by Susan Fox
“I don’t know.”
“Living beyond their means?”
“No. The Sorokins seem . . . normal, from the outside.” Her voice gave a tiny quaver.
Jake’s hands tensed, wanting to make fists. He hated men who hit women, and he especially hated the idea that someone had done that to Brooke.
“Miller’s a redneck,” she went on. “Spends a lot of time in the bar watching sports, drinking, shooting pool, hanging out with the guys. He has a rancher-style house, a wife who doesn’t work outside the home, a son about twelve, and a daughter a few years younger. The son is big for his age, good at sports, but a bully like his father. The daughter is a little princess. Pretty clothes, dancing lessons.”
“Nothing very suspicious there.”
“I guess not,” she said reluctantly. “But I really don’t like the man.”
Jake suppressed a grin. If the RCMP were to act on female intuition, Miller was obviously their man. If only it were that easy. “What’s his drink?”
“I’ve seen him with beer. Hard liquor too, but I don’t know what kind.” She gestured toward the clock and picked up the cake. “Let’s take your car.”
Once in the Lexus, she balanced the cake platter on her lap. Too bad. He’d have liked to put his hand there. High up on the inside of her thigh.
He turned the car in the direction she indicated. “You said they live close by?”
“We all live on Bly Ranch.”
“Oh yeah? That seems a little close for comfort.”
“It works surprisingly well. Wade, Jessica’s dad, had a stroke a while back. Jessica and Robin moved in to help with things, and Wade and Miriam added Jess to the title for the ranch. When she married Evan, they added him too, and he’s handling the finances. Now they’ve all allocated part of the ranch land for Jess and Evan’s house and her Riders Boot Camp. Evan cashed in some investments so they got the house built last fall.”
“And your house is on the Blys’ ranch too?”
“I was in a run-down rental in town, and the Blys’ rental cottage was sitting vacant. They made me the offer, and persuaded me it wasn’t charity, so I moved in. I love being out here in the country. It’s so peaceful and quiet.” She gave a snort of laughter. “Or it was, until the guy on the Harley came along. But anyhow, I love being close to the family. Robin taught me to ride and we go out a couple of times a week. And also, I’m a partner in Jess’s new business.”
“A partner in a new business? That sounds a little risky.” And Brooke had told him she was risk averse. “Is that the Riders Boot Camp you mentioned?”
“Yes. And the money I invested is money Evan sent me over the years.”
“Why didn’t you spend it?”
“I couldn’t. It didn’t seem right. So I saved it, with the idea—which seemed crazy at the time—that maybe one day he’d need my help. As it turned out, Jess had this dream of opening a no-frills riding boot camp, and she needed investors—or donors, actually, because it’s set up as a charitable foundation. It seemed like a perfect use for the money.”
“It does.” The more he knew of Brooke, the better he liked and respected her. “A charitable foundation? How does that work?”
“Basically, those who can afford it pay to attend. People who are disadvantaged and would really benefit from the experience but couldn’t possibly afford it get scholarships. Donor investments fund the core operation and the donors get tax deductions and camp privileges. Evan worked out all the details. He’s a whiz at things like that.”
“Says his proud mom.” He was curious to meet her family. It still seemed hard to believe Brooke had a grown-up son who had his own wife, kid, and baby on the way.
She chuckled. “I surely am. You can’t believe how good it feels to have him in my life, and just down the road. Speaking of which—” She gestured toward two wooden signs marking a road on the right.
One sign, weathered and comfortable, said “Bly Ranch.” The other, its carving fresh, said, “Riders Boot Camp” and featured a logo of two tooled cowboy boots leaning against each other.
“The logo was Robin’s idea,” Brooke said proudly. Then, with concern in her voice, she went on, “They’re really good people. I hate to deceive them. Particularly Evan, because I lied to him so much when he was a kid. Can’t we tell them the truth?”
“I’m sorry. It’s not a matter of trust, Brooke; it’s for their own protection. It’s easy to let something slip. Bad enough you’re taking the risk, but I’ll look after you. We can’t endanger them as well.”
“No, of course not,” she said quickly.
The narrow road was lined by split-rail fences. Cattle, including a number of calves, grazed on both sides of the road. Buildings came into view ahead. An old-fashioned farmhouse with flowers in the garden, a barn, outbuildings, all old but in good shape. Another “Bly Ranch” sign, this one new.
“Keep on the main road,” she directed, excitement lighting her voice. “The boot camp’s up here. Everything’s new since last summer. It’s amazing how quickly it all went up, but Jessica wanted to start operations this year.”
Now Jake saw horses rather than cattle, then another Riders Boot Camp sign. Brooke pointed out the various buildings: a barn and a wooden-fenced ring, a rustic lodge, a handful of small log cabins for couples and families, and a bunkhouse for groups of kids and single adults. “It’s no-frills,” she reminded him, “not a resort. It’s all about the horses and riding.”
Like the signs, everything looked fresh and a little raw, but he admired the way the buildings had been laid out among the trees. “A nice setup,” he commented.
She nodded in agreement and directed him a little farther. Pointing, she said, “There. That’s Evan and Jess’s house.”
This house, too, looked brand new, though he could see how attractive and homey it would be when the wood aged. Landscaping was minimal, and he’d bet Brooke itched to get her hands on the garden.
“Oh, my gosh,” she said breathlessly, “it just really hit me, what we’re doing.”
He parked in front of the house and turned to her. Her forehead was wrinkled with anxiety. He’d have kissed the lines away if he wasn’t afraid someone might glance out one of the large front windows. Instead he touched her hand briefly. “It’ll be okay. Remember, I’m Arnold. Neither of us can forget that. But you and I are family, so we don’t have to be too formal with each other.”
When she reached for the door handle he said, “Wait for me. I’m a gentleman.”
He slid out of the car and paused a moment to adjust his tie and smooth his jacket. Then he walked around the car, careful to move like an uninjured man, and opened the passenger door. He took the cake from Brooke, balanced the platter on one hand, and extended his arm to assist her.
“I’m your cousin, not your ancient grandmother,” she hissed.
He choked back a laugh. “You’re a lady.”
She swung out of the car so quickly and nimbly he had to step back. Then she grabbed the cake from him and marched to the front door. “Knock lightly a couple of times,” she instructed him. “Then open the door. It’ll be unlocked.”
He complied, then stood back to let her enter first.
She called “Hello” as he glanced around at a pleasantly, if somewhat sparsely, furnished living room. Hardwood floors with rugs scattered about, paintings and photos of horses on the walls, a wooden staircase leading up to the second floor. This room told such a different story from Brooke’s own main room. She was a homebody who’d built herself a cozy nest; her son’s family was too busy to care much about their surroundings.
“Gramma!” a young voice shrieked from upstairs. A girl scampered down the stairs, apparently prepared to launch herself straight at Brooke.
Jake rescued the cake in the nick of time, trying not to wince as the sudden motion wrenched his healing wounds.
“Robin.” Brooke hugged the girl close.
Yes, she really was a grandmother. As the two
separated, Jake got his first good look at Robin. Brooke had said she was eleven, but he’d have taken her for a year or two older. Brooke was about five feet six, and the girl, slim and fit, came up to her shoulders. She’d end up taller than her grandmother, he’d be willing to bet.
And likely a beauty too. She was already showing the signs, with her even features, glossy chestnut hair in a ponytail, and expression of lively interest.
“You must be Mr. Pitt,” she said.
“Call me Arnold.” He put the cake down on a sideboard by the door and held out a hand.
She put hers into it and shook firmly.
“And you’re Robin.”
“And we’re some kind of relations, but Mom and Evan and I couldn’t figure out exactly what to call it.”
“Well, I’m your grandmother’s cousin. Her father’s brother’s son. So why don’t we make it easy and just say we’re cousins too? Cousins by marriage, I suppose.”
“That’s right, because Evan’s my stepdad.”
“Did I hear my name?” a male voice asked, and Jake turned to see a man enter the living room.
Brooke’s son. A real grown-up man, roughly his own height and build. Evan gazed at him with a friendly, curious expression, but before greeting him, Evan hugged Brooke. “Hi, Mom. Glad you’re feeling better.”
Her eyes lit, telling Jake she didn’t take hugs from her son for granted.
She hugged him back, almost fiercely. “The father to be. Oh, Evan, I’m so thrilled for you.” She released him and turned to Robin. “For all of us. Gosh, Robin, you’re going to have a baby brother or sister.”
“Yeah, it’ll be so much fun!”
“And a big responsibility too,” Brooke said, shooting a quick, apologetic look in Evan’s direction, an acknowledgment of her own shortcomings.
He responded with a rueful expression and a shrug that seemed to say, What’s done is done. Let’s move on. Perhaps sensing she needed reassurance, he said, “Glad you feel that way, Mom, because we’re counting on you to baby-sit.”
Brooke swallowed hard. “Any time. Absolutely any time.”
Watching the two of them, Jake thought how much they’d been through, and were still going through. Years during which she’d been ill and not known it, and had abused Evan—emotionally, if not physically. Their eventual reconciliation. The integration of Brooke into Evan’s new family.
And now, a cycle starting again. A baby. Jake would have bet his Harley that Brooke would be the most perfect, most trustworthy grandmother any baby could hope for. He was pretty sure Evan knew that too. But how the poor guy must wish that his mother had been there for him, the way she would be there for his kids.
Evan held out his hand. “I’m Evan Kincaid. Welcome to our home.”
“I appreciate your hospitality. I’m Arnold Pitt.” Damn, Brooke’s unwillingness to lie was contagious. He found himself hating to deceive this man.
“Where’s Jessica?” Brooke asked. “And how’s she feeling?”
“She’s in seventh heaven. No morning sickness yet and—”
He broke off as a door opened somewhere in the house, then slammed again. “She had to dash down to Boots to check on a new gelding.”
Boots, Jake gathered, was short for Riders Boot Camp.
“It’s the new one the horse whisperer sent,” Robin said eagerly. “He’s a beaut.”
“Horse whisperer?” Jake asked.
“A man named Ty Ronan,” Brooke said. “He’s down in the Fraser Valley and he heals rescue horses that have been physically and emotionally abused. Jessica takes some of them to train for use at Riders Boot Camp.”
So the camp was a charity not only for disadvantaged humans but for damaged horses as well. Damn, but he liked these people.
A young woman in jeans and cowboy boots dashed into the room. “Sorry I’m late.”
She was Robin, in adult form. Add a few curves, a mature beauty. But it was the same ponytail, same smile.
She hugged Brooke. “Gramma for the second time. Can you believe it?”
Well, no one around here was letting him forget that Brooke was older than he, and had a whole tangle of family bonds. Thank God their relationship was a temporary one, or he might be having reservations.
What was he thinking? Of course he’d be having reservations, and her age and family would be the least of them. The phrase “long-term relationship” wasn’t in his vocabulary.
He did, however, seriously want to squeeze Brooke’s cute little butt. She was showering hugs on everyone but him, and he felt left out.
Jessica welcomed him with a warm handshake. “This is exciting, Arnold. You’re the first of Brooke’s family that we’ve met. You’re going to have to tell us everything about her when she was a girl.”
He laughed. “I do have some stories.”
Brooke gave him a punch on the arm. “I have more stories about you.”
“That sounds like a threat, cousin. You were always good at threats. Did they teach you that in baby-sitter school?”
After they’d all shared a chuckle, Jessica said, “Arnold, I’m afraid we’re not exactly gourmet chefs around here. We have steaks marinating to throw on the grill. You eat meat, don’t you?”
“That sounds good, thank you.”
“We’ll eat out on the back patio.” She flashed a grin. “The air here’s the best you’ve ever smelled, and the mosquitoes mostly don’t come out until after dusk.”
“Liar,” Evan teased.
He led them through a large, well-appointed kitchen and onto a patio with a slatted-wood dining table and chairs with cushioned seats. “Now, what can I get you to drink, Arnold?”
Jake hesitated. What was the socially correct thing to do, given Brooke’s alcoholism? Perhaps Evan recognized his quandary, because he said, “I’m having a glass of wine myself. It’s a gamay nór from Grey Monk in the Okanagan.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.” Wine wasn’t his drink, but he figured it would be in character for Arnold.
Evan poured wine for the two of them and fruit juice with club soda for the three females. Robin reported that the baked potatoes in the oven had another ten minutes to go, Evan lit the barbecue, and Jess brought a bowl with marinated steaks from the kitchen.
When Jess sat down, Evan stood behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. “So, Arnold, Mom says you’re thinking about leaving the city. Did she tell you I’ve recently done that myself?”
“Yes, after you’d worked in New York for many years. It must have been a big change.”
“But definitely worth it.” He bent to drop a kiss on the top of Jessica’s head.
“Brooke said you’ve set up your own investment-counseling business here. Has it been hard or was the town receptive?”
“It’s a friendly town. Conservative, but in a good way. The slower pace of life took some getting used to but it’s great. It’s much, much healthier.”
“I can believe that. And down in Vancouver, the crime rate is troubling, as is the case in most big cities.”
“Caribou Crossing’s not exactly crime free.” Brooke picked up his lead neatly. “But our crimes tend to be minor ones. Like vandalism by young people who are bored and unhappy.” She glanced up at Evan. “Did you hear Gifts of the Caribou was broken into?”
“Yeah. Not much was taken, apparently. Vijay had an alarm system, so when the thief jimmied the door it went off. The guy smashed a display case, snatched a few pieces of jewelry, and made his escape before the police got there.”
“One of those bored teenagers?” Jake asked.
“Probably so.”
“What about drugs? That’s a big problem in Vancouver.”
“Not here,” Jessica said. “It’s a very clean community.”
“Oh, puh-leese,” Robin contributed, and all heads swung her way.
Chapter Thirteen
The girl rolled her eyes above the rim of her glass. “People use drugs here. Even at my school. We’re not a
ll that goody-goody.”
“What in holy blue blazes are you talking about?” her mother asked, her voice high pitched.
Evan, too, gaped at the girl. “Some of the kids at your school use drugs?”
She shrugged and put the glass down. “Well, duh. They’re, you know, that kind of kid.”
“What kind of kid?” her mother asked.
“You know,” Robin repeated. “Like Gramma said, bored and unhappy. Their older brothers and sisters use drugs and they think it’s cool.”
“Cool?” Evan sounded appalled.
The girl shrugged again. “Not me, I don’t think that. It’s like smoking, right? It’s just stupid, they’re killing themselves, but they don’t see it that way. Or they don’t care.” She turned to Arnold. “Oops. You don’t smoke, do you?”
“You think I’d confess to it now if I did?” he teased.
He hadn’t figured that the drug expert in the crowd would be the eleven-year-old, but now that he had her on the subject he figured he might as well probe a bit further. “Where do the kids get their drugs?”
“Like they’d tell me? I figure the kids in elementary school probably get them from their brothers and sisters, or their friends’ brothers and sisters.”
“So there aren’t drug dealers hanging out at the schools?” Jessica asked anxiously.
“I don’t know. No one’s tried to sell me drugs.”
“Does the RCMP do anything about the kids who use drugs?” Jake asked.
“They have a no-tolerance policy,” Jess said.
Robin gave a very adult snort. “The cops are so dumb. Once or twice a year some of the Williams Lake RCMP come into the school with dogs. Drug-sniffing dogs.”
“That doesn’t sound dumb,” Jessica said.
“The druggies always know ahead of time. The cops hardly ever catch anyone, and if they do it’s some moron who tried the stuff for the first time, not one of the real druggies.”
Jessica bounced to her feet. “On that note, I’m going to finish off the salad, and, Evan, you’d better get those steaks on. Before Robin scares Arnold off moving to Caribou Crossing.”
Obediently, Evan transferred the marinated steaks to the barbecue. To Jake, he said, “Meals are a bit thrown together because we’re all so busy, but we figure the important thing is that we have an opportunity to sit down together and talk.”
