“He was in the military?”
The look of fond memory faded from Merline’s face, as if she realized she’d said something she hadn’t meant to. She hesitated a moment before answering. “Yes, the army.” She made to leave again. “Macaroons will definitely make his day.”
After Merline left, Brooke considered the odd change in the other woman. Maybe she was just remembering how she’d missed her son while he was serving, maybe how she’d worried about him. Brooke was pretty sure she’d have a fifty-fifty chance of guessing where he’d been stationed while out of the country.
As she made the macaroons, Brooke argued with herself about whether she was making a mistake. Was she truly just doing this to thank him for his help, or was it an excuse to see him, to get closer? She was acting against every promise she’d made to herself the day she’d driven out of Arlington for the last time.
Then why did it feel right?
She shook her head as she placed the finished macaroons in a tin she found in the cabinet under the island. She had to stop overthinking everything she did or she was going to drive herself batty.
With a new resolve to let life unfold how it would, she popped a macaroon in her mouth and headed to Ryan’s place.
When she arrived, she heard him on the phone in the house so she decided to wait in his shop. Inside, she eyed the various projects in different states of completion, running her fingers over the carved designs Ryan had brought to life out of simple wood. As she reached the end of the workbench, something new caught her attention.
Brooke lifted a piece about eight inches tall, an intricately carved angel with outspread wings, long hair and waving robes. It was hard to believe something so delicate had been made by human hands.
“Brooke?”
She looked up as Ryan entered the workshop. “This is beautiful.”
A momentary shock registered on his face before he strode forward and took the angel from her. “It’s nothing, just something I do to pass the time when I can’t sleep.”
“You’ve made others?”
“A few.” He stared at the angel for a couple of seconds before shoving it to the back of a shelf.
“You should make more, maybe sell those in the shops in town.”
“No.”
Brooke took an unintentional step backward at the firmness in his answer.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that they’re…personal.”
She nodded. “Okay.” She wanted to know so much more, but it wasn’t her right to push.
“What’s that?” Ryan nodded at the tin in her hands.
She extended it toward him. “A thank-you for your help last night.”
He accepted the tin. “This wasn’t necessary.”
“It was to me. I really appreciate the help and…thank you for staying.” Heat rose up her neck as she wondered how he’d take her thank-you and gift.
“You’re welcome. You okay today?”
“Yes, thank you. I, uh, I have panic attacks sometimes.” She tensed, hoping he didn’t ask why.
He didn’t. Instead, he opened the tin. “Macaroons.” He sounded surprised.
“Your mom said they were your favorite.”
“They are, but I haven’t had them in a while.” He hesitated for a moment before lifting one of the macaroons to his mouth and taking a bite. He made a deep, appreciative sound that made her tingle all over. “Don’t tell her, but these are even better than my mom’s.”
She smiled at the high praise. “Yeah, in the name of job security, I think I’ll keep that little nugget to myself.”
Ryan offered to share, so she took another treat for herself. “How’s your hand today?”
“Good. Beginning to heal.”
“How long before you think you can play your fiddle?”
“I don’t know really. A few days at least. Why?”
“Because we’re having a wedding here at the ranch next weekend, and I volunteered your band as the reception entertainment.”
“What? Why’d you do that? We could stink for all you know.”
“Do you?”
He braced his hands against the edge of the workbench. “Well, no. We’re decent.”
She walked up next to him and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Then you’d better be picking out some good dancing tunes.”
“You’re going to owe me more macaroons for this.”
She laughed. “How about I just give you a hand around here for a little bit, and we’ll call everything even?”
“That’s a start.”
Chapter Nine
Ryan clamped down on the crazy thought that he should demand a kiss as payment, but he didn’t want to scare Brooke away. Though she seemed happy and carefree now, last night had been a different story. Her revelation about having panic attacks might be true, but there was more to it. She’d been really frightened by the darkness—or what she’d feared was in it. He’d wanted nothing more than to protect her, to make sure she was safe.
But he wasn’t the right person for that job, was he? He couldn’t believe he needed reminding of that fact. Still, something about her made him want to believe he could be that man again. The one who’d gone off to war with high ideals of making a difference in the world. It was easy being with her, something he couldn’t say about anyone else. Of course, she was the only person who didn’t know about what he’d done.
It caused an uncomfortable tightening in his chest, but he had to back away. Maybe someday they could be easy friends, but for now he couldn’t risk being around her, tempting him into wanting more.
Ryan slipped a spindle onto the back of a chair. “Thanks for your help,” he said with a brief glance at Brooke. “That’s all I need for now. I’ve got an appointment in town.”
“Oh,” Brooke said, her eyes widening a little at his abrupt shift in gears.
“And thanks again for the macaroons.” He gave her a nod then headed for his truck, fully aware he was running like a scared little kid.
When he got to town, he sat at the stoplight and tried to figure out what to do next. He didn’t actually have any errands to run, nothing to deliver, and he wasn’t in the mood to chat it up with any of his family members. If it was later in the day, he’d hit the Frothy Stein for a beer. But even as messed up as he was, he wasn’t going to start drinking before lunch.
Lunch. Maybe he’d just grab something to eat at the Wildflower Café while he attempted to get his head on straight and stop thinking like a giant walking hormone.
But when he stepped in the front door of the café a couple of minutes later, he regretted not heading for that beer after all. It was too late to retreat though. Simon had already seen him and waved him over to his table in the front corner.
Damn, why hadn’t he just gotten a sandwich at the Qwik Stop and gone to sit by the lake?
Because even the lake reminded him of Brooke.
“What are you doing in town?” Simon asked as Ryan pulled out a chair and sank into it.
“Came to check on the stock.” He winced inside as soon as he said it. He never came to the shops in town to see when they needed any new items from him. They always did the calling.
“That’s new.” Damn Simon for looking like he knew something else was going on.
Ryan lifted his injured hand. “Might as well do something productive while this heals.”
“Your helper go AWOL?”
“Brooke has her own job.” Why had he ever let her help him in the first place? He was just asking for trouble, for unwanted comments from his family. He’d had a nice, quiet life, nothing unexpected—until she’d come along.
Ryan ordered a burger and onion rings and tried to figure o
ut a way to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“Mom says we’re playing at Adrienne and Riley’s wedding this weekend,” Simon said.
“So I heard.”
“Also heard it was Brooke’s idea, and that she seemed excited when she’d suggested it.”
She had?
Ryan met his brother’s gaze. “If you’re getting at something, just spit it out and quit beating around the bush.”
“When are you going to ask that woman out?”
“I’m not.”
“Why? It’s obvious you’re crazy about her.”
He thought about denying it, but his brother wasn’t one to be easily fooled. “You know why.”
“I know what you think is a reason.”
Ryan leaned forward. “No woman in her right mind is going to want to be with someone who did what I did.”
“You mean defend innocent people?”
Ryan’s fists clenched involuntarily. “It’s not that simple.”
“No, it’s not. But you can’t let what happened ruin the rest of your life.”
“My life is fine.”
“Your life is empty.”
Ryan leaned back and shook his head. “You’re one to talk. I don’t see you following in Nathan’s footsteps, settling down and contributing a couple of kids to the family tree.”
“Who said anything about settling down? I was just suggesting you ask Brooke out on a date.” Simon’s knowing expression, confident that he’d gotten Ryan to admit more than he’d intended, grated Ryan’s nerves.
“I thought you had the hots for her anyway.”
“I know a pretty woman when I see one.”
“Then you ask her out.” Ryan knew he sounded exasperated, but he just didn’t care anymore. Maybe if Simon hooked up with Brooke, he could go back to the way things were.
Yeah, right.
“Maybe I will.” Simon tossed some cash on the table and stood. “Enjoy your lunch.”
Ryan gritted his teeth as Simon strode out of the café, tipping his hat at every woman between their table and the door. Didn’t matter whether they were seven or seventy-seven, they all smiled and fell for his charm. Ryan sighed. Even before he’d gone and gotten himself messed up physically and mentally, he hadn’t possessed his older brother’s swagger. It just wasn’t in him. If Simon decided to really go for Brooke, Ryan didn’t stand a chance.
When his burger and onion rings arrived, he couldn’t even enjoy them. They tasted too much like failure.
BROOKE THREW HERSELF into the plans for the wedding, working with Adrienne on an extended menu. The Austin caterers were still involved with the more formal reception, but Adrienne and Riley also wanted some offerings more in keeping with the ranch, the place where they’d met and fallen in love. Plus, the party was going to go long into the night with the dancing, and everyone would need more than cake and finger foods.
Brooke found herself even tossing in ideas about the ceremony itself, glad to have something positive on which to focus her thoughts and energy. At first it felt awkward each time Merline consulted her, but her boss seemed determined to enlist her help in more than cooking. She even asked her to start taking bookings for the cabins when Merline was away from the ranch. Unable to help herself, Brooke had scribbled down some ideas for additional guest services and ways to get the word out about Vista Hills.
“I do hope you know you can never leave,” Merline said Thursday morning as she enjoyed her second cup of coffee while Brooke kneaded dough for homemade pizzas. “I don’t know what I ever did without you.”
Brooke smiled. “It’s not so much.”
“Not so much? I feel like I got a cook, a guest relations manager and a PR person all in one.”
That hit too close to the truth. “So, Adrienne said that she wasn’t satisfied with what the bakery in Austin was coming up with for the groom’s cake. Have you heard if she’s let them go?”
“Yeah. They make beautiful wedding cakes, but for some reason can’t manage a decent groom’s cake. Doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“So we’ll need one of those, too.”
“We got it taken care of. Keri Mehler in town is making it. That girl has a real knack for cakes. If we’d known the wedding was going to be out here from the beginning, Annabelle would have had her make the wedding cake.”
“Oh.”
“Nothing against you, sweetie, but you’ve got a lot on your to-do list already.”
Not enough to keep her so busy she didn’t have time to wonder what she’d done or said to push Ryan away. Since she’d taken him the macaroons, he’d steered clear of her, not asking for help and not coming up to the main house for meals. She’d kicked herself at least a dozen times for being a fool again. Except this time, the man wasn’t trying to consume her. He was running as fast as he could the other way. It was just more proof that she didn’t have the slightest talent in reading men and should stop trying.
That made her feel incredibly alone, no matter that the ranch was always busy with people coming and going.
She managed to fill the time that she wasn’t performing her actual job and working on the wedding planning with making the bunkhouse feel more like her space, going for a long hike on one of the ranch trails, and getting a P.O. box in town. After ensuring Chris couldn’t follow the U.S. Postal Service right to her front door, she still didn’t feel any better. It’d been four days since she’d spoken to Ryan. What kind of sense did it make to miss someone you barely knew?
Instead of heading straight back to the ranch after the post office, she wandered through some of the shops in town, admiring the handmade crafts from pottery to quilts, from photography to…she stopped and stared. There in the corner of a shop called the Blue Falls Bazaar, she spotted a small, round table made by Ryan. She’d know those carved flower petals anywhere. Before she could talk herself out of it, she’d forked over enough cash to make it hers. As she carried it out to her car, she called herself a hundred kinds of fool. She could try convincing herself she simply admired the craftsmanship, but it felt like wasted effort.
Once inside her car, she sat staring out the windshield. This was silly. He’d done her a favor. His pulling back was a necessary wake-up call that she had other things to focus on, and romance shouldn’t even be a blip on the radar. She reordered her thoughts, approaching the situation from a different angle. When she saw him, she had to think of him as an employer, albeit a very nice-looking one, and nothing more. She kept repeating her new plan in her head all the way back to the ranch.
“Oh, good, you’re back,” Merline said as Brooke entered the kitchen an hour later with a bag of groceries. “Thought you were going to miss all the fun.”
Brooke eyed Merline and Grace, who appeared to be making grilled-cheese sandwiches at the stove.
“Fun?”
“Family night,” Merline said. “Thursday, remember?”
Brooke racked her memory for some snippet of conversation she’d missed. “I’m sorry, did I forget to do something?”
“No. It’s Grace’s night to host.”
“I just got a Wii for Evan, so we’re going to play Wii bowling,” Grace said.
Their intent snapped into place. Brooke put away the last of the groceries in the refrigerator, trying to figure out the least offensive way to make her point. “When you had hands living in the bunkhouse, did they take part in family night?”
Grace gave Merline a meaningful glance, something that had a hint of “I told you so.”
“No.”
“Then why invite me?”
“Well, you’re different.”
Brooke swallowed. “No, I’m not. I appreciate the kind offer, but this night is reserved for your family. And I’m
not family.” She wanted to say more, to wish them a good night and that she’d see them in the morning, but she didn’t think she could speak any more without giving her heartache away.
She walked out the back door, blinking against the stupid tears that didn’t have any right to form. Saying those words, that she wasn’t family, shouldn’t have hurt so much.
But it did.
Needing some connection to her own family, she dialed Holly’s number as she headed back to the bunkhouse. When Holly answered, Brooke nearly cried.
“Hey, sis,” Brooke said.
“Brooke. Oh, I’m so glad to hear from you. Are you okay?”
“Yes, fine. Just missing you all a bit.”
“We miss you, too. How are things there?”
“Nice. Good people, I like the job.” She was surprised by how much truth was in that assertion. It was so different from the career she’d built for herself, but that didn’t make her like it any less.
The sound of children’s voices rose in the background, drowning out whatever Holly was saying in response. Brooke smiled as Holly’s voice faded a bit as she talked to her daughters. This was such a normal part of their conversations that Brooke’s heart lifted.
“Emma is dying to talk to you,” Holly said.
“Okay, put her on.”
“Hi, Aunt Brooke!”
“Hi, yourself. What are you doing?”
“Making cookies!” Everything was always high excitement with her youngest niece. But then maybe everything was really exciting when you were four years old.
“Oh, yum. What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
Brooke laughed. “Okay, we’ll just call them mystery cookies.”
“Mystery cookies!”
Brooke laughed again and wished she could wrap Emma in her arms. She prayed she felt safe enough to do that soon. “Let me say hello to your sister.”
“Okay.” Emma, satisfied with her few words of conversation, handed over the phone.
“Hey, Aunt Brooke. They’re actually chocolate chip cookies,” seven-year-old Caitlyn said in that frustrated, superior way of older sisters.
Cowboy to the Rescue Page 11
