Brooke hated that Gunner used the very word she’d thought of in terms of these tickets. “That’s low, Gunner. I don’t know what it’s going to take to convince you Audie’s visit was not some sort of setup.”
“It’s going to take a lot more time than you have. You ought to run back to your date now—he’ll be wondering what happened to you.”
“I don’t have one.” It jumped out of her mouth from sheer annoyance. She lifted her chin, determined to show strength. “I’m perfectly capable of attending a gala without an escort, thank you very much.”
“So you couldn’t land a date, either, hmm?” His tone was anything but commiserating.
“Oh, there you are, Gunner, I’ve been—” Brooke had been so busy steeling herself from Gunner’s fierce glare that she hadn’t even noticed Adele come up. “Oh, my stars, look who it is! Brooke, you look positively radiant. I had no idea you were coming to this.”
“Yes, Gran, isn’t it amazing how she keeps popping up in our lives?” Gunner shot her a dark look, but Brooke refused to flinch. “Who could have planned it?”
“I know Gunner was so pleased to see your name on the place-card table, dear. I’m sure he thought he’d be bored stiff being stuck with an old hen like me all evening.”
Gunner didn’t look anything close to pleased at the moment. It didn’t take long for Adele to pick up on the tension. “Someone want to tell me who threw ice water on this party?”
“Markham.” Gunner practically ground the name out through his teeth.
Adele looked at Brooke. “They didn’t fight, did they?”
“Well, they came very close,” Brooke admitted.
Gunner stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. That cowboy cleaned up entirely too nicely—it would be a lot easier to stay annoyed at his behavior if he didn’t look quite so eye-popping in that tux. “Brooke is here as a reward for getting on our ranch.”
Okay, maybe not so hard to stay annoyed. “Stop that.”
“DelTex is one of the corporate sponsors of Heartstrings and their programs for children. Brooke has every right to be here.” Adele had to practically crane her head to look Gunner in the eye, but she didn’t back down. “I told you not to rise to Markham’s bait no matter what he said.”
“Actually, Gunner started it.” Brooke felt a guilty pleasure at calling Gunner out.
“Markham’s wife was preening on about how creative Brooke had been to get on our land.” Gunner’s eyes were a mix of hurt and anger. How had this whole thing become such a tangled mess?
She had to fix this now—for both personal and professional reasons. Words are my gift, Lord, she prayed as she took a steadying breath, give me the right ones here.
“If I explain myself, Gunner, will you actually listen?”
Chapter Twelve
Gunner was steamed. Brooke Calder had pulled the wool over his eyes, and he’d let her. He, of all people, should know not to let a pretty face hijack his good sense, and that made him as angry at himself as he was at Brooke. Still, this wasn’t the place to make a scene.
He mentally counted to ten, eyeing her while pushing a breath out of his lungs and unclenching his fist. “Yes.”
“Is there someplace a little quieter we can talk?”
“If I remember right,” Gran offered, “there’s a little parlor down the hall. It’s a half hour before we sit down for dinner. You two can go talk in there.”
Gunner looked at his grandmother. “You’re not coming?”
Gran planted her cane resolutely on the plush carpeting. “I don’t need convincing.” With that, she walked away toward a nearby knot of people as if nothing at all had dampened her evening.
Well, his evening was sopping wet. A washout if ever there was one. He stuffed his hands back into his pockets, torn between wanting to walk right out of the place and wanting to know just how Brooke Calder was going to explain herself.
“Well?” she said, nodding in the direction Gran had pointed.
“Ten minutes. That’s all.”
Brooke didn’t flinch at his ultimatum. “Ten it is.” She began walking toward the parlor. Gunner followed, barking orders to himself to keep his eyes off the way her dress glimmered in the hallway lamplight. He didn’t know what that shimmery fabric was, but it ought to be illegal. That woman was a whopping load of frustration and fascination that just wouldn’t go away.
He pulled open the parlor door for her, pleased to find a small, private sitting room just as Gran remembered. As the latch clicked behind them, Gunner cursed how his pulse registered the privacy, hiking up a rebellious notch at the prospect of being alone with this beautiful, infuriating woman.
She turned to him, determination lighting up her eyes. At this moment, angry as she was, her calm control showed her to be stronger than he’d ever given her credit for. It was the first time he considered the possibility that she was not the pawn of Jace Markham he’d thought her to be.
“You’re right,” she began, a new command in her voice. “DelTex is very supportive of me getting to know you and Adele. I have been asked to do anything I think might help open up a conversation. But that does not include weaseling—” her eyes glinted as she used his choice of verbs “—my way into you good graces.
“My job is to understand both sides so communication can happen. You want to keep the creek. DelTex needs to use that creek. Both sides are right.”
Gunner leaned against a credenza, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d vowed to give her a full five minutes of silence before he responded to whatever she had to say—enough rope to hang herself, Dad would have said—so he merely nodded.
“But you have my word, on my honor as Audie’s mother, that my first visit was motivated by Audie and her school project. Yes, I told Mr. Markham that I’d been to visit you. And yes, he did ask me to take advantage of that opportunity to build some lines of communication. But I did it as much for Audie as for DelTex. Actually, I did it for me, too. I’ve enjoyed getting to know the ranch. I want it to succeed. A standoff won’t help that, will it? If there is a compromise to be had—” Gunner pushed off the credenza at the statement, but she held up her hand “—and I’m not saying there is, but if a compromise is possible, we will never know unless you talk to each other.”
I finished talking to him long before you showed up, Gunner wanted to say, but kept his mouth shut.
“So yes, my boss is pleased to have someone from DelTex who can actually hold a conversation with you, but you should be pleased to have someone at DelTex who’s willing to see things from your side—who cares about Blue Thorn Ranch. This isn’t either-or, Gunner. I visit Blue Thorn because it’s useful but also because I like it there. I like how Audie enjoys it, I think your grandmother is a marvelous woman and I respect what you are trying to do.” Brooke tucked a curl behind her ear. “There are no professional reasons why I’ll always be grateful for what you’ve done for Audie. Letting her name that calf made her feel like a million dollars, do you know that? It’s such a tiny thing to you, I’m sure, but you have no idea what it means to her—and to me.”
It wasn’t a tiny thing. It was a huge thing he still couldn’t explain to himself. It was part of the strange whatever it was that hung between them.
Brooke swallowed hard, and he watched her cheeks pink even as her emotions pitched her tone up a notch. “Your ranch? Your land? Even your animals? They’re beautiful. More than I ever realized. I’m glad, I’m—” she tripped a bit on the word “—thankful you let us be a little part of it. It’s been a long time since I felt like a real live member of the human race, you know? It’s been so...hard...since Jim died. I muster up the energy because Audie needs me to but, well, grief doesn’t let you do much more than just go through the motions.”
Gunner had been expecting some slick, well-crafted persuasion; he hadn�
��t expected such an emotional speech from her. It left him without any response save silence.
Brooke began pacing the room. “Would I like to be the person who makes a deal between DelTex and Blue Thorn possible? Of course I would. It would mean a lot for my career, and I’ve got a little girl to care for.” She turned to look at Gunner, and he felt the power of her eyes clear down to the pit of his stomach. “But if you think so little of me that you believe I would manipulate and deceive you, that I would help to steal what I know means so much to you, then I’ve been all wrong about the time we’ve spent together.”
He was trying to think what he should say to that when she surprised him by continuing, “I almost asked you to be my date for tonight. I started to, back at the field trip. Can you imagine that? The truth is, I couldn’t think of anyone I’d want to spend an evening like this with more than you.”
The admission should have surprised him, but it didn’t. Because he’d been thinking the exact same thing. The fact was disconcerting when it was only him thinking like that, but it was downright dangerous now that he knew she’d had the same inclination. The whole situation seemed to be tilting into very unpredictable territory. Should he admit it? Or would that just make everything worse? He ought to say something, respond in some way to the gush of confidences Brooke had just spilled, but how? Gunner couldn’t remember the last time he was so at a loss for words.
Brooke was wringing her hands together, talking faster. “I know it’s beyond complicated, and it seems you and Markham can’t be in the same county together, much less have a civilized conversation, but if you had any idea how it feels to even like the idea of spending an evening with another man after what I’ve been through—” her breath hitched, and he realized she was actually fighting back tears “—you wouldn’t be such a stubborn mule. You could have at least told me you were already coming.” She tossed her evening bag on the side table and sank down into one of the parlor chairs, her hand over her eyes.
Buckton, you’re a jerk. Say something. “Look, Brooke, I...”
She shot up off the chair again, fidgety hands flailing in the air. “Boy, I really don’t know when to stop talking, do I? Now would be a good time for me to run from the room, I think—”
Gunner caught her hand as she went by, and she froze with the contact. “Hey. Hold on there.”
Brooke turned to look up at him, and Gunner’s insides tumbled in twelve different directions. Every clever and sophisticated response evaded him, so he went for the only words in his head. “I want to believe you.” He ought to let go of her hand, but he didn’t want to. He’d wanted to touch her since that afternoon out by the creek, but hadn’t because he somehow knew it would feel the way it felt right now. It would tear down all the carefully laid distance he’d put between them.
“You can. I won’t lie to you.”
He tugged on her hand. “But you’ll try to convince me to change my mind about Ramble Acres.”
She tugged right back. “Yes, I probably will. Can you handle that?”
His answer surprised him. “I don’t know. Maybe I can. I’m a stubborn mule, remember?” His fingers interlaced with hers, even though he’d given them no permission to do so.
“Sorry about that. But you are, actually.”
He smiled. “Family trait. Then again, you’re no shrinking violet yourself. Pretty easy to see where Audie gets her nerve.” His brain was trying to retrace their steps from argument to hand-holding, but at the moment it didn’t seem worth the effort.
Brooke bit her bottom lip—something he’d seen Audie do—and gave his hand a slight squeeze before sliding her fingers from his grasp. “So now what?”
“You know,” he offered, running a finger under that insufferably itchy shirt collar, “I have no idea.” And then, suddenly, he did. “Hey, Brooke, did I mention I’m going to that thing for Senator Rostam’s pet charity next week?”
It took her a second to catch on to what he was doing, but when she did, her eyes sparkled. “Why, no, Gunner, you hadn’t mentioned it. I’ll be there myself, actually. Maybe we’ll see each other.”
“We might at that.” He tipped his hat. “I’m at table eighteen.”
“Well, what do you know? I’m at table sixteen.” Her chin tipped up in playful defiance as she picked up her evening bag. “That’s where all the mean people from DelTex are seated.”
“You’d best watch yourself, then. It’s a dangerous thing to dine with predators.”
“More dangerous than ice cream with third graders?”
Going toe-to-toe with Brooke Calder sparked something inside him he hadn’t felt for a long time. “’Bout even, I’d say. Scenery’s better here, if you’re asking.” He gave her a look designed to let her know just how fetching that blue dress was.
“You clean up pretty good yourself, cowboy.”
Gunner shrugged. “I hate this thing.” He gestured around the room. “I hate these fancy parties. I’m here for Gran.”
She stepped toward him, and he felt the loss of distance between them in more ways than one. “Would you have said yes? If I’d asked?”
“Yeah.” His reply came out as more of a breath than a word. “I would’ve.”
“Well, then, maybe the evening can be saved for both of us.” She motioned toward the door. “Are you game to try?”
He opened the door, surprised to find himself hoping table sixteen was right next to table eighteen. “I believe I am.”
* * *
Brooke didn’t remember the food. She didn’t remember most of dinner. What she did remember was the sense of Gunner’s gaze on her back all through the meal as she made small talk with an assortment of DelTex junior executives. Mr. and Mrs. Markham were, of course, at a table filled with much higher-placed DelTex brass than she, so some smitten part of her kept waiting for Gunner to suddenly sit himself down in the empty seat next to her. She’d catch Adele’s laugh in the noise of the room and think about what it would be like to sit next to those two in all this glittering candlelight.
She was still shocked at the admissions she’d made in that parlor. Why had she opened herself up like that? Everything she’d said was true, but revealing it made her feel as if Gunner held all the cards in their relationship.
Relationship? This wasn’t a relationship—it was a personal and professional minefield. Something was going to blow up if they both weren’t very careful. Oh, Lord, she prayed as she sipped her after-dinner coffee while a very earnest man named Ed from the permits department boasted about the winning record of DelTex’s company softball team, guard my heart. I’ve got to trust You know what’s best here.
The band started—the program advertised two sets of country swing music broken up by a live charity auction—and Brooke kept her eyes on her coffee.
“Care to?” Ed said hopefully, putting down his napkin while he nodded toward the dance floor.
“Come on,” said a woman from accounting as she pulled her newlywed husband toward the parquet. “Ed’s a great dancer.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Before she could put up any further resistance, Ed had guided her to the dance floor and spun her around. Brooke wasn’t much of a dancer, but Ed was quite good and more than encouraging.
“See?” the man said. “Not that hard. We’re not all boring bean counters in the accounting wing, you know. I know who you are. You sent me an email last week asking for aerial photographs to use in some sales brochures.”
“Oh, yes, Ed. Now I remember.” Brooke tried not to be obvious as she looked beyond Ed’s shoulder to watch Gunner take a turn around the dance floor with Adele. He looked so charming as he took slow steps to accommodate his grandmother, smiling and laughing with her. Every few minutes he would find Brooke in the crowd, locking eyes with such intensity that Brooke tripped more than once. After two numbers, Gunner deposited Ad
ele back at her table, tapped Ed on the shoulder and said, “Mind if I cut in?”
“Buckton?” Evidently, even the permits department knew who Gunner Buckton was and why it was a surprise for him to come asking a dance from anyone associated with DelTex.
Gunner smiled and nodded. “’Evening.”
Ed gave Brooke a look that said he was as worried as he was impressed. Brooke gave what she hoped was a “why not?” look to Ed as a slower, lazy jazz waltz wafted out over the dance floor.
As she allowed Gunner to sweep her toward the music, Brooke had the sense that they were crossing a line. There was a tremendous amount at stake here that didn’t even have to do with DelTex or the Blue Thorn. Either one of them could name a dozen reasons why this was a risky idea.
“You shocked him,” she playfully scolded as they turned a corner.
“I expect we’re shocking a lot of people at the moment,” Gunner said, scanning the room over her shoulder. Brooke hadn’t expected him to dance well. Or to look so drop-dead handsome in a tuxedo. And while no woman with a pulse would fail to be charmed by those things, it was the man she’d talked with out by the back creek of the Blue Thorn that had truly stolen her affections. That was the man she wanted to be her date this evening: the man who had reclaimed his place and purpose in the world with such conviction.
“You’re enjoying this,” she teased. The glint in Gunner’s eyes showed echoes of his rebellious past, the angry young man who’d chosen to thumb his nose at his heritage.
“I am,” he replied, “but not for the reason you think.” The intensity of his turquoise eyes made her feel as though she’d swallowed starlight. “So, as a community-relations professional, is there anything persuasive you’d like to say? I find myself in a remarkably receptive mood at the moment.”
“Suddenly, I find I don’t want to talk about real estate.” She ought to keep the breathy, astonished tone out of her voice, but couldn’t for the life of her think how.
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