by Leigh Riker
Her gaze faltered. “I can’t stay. I only stopped to give you the present and tell you I talked to the man about Las Vegas. To say he wasn’t interested in Emmie would be putting it mildly.” She told him what he’d said and Finn’s shoulders tensed.
“Nice guy,” he said, wanting to throw a punch. “Good thing he talked to you, not me, or he’d be sporting a black eye by long distance.”
“I was so disappointed by his reaction,” she went on. “The only good part is, with his attitude I wouldn’t have left Emmie with him anyway—even to honor Sierra’s last request or if he felt obligated to take responsibility. Which, as you warned me might happen, he didn’t.”
Finn caught her gaze. He almost welcomed this conversation to delay telling her he couldn’t take their relationship any further. “I have news, too. I’ve talked to people at the other companies where Sierra worked. Nothing there, not even a name or a number.”
“No one remembered her?”
“Oh, they remember all right. Nothing good.” He slapped one glove against his thigh, raising a small cloud from his dirty jeans. “But one HR person did remember also meeting Emmie. Said she’s a cute kid but they felt sorry for her, having a mother like that. Apparently Sierra left Emmie alone in their hotel room while she worked and Emmie screamed the place down. There was talk of bringing in Child Protective Services, one more thing for Sierra to run from.” He added, “Sorry, I don’t mean to pile on the bad stuff, but that’s what comes out of people when I mention Sierra.”
Her lips flattened. Arms crossed, she leaned against the side of her car. “Poor Emmie. She never says a bad word about Sierra. Maybe she thinks their life together was normal, but I guess I have to accept the fact that my cousin was not a good person.”
Finn thought that was an understatement. “So what’s next?”
She flushed. “I appreciate your help, but this is really my problem. I need to keep looking for her father. She needs the stability I can’t give her.”
“Yes you can. You already have.” Finn studied his scuffed boots. “You have to consider the possibility that you’ll never know the details about Sierra’s life or Emmie’s father. People who want to lie low find a way to do so even today when there’s no real privacy. That guy you talked to could be Emmie’s father—or not—but I can’t make him take a DNA test. You have to ask what happens if you never find her real father? Or, as I said, if you do but he doesn’t want her either?”
Finn couldn’t understand why any man would reject his child, though. From the moment of Alex’s birth, his first concern had been for his son. Alex and Caro had gotten all the love he had in him. Emmie’s dad had never even given her a chance.
“I know that’s how you feel.” Annabelle dug at the dirt between them with the toe of her sneaker. “But I have to pray he does want her and that he simply doesn’t know about her because...” She trailed off, biting her lip.
Finn took a deep breath. The gift-wrapped box seemed to burn through the sleeve of his shirt. “Emmie’s used to being with you, Annabelle. Your house is home to her. Why do you think she throws temper tantrums with such abandon?”
Annabelle arched a brow. “Because she gets away with them. I’m a pushover. I’m afraid to discipline her very often. And Emmie is behind in her development in some ways—her speech—”
“No,” he said. “She throws herself on the floor, kicks and screams because she trusts you. She knows you won’t harm her. She feels safe, even acting out when she shouldn’t. Alex—” there it was again, the mention of his son “—was the same way, but maybe for the first time in her life, Emmie does have some sense of security. The stability we know now that Sierra didn’t provide. You’d take that away from her?”
“I haven’t gone anywhere. I won’t until...” Her face looked pale. “You really think she trusts me?”
“I do—and you’d better think before you destroy that trust.”
For a moment he’d thought he might care for someone again, but he couldn’t take the chance. This was the time to tell Annabelle that their kiss before, for both of them, had been a mistake. Despite her worry about Emmie, Annabelle still intended to leave Barren as soon as possible, and as far as he knew she didn’t mean to come back. Yet Finn didn’t say a word.
Her shoulders squared, she started toward her car then turned again to eye the gift she’d brought. “Thank you, Finn, for all you’ve done. I’ll take it from here. Have a nice day, Sheriff.”
Finn watched her get in the car, then turned to the broken fence. That cold drink he’d been thinking about forgotten, he pulled on his gloves and, as Annabelle drove off, went back to work. He’d gone too far again about Emmie, and again he hadn’t told Annabelle a relationship for them wasn’t in the cards.
Now, he supposed, he wouldn’t have to.
* * *
TO EVERYONE’S SURPRISE Nell Sutherland showed up that evening for the Girls’ Night Out meeting. Annabelle wondered if Olivia or Shadow had spoken to her, somehow convinced her to join them after all. Tonight everyone else had come too, and the diner, with its closed sign flipped around at eight o’clock, assured them of a real opportunity to enjoy the gathering without interruption.
“Nell! Welcome!” Annabelle rushed to meet her.
Nell pulled off her beige Stetson and shook out her hair. “Does anyone else here think it’ll snow before we drive home?” She didn’t seem worried. “Should have put the snow tires on my truck. Could be an adventure getting to the ranch.”
“Nell, you thrive on adventure,” Olivia reminded her.
“The bigger the challenge, the better,” Shadow put in before they both said at once, “We’re glad you’re here.”
Annabelle was too, plus it was a nice distraction to concentrate on her friends instead of thinking about Finn. “Who wants wine?” she asked.
“Everyone but Olivia and me.” Blossom, who was nursing these days, stretched out her legs at the large table in the center of the restaurant. “I’m drinking juice.” Like Nell, she was wearing obviously new jeans, dark washed and pressed, that being Barren’s standard of formal dress. “I’m ready for some girlfriend talk,” she said. “Logan’s babysitting.”
Liza Wilson, Olivia’s stepmother, glanced around. “Annabelle, where’s your adorable Emmie tonight?”
“With Mary Whitman who runs the day care center. She does some babysitting, too.”
Annabelle poured chardonnay from a freshly opened bottle, taking her time because her thoughts kept running back to Finn anyway. She’d started the day intending to tell him about her phone call to Emmie’s possible father and give Finn his housewarming gift. Now she scarcely cared whether he opened it. His pointed questions about Emmie had cut deep and ruined her day. She was glad she hadn’t told him about the new course she’d signed up for.
Olivia turned to Nell. “Tell us what’s been happening with you lately, my friend. No one ever sees you.”
“I’m rarely in town,” Nell agreed. “If I wasn’t ready to strangle PawPaw, I would have stayed home tonight, so don’t think this is setting some kind of precedent.”
No one pursued the matter. They all knew she loved her grandfather, who could certainly be difficult, and his accident with Sierra had scared the daylights out of Nell.
Annabelle tipped the last of the wine into Nell’s glass. “How’s that sick cow you mentioned the last time I saw you?”
“Better. Pregnant,” Nell announced, as if she were the one having a baby. Then she too changed the subject. “Speaking of ranches, anyone know why Finn Donovan bought the Moran farm? There must be half a dozen ranches—real ones—he could buy instead.”
“He didn’t need that much space,” Shadow said, “but Grey says there’s enough room there to run a horse or two.”
“Ever the cowboy. My brother thinks everyone needs a horse,” Olivia muttered. Then she turned to Ann
abelle. “You have more contact here at the diner with Finn than anyone else in town. We all wonder what makes that man tick except, I mean, for that ever-ready citation book of his.”
“I couldn’t say.” Or rather, she wouldn’t. “He and I had a difference of opinion earlier today.” She told them about the latest dead end in her search for Emmie’s father and the gauntlet Finn had thrown down about Emmie’s future.
“Finn had a point. That Vegas guy sounds like someone I used to date,” Nell mused, taking a sip of her wine. “I’ve sworn off men. I’d rather wrestle a mad steer than try to handle another romance.”
Annabelle swept a practiced gaze around the table. Everyone had finished the before-dinner drinks and, wanting to avoid any further talk about Finn or Emmie, she hurried into the kitchen where a pot of her award-winning beef ragout simmered on the stove. Later, she’d serve molten-lava chocolate cake with vanilla bean ice cream for dessert. No one was counting calories tonight. Annabelle stacked plates and bowls, but her thoughts of Finn hovered over the table as if he was sitting there, waiting for her to make the right decision about Emmie. There was no decision to make about them. They didn’t have a romance, weren’t a couple and never would be.
“...tragic about his family,” Shadow was saying when Annabelle entered the room and she froze, a batch of silverware rolled in cloth napkins precariously balanced on the crockery. Finn had implied few people knew about the murders of his wife and son.
“Who talked?” she couldn’t keep from asking.
“Finn can be pretty closemouthed, but there are people who know, you among them, obviously, Derek for another, who Grey says heard from someone in Farrier. If half of what he said is true,” Olivia said, “I can’t blame Finn for not wanting to talk about it.”
“Let’s not gossip,” Annabelle said. “Finn has a right to his privacy.” She went back to the kitchen for the ragout, which she brought out in a large ceramic tureen that had been her mother’s. Any of her friends would cherish such a family heirloom, as Finn did the best memories of his family, but Annabelle planned to sell the diner fully equipped. She wouldn’t take anything with her. When she returned, she heard only silence, as if her faint reprimand had stifled conversation.
Maybe they were shocked that she’d spoken out.
Finally, as if reluctant to speak herself, Nell pushed her empty glass around on the table. “I wouldn’t believe a word Derek says.” All eyes turned to her. “I see no one remembers that he and I dated a while back—so briefly it can’t be measured. I’m ashamed to admit, I had a crush first on his older brother until Jared got shot—pardon me, Shadow, for mentioning that—then later on I liked Derek.” She added, “I chalk it up to the usual ‘bad boys are exciting’ phase of a girl’s life. Now I’d cross the street to avoid him.”
Again, no one pressed Nell, though Annabelle certainly had questions. They dug into their food, and Annabelle heard the usual praise for her cooking. She wished she could really believe it when people said positive things to her, not just remember her mother’s negativity.
Yet as she ate her attention lingered on the Moran farm, Finn and his challenge about Emmie. Annabelle couldn’t shake the feeling he’d wanted to bring up something else but in the end he hadn’t. Not for the first time.
After their Thanksgiving kiss, Annabelle could guess what that was about.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“DON’T LOOK A gift horse in the mouth,” Grey said.
Finn stared at him in shock. Behind them, parked at the top of the driveway in front of Finn’s still falling-down barn stood a trailer with a bay inside—Big Brown, he saw—and a smaller, spotted pony Grey claimed was the horse’s stablemate.
“What am I supposed to do with them?” Finn gestured toward the new fence, which wasn’t finished, then propped both hands on his hips. “I’m putting everything I have into the barn and the house. Now I’m supposed to pay to feed two horses I don’t know how to ride? And don’t want to,” he muttered.
Grey grinned. “One horse. You can’t ride the pony. I should have asked before I drove over, but I knew you’d say no. You own a ranch—you need horses.”
Finn thought of the gift from Annabelle. “So they’re a housewarming present?”
“Couldn’t think of a better one. Shadow didn’t agree—said I should have made sure you wanted them first—but I thought these two would give you a start.”
“You thought wrong, Grey. I’m not ungrateful but—”
“The bay’s a sweetheart.”
Finn tried to ignore the hopeful look in Grey’s eyes. His friend meant well, but he would never turn Finn into a cowboy. “You can take the man out of the city,” he said, “but you can’t take the city out of the man.” Especially when so much of his heart still lived in Chicago.
Grey only laughed. “Come on, you know you’re weakening.”
“Where would I put them? You’d have to leave them in the trailer. Even walking into that old barn means risking my life.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Grey started back to the trailer. Before Finn could stop him, he’d unlocked the gate and lowered the ramp. Inside, large hooves stamped the floor and smaller ones danced in place. “I’ve already put a crew together. We’ll be here tomorrow morning. Done by nightfall.”
“To do what?”
“Build you a new barn.” He added, “That’s what neighbors—friends—do.”
“Grey.”
He was talking to thin air. Grey had gone through the small door at the front of the trailer and was backing the pony out. He handed Finn the lead rope. “I checked your barn before. It’s not going to fall down by tomorrow. After I unload, we’ll turn these two out in that small paddock—” he gestured at the side of the barn “—then put up the rest of your fence. I brought stall bedding and some feed.”
“Grey,” he tried again, but Finn was already holding the rope, looking down into the soft eyes of the brown-and-white-spotted pony. It promptly stepped on his foot.
Minutes later, the bay joined the pony in the box stall closest to the main barn doors, and the two, which seemed like the odd couple to Finn, had poked their faces out the side window to watch Grey and Finn wrestle the last sections of fence into place. He had to admit, Grey could handle a posthole digger like nobody’s business.
As they worked, Grey chatted about his sister Olivia and Sawyer’s plans to marry after their baby was born, then about Shadow’s growing health care agency. Finally, he leaned against a fence post, his black Stetson shoved back on his head. “So. What’s the real issue? You’re not just mad at me for bringing over the horses.”
He frowned. “Sawyer thought I was in over my head here. Now I’m responsible for that bay and the pony? Even if you throw in feed temporarily, there’ll be vet bills. And I’m no horseman.”
“Well, I thought you could use a...diversion.”
“Meaning?”
“You’re a good sheriff, Finn. A good man. But there are things that could destroy you if you don’t take care. When I was caught up in that mess with Jared Moran, never knowing if I’d be found innocent, later when my cattle were being rustled, and I learned Ava was my little girl, the one thing that could clear my mind was getting on the back of a horse. Just riding out somewhere, anywhere, and letting go. I was hoping it would work for you, too,” he said, resettling his hat.
Finn sighed. “Thanks for thinking of me, even when I’m pretty sure I’m not ever getting on that horse.”
“Change your mind, change your life,” Grey said. And still, he wasn’t done. “I’ll teach you, or if you’d rather, I’ll send Olivia over. She’s doing a fantastic job of training that black colt Sawyer gave her and she’s certainly got the touch. She’d have you in synch with the bay before you could say cowboy.”
Finn had to smile. “You’re relentless. I got on a horse at your place once. If I ever g
et the urge to climb on one again, I’ll let you know.”
“In the meantime I bet Emmie would love to get on that pony.”
His heart stalled. “Oh, no you don’t,” Finn said. “I can tell you right now, I’ve seen the last of her and Annabelle Foster.” Grey raised one eyebrow, and Finn probably shouldn’t have said a word but then he did. “She was here the other day, told me her latest attempt to find Emmie’s dad hadn’t worked out. I was afraid it wouldn’t—and the guy didn’t want anything to do with Emmie.”
“What happens next?”
“I wish I knew. All I do know is, I said the wrong things to Annabelle, including what if she kept Emmie with her?”
Grey’s eyebrow rose higher. “I guess that’s up to Annabelle.”
“Yeah, well, she said I’ll take it from here so I doubt I’ll be in on any decision she makes—not that I should be.” He hesitated. It wasn’t in Finn’s nature to come so near his deeper feelings, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Then there’s the fact that I lost my head on Thanksgiving and let her kiss me on your porch. I sure didn’t resist.”
“So that’s what was going on when you two left the house.” Grey eyed Finn then grinned. “Duh. You’re hung up on her, aren’t you? As bad as a bull rider with his hand caught in his rope.”
Finn could feel the back of his neck heat, then the tips of his ears. His mind filled with the image of her, that lush brown of her hair, the changeable brown of her eyes and the forlorn look on her face when she’d said, Have a nice day, Sheriff.
“I like Annabelle—and she’s stronger than she thinks she is—but she deserves someone long-term who can commit. That lets me out.” He said, “I’m in no shape to be ‘hung up’ on anybody.”
Grey pulled away from the fence post, settled his hat all over again, then went back to work. “You are a sad case, Desperado,” was all he said.
