by Angi Morgan
If he was lucky, he’d be under some sheets with her fairly soon. She had to be feeling the chemical reaction every time they were in the same room. Right? Hitting the hay with her could happen once they knew each other better, but not here. Not with a houseful of his family around.
The rooster crowed at the first peek of dawn. He might as well help with the morning feeding for once since he was up. It beat balancing the ranch books. Changed and gulping down a cup of coffee, he caught up with John halfway through feeding the stabled horses.
“Ready to tell me what’s going on?” his brother asked.
“There was an accident.”
“You didn’t do anything stupid, did you? We talked about this.” John sounded like an older brother or more like a former Naval officer used to getting answers.
“I didn’t do a damn thing, John. Lay off.” He pushed his hat to the back of his head. “And stop lecturing me every time we have a conversation. I’ve been taking care of this place for twelve years.”
“What the hell happened to your head?” John’s hands framed Brian’s face, turning it so he could get a closer look. His thumbs stretched the laceration, tugging at the bandage. “You’re bleeding.”
“Blast it, John. Stop treating me like I’m ten.” Brian shook free and swiped at his forehead. “I’ve got a father and don’t need you to baby me.”
Sometime during the past four months they’d switched their traditional roles. Identical in every visible way, Brian had always been the responsible one, older by minutes but by light-years in responsibility. The complete opposite of John’s jokester personality. His little brother had finally grown up while in the Navy. Or maybe it was coming home, making amends with his high school sweetheart and planning to adopt her daughter.
“Whoever stitched you up did a crappy job, bro. That’s going to leave a scar. And don’t think I’m slicing my forehead so we can switch places again.”
“Seems as though every time we’ve switched it was your idea and I was getting you out of trouble.”
“Don’t change the subject. What happened?” John stepped back, stiffening, as if he was at attention, commanding his men. It was obvious he wasn’t continuing with scooping oats until he got an answer. “After you went to the cops and they laughed in your face, I thought we agreed that it was over.”
“Stand down. This ain’t the Navy, man. Nothing major happened to me. This is from a drunk in my rig.” He straightened his hat. “Lindsey’s the one who had an accident. She’s a little freaked to be alone, that’s all. I brought her here. That’s it. No big deal. Now, I’m awful tired, so why don’t we get through the chores and I’ll explain after breakfast. Once. To everyone. Alicia will be home and Dad can pretend that he’s been home all night. Right, Dad?”
His father popped his head around the open double doors leading to the paddock. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting. Maybe Blue Eyes will be awake for your interrogation. That work for everybody?”
“Blue Eyes?” John and his dad questioned together, sounding so much alike it was creepy.
“Yeah, Lindsey.”
“You agreed to leave this alone. What happened twelve years ago doesn’t matter.” John picked up the scoop and measured oats for the horses.
“It matters to me. And I never agreed. You ordered and I reminded you that I don’t take orders from you.”
Brian left each bucket in a different stall, feeding the trained quarter horses he’d been trying to sell for months. He was ready to move to the next chore when John began laughing. “What’s so dang funny?”
“It just occurred to me, you put those stitches in yourself. Right?” He slapped his thighs, stumbling back a couple of steps, laughing hard at his own joke. “I knew it.”
“What stitches?” his dad asked, leaning on his cane. Not bad for a man recovering from a major stroke four months ago. He walked a good two miles every day just coming home from Mabel’s across the street.
“John’s losing his mind. Glad you’re here to take care of him if he starts convulsing.” Brian lengthened his stride to leave faster. “I’m going to make breakfast.”
“We need to talk about the ranch, boy-o,” his father said loudly. “The bank called again.”
“Can’t right now, Dad. I have a date with the griddle.” Brian left as John expounded on the crooked sutures. If his brother noticed, it was probably a good idea to let his sister-in-law, the professional nurse in the family, redo his sutures.
Right now, he was starved and needed to get his mind off some sky-blue eyes and corn-silk hair spread over a pillow in the front bedroom.
* * *
“YUM. PANCAKES.”
The distinct smell of a hot griddle and syrup wafted into Lindsey’s nose, encouraging her to breathe deeply and enjoy. She stretched her arms above her head. No surfing today, her shoulder was a little sore. She rubbed it as she sank back into the pillows, surrounded by the comforting feeling of her favorite place in Florida. The sun streamed through the windows every morning and she’d breathe in the soft, fresh smell of sun-dried sheets. There was a plus side to not owning a dryer.
Snuggling the quilt closer to her chest, she wanted to spend the rest of the morning asleep. But there was work or something she was supposed to do. And pancakes. Her eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar room.
Wide-awake in an instant. Panic. Aches.
Where am I?
Then her memory kicked in with Brian’s words that he was taking her to his home. Darn. She was on a ranch, not back at the beach. She’d be inside the storefront cage where she worked by three that afternoon. Stuck inside. It couldn’t compare to working in the sun, walking in the sand or having the surf as part of every conversation.
She missed the sun. But she was responsible now, with a real job and possible advancement. A permanent roof over her head instead of crashing with relatives during the winter season when she was broke. Responsibility was a good thing.
The room didn’t look like Brian at all. Pictures in old frames were placed on a dresser around a handmade doily and jewelry box. Grandparents, baby photos of two identical boys and a stunning woman in a wedding dress from the 70s. Either the loner she’d met wasn’t much of a loner or it wasn’t Brian’s room after all.
She was still completely dressed except for her shoes—a good thing, no awkward moments. She made the bed like a good guest—she’d been one often enough. Hit the bathroom, then not wanting to disturb anyone, she tiptoed through the hallway leading to the living area. She followed the heavenly smell of pancakes, hoping to find her cowboy rescuer.
A man was crashed on the couch. His face was pressed into the back cushions, but she knew it was Brian. His boots were at one end with his hat resting on top. She wasn’t surprised he was still asleep. He’d worked all night, then stayed up with her. What she couldn’t believe was that he’d carried her to bed and she hadn’t woken up.
“Shh. You’ll get in trouble if you wake up Uncle Brian,” a little girl tried to whisper from the kitchen entrance, placing her first finger across her lips but speaking loud enough to be heard across the room.
Lindsey followed the little girl into the kitchen, hesitating before interrupting the woman cleaning up, uncertain how to explain why she was in her home. These two had to be the new additions to the family. She recognized their pictures from the articles she’d found involving Brian and the little girl’s kidnapping last summer.
“Mommy,” Brian’s niece said, sending her pigtails bouncing over her shoulders.
“Lauren, you know you have to eat before you can go outside. Get back in your seat and leave Uncle Brian alone.” She didn’t look away from the dishes in the sink.
“Brian’s lady is up,” she announced, and her mom turned. Lauren laced her fingers through Lindsey�
�s and tugged her across the kitchen. Mother and daughter looked alike; both had rich, dark brown hair and the same arch to their brows.
“Hi, I’m Alicia. Brian said y’all got here at dawn. I didn’t expect you up this soon.” Alicia wiped her hands on a dish towel. There had been a moment of hesitation with her smile, but it looked genuine now that it was in place. Then she knelt by her daughter. “Lauren, you didn’t go and wake Miss Lindsey up, did you?”
Another surprise, Alicia Sloane knew her name. “Oh, no, I had a great sleep,” Lindsey rushed to explain. “I met Lauren in the living room. Oh, and I’m not Brian’s lady. We just met yesterday and he brought me here because I had no place to go. Great, that sort of sounds horrible. I mean, the story’s a little complicated. A lot complicated, actually.”
Alicia smiled bigger, stood and tapped Lauren on the bottom, scooting her toward her booster seat at the table. “Thank you for minding me, sweetie. Now get up there and finish eating. Don’t worry, Lindsey. Brian explained everything over breakfast. Are you hungry? I was instructed to give you hotcakes as soon as you were ready.”
“They smell delicious. Can I help?”
“Guests don’t cook, silly.” One of the cutest giggles she’d ever heard came from tiny lips and a mouth full of pancakes.
“Lauren, that was rude. You don’t call grown-ups silly.” Brian’s sister-in-law retrieved the batter from the refrigerator and slid it onto the mixer stand. “And you don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“But you do. You said Uncle Brian bringing a guest to Pawpaw’s very full house was silly.” She folded another half of a small pancake and stuffed it in her mouth, smiling with a drip of syrup on her chin as she chewed.
“Oh, gosh.” Alicia’s hand covered her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re right, me being here is quite silly. Um...” Lindsey understood. Staying here wasn’t only awkward for the Sloanes. She had a bit of background, but what did she really know about Brian? “I guess I should go. If you know where my purse is, I’ll call a cab to take me home.”
“Don’t be silly,” Alicia said. “Oh, my, there I go again. What I meant to say is you’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you want. This is Brian’s house more than mine, and I shouldn’t have spouted off about a lack of space. Lauren, we’ll talk about this later, young lady.”
“I really think I should go.” She backed up, trying to leave gracefully. Maybe she’d missed her purse in Brian’s room. Two strong hands cupped her shoulders, steadying her as she tripped into a rock-solid body.
“You’ve got nowhere to go. Remember?” Brian’s voice said just above her head.
“Are you in trouble, Mommy? Uncle Brian looks mad.”
“I’m tired, baby girl. Just tired.” His warm breath tickled her spine. “I get ornery when I only get a half hour of shut-eye.”
“I told you to sleep in our room,” Alicia said.
“That will never happen.” He laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I function on naps all the time. Besides, the smell of that griddle made me hungry again.” He patted Lindsey’s shoulders and guided her to a chair at the old-fashioned table. “How’s the shoulder?”
“A little sore, but fine.”
The strange part of the scene around her was that she didn’t feel unwanted or a burden or even more than slightly awkward. When Brian was in the room, she felt at home. Her hand skimmed the table top as he pushed her chair closer to the table.
Metal legs, green Formica, scuffs, a few crayon marks—old and newish—made her feel as if the table had been there a very long time. The extension was in the middle and six quaint matching chairs were in place.
“How long is your lady friend going to be here, Uncle Brian?”
“I have to be at work this afternoon, so I should be heading home,” she explained to Lauren, but looked at Brian, who raised an eyebrow and rested his head on his hand.
“After some pancakes, right?” Alicia set a stack in front of her. Big and fluffy with a dab of butter melting over the top.
“Go ahead. This is second breakfast for me,” Brian said, or encouraged, or ordered. It was hard to tell. The man spoke with such authority, she was compelled to listen and wanted to follow his instructions. He was like a lifeguard even without water around.
“She likes ’em, Uncle Brian.”
“I think you’re right, baby girl. Her eyes just rolled back in her head for a second.”
Lindsey completely understood why Lauren had spoken with her mouth full. The pancakes were wonderful and she wanted to let Alicia know as soon as they touched her taste buds. And the coffee was simple and excellent. She’d thought she was spoiled with Jeremy’s one-cup flavored machine or the corner coffee shop at work. But there was something about the rustic flavor of black coffee that went with the pancakes and pure maple syrup.
“These really are great, Alicia. Thanks for going to the trouble.” Lindsey stuffed another big bite between her lips. Totally in heaven.
“All I did was flip ’em. That paramedic sitting beside you learned some secret ingredient and won’t give it up.” Alicia pointed the spatula toward Brian. “He mixed up the batter and cooked breakfast before he caught some shut-eye.”
If the screen door hadn’t shut behind two men and startled her into silence, Lindsey probably would have blurted her astonishment at how kind this man had been to her. The men were close in size to Brian, but one was on a cane.
The other, once he removed his hat and wasn’t backlit, she could tell was John, Brian’s duplicate. “Woman of the house, two starving men need some lunch.”
Alicia set the pancakes on the table in front of Brian. “As if one of them in the room wasn’t enough.”
“I was thinking that exact same thing.” Lindsey watched John kiss and twirl his bride right back to the sink. The older man joined them at the table and a cup of coffee appeared at his fingertips. He had to be their father—they looked just like him. All three men took turns adding the same dollop of milk to their cups.
“Lindsey Cook, that jerk pawing my sister-in-law is my younger brother and this old man is my dad.” Brian patted his dad’s shoulder.
“Younger by twenty-three minutes but older by necessity, Scarface,” John said.
“Let me see these stitches.” His dad pulled Brian’s face closer. “Alicia, I think you need to take a look at this mess.”
“I’m done, Mommy,” Lauren informed everyone, dropping her fork on an empty plate.
Alicia and John whispered softly behind her.
You’re the only one left. You’re the only one left.
The family voices teasing each other in playful exchanges swirled in her head. As everyone grew closer to the table the walls began closing in behind them. Someone tried to kill me last night. The pancakes turned to cardboard. She couldn’t untangle what happened around her; it all mixed together just like when they brought Jeremy’s body to shore. She could hear them, but she couldn’t actually hear anything except a buzz in her ears.
“Lindsey, you okay?”
She whipped around and had to think twice about who had a hand on her shoulder. Brian...murder you. “I need out of here.”
She shook off the help, the questioning concerns and just ran. The screen slammed behind her as she got her bearings and headed down the gravel drive. The second slam of the door let her know that someone was following her, but she didn’t stop. She had to get free of everything.
Jeremy, his life, his dreams... If she disappeared, whoever was after her couldn’t kill her. She could go back to her life on the beach, not worrying about responsibility.
“Lindsey! Where are you going?” Brian shouted.
“I can’t stay here.” She turned to face him but kept walking backward. Her shoes would be ruined from the gravel but she d
idn’t care. She wouldn’t need them on the Gulf beaches. Or maybe she’d try her hand up the East Coast. Get a job on a yacht or something. She had experience and knew some people.
“You can’t walk back to Fort Worth, especially in those things.”
“I’ll call a cab.”
He laughed. “Sweetheart, Aubrey doesn’t have any cabs. Let’s go back to the house.”
“I can take care of myself. I don’t know why I tracked you down last night.” She must have been out of her mind. “And how do those people know who I am? Not one of them was curious about a strange woman in your bed. Do you pull this danger routine regularly?”
“For the record, the only female who’s ever slept in my room happens to be five years old. Lauren took it over and I sleep on the couch when I’m home. That was Dad’s room and I didn’t know you’d get so upset—”
“I’m not upset. Why would I be upset? You claim someone’s trying to kill me. What’s to get upset about?”
“You’re right. It’s more like you’re hysterical. I know a lot’s happened to you since yesterday—”
He dashed forward and grabbed her arm before she could turn and run.
“Let me go.” She twisted, flaying her arms.
“Ow, damn, that was my ear.” His arms wrapped tighter, bringing her closer to his chest. “I’ll let you go when you calm down.”
Upset or desperate, she didn’t know which, she just knew she needed to get free. She kept twisting. His arms tightened their hold. Soon her cheek was flattened against his cotton T-shirt. Grass and sunshine. His scent from working that morning should have put her off, but instead it attracted her like crazy. She tipped her head back, taking a long look.
He seemed relaxed. His jaw wasn’t clenched, just sprinkled with a five-o’clock shadow. His chest expanded with normal breaths, as though the effort of chasing her hadn’t been an effort at all. And he had the kindest brown eyes. Eyes that were easy to get lost in and forget exactly why she wanted him to release her. Eyes that cut through to her soul.
This man wouldn’t have brought her to his family if he’d intended to harm her. Brian Sloane wasn’t responsible for Jeremy’s death or the car accident. He was helping her find the man trying to kill her. It was just that simple. Her overactive imagination screamed to a halt. Even if her racing attraction didn’t.
