by Jodi Thomas
“But he’ll get wet back there in the bed of my truck. Maybe you should take him in the back seat of the cruiser?”
Cline shook his head. “I don’t think he’d fit sideways. He’s already soaked to the bone. Fifteen minutes more in your truck bed won’t matter.”
Thatcher slipped the pack off the soldier’s back and tossed it in first, then both men struggled to get Johnson in the truck.
“I think he’s made of lead,” Thatcher commented.
The soldier mumbled something about going home when they accidentally thumped his head against the toolbox.
“We’ll get you home, Captain. Mrs. Johnson is going to be real surprised to see you.”
As Cline followed Thatcher’s pickup down into the tiny lake community outside Crossroads, Texas, he wasn’t surprised Thatcher knew where the new drama teacher lived. The little lake house was built in a crescent shape so all the back windows faced the lake, but even in the headlights, the sheriff could see that it was freshly painted and decorated with enough yard art to start a store.
Like all locals did, Thatcher pulled his truck around back near the lake. Cline stopped at the front, walked up the winding path and knocked.
To his surprise, Thatcher unlocked the front door from the inside.
“She must have been expecting her husband. The back door was unlocked.” Thatcher turned lights on as he moved to the kitchen door. “I remember someone saying the drama team was at a meet in Lubbock. She must have gone with them.”
Cline frowned. “What do we do with the captain?”
“Wake him up and tell him he’s home alone.”
“Good luck with that. If he didn’t wake up rattling around in the back of your truck, he’s out for the night. And I’m guessing if his wife isn’t home, he’d just as soon sleep.”
“Maybe he’s hurt?” Thatcher lowered the tailgate and began tugging on the captain’s boots.
“No. I can hear him snoring from the front porch. He’s just tired.”
Cline jumped into the pickup and lifted Johnson’s shoulders. “How about we put him to bed? Mrs. Johnson may be gone all weekend, and from the looks of him, he’ll sleep it through.”
Thatcher nodded. “I’ll drop by tomorrow morning and leave a bag of donuts and coffee. I’ll make sure he’s alive but won’t wake him if he’s still sleeping.”
With great effort, they managed to half walk, half carry the captain to the bedroom.
“You all right, Captain?” Cline asked when the soldier kept standing as they both let go.
“Where am I?” he mumbled.
“You are home, sir.”
“Finally,” the captain said, and he took a deep breath. He stripped off his uniform, then Captain Johnson fell across the bed like a tree.
The sheriff floated a quilt over the man’s bare body, noticing the soldier had more than his share of scars along with fresh bruises and cuts.
The two lawmen backed out of the house, turning off lights as they moved.
“Mrs. Johnson is going to be real surprised to see him.” Thatcher laughed. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall when she walks into the bedroom and there he is, naked and asleep.”
Cline laughed. “I’m guessing the Johnsons wouldn’t agree to any plan that involves you watching their homecoming. We need to tell folks to stay away for a few days and give them some time.”
CHAPTER SIX
Griffin’s Plan
“I DON’T CARE how important you think it is, Griff, I’m not going over to the Franklin house again. First, that big place is old enough to be haunted, and second, the sisters pick on me,” Cooper yelled as he backed away.
“Yes, you are going this week and every week until we figure it out. We all are. We agreed that one of us would find a wife and be married by Christmas. That’s less than six weeks away, little brother. Not even two months left.” Griffin knew Cooper was their long shot for finding a bride, but they all had to try.
Cooper shook his head. “I don’t see how the sisters can help. I know how to compliment a girl. I don’t have to learn. We’re all too old for dating school.”
“Telling a girl that she has nice headlights is not a compliment, Cooper. Miss Franklin was right about that. The last girl you dated wrote her goodbye on the ranch gate.”
“I remember,” Cooper yelled again, as if he thought his brothers might be hard of hearing. “I’m the one who had to sand it off.”
Elliot clicked off his computer and reached for his jacket. “Give up on him, Griff. Maybe we should tell the Franklin sisters to find a deaf girl. It would be easier than trying to domesticate Cooper.”
All three walked out the side door of headquarters, still arguing. The first lesson at the Franklin sisters’ home last week had been an hour lecture on how to talk to a woman. Griff figured out about halfway through that pretty much anything he’d ever said to girls from the playground all the way to the woman he met last month at the feed store was wrong. He was amazed how he’d made it past thirty without being killed by an angry mob.
Each brother climbed into his own vehicle. Elliot drove his Aruba metallic gray Land Rover. Cooper rattled down the dirt road in the old red Ford pickup that had been their father’s. Tack and riding gear always loaded the bed of the truck.
Griffin drove his Toyota Tundra. It might be five years old, but there wasn’t a challenge it wouldn’t match. It never occurred to any of the Holloway boys that they should ride together during the thirty minutes to town. They all liked to drive.
On the way into town, Griffin listened to country music. Elliot liked jazz, and Griffin wasn’t sure what Cooper turned his radio to.
For thirty minutes, they’d all have time to think about the assignment the sisters had given them last week. Where do you see yourself in twenty years?
Griffin had no idea why they needed to know that, but the question had bothered him. He might have been able to answer in his teens or even early twenties, but somewhere over the past ten years—while he’d been burying his parents, running the ranch and trying to finish raising Cooper—Griffin had settled. Not just on the land, but he’d given up on dreams for himself. He’d stopped wishing for anything in his life. Lately, he’d just tried to get through each day, getting as much done as he could, trying not to worry himself into an early grave.
He was a man who lived by the seasons, and ranch work never got finished. Not one day had he ever woken up and said, “I’m caught up.” He’d never had one week when he’d decided to take off because everything could wait. Not one daydream that wasn’t marked with the Maverick brand.
Adventure, excitement, even joy and heartache had been washed away in a river of responsibilities. It never got easy. It never stopped. There were no vacations. Hell, there weren’t even days off. At some point, he’d given up on personal goals and decided to think of himself as more of a machine. He ate so he could keep going. He slept so his mind would be clear. He breathed to keep blood flowing, but somewhere amid all that had to be done, he’d stopped living.
He was a walking breathing corpse. The last thing he’d plant in Maverick soil would be himself—worn out, used up, broken-down.
The Franklin sisters wouldn’t be able to bring him back to life with table manners or by showing him where he went wrong with other women. One reason he’d quit even trying to date was simply that the excitement at the beginning wasn’t worth the arguments when it came time to break up. No matter what he did, dating wasn’t worth the disappointment at the end.
Before he could think of saying, “I love you,” women he’d dated were compiling his list of shortcomings. He never lived up to their hopes. Just once, he would have liked to be enough for a woman. Maybe not the greatest or the best, but enough.
Hell, maybe that’s why he forgot about goals. He never reached any of them anyway.
Griffin had a
pretty good guess as to why Cooper couldn’t answer the Franklins’ question about his future. Because twenty years from now, nothing would change for his little brother. He’d simply be twenty years older. Cooper had the life he wanted. Change could only be downhill for him.
When Griffin walked into the Franklins’ sunroom that had been converted into a classroom, he was surprised to see a tea set for five. Tea? Were the old ladies crazy? Beer might be more like it.
Cooper, who’d sworn he wasn’t sitting through another lecture, took one look at the tiny cakes and grabbed a chair. While the sisters took turns lecturing about how to act and what constituted proper dinner conversation, Cooper ate a dozen of the tiny cakes.
Within an hour, to Griffin’s surprise, the sisters dismissed both his brothers and ordered him to remain. He felt like he’d been kept after school, and the reason was bound to be something he didn’t want to hear.
Griffin shifted uncomfortably as they turned a huge whiteboard over, and he saw the names of the last five women he’d dated, with what looked like a list of complaints about him under each name.
This was going to be bad, he decided, real bad.
“First—” Rose tapped a wooden spoon over each name “—as near as we can tell, you have no type. There is no common denominator among the women.”
Silently, he wanted to argue. They were all women and they probably all hated him. Sure, one was ten years older, another eight years younger. Two were tall, two average and one too short. One blonde, one redhead, two brown-haired and one skunk-striped. He couldn’t remember how much education any one of them had. It hadn’t been a subject that had come up before he decided to run, or they made up some excuse not to go out with him again.
Rose lifted a sheet of paper Griffin had scribbled on before he’d climbed out of his truck. “Next, your vision of yourself twenty years from now.” She unfolded the note. “In twenty years, you want to have a successful ranch.”
“Right.” He smiled, proud that he’d thought of one goal. Hell, he’d always needed a successful ranch. One free of debt. One he wasn’t always worried about losing.
Rose didn’t look happy. “No wife? No children?”
Griffin was afraid to answer. Either way, he could sound like an idiot. He’d already asked them to help him find a wife, but the chances of her staying around for twenty years, with his record, didn’t seem high.
Rose pointed her spoon. “You don’t want a wife, do you, Griffin?”
He almost yelled that of course he wanted a wife, every man wants a wife, and kids, but deep down, he had no idea how he’d handle either. Women always made everything so complicated. In truth, he just wanted to keep his land. He wanted to see it prosper. He’d be happy watching his brothers have families. Hell, if he said he wanted offspring, the sisters would probably expect him to come up with names.
Maybe if the time ever came when he didn’t have to worry about losing the ranch, he’d think about the rest later. Kind of fill out the puzzle one piece at a time.
Rose looked like she might stare him down until the Second Coming, so Griffin decided to tell the truth. “I was hoping to find a woman with land or money. Either for me or one of my brothers, it don’t matter. I know you two ladies think it’s selfish, probably borderline criminal, but that’s about as far as I can reason right now. I’m hoping she’d bring an infusion of money or income to keep our ranch going. It’s been in the family for over a hundred and fifty years and I don’t want to be the one to lose it. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
When Rose didn’t say a word, he added, “You find me a rich girl who likes living in the country, and I swear I’ll be good to her. I’ll even let her name the children.” Griffin grinned. One future problem solved.
“But?” Rose coached as if she knew there was more to his request.
“But don’t expect me to entertain her or keep her company or take on the job of making her happy.” He might as well toss in another. “Or listen to her problems. I won’t have time. If she wants that kind of partner, then she’d be happier with a cocker spaniel.”
Rose nodded once at her sister, then straightened as if making a formal announcement.
Griffin stood to face the sentencing. They wouldn’t have to kick him out. He’d thank them politely and leave with his head up. He might not have answered the way they wanted him to, but at least he’d been honest.
Rose cleared her throat. “Griffin Holloway, I think my sister and I have found just the woman for you. Meet me at Dorothy’s Café at two tomorrow. There will be details to go over.”
Two minutes later, Griffin walked out of the sisters’ bed-and-breakfast, trying to figure out if he was happy or terrified. Mostly, he was just shocked that the old girls hadn’t been put off with the truth. He realized he knew nothing about women or how to make them happy, but if they thought one woman might be interested, he’d try.
Nightmares haunted him until almost sunup about what would be waiting for him at two o’clock. A woman so ugly telemarketers wouldn’t hire her. A rich girl with a dozen kids she planned to bring along. A lynch mob because he was the most insensitive man who ever lived.
The Franklin sisters hadn’t told him anything, but Griffin knew one fact. This woman who was interested in marrying him didn’t have very high standards.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dorothy’s Café
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Griffin walked into Dorothy’s Café to face his fate. He felt like he’d won the toss to be the first brother to stand before a firing squad.
As he looked around the almost empty café, he found himself hoping Rose didn’t show up. Maybe she was simply testing him. After all, almost every woman he’d dated in the past mentioned how he was unreliable or never on time.
Two o’clock on the dot, and not surprising, both of the Franklins were at the back table. Griffin smiled. No prospective bride waiting. They were just testing him. He was so relieved, he couldn’t have wiped his grin off with dynamite.
“Afternoon, ladies. May I join you?”
Rose rolled her eyes. “Of course you can, Griffin. You’re the reason we’re here.”
He pulled out the chair across from them and folded his arms. He was reliable. He could be on time. He’d just proved it. Now they could take that fault off his list.
The waitress rushed over and offered him coffee, then refilled the ladies’ iced teas. When she finally stopped chatting and wandered off, Griffin started, “I guess my future wife wasn’t as easy to find as you thought.”
Rose raised one finger. “Oh, we found her, but she has a few concerns about you, Griffin Holloway. We’re just staying around to make introductions and warn you to be on your best behavior. You’re not an easy sale, boy.”
“Does she even know me?”
Rose straightened. “No, but she Googled you.”
“Does she fit my criteria?” He hated that he sounded so cold, but Griffin didn’t want to waste his time or hurt some woman’s feelings because he didn’t pick the first offer presented.
“She does.” Daisy finally joined the conversation. “The question, Mr. Holloway, is do you fit her list of requirements?”
Griffin didn’t like the lady already. Maybe the Franklins thought she was pretty, smart and rich, but he was picking her, not the other way around.
Before he could complain, a silver Denali truck pulled up out front. No one could miss the huge black crown on the truck’s door.
“You ever hear of the Krown Ranch?” Rose asked.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it. South of here a few hundred miles. Huge and powerful. The man who owns it spends more time in Austin than on his ranch. Never met any of the family, but I hear they raise some of the best registered Angus cattle in the state.”
Rose stood. “Well, you’re about to meet Sunlan Winston Krown. Be polite to her, Griffin, because she fills out your
list.”
Daisy joined her sister as she tried to gather up her purse and finish her tea at the same time.
Deciding now might be a good time to run, Griffin considered heading out the door. He saw a tall woman in a cream-colored wool suit step out of the truck. Her hair was sunshine-blond and pulled back in a neat knot. She was about his age, but way out of his league. Everything about her, from her handmade leather boots to her perfectly fitted jacket said money, deep-pocket money.
Griffin hadn’t even worn his good hat.
Rose passed him, knocking her huge purse against his leg. “Don’t look so worried, Griffin. When I told her you wanted to get married before Christmas, she said, ‘Fine with me, but we’ll have a few things to settle first.’ At least she didn’t turn you down right away. We’ll leave you two alone to hammer out the details.”
Griffin walked to the front door and held it open so the Franklin sisters could leave and Miss Krown could step in. As she passed him, he just stood there, staring like Dorothy’s Café had a doorman.
“Mr. Holloway?” She nodded once without smiling.
“Miss Krown.”
They stood assessing each other. He decided she wasn’t pretty—stunning was more the mark, but on closer look, he didn’t miss the dark circles beneath her beautiful blue eyes or the pale skin her makeup didn’t quite conceal.
The lady had her problems, and at this point, he wasn’t sure if he was adding to them or being offered up as a solution.
Maybe she’s dying, he thought. For some reason, she wants to be married before she passes. Why else would a woman like her even be talking to a man like him?
“Shall we sit?” Her words were low, like she thought she might be trying to communicate with a lower life form.
“Sure.” He waved her to the table where he’d been sitting with the sisters. “Would you like some coffee?”
