Summer Days

by Susan Mallery

  “She’s lovely,” Heidi told May. “I notice you don’t have any other pictures of her. Is she…” Heidi paused, wishing she’d thought before speaking. “Did she, um, die?”

  “Oh, no. She’s a classically trained dancer. I’ve only seen her perform a few times, but she’s wonderful. Elegant and graceful. I wish…” May drew in a breath. “We’re not close. We don’t speak much these days. Mothers and daughters. You know how that goes.”

  As Heidi barely remembered anything about her mother, she couldn’t relate to any kind of mother-daughter relationship, but she nodded, mostly because she realized things in the Stryker household weren’t as they had first seemed. Not quite so perfect.

  May quickly put out the rest of the pictures. Heidi saw that, except for the one photo of Evangeline, they were all of the brothers. Complications and questions, but not so many answers.

  “We should probably come up with some ground rules,” May told her. “About the kitchen.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Heidi asked, not sure what she meant.

  “I thought it would be easier if we shared our meals. The four of us. I love to cook, so I don’t mind taking care of fixing dinner.”

  Cooking wasn’t one of Heidi’s favorite chores, so she was thrilled to let someone else handle that. But sitting down across from Rafe every night would be difficult. Or tempting, which made the situation problematic.

  “I already asked Glen and he said it was fine with him.”

  Heidi held in a groan. “You’re welcome to cook anytime you’d like. I hope you’ll let me help. But, about Glen. You need to be careful. He’s a bit of a flirt.”

  May blushed and turned away. She busied herself rearranging the pictures on the table. “I’ve heard a few things about him in town. Don’t worry. I won’t be taken in by his charm. It’s just nice to have a man to talk to. My husband died so long ago. I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to have a man around.”

  Heidi didn’t know how to press her point without sounding mean, so she hoped her warning would be enough.

  “Is there any food you don’t like?” May asked.

  “No.”

  “Good. Rafe and I will go out tonight, but tomorrow I’ll be cooking. Maybe lasagna.”

  “That sounds delicious.” Heidi suspected May’s lasagna didn’t come in a red box from the frozen-food aisle.

  The roar of a large truck engine shattered the quiet. May turned toward the sound and clapped her hands together. “They’re here with the supplies. I can’t wait to see everything.”

  Heidi followed her out onto the porch. Two trucks from the local lumber supply pulled into the yard, by the barn. From where she stood, she could see fence posts and two-by-fours, roofing material and what looked like a barn door. While the thought of getting the place fixed up was exciting, everything on the trucks represented more money she was probably going to have to pay back if she wanted May gone.

  She wanted to complain, to say that until the judge ruled, this was still her house and her land. But she didn’t dare annoy May. The other woman’s generosity was the only reason Glen wasn’t sitting in jail. Right now Heidi couldn’t afford to speak her mind. Just one more thing on the list of what was very expensive these days.

  Rafe pulled in behind the trucks. He climbed out of his car, wearing jeans, a plaid shirt and work boots—not exactly the high-powered executive she’d first met in the middle of the road. His jeans fit him well and, yes, his butt was very nice, but her interest was purely intellectual. She could admire a man and still not want to have anything to do with him. The long legs and narrow hips were Mother Nature’s way of messing with her head. And maybe her hormones.

  Oh, but it had been a very long time since a man had held her.

  She’d had a few boyfriends during her teen years, and a serious relationship when she’d turned twenty. Mike had been a “townie” living in the small Arizona city where the carnival had settled for the winter. Heidi had always heard about the dangers of getting involved with locals, but Mike had swept her off her feet and she’d quickly succumbed to his charms. She’d given him her heart and her virginity. But when spring came, he didn’t want to go with the carnival, and she couldn’t leave the only family she had in the world. Although she and Mike had promised to stay in touch, he had eventually stopped calling. She’d heard through a mutual friend that he’d found someone else and was engaged. The following winter, the carnival went somewhere else.

  She’d gotten over her broken heart, had enjoyed her life. The men who traveled with the carnival were either too old or too much like brothers for her to consider as romantic partners. Then, just when she’d started thinking it was time to find another way of life, Melinda, her best friend, had fallen in love.

  Her relationship had burned hot and ended badly. Melinda, a softhearted young woman who always believed the best about everyone, had been devastated. Depression had followed. Two suicide attempts had shaken the small carnival community. Heidi had been determined to keep her friend alive, no matter what. But Melinda had been more determined to die.

  Heidi walked around the back of the house and headed for the refuge that was her goats. Watching Melinda suffer had made Heidi wary of love. Of the price it exacted. Very few of the carnival family were married, and she could only remember a handful of happy couplings. Which made her unclear on the benefits of falling in love. Could that kind of feeling really last, and was it worth the trouble?

  As far as how long it had been since she’d found a man in her bed, that was a different sort of problem. One of the downsides of living in Fool’s Gold was that, in a close-knit community like this one, there were no secrets. Going out of town for temporary romance might have been appealing, but she didn’t know where or how to begin. She wasn’t the bar type, and goats weren’t exactly a guy magnet.

  Glen always told her to be open to the possibilities. The next time one presented itself, she just might have to say yes.

  * * *

  HEIDI FINISHED PRINTING the new labels for her cheese and studied the result. The artwork was clean, the colors bright. The only way she knew to make more money was to sell more cheese. But would this new label appeal to consumers?

  Glen was downstairs. She could show it to him and get at least one opinion. If only she knew a marketing person, she thought as she walked out of her bedroom and ran into something solid, warm and very male.

  Heidi stepped back and looked up, then wished she hadn’t.

  Rafe had spent the afternoon unloading lumber and other supplies for the barn and fence line. No doubt he’d worked up a sweat and had therefore wanted to shower before dinner. But none of that explained why he was standing in the middle of the upstairs hall, wearing nothing but a couple of towels and a sexy grin.

  His hair was wet and standing in surprisingly appealing little spikes. He hadn’t bothered shaving, so he was a combination of rough and naked. He smelled like her goat soap. The towel draped around his neck did little to conceal his bare chest, and the one at his waist teased with possibilities.

  “What?” she snapped. “You can’t get changed in the bathroom?”

  That single damned eyebrow rose.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “No. And don’t think I’m going to sleep with you, because I’m not. You’re just stubborn enough that it wouldn’t distract you from what you want, and then I would lose twice.”

  His mouth curved into a slow grin. “I don’t recall asking you to sleep with me, but if you did, no one would lose.”

  Horrified to realize what she’d just said, Heidi turned and raced for the stairs. Laughter followed her down to the first floor, where she bolted outside.

  Cool evening air filled her lungs, but it wasn’t enough to ease the burning on her cheeks. Stupid man, she thought. Stupid man who looked really good in
a towel. Whoever said life didn’t have a sense of humor was fifteen kinds of wrong.

  * * *

  “DON’T TELL ME TO SLEEP with Rafe to fix the problem,” Heidi said. Perhaps not the most professional way to begin the conversation with her lawyer, but she wanted to be clear. After last night’s unfortunate verbal spill, she’d been avoiding Rafe and planned to continue to not see him. Perhaps forever.

  Trisha shifted the folders in front of her. “You can’t ask me to help you, then tie my hands and expect a miracle.” She chuckled. “Okay. I won’t mention it. I wonder if Rafe would be interested in sleeping with me? I wouldn’t say no to that one, despite the age difference.”

  A visual Heidi didn’t want, but at least the concept was a distraction.

  “Rafe and May have moved in.”

  Trisha winced. “I don’t like the sound of that. Getting them out could be a problem.”

  “With what the judge said about us sharing the ranch, I didn’t think I could tell them no. The house is big enough.” She wasn’t going to mention her worries about Glen. As far as she was concerned, there’d already been too much sex talk.

  “How’s it working out?” Trisha asked.

  “May is lovely. Very sweet and motherly. She cooks.”

  “Ask her to come live with me,” Trisha said with a sigh. “I would kill for a home-cooked meal.”

  “Tell me about it. But Rafe is complicated.”

  “His type always is.”

  “I’ve heard more about what happened to May and her kids back when she worked for the previous owner. He was horrible to her.”

  “That may be true,” Trisha said. “It shouldn’t have an effect on the judge, but everybody’s human.”

  “What do you know about Rafe’s younger brother Clay?”

  Trisha leaned back in her chair and sighed. “You don’t know?” She laughed. “You really should.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Have you seen his picture?”

  “Sure. May put several out in the living room.”

  “Oh, not that kind.” Trisha typed on her laptop, then turned the machine so it faced Heidi.

  The photo of a man filled the screen. He was naked, the shot taken from the back—his butt front and center, so to speak. Trisha reached around and pushed a button. The picture changed to Clay Stryker in extremely tight bikini briefs. Unless he’d been Photoshopped, his, assets were impressive.

  Heidi felt her eyes widen as she stared. “He’s a—”

  “An underwear model. Also a movie butt-double. Trust me, the studios pay big bucks to get his ass up on-screen. Very successful.”

  “Rafe talks about him like he’s a criminal. Actually, he doesn’t talk about him.”

  “Probably embarrassed. Rafe is a successful business guy. Do you think he likes having his little brother posing half-naked on a Times Square billboard?”

  Heidi didn’t know Rafe well enough to be sure. “But he’s family.”

  “Not everyone thinks being family is enough. How’s the financial plan coming?”

  Heidi would rather talk about Clay’s butt or nearly any other topic. “Not well. I’m going to try to sell more cheese, and I have a couple of pregnant goats. Their kids will bring in money.”

  “Am I right in thinking they don’t go for a hundred thousand each?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “How did you buy the ranch in the first place?”

  Heidi shrugged. “I won a small lottery jackpot. It was enough for the down payment, closing costs and the goats. We had a few dollars in savings. I’ve started playing again, but I don’t hold out hope I’ll win a second time.”

  “Any rich relatives ready to die?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad.” She turned the computer around and closed the top. “You need to come up with a way to pay back a significant percentage of what Glen stole. The judge isn’t going to want to hear about a plan that takes a decade. I’m serious, Heidi. You could lose the ranch, and Glen could go to prison. For real.”

  “I’ll come up with something,” Heidi promised, although she wasn’t sure what or how.

  * * *

  RAFE SURVEYED THE FENCE. Most of the posts were leaning or missing, and the material between had either disappeared or was hanging by a single staple. The job would go faster if there were no fence at all. As it was, he would have to check each of the posts, pull the ones that weren’t sturdy enough, get rid of all the old wire fencing and then start with new material.

  “That’s a lot of work.”

  Rafe turned and saw Glen walking toward him. The old man pulled a pair of gloves out of his jeans’ back pocket.

  “So we should probably get started.”

  “You planning on helping me?” Rafe asked. He would guess Glen had been eligible for social security for close to a decade. Sure, he looked wiry, but what about his heart? Rafe wasn’t interested in putting the old man at risk.

  “I put in my years as a roadie. Besides, it’s not like you’re digging holes the old-fashioned way.” He pointed to the engine-powered auger Rafe had rented. “Hell, boy, I’ve been handling machines like that longer than you’ve been alive.”

  Boy? Rafe hid a grin. If Glen was trying to intimidate him, he was going to have to work a lot harder.

  “You want to drill the postholes, you go ahead,” Rafe told him, thinking it would be the easiest work of the day. The equipment would provide most of the muscle, and Rafe would handle the heavy lifting.

  Rafe had barely pulled out the first of the leaning posts when two trucks drove onto the ranch. They headed right for the fence line and came to a stop only a few feet away. There was one guy in the first truck, and two in the second.

  The first man climbed out and walked toward Rafe. He was tall, with dark hair, and there was something about him that seemed familiar. Almost as if Rafe had met him before.

  The man laughed as he approached. “I wouldn’t have recognized you, either,” he said. “Not if I hadn’t heard you were back in town.”

  Rafe studied the stranger. “Ethan? Ethan Hendrix?”

  “That’s me.”

  The two men shook hands.

  “Welcome home,” Ethan said. “I remember you hating Fool’s Gold. I can’t believe you’re back.”

  “I’m not back or home. This is temporary.”

  Ethan glanced at the stacks of fence posts and rolls of fencing. “Looks pretty permanent to me.”

  “My mother is planning to stay in town. I’m helping her out.”

  “You always did take care of her.” Ethan motioned for the other two men to join them. “I’m going to let you have two of my best. Got a call from the lumber supply about what you were planning to do.” Ethan grinned, his dark eyes bright with amusement. “Last I heard, you were some finance guy. If you’ve gone soft, there’s no way you can do this yourself.”

  “I haven’t gone soft,” Rafe told him, then introduced Glen, who waved away the words.

  “I know Ethan,” the old man said. “And these two. Come on, boys. We’ll get started and show them how it’s done.”

  Rafe and Ethan walked toward the larger truck.

  “You never left?” Rafe asked. “I remember something about you wanting to get away, too.”

  Ethan shrugged. “That was the plan. Life intervened. Turned out staying here was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He pulled out his wallet and removed a couple of pictures.

  Rafe studied the pretty redhead and the three children. “You’ve been busy.”

  “I’ve been happy,” Ethan said.

  Rafe handed back the picture. “Good for you.” While he didn’t feel any regrets about his marriage having failed, he was sorry not to have children of his ow
n.

  “Where are you living?” Ethan asked.

  “San Francisco. You still in construction?”

  “Some. The company pretty much runs itself. Most of my time is spent building turbines.” His smile flashed again. “Windmills, to you laypeople. Wind energy.”

  They talked about Ethan’s business for a few minutes.

  “We should get together,” Ethan said. “I’ll talk to Liz about having you over for dinner. Remember Josh Golden?”

  “Sure.”

  “He’s still in town. Married, with a kid. Fiona is a year now. Time flies. We’ll have them over.”

  They discussed the other mutual friends they’d had in school—who was still around and who had moved on. After a few minutes, Ethan glanced at his watch.

  “I need to get back. Keep my guys as long as you want. They know what they’re doing.”

  “I appreciate the help. You’ll send me a bill for their time?”

  “Count on it,” Ethan told him. “From what I’ve heard, you can afford it.”

  Rafe shrugged. “I get by.”

  “I’ll be in touch to set up that dinner. It’s good to have you back.”

  “I’m not back.”

  Ethan opened the driver’s-side door of his truck. “People say that a lot around here, and yet they never seem to leave. You might be more ‘back’ than you think, Rafe.”

  * * *

  AT SEVEN-THIRTY THAT NIGHT, the sun had yet to drift fully below the horizon. Rafe sat on the front-porch steps of the old house, a bottle of beer between his feet.

  It had been a good day, he thought, shifting slightly. His muscles protested the movements, reminding him that building a fence was hard work, even with a motorized fence-post digger and plenty of help. His shoulders ached. Despite the gloves he’d worn, he had a few cuts on his hands, along with several blisters. He should probably be pissed, but he felt a sense of pride when he studied the straight, strong fence line. They’d made a good start. With the help of the guys Ethan had sent, it would only take a couple of weeks to get the fence line finished. Then they would move on to the barn.