or sisters?”

  “Nope, just me. I don’t think they planned me as an only child, but Mom had lots of miscarriages.”

  Robin wasn’t sure what to say, but was saved by the door opening.

  Dr. Jan gave them a smile. “It was a clean break, but he’ll need a week or two of quiet, and the cast will be on six or eight weeks. Do you have a pen to keep him confined?”

  Robin nodded. “I’m not sure if he’ll settle for that though—I don’t know him at all.”

  “I know you, Robin Cooper,” Dr. Jan said. “You’ll find a way. He’s pretty doped up right now, but you can take him any time. Suzie will bring him in as soon as the cast is set. I’ve got some pain meds for him at the front desk.”

  Robin left Cliff to wait for the vet tech while she paid for the medication. She smiled when they brought the dog out. Both he and the saddle pad were still grimy, but his slender cast was a brilliant pink.

  They didn’t talk much on the way back to the ranch—Cliff’s attention seemed to be concentrated on keeping the dog still. When she pulled up to the ranch house, he looked at the dog and then her. “What now?”

  “Well, if you could set the saddle pad down where your feet are, hopefully he’ll stay there while I drive home.

  Cliff looked doubtful but wriggled out of the car with the dog still in his arms, then set him on the floor. The sleepy dog stayed put.

  “Okay, then,” Robin said. “Um, I’m really glad you could help.”

  “No problem.” Cliff looked over at the barn, then back at her. “So, what will you do with him now?”

  The scruffy stray looked up and Robin met his eyes. “We have a play yard, sort of kid-sized panels that hook together and make a small pen. I’ll probably keep him inside in that.”

  Cliff pulled the door a little closer but didn’t shut it. “Uh, will you name him?”

  “Of course, when the right name comes to me,” she replied. He was sure stringing out the conversation, but she needed to get the dog well settled before she went to work. Besides, gorgeous guys like him were never really interested in her. She moved the gearshift into Drive. “I really ought to get him home.”

  “Sure,” Cliff said, finally stepping back. “See you around.”

  “Thanks again.” She lifted a hand in farewell as he shut the door, then turned in his driveway and headed out. He was walking toward the barn when she looked back in the mirror.

  All the energy inside her vanished as she thought back through the afternoon. Cliff was…well, he was awesome, if she wanted to admit that much. Good looking, kind, helpful. He didn’t have to go to the vet with her, and he didn’t have to try for an extended goodbye. Maybe he was just being friendly, but maybe he could be interested in her, although she was mousy and nothing to look at.

  But even if he was, she’d been burned before. She had trusted boyfriends and regular friends both, only to have things go sour when she least expected it. She was done with that. Cliff was a hottie, sure, but she’d crush on him from a distance where it was safe.

  “Let’s go home, dog.”

  Chapter 2

  Cliff pushed the hair off his face, chugged a cold soda from the cooler, and headed back to the hay wagon. He was glad the dog was gone, glad Robin had a good vet to take him to. And not completely sure he was glad that she had shown up in the first place.

  He’d been mesmerized by her voice, low and soft and infinitely understanding. And he bet it carried over to people, not just animals. He smiled, thinking about her talking to him like that, then shoved the idea out of his head. He shouldn’t have carried on like a foolish teenager with her, no matter the possibilities that seemed wide open when he was with her. He didn’t know where he was going with his life. Actually, he was just getting to know which way was up again. He certainly didn’t have room in his heart for anything but surviving without his dad.

  He pulled his gloves back on and flipped the hay elevator to running again as Jory climbed off the tractor and returned to help. Lord, what a hole there was in his life without his dad. Tall and rangy, the exact opposite of Uncle Phil, his dad had been everything to him—mentor and friend as well as parent. It had been Dad’s hands that had shown him how to hold his first lariat; Dad who taught him how to gentle a young horse instead of breaking its spirit; and Dad who showed him how to survive the tough years as a rancher.

  Drought would make pasture nonexistent and hay expensive, and you had to cull the herd. But so did everyone else, and when the cattle market was glutted, the price went down. Then when times were good again, you had to build the herd back up. “Protect your breeding stock,” his father would say.

  Unfortunately, Montana had just been coming out of a drought cycle. Numbers to market were going to be low even if the price was up, and Dad had finally given in and increased the loan on the ranch.

  Then the unthinkable happened—Dad died in a wreck on the way to town one early morning. The younger brother of one of Cliff’s friends had fallen asleep at the wheel after working an overnight shift, and bam—Cliff had no father. Sometimes he wished it had been a drunk driver so he had someone to blame, but the kid was now in the depths of more guilt than Cliff could ever inflict.

  The bankers who were so solicitous at the funeral came visiting again the next week, this time to call in their loans.

  There was no way to salvage the ranch, and Cliff avoided the auction. He saddled Zeus, forever grateful that the horse was in his own name rather than his father’s, and took off for a long day in the hills. He rambled through familiar trails, pouring his heart out to the bay gelding, yelling up to God in the sky, and finally sitting at a rocky outcrop and crying like a baby. Zeus nosed him, wanting to be closer to a section of dry grass, but finally cocked a hind leg and dozed off. Cliff watched the breeze rustle the pine boughs while a hawk circled lazily overhead.

  The sun was setting when Cliff finally rode back, not at peace, but at least able to cope. The cattle, the other horses, all the equipment, the land, and his childhood home were now owned by various local ranchers and an out-of-town family who had unrealistic dreams of country life.

  Two days later, Cliff hitched the horse trailer to his pickup, loaded Zeus and his tack, and followed the moving va
n across two states to Oregon. His mother, a city gal who had dealt with ranch life for love of her husband, went to live with her sister in Salem. Cliff headed for McCormick’s Creek, where his Uncle Phil had settled 30 years ago with his new wife on her father’s ranch.

  It was a totally different type of ranching. Instead of open range, herds in the thousands, and the vastness of the Montana sky, Cliff’s life now was helping manage 200 sleek cattle and irrigating hay fields from a river, all while feeling overshadowed by Oregon’s Cascade mountains.

  It wasn’t what he had grown up with, and it wasn’t what he had planned for his life. But there were good things, too. He still had Zeus, still had a chance to ride out in the wild until his mind was clear, and still had a ranch to work on. Sweet girls like Robin Cooper were out of bounds for a while.

  Now, he focused on the last half of the hay load. One bale after another, breathing hay dust and working his muscles until his dad and his past and Robin were out of his mind, and all he could see was the next bale on the stack.

  * * *

  Cliff swung his pick-up into the nursing home parking lot the next day. No, he corrected himself, he was supposed to call it a rehab center. Not that it mattered—it was a good place for Grandma to recover. And she was doing well, using a walker instead of being in bed all the time. Losing his Grandma so soon after Dad would have blown him to pieces, and he was grateful she was recovering, despite the fact that she was frail and not able to talk much. She was alive.

  The facility was pleasant, thank goodness, with comfortable sofas in a waiting area and pictures of mountains and gardens along the walls. If he paid attention, he could still detect an antiseptic smell, but whatever they used for cleaning was a lot better than hospital stuff.

  Grandma’s room wasn’t too bad, either. A hospital bed, of course, but she had her own quilt from home and pictures on her dresser. Her walker stood against one wall, and she was sitting up, eyes shining when she saw him.

  “Kif,” she said.

  “Hey, Grandma! How are you doing?” He sat on the side of her bed and took one hand in his. These hands had done so much— made cookies for him, helped him wrap his parents’ Christmas gifts, put Bandaids on when he got into trouble. These hands, covered with brown spots and blue veins, wrinkled and a bit arthritic, and one of them not working too well just now, were extra precious to him.

  “Kif,” she said again, pulling her hand away from the kiss he was giving.

  “Yes, Grandma? Hey, you’re talking better!”

  “Ad,” she said, working her mouth. “Ad ih.”

  His shoulders drooped. Maybe she wasn’t as much better as he thought. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  Her brow creased in concentration. “Ad ih. Ahg.” Then she shook her head slightly and motioned her good hand to the floor. “Ahg!”

  “Ahh?” he queried. He’d give anything to be able to speak stroke.

  “Ahg! Ahg!” And then she was pointing out the door to the hall.

  Cliff turned, just in time to see Robin walk past with a little curly-haired mutt. “Dog!” he practically shouted to his grandmother, finally understanding. He dashed out. “Robin!”

  She spun around, hair swinging, and he swore her face lit up when she saw him. The dog, with a yellow bandana around his neck, woofed in excitement and wiggled to get down.

  “Here boy,” he said. His hand brushed Robin’s as she passed the dog over, and a shiver ran up the length of his arm and settled somewhere in his chest. He held the dog close and pushed the feeling away. “What are you doing here?”

  The brilliance of her smile about knocked him over, and he took another breath to steady himself. There was something about her that he couldn’t let himself explore.

  “We come every week,” she said. “Augie’s a therapy dog.”

  Of course—it fit with the bit he knew about her. “Come meet my grandmother.” He motioned her in, keeping enough distance so they wouldn’t accidentally touch. “Grandma, this is Robin Cooper.”

  “No,” Grandma said. He guessed she meant ‘I know’ because she was nodding and half her mouth was smiling. The other half remained set in its droop.

  “We’ve already spent some time together,” Robin said, clasping the old woman’s hand. “Augie and I visit anyone who wants us, and your grandmother was one of the first. Besides that, we were here an hour ago.” She met Grandma’s eyes with a grin.

  “She has a dog at home, staying with us for now, actually,” Cliff said, “a retired border collie named Bandit. Oh!” he felt like slapping himself on the head. “That’s what you were saying earlier, Grandma—Bandit!”

  The bright-eyed woman nodded, and one side of her mouth quirked up again. She motioned between the two of them.

  “Us?” Cliff asked. “Robin came out to pick up a stray at the ranch. I helped her take him to the vet—one of the heifers broke his leg.”

  Grandma waved a hand at Robin.

  “Oh, he’s going to be fine, he’s mostly just frustrated that he can’t play with the other dogs,” Robin said, stepping back. “It looks like he’s got eight weeks in a cast, but in the meantime, I’m getting him used to being around people again. He’s pretty skittish.”

  Grandma waved at Robin again, but kept her eyes on Cliff.

  “Uh, Grandma, we’re just friends. We only met the other day.” He ignored the way his heart rate rose and scratched Augie behind the ears.

  Robin looked away and Grandma glared at him. “Just friends,” he repeated determinedly. “Here, take Augie. Petting him is supposed to calm patients like you down so you can heal better.” He placed the curly dog in her lap and moved her arm to lay over him.

  Augie rested his head on her other hand and looked up at her. Cliff could swear the dog was flirting. Grandma chuckled and moved her arm slightly across his back, then glared at Cliff again.

  He wasn’t going to get out of an explanation, even with Robin standing right there. “We only took the dog to the vet together,” he finally said. More than that, he would not admit. A grieving heart and an uncertain future left no room for romance. “It’s not like it was a date or anything.”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,” Robin said, reaching down for Augie and brushing Cliff’s arm again in the process, sending another tingle through him. “We’ve only got another half hour to visit people. I’ll see you later, Cliff. And you have a good evening, Mrs. Jackson.”

  He watched Robin leave and something tugged at him. Maybe they could do something fun together. Not a date, and certainly no expectations, just something to get off the ranch. She didn’t seem to get out much either, unless it had something to do with work or the dogs.

  “Go,” Grandma said, pointing firmly to Cliff. That certainly came out clearly. He nodded, then walked Robin to the door.

  “Robin, I…” But the tingle from her touch was still there, and the words he wanted wouldn’t come. He finally squeezed out, “You around later?”

  “I’m working the late shift at the restaurant tonight,” she said. “But you could always stop by when you’re done feeding the stock, or whatever you do for evening chores.” Then she walked down the hall and into another room.

  He’d do that. And somehow get his voice to work. Right now, he had to put her out of his mind, back in some compartment in the recesses of his brain, and enjoy the time with his grandmother.

  Grandma’s knowing eyes met his, and he marveled at how her vigor and dominance hadn’t lessened even when she couldn’t communicate very well.

  No, he corrected himself, remembering the blazing look she had sent him. She may not be able to speak clearly, but she could communicate just fine.

  Once he was perched on the side of her bed again, she looked at him with a question in her eyes.

  He sighed. “I don’t know, Grandma. I haven’t had room for anything inside me since Dad died. It’s…the sadness isn’t gone, but being with Robin made it a little lighter. And then I feel guilty for smiling
again, when Mom doesn’t have anything to smile about without Dad. And I miss him—why should I be happy when he’s gone? I’m sort of lost without him. I don’t know what I’m doing with myself.”

  Grandma snorted, a very unladylike snort. No matter how she could ask questions with her eyes, he wished she were able to give counsel.

  Instead, he settled for telling her about the calves that would be ready to ship to market in another month and how he would take her riding on his favorite trail when she was better.

  On the way home an hour later, he grimaced as he passed Nora’s Place. He’d do whatever jobs Uncle Phil gave him that afternoon, do the evening chores and have one of Aunt Jess’s fabulous dinners, but he wouldn’t come back to town to see Robin. He had enough to sort out in his life without adding her to the mix.

  Chapter 3

  Robin worked through the evening, serving families, pouring uncountable coffee refills for old Mac from the hardware store, and sneaking a piece of pie for Miss Lily and Miss Rose to share. Not sneaking it, really—her mother knew full well what she was doing. But it gave the old ladies something to smile and conspire over.

  All through the evening, though, she kept a lookout for Cliff. And all through the evening, the door didn’t open once with his handsome face behind it. She wondered if he got caught up with something on the ranch. The cattle could have stampeded, and he had to keep them away from a canyon drop-off. Or he rescued a calf from a flooding river, sending his lariat flying, catching the calf around his neck and pulling him to safety. No, that would hurt the calf. Maybe he would rope its hind legs and drag it that way.

  Or maybe, as usual, she was letting her imagination run wild—ranch scenes and Cliff both. There was no reason he had to feel the same electricity she did when they touched.

  Robin said goodbye to the Beaumont sisters with a kiss on each soft cheek and poured a last cup of coffee for Mac, who nodded his thanks without a word.