She hadn’t planned to say anything like that, and Brooke was pleased to see Gunner’s face break into a warm smile at her boast. “I don’t know what it is about that girl of yours, but you can’t help but like her.” He looked away from Brooke at that moment, making her wonder if he hadn’t planned to say anything like that, either. It felt too possible that they were talking about more than just Audie. For a courageous second, Brooke thought about asking Gunner if he’d take the second gala ticket Mr. Markham had offered her. After all, it’d be a nice thank-you for all he was doing today. “Gunner,” she began, tamping down her nerves, “would you...”
“Look, children!” Adele’s voice interrupted their conversation. “Mr. Flatrock is bringing out a bison for you to meet.”
The ranch foreman led a small animal out into the pen where Audie had first met Daisy. The kids rushed over to the fence, setting both Gunner and Brooke into a fast trot over to the pen to keep everyone safe. Billy and the bison were still a distance away, but Brooke remembered all the warnings about wild animals Gunner had given them on their first encounter.
He went through the same speech Audie had heard then about how bison weren’t always friendly and how their size and strength could make them dangerous. As he spoke, Brooke watched him and Adele line the kids up against the fence in small groups. As Billy walked the animal by, he explained that this bison was also a bottle-raised orphan like Daisy. Gunner helped each one reach out and touch the soft brown fur. Gunner made a great show of how he wasn’t much for kids, but all of that was proven wrong as she watched him interact. He talked to them, not at them, and the kids clearly caught his genuine passion for the animals and their welfare.
After their “up close and personal” as Adele called it, she led the kids to a basin and had them wash their hands before declaring it snack time. The appearance of ice cream and brownies sent the kids into squeals of delight.
“You’d think they never saw ice cream before,” Gunner said, making a show of putting his fingers in his ears.
The enthusiasm was a bit deafening, but then again the bus-ride singing had been just as loud. “Usually it’s just juice and crackers, I guess.”
“Well, that’s Gran for you. Over-the-top again.”
“I think she’s wonderful,” Brooke admitted. And she meant it. Adele’s rampant exuberance made the woman a joy to be around. It made her wonder how much of a grump Gunner might have been without someone like his gran in his life. Gunner struck her as capable of happiness, just wary of it. Losing Jim had given her a sort of radar for people with a hole in their hearts—a “takes one to know one” sense of other’s scars. Certainly the loss of his parents and the rift with his father would have been enough to do that to a man, but it felt like more to her. Maybe that was why he hadn’t yet married despite his land and his looks—for he had more than enough of both to catch any number of Texan fillies.
“She’s something else, that’s for sure.” The two of them watched Adele in all her glory, flitting between children, accepting hugs and smiling back at ice-cream-and-brownie-smudged faces.
She wanted to make sure she said it. “Thank you. Really. This has been wonderful.”
When he returned her smile, she saw a hint of his grandmother’s vitality in his eyes. He was more like Adele than he knew—or would ever admit. “Believe it or not, I enjoyed myself.” He leaned in, and Brooke smelled an intoxicating mix of leather and soap and cowboy. “Don’t you dare tell a soul.”
Chapter Eleven
Gunner adjusted his tie for the third time Saturday night, feeling every bit of the starch in his tuxedo shirt. There was a reason he didn’t work in an office—he hated getting fussed up for things like this.
“Why are we going to this?” he called down the hall to Gran’s room, where she was clearly enjoying getting all gussied up.
“People still do invite me to things, Gunner. I like to go, and Heartstrings is a fine and worthy cause.”
She walked into the hallway, and even Gunner had to admit she looked wonderful. One glimpse at her in the sparkly silver dress she wore, and he could see why Grandpa had fallen head over heels. “Are you bringing me along for protection?” he teased. “You’ll be fighting off herds of old cowboys looking like that.”
She blushed, but her pleasure at the compliment glowed in her eyes. “I see you haven’t lost your touch. My, but you do lay it on thick.” She winked. “Keep it coming. At my age, I gotta savor every compliment.”
“I like a good time as much as the next guy—” not that tonight qualified as anything he would consider a good time “—but Nolan Rostam’s event? He’s in tight with Jace Markham. I’m sure DelTex has a dozen tables at this thing.”
“The whole world does not boil down to Jace Markham and his agenda.” Gran adjusted an earring. “And even if he’s there, it might be good for you two bulls to lock horns on neutral ground. I’d much rather face Markham in a fancy setting over a good meal than go through the unpleasantness of tossing him off my property.”
Gunner fiddled with an uncooperative cuff link. Gran had a point, he supposed. While they’d tried all sorts of refusals, the one thing they hadn’t done was to say a declarative “no” face-to-face. Maybe tonight would be the best place to drive the point politely home. Or not so politely.
“Here, let me do that.” Gran settled the turquoise-and silver-studded cuff link into place. They had been Grandpa’s, and he saw the memory mist over her eyes for a moment. “I do declare, you look sharp.” She giggled—a marvelous, velvety laugh he hadn’t heard nearly enough lately. “Maybe it’s you who’ll need my protection tonight.”
He rolled his eyes at the suggestion. The kinds of women who usually went to these things weren’t his choice of companions anymore. The ones who weren’t married were on the prowl—and quite frankly, so were far too many of the ones who were married. “I doubt that.”
“Have you ever thought that Brooke might be there? She works for DelTex.”
“I don’t think she’s high enough up to land an invite to something like this. She’d have mentioned it, I think.”
“I didn’t tell her we were going. Did you?”
“It never came up.” The possibility of seeing Brooke settled ticklish in the back of his brain. “But I doubt she’ll be there.”
“You never know. Anyone could be waiting for you tonight, ready to show you a marvelous evening. That’s the thing about these shindigs. You have to go deciding you’re going to have a good time.”
“Women love to dress up, I get it. If you had to wear one of these monkey suits, however, you might not be hankering to go so much.” He ran his finger under the stiff collar. “They itch.”
“If I can have fun in high heels, you can have fun looking like an oil baron. Half the men end up pulling off their ties after dessert anyhow.” She looked at him, head to toe, a bittersweet smile turning up one corner of her mouth. “My, but you look like your father tonight.”
He leaned down and kissed Gran’s cheek. She’d even put on perfume tonight—she really was doing it up. “And you look beautiful, Gran.”
She grabbed his hand. “Let’s go show them the Blue Thorn has still got it, shall we?”
Forty minutes later, Gunner handed the keys to the ranch’s shiny old Cadillac—Gran’s car that hardly ever got used but was washed and waxed for the occasion—to the valet and offered his grandmother his arm. They walked through the grand old entrance of the Driskill hotel, as opulent a setting as Austin had to offer. The place looked like Texas’s version of a king’s castle—just the spot for a senator looking to make a fine showing before an election year.
Gran looked in her element, but Gunner felt like a pretender. He may need to move in these circles someday if the Blue Thorn were to rise to its former glory, but today the whole exercise felt over his head. A blue-jean guy in
vading a black-tie world. Gunner found himself wishing Brooke really was here just so he wouldn’t feel so out of place.
Gran pulled on his elbow as they found their names among the sea of place cards set up outside the ballroom. “When you see Jace Markham—and you will, I’m sure of it—you will be civil. You can be firm, but you’ll be a gentleman about it, no matter how he pushes. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” It’d be hard, but he’d do it. Markham had a talent for pushing his buttons, but tonight he’d show Gran he could be the diplomat the Blue Thorn needed at its helm.
He was just turning into the ballroom when he saw it: a place card marked “Mrs. Brooke Calder and Guest.” She was here. That thought sent a hum under his ribs and changed the atmosphere of the entire evening for him.
But she wasn’t here alone.
That shouldn’t be an issue for him, but the truth was he didn’t welcome the idea of watching Brooke Calder dance and dine with some other man. The unfounded jealousy surprised and annoyed him. He didn’t want to get personal with Brooke Calder, and yet part of him already had. The confused tightening in his gut was going to make it a long night.
Gran had followed his stare, for she touched the card with Brooke’s name and slanted a sideways glance at Gunner. “See? She is here. Won’t that make for an interesting evening?” She gave the word interesting a teasing tone, waggling one gray eyebrow to boot.
“She’s with a guest, Gran.” He tried to keep his voice neutral, but realized too late that his comment about her guest revealed his thinking. This was the last area Gran needed any encouragement to start meddling.
“So are you.” She didn’t have to say “and you’re unattached”; her eyes shouted it at him. “Table sixteen. That’ll be near ours, I expect.”
Gunner picked up his and Gran’s cards and scanned the number eighteen in one corner. What fool placed us near the DelTex tables? So now not only did he have to endure running into Brooke Calder all dressed up on a date with another man, he was in danger of having her in full view for most of the evening, too. The bow tie around his neck was starting to feel more like a noose.
He spent the next ten minutes trying not to look over his shoulder at the entryway while Gran glided from one group of friends to another, shaking hands and waving at everyone. Here was that same truth again on display in front of him: everyone loved Gran. He knew Gunner Buckton Senior was not as universally loved as Gran and Grandpa had been, but he also knew times had been harder when Dad took the reins of the Blue Thorn. Choices were tougher, resources tight and competition had made enemies of friends all over the region.
This was another reason he didn’t go to church. People were cordial to him but always a bit suspicious, because of his own black-sheep past, and because of their problems with his father. At big events like this, Gunner always felt as if the whole world was still deciding whether or not to accept him.
Gunner’s hand was starting to ache from endless handshakes when he caught sight of her. Over someone’s shoulder, on the far side of the room, he picked her particular hair color out of the crowd. Her back was to him, a fortunate advantage as he stared at the creamy skin of her shoulders against a brilliant blue satiny dress she wore. When he noticed the wash of freckles on those shoulders, the room temperature seemed to rise a dozen degrees.
He didn’t want to be caught staring when she turned around. Right now he held the advantage—since he’d picked up his table card before she arrived, he knew she was here, but she didn’t know he was present. He was going to have to time their meeting carefully in order to keep that advantage. It was leverage and control he was going to need. He could already imagine what the color of that dress did to Brooke’s eyes. In fact, he was having trouble thinking of anything else.
“Gran, would you like some punch or something before we sit down?”
She saw right through him, of course. She said a simple “Sure,” but her eyes said Are you heading toward her or hiding from her?
“I’m thirsty, too,” he replied, hoping his own eyes said That’s none of your business. “I’ll go get us some drinks.”
* * *
Brooke couldn’t have been the only woman here at the event alone, but it sure felt like it. Audie and the sitter had fawned over her choice of dress and hairstyle, telling her she looked lovely, but Brooke still felt like an imposter. The opulent ballroom was filled with people of wealth, status and power—this wasn’t her world. She’d been let in as a prize for good behavior, and while that should have made her feel special and valued, it only made Brooke feel awkward and tolerated. It’s like a grown-up version of moving from the kids’ table to sitting with the adults at Thanksgiving, she thought to herself. I’m here, but not like everyone else.
Part of that is your own fault, you chicken, she scolded herself, and she picked up her place card, the words “and Guest” mocking her from the creamy card stock. Nothing had stopped her from bringing a date but her own fears and doubts. Even if it was a bad idea to ask Gunner—and it was, so she was glad she’d not followed through on that impulse—there were a few men from church and even one or two single fathers from Audie’s class that she could have brought to the gala. She still would have felt like the poor relation, but at least she’d have had company. But you didn’t, so now you’re going to have to live with it. This room is filled with people who can help your career, so don’t you dare leave early. You’re smart enough and strong enough to handle this.
Brooke gathered her courage as she fixed a stray curl in a nearby mirror. She remembered her mother’s words that night after Audie’s bedtime prayers, the first day she even began to admit she might be ready to let another man into her life. You’ll never totally be ready. She’d told her mother Gunner was complicated. Okay, Lord, she prayed as she clutched her evening bag a bit tighter and turned toward the glittering crowd gathered around an elaborate punch fountain, help me have an enjoyable evening. If there’s a nice, uncomplicated man in that sea of tuxedos, I wouldn’t mind You sending him my way.
“Well, look here. You must be Brooke Calder, only you don’t look at all like the Brooke Calder from my office.” Jace Markham gave her a huge smile as he nudged his wife. “Lorna, this is that young woman from our communications department I was telling you about.”
“With the little girl,” Mrs. Markham cooed. “Yes, I remember. You single mothers have got it hard, bless your heart.”
Brooke was hoping for more of a professional compliment, and she’d heard bless your heart enough times in the past two years to last a lifetime, but she smiled and shook the jeweled hand the woman offered. “I enjoy my work at DelTex very much, Mrs. Markham.”
“Well, I know my Jace thinks very highly of you. And he was just saying how very creative you’ve been with Adele Buckton and her lot over there at the Blue Thorn.”
“Did he, now?”
It took a moment for Brooke to place the owner of the deep voice behind her. It took another moment for her to catch her breath when she turned to see Gunner Buckton in a tuxedo. He looked exceedingly handsome—and exceedingly peeved. “Gunner!”
“So you two do know each other.” Mrs. Markham seemed delighted at the unfolding drama.
Gunner Buckton and Jace Markham stared each other down like a pair of bulls about to charge. Brooke angled herself between them. “Did your husband tell you what a wonderful field trip Gunner arranged for my Audie and her third-grade class? Adele even served them ice cream.”
Her words did nothing to soften the daggered looks flying between the two men. Brooke flashed a “help me” look to Mrs. Markham, hoping for any assistance in preventing what was starting to look like quite a scene, but Lorna Markham merely smiled. “So you’re Adele’s grandson back from wherever. I remember you when you were just a little thing, but you’ve been gone a long time, haven’t you?”
“I came hom
e when it came to my attention the Blue Thorn needed defending.” Gunner addressed that last word to Mr. Markham.
“It was just happenstance that one of the Blue Thorn bison blocked my way on the road coming back from Ramble Acres one afternoon. Gunner came to my rescue, and Audie and I have gotten to know the animal quite well, actually.” Brooke was sure she was babbling, but she was too afraid to leave enough space for those men to go at it.
“I wasn’t aware folks were so welcoming on the Blue Thorn,” Mr. Markham said, tucking his hands into the pockets of the brocade vest he wore.
“Really, they’ve been wonderful,” Brooke offered.
“Does me good to hear it,” he said. “Maybe we can finally have that chat I’ve been meaning to have with you and your grandma.”
“Maybe not,” Gunner bristled, “and you’ll have it with me if you have it at all. Which you won’t.”
“Y’all are not going to be talking business on a night like this,” Mrs. Markham scolded with practiced cheer. “I won’t have my fancy night taken up with negotiations.” She gave the final word an unpleasant tone.
“Now, Lorna, we’re just being social.” Mr. Markham held up one hand.
“You two are about as social as a pair of longhorns pawing the ground at each other.” Brooke was glad when the woman tugged on her husband’s arm. “Come on, Jace. I want to go say hello to Bo Davis and his new bride.” She nodded at Brooke. “Nice to meet you, dear. Enjoy yourself tonight.”
Fat chance of that, Brooke thought as she looked up at Gunner’s sharp frown. “Was that really necessary?”
He ignored her question. “Why are you here?”
She didn’t care for his tone. “My boss gave me tickets.” Immediately, she wished she’d said something that sounded more like she had every right to be at a ritzy event like this.
“A prize for weaseling your way onto the Blue Thorn?”
The Texas Rancher's Return Page 10
