A Family for the Farmer (Brush Creek Brides Book 4)

by Liz Isaacson

  A Family for the Farmer

  Liz Isaacson

  AEJ Creative Works

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Ten Months Later

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  Sneak Peek! A Home for the Horseman Chapter One

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  “For therefore we both labour and suffer reproach, because we trust in the living God, who is the Savior of all men, specially of those that believe.”

  1 Timothy 4:10

  Chapter One

  Blake Gibbons picked himself up off the floor, where he’d been rolling around with a pair of dogs named Bruce and Wayne. The black lab licked his face and Blake chuckled. “You ready for me, Tess?”

  A blonde-haired woman gestured him into the kitchen, setting the broom she’d been wielding against the counter. “Sit right there.”

  He took the stool his boss and the foreman at Brush Creek Horse Ranch had sat on. Then Tess and Walker’s two boys. And now Blake.

  “What do you want this time?”

  “Shave it off.” Blake didn’t even reach up to touch his thinning hair. Only twenty-seven and already with a heinous receding hairline.

  Tess’s fingers swooped through his hair. “You sure?”

  Blake nodded, his mind made up. “Yep. Take it off. I don’t even care if you use an attachment.”

  “It doesn’t look that bad if we keep it short.”

  “Yes, it does.” Blake was tired of trying to make his hair cover the balding areas. “I look like I’m trying too hard. I’m going bald. Might as well embrace it.” Who he was trying to impress, and why, he wasn’t sure. Just another reason to shave his head completely.

  Tess switched on the clippers, the hum filling the air between them. “This isn’t going to get it smooth,” she said over the buzz. “You’ll have to use a razor for that.”

  “I’m fine with a super short buzz.”

  “You’ll look very military.”

  “I wear a cowboy hat almost all the time.”

  Tess smiled and started on his right side, just above his ear. “Yes, you men and your love affair with cowboy hats.”

  “They’re practical,” Blake said as Walker came back into the kitchen, freshly showered. His new haircut made him seem even more distinguished than he already looked. “Takin’ it all off, huh?” he asked before opening the fridge and pulling out a plastic container. He popped the lid and the scent of dill wafted into the air.

  “It’s time,” Blake said as Walker got down a box of crackers. They were headed into the summer months, and Blake didn’t want to spend time he didn’t have taking care of hair he didn’t have. This haircut was a win-win in his mind.

  Tess finished and used quick, short movements with the brush to flick the tiny hairs away. “There you go, cowboy.” She unpinned the drape and starting oiling the clippers.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He’d been getting his hair done by Tess since he moved to Brush Creek, almost three years ago. When she’d married Walker and moved up to the ranch, Blake had cut a half an hour from his schedule.

  He reached for the broom and swept up his hair with a single pang of sadness. He wasn’t going to dwell on the loss of his hair. It was just hair.

  Still, he knew women fantasized about a man’s hair, and the loss of his almost felt like a death sentence. With every swipe of the broom, Blake told himself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t dating. He’d tried, but Brush Creek didn’t have a lot of selection as far as potential partners went. The few women he’d gone out with had helped him learn that he wasn’t over Jessica yet. Jessica, his high school girlfriend he’d longed to reunite with.

  Jessica, who’d gotten married and moved to California over a year ago.

  Blake bent and swept the hair into a dustpan, wishing he could swish away his negative thoughts just as easily.

  “Any chance of me taking Wayne tonight?” he asked Walker.

  Walker rolled his eyes. “You and that dog.”

  “He loves me.” The black lab trotted over as if he’d try to get Walker’s permission with his big doe-eyes.

  “He likes to sleep on the bed with you and that mutt of yours.” Walker held out the box of crackers, but Blake waved him away.

  “The girls will be here any minute,” Tess said, Blake’s cue to get the heck out of there. Walker’s too, judging by the way he leapt to his feet.

  “Is that tonight?”

  “Sure is.” Tess gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. I told you about it this morning. And last night. And the night before that.”

  “No, I knew.” Walker met Blake’s eyes and his expression clearly said he hadn’t known.

  “You and the boys want to come hang at my cabin?” Blake asked. “You can come if Bruce and Wayne come.”

  Walker chuckled and reached for his cowboy hat hanging on the peg by the backdoor. “As soon as you open that door, Wayne will run off. You know that, right?”

  “He always comes back.” Blake grinned, threw the hair clippings in the trash, and washed his hands in the kitchen sink.

  Tess pulled out the tallest chocolate cake Blake had ever seen and set it on the counter. “I’ll get the boys.” She left the kitchen and called down the hall. A few seconds later, two tween boys—one dark like Walker and one light like Tess—appeared.

  “My cabin, boys,” Blake said, lifting his arm and slinging it over Michael’s shoulders.

  “Tess, will you save me some cake?” the boy asked his step-mother.

  She grinned and giggled. “I made you guys your own cake. Remember I said you could eat cake for breakfast on the last day of school?”

  Graham, Tess’s biological son, whooped and they ran out the back door with the dogs. Walker followed them, but Blake headed for the front door, as he’d stopped here on his way home and his truck sat out in the lane.

  He opened the door and stepped out—and right into a soft body. A woman cried out, and Blake tried to reach for her, tried to grab her. His fingers scrambled over hers, and he looked into a pair of stricken brown eyes before she fell down.

  He’d just knocked down a woman. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice filled with embarrassment. He bent down and looked at her. “Are you okay?”

  She forced a laugh through her throat and allowed him to take her hand and help her stand. “I’m fine.” Her voice sounded with a decidedly sexy Southern twang, and Blake’s heart drummed out an extra beat—something it hadn’t done in a while.

  “I really am sorry. I didn’t know you’d be there.”

  She tucked her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear and straightened her blouse. Blake peered at her, finding her unfamiliar. “I don’t know you. I’m Blake Gibbons.”

  “Erin Shields.” She held out her hand for him to shake. “I’m a friend of Tess’s and I just moved to town.”

  He shook her hand, wanting to hold on a lot longer than necessary. “Oh yeah? What brings you t
o Brush Creek?”

  “My aunt owns the pie shop here, and she needed some help. I said I’d come.”

  He checked her left hand for a wedding ring, but it was nearly dark and he couldn’t tell for sure in the split second he allowed himself to look. “That’s great,” he said. The dating pool in Brush Creek had just gotten a new, beautiful, intriguing fish.

  “Yeah, I guess.” Erin shifted her feet, and Blake realized he was blocking her way into the house. “Tess is a better cook than me. I keep telling her she should help Shirley at the bakery.”

  “But then I’d be too exhausted to have chocolate nights.” Tess joined them on the porch and gave her friend a hug. The look of happiness in her smile as she hugged Tess made Blake grin too.

  “You made it.” Tess linked her arm through Erin’s and stepped around Blake to enter the house. He stood there dumbly, staring at Erin. She glanced back at him too, and dang if his blood didn’t start on fire.

  Then the door closed between them, startling Blake and reminding him that cowboys weren’t invited to Tess’s chocolate nights.

  Chapter Two

  Erin promptly forgot about the tall, wiry, blond cowboy the moment Renee showed up. Before that, though, she managed to ask Tess one question: “Who was that?”

  Tess glanced at the door she’d just closed and said, “Blake?”

  Erin shrugged one shoulder, glad the weather had started to warm up now that it was almost June. Tonight, she wore a blouse that left her shoulders bare but a sleeve that went past her elbow. Her bobbed hair swung a little with the movement.

  Before Tess could say anything more—and she clearly wanted to if the interest in her eyes meant anything—Renee burst into the house. “There better be six different kinds of chocolate here tonight. Baby has a craving.” She grinned like she’d won the lottery.

  Erin laughed with Tess, then snapped her fingers. “I left my dessert in the car. Be right back.” She hurried out to her sedan, the only one in the driveway. The other women who attended these shindigs lived at the ranch, and Erin took a deep breath of the mountain air, relishing her freedom. Immediately, guilt made her stomach flip. She loved her three children. She’d do anything for them. But sometimes, she was glad they went to Salt Lake City every other weekend to see their father. Glad she got forty-eight hours to herself. Sometimes she didn’t do anything but lay around and watch TV, maybe indulge with a meal she didn’t have to make or clean up after.

  She grabbed the chocolate fruit tart she’d made at her aunt’s house that morning. Aunt Shirley had been teaching her a few tricks and tips with pie dough and tart shells and doughnuts. Erin didn’t seem to be very good at making crust light and flaky, or getting bread dough to rise properly, or figuring out how to get the oil hot enough before frying the doughnuts.

  Looking at the beautiful tart, she thought she might get some bonus points for appearance. But as soon as her friends tasted the crust, her chances at winning that night’s tasting would be lost. She’d known there was something wrong with it the moment she pulled it from the oven, but she hadn’t had time to fix it.

  Aunt Shirley had said she needed more butter, and her water should’ve been colder, and the oven hotter. How she knew that, Erin didn’t know.

  She re-entered the house and slid her tart onto the counter.

  “Erin,” Tess said, admiring the tart. “You made that?”

  “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  “I don’t see any chocolate on that,” Renee said, eyeing it dubiously.

  “I brushed the tart shell with dark chocolate,” Erin said. “Strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries, and chocolate.”

  Renee’s expression turned to acceptance. “Oh, well, can’t wait to taste it.”

  “What did you bring?” Erin asked.

  “Molten lava cake.” She gestured to the oven, where a delicious-looking cake sat, delicately sprinkled with powdered sugar.

  Erin’s mouth watered, at least until Tess said, “Erin was asking about Blake.”

  “No, I wasn’t,” Erin said automatically. She didn’t want this girl gossip. She’d only said something to Tess because they were old friends, both of their husbands having worked together at the scrap metal yard Tess’s first husband had owned.

  But Renee had already seized onto the simple sentence. “Blake? Our Blake?”

  Erin prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her. Or maybe Renee. “So, why are you craving six different kinds of chocolate today?”

  Renee didn’t seem to notice the topic change, because she said, “Do I need a reason when I’m pregnant?”

  “No, you don’t,” Tess said with a laugh. “Almost out of the first trimester now. How are you feeling?”

  Relief spread through Erin, and she caught Tess’s eye. Understanding passed between them, and Erin knew Tess wouldn’t bring up Blake again. At least not until they were alone.

  Erin woke the next morning at three a.m. She groaned as she pulled herself from the warmth of her bed and went to brush her teeth. Half an hour later, she descended the steps from her second-story apartment to the bakery below. Shirley had already arrived, and she had flour up to her elbows.

  She hummed as she kneaded, and Erin wished she was a morning person like her aunt. “Morning,” she said with a yawn. Erin reached for the black apron hanging on the wall and tied it around her waist. “Am I on cookies again today?”

  “Yes, dear.” Shirley flashed her a smile and continued kneading.

  Erin could make cookies. She was slowly learning the other things, but her aunt still didn’t quite trust Erin to take over the bigger items like pies and tarts. That was the goal, as Shirley’s husband had been recently diagnosed with prostrate cancer and she wanted to be home with him more.

  The bell rang out front and a moment later, Doug arrived in the back. “Morning, ladies.”

  Another morning person. Erin lifted her hand in greeting as she set the huge bowl in the mixer stand. Doug owned and operated the bakery half of the store, offering breads and rolls, doughnuts and cookies, cupcakes and birthday cakes. He had more business than he could handle, and his mother had been doing the cookies and doughnuts, along with her pies and fruit tarts, for a couple of years.

  The goal was for Doug and Erin to partner on the shop, with Erin eventually taking over all Shirley did with the pie shop while helping with whatever Doug needed as well. Now, if Erin could do more than make a decent batch of chocolate chip cookies, the plan would be foolproof.

  She slopped flour down the front of her apron as she attempted to weigh it and tried not to look up to see if Shirley or Doug had seen her blunder. She felt like a fish out of water, flopping around, trying to figure out how to survive.

  It was a good offer, one that would ensure Erin had a way to provide for her children long-term. She’d been praying for something that would give her the freedom to be available for her children while still having the money she needed.

  So when her aunt had called, Erin had jumped at the offer. Packed up her family in Vernal and moved them almost an hour northwest to the tiny town of Brush Creek she used to love to visit as a child.

  Over the course of the next three hours, she made four varieties of cookies—double chocolate chip, cranberry and white chocolate macadamia nut, oatmeal raisin, and snickerdoodle—stocked the trays and set up the front of the bakery, and finally she switched out her dirty apron for a clean one before she unlocked the front door.

  A line of about a dozen people waited, and she welcomed them with her warmest smile though she felt bone-tired already. Staying at Tess’s until eleven was a huge mistake. She boxed doughnuts and bagged cookies and wrapped loaves of bread for about a half an hour before she caught up to the line.

  With a moment to breathe, she restocked the trays, glancing up when the bell twinkled again. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the tall cowboy who entered. He swiped off his hat, and she recognized Blake Gibbons, who’d already run her over the prev
ious evening.

  “Hey.” He smiled easily, his eyes singular on hers. “I didn’t realize you actually worked here.”

  Her heart pattered irregularly, a fact which surprised her. With three children ages eight and under, with a year-old divorce, Erin didn’t hold any hope that she’d find a new husband anytime soon.

  Blake was handsome, that was all. He had a soothing voice. Muscles everywhere. Erin tore her eyes away and focused on the display cases in front of her. “Yeah, I’m helping everywhere I can for now.” She cleared her voice, unsure of how much he knew about her uncle’s health. “What can I get for you?”

  He scanned the cases and said, “I’ll take half a dozen glazed doughnuts and half a dozen maple bars.”

  Erin started boxing up his order. Before she finished, Doug entered the shop from the bakery in the back. “Blake,” he said. “You want to come on back?”

  Erin met his eyes, and something hot and charged passed between them. She ducked her head, sure she’d somehow entered an alternate universe where she actually thought a man would be interested in her.

  Blake was likely several years younger than her, had never been married, and would change everything he thought about her—if he thought anything at all—as soon as he discovered she had three children.

  She pressed herself into the display case as he passed behind her and slipped into the bakery with Doug. Despite the scent of yeast and sugar hanging in the air, she still managed to catch a whiff of his masculine cologne before he disappeared.

  She finished boxing his doughnuts and set them to the side of the register for when he returned, her mind revolving around what Doug needed Blake for in the bakery.