Cowboy to the Rescue

by Trish Milburn

  “What are you doing?”

  He shrugged those powerful shoulders of his. “I’m not the least bit tired. Might as well help you carry all this stuff in. You’ll feel more at home when you’ve got your own things around.”

  She suspected there was more to his offer, that he was staying until she wasn’t jumping at every little sound. In that case, she thought he might never leave. And a little voice somewhere inside her whispered that that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  Instead of declining his help as she might normally have done, she nodded. Truth was, she didn’t want to be left alone right now. She needed at least a few minutes to get her head back on straight instead of allowing herself to fall victim to paranoia.

  For the next several minutes they carried in boxes, plastic bins, bags and suitcases, emptying out all the car’s various nooks and crannies. Once everything was stacked inside in piles, Ryan eyed it all.

  “I can’t believe all this was in that little car.”

  “Yes, I have perfected the art of bending space to my will.”

  He laughed and pointed toward a box. “You up for putting it all away?”

  “You don’t have to do that.” She was inside without any reason for stepping back outdoors tonight. With a couple of locked doors, she thought she could make it through the night without having a freakout again.

  “I know. But if I go back to my place, I’m just going to either stare at the ceiling or go out to the workshop. You wouldn’t want me to get sleepy with dangerous tools in my hands, would you?” He gave her a teasing hint of a smile that was a little more like Simon but still somehow totally Ryan. For a moment, she wondered if he was hiding his real self, too. Why would he do that?

  She remembered what she’d told herself mere minutes ago about not getting too close, but Ryan made sticking to that plan difficult. She had to believe she could cultivate a friendship without going too far.

  “Well, if you put it that way,” she said and tossed a pillow at him. “That goes on the couch.”

  He laughed as he caught the pillow with his good hand. The sound eased some more of her tension.

  They worked well together. Gradually, she learned more about her new home—like the fact it had a washer and dryer where the breaker box was located.

  “There’s also a patio with a table, chairs and a grill out back,” Ryan said.

  “Really? I hadn’t even looked yet.”

  A couple of hours passed before she realized that having a man in her home hadn’t made her nervous. Either fate was telling her Ryan was safe to be around, or she was colossally stupid and didn’t learn from her mistakes.

  “Is this you?”

  She looked over at the framed photo of her, Holly and their parents from when Brooke was seven and Holly twelve. “Yeah. And my sister.” She stepped up beside him and pointed at Holly. “And Mom and Dad. We’re at the New River Gorge.”

  “Near where you grew up?”

  “About an hour away. I used to love going there.”

  “It’s pretty.”

  “I haven’t been there since my dad died. I guess I associate it with him too much.” She had no idea why she’d shared that piece of herself, but it didn’t feel wrong. It was inexplicably easy to talk to Ryan.

  “He’s been gone awhile?”

  “He died when I was sixteen, in a mine cave-in.” She bit her bottom lip for a moment as she took the photo from Ryan and stared at her parents. She still missed them every day. “He wasn’t even supposed to work that day. He was filling in for a guy who had the flu.”

  “I’m sorry.” The true compassion in his voice was almost her undoing, so she carried the photo across the room and placed it gently on a wall shelf.

  “Bad things happen to good people,” she said.

  “Your mom’s passed, too?”

  “Yeah, four years ago from a stroke.” She stared at the photo a moment longer before turning around and returning to work.

  Thankfully, Ryan didn’t ask her any more questions about her family. He was being so nice that she didn’t want to be rude by not answering him or feel guilty for lying.

  After a few more minutes, Ryan held up a sparkly crown. “You’re secretly the queen of some tiny European country?”

  She snorted. “I’ll have you know I was Miss Whitcomb County. Keep digging and you’ll find my sceptre.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t peg you for the beauty pageant type.”

  No, she’d been more the Beta Club and National Honor Society type, more at home watching National Geographic Explorer than hanging out at the mall.

  “I did it on a dare. You know how there’s always that one kid in school who rubs you the wrong way? Well, that was Camille Burns, who had an entire collection of those things.” She pointed at the crown. “The only one she didn’t have was the county pageant one. She wasn’t exactly what you’d call modest, or nice for that matter. More of a spoiled twit. A friend of mine dared me to enter, more to irritate Camille than anything. I mean, she didn’t need the scholarship money from those pageants like a lot of the other girls.” Like Brooke. “Her daddy owned four KFC franchises. We called her the Chicken Princess.”

  “And you beat her.”

  Brooke smiled at the memory. “She squawked like one of the chickens her daddy was serving up every day.”

  “That I would have liked to have seen.” He wiggled the crown. “And you parading around in this thing like royalty.”

  Feeling a giddiness that was as foreign as panic attacks had been before she’d figured out what kind of man Chris was, she strode over, took the crown and placed it on her head. She grabbed the sceptre from the box, assumed an aloof pose and tapped first one of his shoulders then the other.

  “I knight thee Sir Ryan for valiant acts of woodworking and unpacking.”

  Ryan laughed. “I think you’re getting punchy.”

  She pointed at him with the sparkly sceptre. “That is entirely possible.” She tossed the sceptre back into the box but kept the crown on as they continued working. It made her feel good, took her back to days long before she knew her life would be torpedoed by a handsome man in an expensive suit.

  After three hours on her feet, she collapsed onto the couch and noticed that it was nearing midnight. “You should go home. It’s getting late.”

  “I’ll go in a bit. I keep thinking I’m going to find a giant stash of Barbies.”

  Brooke laughed. “You’re out of luck there. I gave them all to my nieces.”

  “Sure, shatter my hopes.”

  Brooke smiled as she leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. “So, you know one of my embarrassing secrets. I think it’s only fair you share one of yours.”

  “I don’t have any.”

  “Hmm, maybe I’ll just ask your mom.”

  “Now that’s playing dirty.”

  She laughed and turned sideways on the couch to find him leaning against the kitchen counter. “You said you haven’t been doing woodworking all that long. What were you into before that?”

  “My brothers and I played football in high school.”

  “I thought all boys in Texas did that.”

  He gave her a scrunched-forehead look.

  “Hey, I’ve seen Friday Night Lights.”

  He pushed away from the counter and crossed the room to the comfortable chair perpendicular to the couch. When he sank into it, she thought she could see the long day was getting to him, too. “Football and horses, that was pretty much our lives back then.”

  “And music?”

  It took him a moment to connect her question to their discussion about the band earlier. When he did, he laughed. “That was a prank that got out
of hand.”

  “Oh, this sounds like a good story.” She slid farther down the couch so that she was reclining against the piled pillows next to the arm.

  “You know those family nights Mom enforces on Thursdays? Well, we thought if we put together a really terrible band, maybe she’d give them up. It backfired. She thought it was a great idea and bought us all instruments and lessons.”

  Brooke clapped her hands. “I love it.”

  “You sound like Grace.”

  She smiled at him. “It is pretty funny.”

  This time, he tossed a pillow at her. She laughed as she batted it away.

  Though it was late and most of the work was done, Ryan didn’t make any move to leave. But he didn’t approach her either. He seemed content to simply sit and talk about everything from funny guests who had stayed at the ranch to her assertion that she would kill him at Trivial Pursuit.

  She tried to keep her eyes open but they kept drifting shut. Each time it proved more difficult to open them again until finally she stopped trying. Instead, she focused on the rumble of Ryan’s voice as it lulled her closer to sleep. He really did have the best voice. A sexy voice. A slow smile spread across her lips, and everything faded away.

  QUIET DESCENDED ON the bunkhouse as Ryan stopped talking. From the sound of her slow, deep breathing, Brooke had finally fallen asleep. She looked so peaceful lying there on the couch, the slightest curve to her lips. His own sense of peace surprised him. A sliver of the person he used to be, the one who’d wanted nothing more than to protect others, fluttered to life.

  He didn’t know if there was a demon in her past or if she truly was just spooked by the thick night outside, but he found himself wanting to shield her from any threat, real or imagined. And that was dangerous ground to tread.

  He dropped his head back against the chair and stared at the ceiling. Of all the people who came to the ranch, why was this woman messing with his equilibrium and his status quo?

  Brooke shifted on the couch. When he returned his attention to her, she’d curled into a ball, as though she was trying to get warm. Likely to combat the daytime heat outside, she’d cranked the air-conditioning. Careful not to make too much noise, he stood and crossed to the thermostat. After adjusting it a couple of degrees, he returned and carefully used the blanket from the back of the couch to cover her. As he tucked it around her shoulders, he resisted the urge to also smooth her hair and run his fingertips along her soft cheek.

  This woman he barely knew was bringing a part of him out of hibernation that he wasn’t sure he was ready to confront. The part that wanted to live the life he might have had if things turned out differently during his tour of duty.

  He shook his head and turned off the overhead light as he returned to the chair, leaving only the light over the sink to illuminate the room. He should probably leave, but he hated the idea of Brooke waking up and being scared. Of course he couldn’t stay with her every night, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t give her some peace of mind tonight. If she woke, he’d be there to reassure her that nothing would harm her.

  The combination of a long day, the sound of Brooke’s deep breathing and the ticking of the clock on the wall lulled Ryan ever closer to sleep. He focused on Brooke’s face—the curve of her jaw, the waves of her dark hair, the fan of her eyelashes. Knowing this might be the only time he’d be able to watch her like this without her noticing, he indulged until he too couldn’t keep his eyes open and surrendered to sleep.

  BROOKE WOKE TO a small click and the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. It took a few seconds for sleep to recede enough for her to make sense of her surroundings. She was lying on the couch, a blanket draped over her. A blanket that hadn’t been there the night before. She’d fallen asleep while talking to Ryan. The chair where he’d sat was empty, but she got the oddest sense that part of him lingered, as if he’d just left the room.

  She lifted to a sitting position and put her feet on the floor. “Ryan?”

  No answer.

  The morning fog in her brain cleared a little more, and she spotted her crown on the coffee table. Ryan must have removed it when he placed the blanket over her. She hugged the blanket close, as if his scent or the comfort he brought her might be wrapped in its folds.

  With the blanket around her shoulders, she went to the window and looked out just in time to see him rounding the corner in the drive that led into the stand of trees that had so frightened her the night before. He’d stayed with her all night. Her heart fluttered at the thought of him standing guard over her while she slept, keeping the night and her imagination at bay.

  Remembering the cause for her fear the night before, she took out her phone and sent Holly a brief text. I’m sorry, but thank you. And then she forced herself to push Chris from her mind. A beautiful new day and memories of working alongside Ryan made that task easier than she expected.

  She was going to have to tell herself Ryan had simply fallen asleep, too, or she was going to be in danger of falling for him no matter that common sense told her it was crazy.

  But she’d think about all of that later. For now, she enjoyed a leisurely cup of coffee before getting ready for another day of work. Despite her determination not to think of Ryan in a romantic way, those were exactly the kinds of images that accompanied her as she showered and dressed, as she walked through the no-longer-scary trees to the main house. She even caught herself whistling once as she cooked. More of her natural chattiness came out as she talked with the guests who were preparing to depart after their week at the ranch.

  “I’m going to miss your cooking,” said a computer software programmer from California.

  Brooke looked at the man’s wife, worried that she might be offended. The woman just shrugged.

  “I agree with him,” she said, which brought on a few chuckles around the table.

  The only thing that put any sort of dent in Brooke’s morning was the onset of a sudden nervousness when she thought about seeing Merline again. The elder Teagues had seen her walk off into the night with Ryan, and she could only imagine what they must be thinking.

  She needn’t have worried, however. When Merline entered the house midmorning after working a couple of hours at the gallery, she was on her cell phone and distracted.

  “That’s terrible. What are you going to do?”

  Brooke busied herself with some prep work for lunch and added a few items to the grocery list, but by the end of Merline’s phone conversation her curiosity was demanding satisfaction.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Merline looked up as she placed her cell on the island. “My best friend’s daughter is getting married next weekend, and the church where they were getting married had a fire last night.”

  “Oh, no. Was anyone hurt?”

  “No, it was the middle of the night, so it was empty. But she’s desperate to find another place on short notice and isn’t having any luck.”

  “What about here?”

  “Here?”

  “Yeah, you could get one of those arches and set it up in that pretty meadow on the way into the ranch. Then we could do the reception here at the house. I’m sure the ranch guests wouldn’t mind. You could rent one of those portable dance floors and have dancing outside by the picnic tables if the weather is nice.” A smile tugged at the edges of Brooke’s mouth. “Even have your sons provide the music.”

  Merline placed her palms against Brooke’s cheeks in a gesture of affection. “I think I’m going to adopt you. That idea is so perfect, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. Let me talk to Annabelle. If she says yes, we’ll get to work.”

  A familiar warmth flowed through Brooke. This was the thing she missed about her job in D.C., the coming up with solutions to help people prepare the perfect event. Weddings and receptions had been among her favo
rite events to coordinate. Way more exciting than a conference full of building-supply salespeople.

  A few minutes later, Merline returned beaming. “She loved the idea. They’re going to come over from Austin this afternoon to make plans. They have caterers already, but I’d like to give everyone a little something special, a little Vista Hills flavor. Any ideas?”

  A surge of pride welled up in Brooke that Merline was consulting her on something so important, that she valued her opinion.

  “I could make some hand-dipped chocolates, decorate them with the wedding colors.”

  “Perfect. I know her main color is a bright orange, very striking.”

  They sketched out some ideas to present to Annabelle and her daughter, Adrienne, when they arrived.

  “Well, I need to get some ranch work done before they get here,” Merline said half an hour later.

  “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “You’ve already saved the day. What else could I ask for?”

  Little did Merline know these types of suggestions weren’t much of a stretch for Brooke. She’d made dozens, hundreds of similar ones in consultation with the rest of the staff at the hotel and countless outside vendors. But it still felt good to be appreciated for her talents. To be allowed a taste of what she’d left behind.

  Merline started to leave, but Brooke needed an answer to a question she’d been mulling all morning.

  “Merline?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ryan was kind enough to help me unload my car last night.” She forced herself not to fidget as she continued. “I thought I might make something to thank him and was wondering what his favorite dessert is.”

  Merline smiled but looked as if she was keeping an even bigger smile from forming. “Macaroons. That boy has always been crazy for macaroons. I used to make them for him when he was overseas, a little taste of home. They were so popular that I had to send bigger and bigger boxes of them so he could share them with his buddies.”