by Mae Nunn
“Whoa! Who’s this?”
Joiner squatted, held open his arms and Rocket went into the embrace as if his long-lost friend had come home from the war.
“As I said, I should start locking the door because it seems my new watchdog isn’t gonna keep out the riffraff.”
“Since when do you have an animal in your home?” Joiner gathered Rocket’s long limbs and stood, reminding Cullen of a cowpoke holding a rescued calf.
“Since that one wandered out from behind a Dumpster at the pizza restaurant begging for a handout.”
“You took in a stray?” Joiner seemed incredulous, and rightly so. Cullen had always been too focused on his studies to make room for an animal in his life, much less in his home.
“How could I resist that face?”
“Looks like your boy’s got a lot of golden retriever in him,” Joiner noted.
“That’s what the vet said when I took Rocket in to get him checked out and vaccinated.”
Cullen watched his brother tenderly cradle the pup, stroking his blond coat and floppy ears while Rocket poked his curious nose at Joiner’s shirt pocket.
“Can he have a peppermint?” Joiner fished out a striped candy.
“Just this once. But if he throws it up, the mess belongs to you.”
Joiner settled Rocket on the rug, tore open the small cellophane packet and offered the treat. The puppy sniffed it and turned uncertain eyes to his master. Warmth shot through Cullen’s heart at Rocket’s request for approval.
“It’s okay, you can have it,” Cullen assured his new buddy.
Rocket scooped up the candy with a swipe of his pink tongue and crunched it between puppy teeth as sharp as carpet tacks.
“How many years have you been carrying Life Savers in your pocket, Joiner?”
“As many as I’ve been coaxing and training horses. They all seem to cooperate a little better if you sweeten the deal.” He stood but kept an eye on Rocket as the puppy enjoyed the treat.
“Think that principle applies to girls and cookies?” Cullen had purchased an assortment of baked goods, hoping to win favor with Carrie, Meg and Hope. And maybe Sarah.
“Sugar and females have gone hand in hand since the Garden of Eden. I personally think the forbidden fruit was a MoonPie instead of an apple.. I can’t imagine why it would be any different today,” Joiner replied. “Why do you ask?”
“I have company on the way.”
“If you already have plans, why’d you ask me to come by?” Joiner slanted a questioning glance at Cullen.
“I figured it might be nice to invite my brother over for a swim and some lunch.” Cullen tried to sound offended by Joiner’s suspicion.
“My, aren’t you domestic all of the sudden.”
“A new friend from the university is bringing her three daughters over to use the pool.”
Joiner’s head snapped back, his eyes wide.
“A new friend? Anybody I might recognize?”
“It’s always a possibility in a town this small. Her name’s Sarah Eason.”
“Joe Eason’s widow?” Joiner asked, his brows drawing together.
“You knew her husband?”
“I met him at the gym years ago and we played racquetball a handful of times before he got too sick. Nice guy. I’d heard he passed away a while ago.” Joiner gave a sad shake of his head.
“Did you ever meet his wife?”
“No, never did. I was aware that Joe was married with kids, but guys don’t do much more than point and grunt within the perimeter of the gym. Where’d you meet her?”
“Sarah’s auditing the lecture I took over for Blair this semester.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that? McCarthy mentioned you were teaching a class of your own now. Aren’t you worried responsibility might cramp your style?”
“That’s the pot callin’ the kettle black,” Cullen scoffed. “You’ve never been responsible for more than shoveling horse manure in your life.”
“Hey, that’s not true. Ninety percent of my time off the polo field is spent fundraising.”
“How’s that working out for your own checkbook?”
Joiner held a palm outward. “Enough. Nobody has to remind me how much time and money I’ve exhausted in the past ten years when I could hardly afford either. Now I’ve gotta figure out how to invest what I’ve got left once the ponies are sold.”
“You gonna sell Pistol, too?”
“No way. He’s the smartest investment I ever made. I’m going to stud him out for as long as he’s interested in fraternizing with Texas fillies.”
“How long is Render willing to put you up at his ranch?”
“He’s agreed to trade his foreman’s cabin for my services until I can find the right place or he hires a permanent manager.”
Car doors slammed and high-pitched female voices announced the arrival of Cullen’s guests. Rocket’s head angled toward the sounds. He woofed softly and ambled down the hallway to the front entrance.
“Sounds like your date’s here.”
“Cut it out. Alma’s coming over too so it’s strictly on the up and up.” Cullen dismissed his brother’s insinuation. “The lady could use a friend and I happened to be in the right place at the right moment. And between you and me, Blair suggested I try something completely different, stretch my legs a bit. So I’ve enrolled in a psychology class for the fall semester. I figured observing some kids who have lost their daddy, kind of like we did, might be helpful to me in the class.”
“Yeah, well, just watch your step or you’ll have a ready-made family on your hands.”
A ready-made family...
A knock on the door resounded in the entry hall. Rocket began to bark in earnest and giggly girls squealed in response on the front porch. The tranquility of his home was about to be shattered, for the day at least, and he had no one to blame but himself.
A ready-made family?
Perish the thought!
“Want me to get it?” Joiner said, offering to greet Cullen’s guests.
“I’ll go. But you can keep an eye on Rocket for a minute.” He took a leash from the peg by the door, attached it to the puppy’s collar and handed it to Joiner.
The two moved toward the kitchen to let Cullen pass and he inhaled a final deep breath of calm air before letting hurricane Eason into the house.
“Greetings!” He pulled the door wide, expecting Sarah’s girls to be lined up like little soldiers waiting for instructions. Boy, howdy, had he been wrong. The force of being crowded and squeezed by three pairs of arms as young bodies crushed against his midsection nearly knocked that final calm breath out of him.
“Ladies, we agreed to show some restraint today, remember?” Sarah coached her exuberant brood. “Sorry, Cullen, but Meg and Hope have been watching the clock since their Cheerios went mushy at 6:00 a.m. If they’d had their way we’d have been here hours ago.”
“Yeah,” Hope mumbled, her face pressed against Cullen’s pant leg. “Even Carrie got out of bed without griping for a change.”
At the mention of her name, Carrie dropped away from the group hug, a mask of indifference replacing the smile she’d been wearing. “MYOB, Runtzilla. It’s not exactly front page news when a person gets up early on a Saturday morning.”
“By early she means ten o’clock,” Meg explained with an unsympathetic roll of her eyes—eyes the same lovely color as her mother’s. “I wanted to come sooner to enjoy the clear weather. It’s a documented fact that spending time in the sunshine is the only reliable way to create vitamin D in your skin, and studies show the lack of it can lead to schizophrenia.”
“Well, then, Dr. Jekyll, you’d better get outside quick before Miss Hyde makes her first appearance of the day,” Carrie snapped.
“Where’s Rocket?” Hope looked past Cullen and into the house.
“He’s inside with my brother.”
“The Cowboy Chef’s here?” Carrie’s question was almost breathless, her eyes all kinds of dreamy.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you but it’s my older brother Joiner. Hunt’s working today. His fiancée owns Temple Territory and they have their own pool event going on over there this afternoon.”
“Oh.” Carrie’s face fell. “I hadn’t heard he was engaged.”
“What did you expect, that he’d wait on you for ten more years?” Meg taunted.
“No, but I was at least hoping to see him while he was still available. The Cowboy Chef is a hottie patottie.”
“Hey! He’s my identical twin so I assume that makes me hot, too, huh?” Cullen held his arms wide, waiting for a compliment.
“I meant hot in a television sort of way. Your look is more...” Carrie paused, not wanting to dig the hole deeper.
“Rustic?”
“Exactly!”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Your word, not mine.”
“I wanna see Rocket!” Hope danced with excitement, the ruffles on her swimsuit cover-up jiggling to her imagined beat.
“Let him loose, Joiner!” Cullen called down the hallway.
Seconds later the golden-haired pup came flying through the doorway, skinny legs a flurry of speed, mouth wide in a doggy grin as he hit Hope with big front paws and knocked her to the ground.
“He remembers me!” she shouted, and then burst into shrieks of laughter, assuring Cullen she’d survived the impact. Meg and Carrie joined the calamity on the ground, rolling in the warm, summer grass, taking turns letting Rocket plant wet, joyful kisses on their faces.
Cullen watched, fascinated by the moment of sweet innocence and pure play, trying to remember a day when he’d been so young, so unafraid.
Trying to remember what life had felt like before PTSD.
Before he started cutting himself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SARAH STRUGGLED TO concentrate on what Cullen was saying about his lecture plans for the coming week. Between watching her girls splashing in the pool and worrying whether she should be helping Alma and Joiner in the kitchen, she was far too distracted to dive into subjects of historical importance with Cullen.
What Sarah really wanted to do was dive into the cool depths, but her host seemed content to sit in the shade. So when Cullen and Rocket went inside for a pitcher of lemonade, she quickly slipped off her Bermuda shorts, perched near the Gunite steps and let her feet dangle in the blue, blue water.
“Get in with us, Mama,” Hope coaxed from the shallows, safe in her Pretty Princess swim vest.
“This is enough for now, maybe later.”
It didn’t seem appropriate to take off her T-shirt and get in when Cullen showed no interest, even with the girls taunting him. The puppy stayed hot on his master’s heels and was also quite content to stay clear of the water, his pink belly exposed as he stretched out, napping in the short grass.
“But we should have four people for games and races.”
“Will I do?”
Heads turned as Joiner stepped out onto the patio wearing surfer-style, knee-length trunks. The loud, floral print so popular in decades past was making a comeback, and on Joiner’s trim body Sarah could certainly see the appeal of the low-riding garment.
“You’re on my team!” Hope called.
“We should toss a coin to decide whose team he’s on,” Meg insisted.
“How about if we just toss you on your pointed head instead?” Carrie cupped her hand and splashed her sister.
“Now, now, ladies. There’s no need to fight over me when you can take turns instead,” Joiner teased as he closed the door behind him and then walked the perimeter of the pool before stepping up onto the diving board. “I have enough energy for several rounds of competition, if you’re up to it.”
“Make a big splash!” Hope screamed, delighted with the new development.
Joiner bounced twice, the board bending beneath his weight as he balanced on the balls of his feet. Finally he took a high leap and gracefully folded at the waist in the classic jackknife position. But instead of stretching his body to make a clean entry, he tucked into a tight ball and slammed into the water cannonball style, the impact sending sprays arching in every direction.
The girls shrieked and shielded their faces from the unexpected soaking.
“Was that splash big enough for you?” Joiner asked after he surfaced next to Hope.
Her playful response was to kick water in his face.
When he karate-chopped the surface with the edge of his hand in reply, the battle began in earnest―three sisters against Cullen’s brother in a contest for who could launch the strongest torrent in the other’s direction. The girls held their own quite well.
Sarah jumped to her feet and retreated to the table just out of reach of the wet madness.
The glass patio door slid wide once more and Cullen stepped through carrying a tray of plastic cups, a tall pitcher and a bowl overflowing with snack mix.
“Let me guess.” He settled the tray on the tabletop. “Joiner did his special dive for them?”
“It was extremely impressive.” Sarah filled the cups of ice with the tart drink she’d seen Alma lovingly squeeze from fresh lemons.
“And extremely effective—if your intention is to empty half the pool in one motion. There goes my water bill.”
Rocket wandered over to retrieve a bit of pretzel that had found its way to the grass.
“Ladies, how about taking a break?” she called.
Hope climbed the steps, deposited her Pretty Princess vest beside the pool and dripped her way to the table.
“Look, Mama.” She held her palm outward. “My fingers are all raisiny.”
“That happens when they get waterlogged. Catch your breath and have a snack and they’ll plump up again in no time.”
Meg and Carrie joined the table while Joiner began to swim laps, his body slicing through the water in sure, confident motions.
“If you hadn’t noticed, Joiner’s the swimmer in the family.”
“Did you have a pool when you were a kid?” Meg asked over a mouthful of the salty snack mix.
“No, but we had a membership to the YMCA. We all had lessons, but Joiner was the only one who really took to the water. Hunt and I prefer the baseball diamond, and for Mac it’s the golf course.”
“My mom says golf is a waste of time and money invented for the purpose of keeping a husband away from his wife’s honey-do list,” Sarah shared.
“I continue to be impressed with your mother’s wisdom.” Cullen smiled and raised his red Solo cup in salute.
“Do you cover up because your skin burns really badly?” Meg pointed to Cullen’s lightweight khakis and long sleeve T-shirt on such a perfect summer day.
“He fries worse than bacon on a hot skillet and he’s really hairy and gross underneath his clothes,” Joiner answered as he approached the table. He stood next to Hope and, to her delight, shook like a dog, flinging drops of water in every direction.
“You wanna learn to swim without that floatie thing?”
“Can I?” Hope turned wide eyes to her mother for permission.
“Joiner, you’re kind to offer but we can’t trouble two Temple men this weekend.”
“Let him do it, Sarah. Joiner’s very patient with kids and animals, which is why he’s going to teach Rocket to swim, too.”
“Are you sure?”
“We’re here and we’re wet,” Joiner pointed out the obvious to Sarah. “I can teach her a lot in a half hour, as long as her sisters don’t mind giving us the pool for a bit.”
In respo
nse, Carrie and Meg tossed beach towels over a couple of lounge chairs, poked their earbuds into place and stretched out to sun and enjoy their music.
“Carrie, turn your iPod down. I can hear Def Leppard all the way over here,” Sarah insisted.
“She’s right.” Meg thumped her sister to get her attention. “You’ll blow your eardrums out.”
“Do that again and I’ll break your fingers,” Carrie threatened.
“Let’s go, kiddo.” Joiner invited Hope with a wave of his hand and the two made a beeline for the pool.
Cullen cast a curious glance toward her surly daughter and then settled into a chair beside Sarah.
“I apologize for my oldest. She seems determined to make the awkward middle school years as tough as possible for all of us.”
“No worries, Joiner used to speak to me the same way. It lasted a couple of years but he eventually grew some respect for me and cut the crap talk.”
“Was there something in particular that made him change?”
“I shot up about six inches one summer and learned to swing a mean baseball bat.”
They shared a laugh.
“I can’t thank you enough for this break from the apartment today.”
“No thanks necessary. It’s nice to have some company besides my brothers. And Alma loves somebody to fuss over. She’s in there right now singing away while she makes chicken salad. There haven’t been any kids in this house since the previous owners moved out.”
“How come such a handsome guy doesn’t have a family of his own by now?”
“The Temple boys get asked that a lot. Not that handsome part, since the others are somewhat toady, but the marriage part because we’re all still single. I expect it’s because we witnessed an extraordinary relationship between our parents and none of us will be happy with anything less. When that kind of love comes along, we’ll recognize it.”
“I understand what you mean.” Sarah glanced toward her older daughters, who drowsed in the sun a few feet away. “I’m grateful that my girls have my parents as role models of marriage, since they’re growing up without a man in the house.”
“Do you think you’ll ever remarry?”
