Cowboy to the Rescue

by Trish Milburn

  Maybe thanks to the party the night before, she had the kitchen to herself when she arrived. It gave her time to slow her heartbeat and breathing, to try to shove the memory of Ryan’s hands on her body away from the front of her mind.

  “Good morning.”

  Brooke jumped at the sound of Merline’s voice and dropped the knife she’d been about to use to cut up some apples.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Merline strolled into the room, and Brooke would swear there was a knowing twinkle in her eyes. “You seemed a million miles away.”

  Not near that far.

  “Just still sleepy.” Oh, no, would Merline immediately determine the reason for her lack of sleep? “It was a long day yesterday.” Good grief, everything she said made her feel as though she was proclaiming, “I had sex with your son, several times. And I liked it!” She needed to just shut up.

  “You looked like you were having fun last night.”

  “Yeah,” she said as she picked up the knife and placed it in the sink. “Hard not to be happy at a wedding.”

  “Can’t say I remember the last time I’ve seen Ryan dance.”

  Brooke made a noncommittal sound and grabbed a clean knife from the butcher block. A few moments passed, the only sound that of the knife slicing through crisp Granny Smith apples.

  “You did a marvelous job yesterday,” Merline said, blissfully changing the subject.

  “Thank you.”

  Merline held up a piece of paper, waving it in the air. “And I’m impressed by this list of ideas you came up with for adding guest activities. I particularly like the one for educational classes on the history of the area. I have a friend at the local museum who will jump on that.” She consulted the list. “Flora and fauna, wine tastings, crafts classes. All wonderful.” She placed the paper on the island and tapped it with her finger. “You have a real talent for this.”

  Brooke made the mistake of meeting Merline’s gaze. There she saw knowledge, not of what Brooke had done the night before but that she was more than what she said.

  “I’m just a cook.”

  “No, you’re not.” Brooke froze as Merline continued. “I’d like to offer you a bit more responsibility and the title of guest services coordinator.”

  Brooke’s head spun. Everything was happening too fast. Though she didn’t feel, deep down, that she’d made a mistake with Ryan, she wondered if she was letting her emotions get in the way of logic and clarity.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just take time to think about it. I’m off to the gallery for a while. After lunch, take the rest of the afternoon off.”

  Brooke couldn’t help the feeling that she was getting special treatment. “That isn’t necessary.”

  “I’m sure you can find something to do.” With another of those smiles that said Merline possessed an uncanny ability to see beyond the surface, she gave a little wave and headed out the back door.

  Thing was, Merline was right. She could think of a lot of ways to spend a free afternoon, and they all involved one sexy Texan.

  RYAN CAUGHT HIMSELF whistling and stopped in the middle of carving an edge of an angel wing. When was the last time he’d whistled? He couldn’t remember. He also couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so alive. Sure, the memory of that Iraqi girl was still there, always would be. But it was somehow different, as if the scene had been cast in a different light, one more forgiving.

  He looked down at the angel, rubbed away wood shavings. She was different from all the others, too, kinder, gentler. Because of Brooke.

  When he thought about how different he felt inside now compared to the same time yesterday, it didn’t seem possible. He kept fearing the lightness in his chest would go away, allowing all the dark, heavy guilt to gather there again. He’d carried that guilt for so long, he’d nearly forgotten what it was like to exist without it. He still couldn’t figure out why Brooke’s words had made him look at the girl’s death differently when no one else’s had ever made a dent.

  But he was glad they had. Because for the first time since that horrible day, he felt as if he truly had something to look forward to.

  He glanced at the clock, realizing only three minutes had ticked by since the last time he’d looked. Was this what Nathan had gone through when he’d realized he felt more for Grace, beyond that they shared a child?

  The phone rang, pulling him from his mental meanderings.

  “Vista Hills Furniture.”

  “Ryan Teague?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Libby Prentiss from Uniquely Texas. I’d like to talk to you about doing a program on your furniture.”

  Ten minutes later, he’d scheduled an interview with the TV program that focused on, well, things that were unique to Texas. His mom might pass out when she learned he’d agreed to it, but he guessed he had Brooke to thank for that, too. It was as though he’d only been existing for the past two years, and now he really wanted to live. Just as Simon had challenged him to do.

  Lunchtime came and went, and even if some of the guests had lingered, he began to wonder if he’d been wrong about Brooke, that she wouldn’t keep her promise and come back to see him. He was two steps out the door, heading to his parents’ house, when he stopped himself.

  This wasn’t him, not even the person he’d been before he’d covered himself in camo and flown off to the Middle East. He returned to his shop and started working on an armoire. As he sanded the wood, he tried not to overanalyze everything that had happened in the past twenty-fours hours. Damn, guys didn’t do that kind of stuff.

  “Hey.” Brooke’s voice drew his attention to the other end of the shop.

  “Hey.” She’d come back. And that made him ridiculously happy. He stood and crossed to her, pulling her into his arms. “Miss me?”

  She looked up at him with a confused look on her face. “Who are you again?”

  He showed her with his mouth, and she responded not as a stranger but as someone who knew him very well. “Remember me now?” he asked when they broke the kiss.

  “It’s coming back to me.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “You greet all your visitors like that?”

  “Sure. Why do you think I sell so much furniture?”

  She swatted at his chest, but he just laughed and kissed her again.

  “So, how much time do you have before you have to go back to work?”

  “As it happens, your mom gave me the afternoon off.”

  He leaned his head against hers. “She knows.”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  He pulled back and captured her gaze. “Well, good.”

  She seemed startled by his response, and honestly he was, too. But he didn’t want to hide anymore.

  “Is that okay with you?” he asked.

  She didn’t speak, just nodded, but that was enough. She lowered her eyes, scanning the room.

  “You carved another angel.” She stepped out of his embrace and walked over to the workbench. Her touch seemed reverent as she picked up the angel and traced its features with her fingertip.

  “But this one is different,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “I’ll show you.” He nodded toward the house then headed inside. He heard her follow as he walked toward his bedroom. He didn’t expect the nervous energy that started to churn in his stomach. No one had ever seen the angels, not even the therapist who’d urged him to find some form of expression for all his bottled-up feelings.

  He went straight to the tall corner cabinet in his room, the one he’d built when it hadn’t felt right to keep the angels tossed in a box. With a deep breath, he opened it then stepped out of the way.

  Brooke stared, her mouth partiall
y open, her eyes taking in the details of the dozens of angels sitting on the shelves. Still without speaking, she walked to the cabinet and examined the carvings more closely.

  “Ryan, these are beautiful. But heartbreaking in a way.” She looked down at the angel in her hand, the one she’d carried in from the workshop. “But not this one. She seems…full of joy.”

  “That wasn’t intentional. It just happened.” He relived the jolt of surprise that had rocketed through him when he’d realized his carving tools were not doing what they normally did when he lost himself in one of the angel carvings. Instead of closed or sad eyes, the new angel’s were inexplicably full of light. Her wings didn’t seem weighed down but rather lifted to their full width. Her hands were extended, palms up, one of them filled with a dove.

  He came to stand behind Brooke and reached past her into the cabinet to grab one of the angels. “This is the first one I carved. I’d only been home a week, and my mind felt as destroyed as my knee.”

  The angel was crude in design, obviously the work of a beginner. He was afraid to look at it too long, scared he’d feel the twisting anguish he’d been trying to get rid of by carving it.

  “Did it help?”

  He placed the angel back on the shelf. “I honestly don’t remember, but I know whenever things got really bad or I couldn’t sleep for nightmares, I’d end up with a chunk of wood in one hand and a carving knife in the other. I can’t say I was even thinking about what I was doing.” He motioned toward the shelves of angels looking back at them. “But one of these always seemed to appear in my hands.”

  “Guardian angels.”

  He shrugged. He’d never examined the why too closely, just knew that something about carving them calmed him, kept him from losing his mind.

  He watched as Brooke examined the entire collection, more than fifty angels.

  “You can see how you changed over time.”

  “Really?”

  She pulled out one of his early, clunkier attempts. “See how she seems to curl in on herself, how she’s looking down. You were likely feeling the same way.” She pointed to another, made about a year ago. “She’s standing straighter, but still not looking forward.” Brooke lifted the new angel. “You’ve let her go.”

  And he knew the “her” wasn’t the angel. It was that Iraqi girl staring sightless up at the wide, blue sky.

  Chapter Twelve

  The raw emotion, the pain and eventual healing flowing out of the carved angels touched Brooke so deeply it was difficult not to cry. That Ryan was sharing it with her—when some deep instinct told her he’d never done that with anyone—meant so much. She couldn’t even fully describe the well of warmth and appreciation filling her heart.

  There was something else building in her heart, too, but she was scared to give it a name.

  Ryan touched the angel in her hand, the one he’d been working on when she’d arrived. “I want you to have this.” He paused. “I don’t think I would have ever carved it without you.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve done so little. Your family, they’ve been here all along.”

  “They have. But…” He was quiet so long that she didn’t think he was going to finish voicing his thought. Maybe he didn’t know how. “I don’t pretend to understand it, but you’ve changed me. Made me remember who I used to be, who I want to be again.”

  So much truth, coming from a man of normally few words, really meant something. And Brooke felt them echo inside her, as if she’d spoken those words to him. She turned and cupped his jaw.

  “I know what you mean.”

  Ryan lifted his unbandaged hand and tilted her face up. After staring deep into her eyes for what felt like long minutes but was only mere seconds, he lowered his mouth to hers in the sweetest kiss. The tenderness made that unnamed emotion in her chest flirt with a name—love.

  As improbable as it would no doubt seem to outsiders looking in, she was falling in love with Ryan Teague.

  She expected the kiss to lead to the bed, but Ryan broke contact and led her toward the door instead.

  “Where are you taking me now?”

  “Someplace you’re going to like.”

  Truer words had never been spoken. An hour after he’d led her to the barn and saddled a horse, they’d climbed up one of the ranch’s trails to a ridge that overlooked Blue Falls and the lake. It shimmered like a diamond in the distance.

  “Oh, Ryan. It’s gorgeous.” It felt as close to heaven as she’d ever been. Up here, the breeze was cooler, caressing her warm cheeks.

  “I knew you’d like it. It’s the highest point on the ranch, highest point for miles around.” He sat on the edge of the cliff and motioned for her to sit in front of him. Ryan held her hand firmly as she stepped between his legs and sat so that her own legs dangled over the edge of the rock.

  “It feels like a different world up here,” she said.

  “I remember the first time I was able to walk up here following my injury. It took me all day, and I’ve never been so tired in my life. I scared Mom to death because I didn’t get back until like ten at night.”

  “But you felt better for doing it, didn’t you?”

  He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and spoke close to her ear. “Yeah.”

  She listened to the breeze ruffling the trees below them. “This place really is amazing. I know you’ve been through a lot, but I also think you’re a lucky man. To have this kind of connection to the land, being surrounded by such a tight-knit family. It’s sort of the iconic American dream.”

  Ryan entwined the fingers of his uninjured hand with hers. “There are other reasons I feel lucky, too.”

  She smiled without looking back at him.

  “I hope you’re feeling at home here,” he said.

  “I am.” She was constantly surprised by how much so.

  “Good.”

  Again, silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it encouraged the knots still hiding inside Brooke to ease. She scanned the horizon, thinking how incredibly different it was from what she was used to seeing in the city, even from the mountains of West Virginia. There was something wonderfully open and freeing in being able to see so far. No more feeling trapped.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “Sometimes it scares me how much I like it here.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged, unwilling to share all the thoughts that were really running through her head. That getting so attached to a place and the people there wasn’t wise when it all still had a tinge of temporary clinging to it.

  Ryan kissed her temple. “I’ll try not to give you a reason to leave here.”

  She closed her eyes and tried not to think about how Ryan wouldn’t be the one to cause her to flee. If anything, she’d leave to protect him and his family. He’d gone through too much already and shouldn’t have to deal with her mess.

  “How did you pick here to relocate?” he asked.

  “It sounds crazy, but I saw an ad for the position when I was doing random job searches online. I just had this overwhelming feeling this was where I had to go. My sister thought I’d lost my mind.”

  He was quiet for several endless seconds, and she feared she’d said too much. Had invited questions she didn’t feel she could answer.

  “This seems to be a good place for starting over,” he finally said.

  She took a deep, slow breath then let it out as she watched a bird drift on the air. Free as a bird. That’s how she felt now, and she felt like laughing and crying at the same time at the realization.

  “Yeah, it does.”

  BROOKE HOWLED WITH laughter along with everyone else at Simon’s attempt at pin the tail on the donkey. He wasn’t e
ven in the ballpark.

  “Uncle Simon, that’s a lamp!” Evan said.

  Simon spun toward the boy. “Maybe you need a tail.”

  Evan squealed and scrambled over the back of the couch. Ryan picked him up and swung him onto his shoulders. That increasingly familiar emotion moved in her chest again, causing her to smile in his direction. His gaze locked with hers and he smiled back.

  It’d been a week since their ride up to the top of the ranch, and they’d spent almost all of their spare time together. Sometimes helping each other work, sometimes going for walks. And there was plenty of time spent in bed, too. With each passing day, she marveled at her remarkable good fortune and wondered more and more how she could have ever fancied herself in love with Chris. Because though neither she nor Ryan had said those words, it was clear that was the path they were heading down. When she saw him, it was literally impossible not to smile.

  Guilt still stabbed her that she wasn’t being honest with him, but she was so wrapped up in the lie now it was hard to see a way out. She’d like to say she kept mum about her past strictly to protect herself, Ryan and his family, but that wasn’t the full truth either. Now that her heart was involved, she was afraid revealing the truth would cause her to lose him.

  Nathan finally snatched the donkey tail away from Simon, saying he was a danger to public safety, and they all settled in to watch Merline open her birthday presents. Merline oohed and aahed at each one, but she looked on the verge of tears when she opened the one from Ryan and read the note. Brooke had convinced him to save the birdhouse for another occasion and to make an angel for his mother. After all, it was Merline who’d really been the one to stand beside him as he recovered.

  Though the room was full of people and tonight she felt more a part of this family than she could have ever thought imaginable, watching this moment seemed too private and she edged her way into the kitchen. If anyone asked, she’d use the excuse of wanting a second slice of cake.