by Helen Lacey
“I think I’ll keep my feet on the ground,” he said and grinned as he stepped closer. “Unless you have work you need done.”
“No,” she said and eased the bit and bridle off Sharnah’s head. “I have things under control.”
He sucked in a sharp breath and went to speak, but Cara suddenly silenced them both. She reached forward and grasped Brooke’s hand, wrapping tiny fingers around hers as she mumbled a few words that made no sense, and yet, spoke volumes. Brooke’s heart flipped over instantly. It was such a simple thing, but the love she felt toward her niece in that moment was incredible. She looked up and saw that Tyler was watching her intently. He saw the connection, she was sure of it.
In that moment she had everything she wanted...everything she’d dreamed of. Of course, it wasn’t real. Tyler was virtually a stranger and Cara wasn’t her child...but if she closed her eyes, if she let her imagination get the better of her, it actually felt more real than anything ever had.
Emotion swelled her throat and she swallowed hard. “Please...” she whispered, saying what was in her heart. “Don’t take her away.”
For a moment Brooke wasn’t sure he heard her. His expression was unreadable. Unfathomable. But then he raised his palm and cupped her cheek, so gently it was as though he’d done it countless times before. Brooke couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. There was electricity in his touch. And tenderness and compassion, too. Because he knew, she was sure, how important Cara had become to her. With the baby between them there was a kind of primal connection circling around them. In that instant it was as though they were the only three people on the planet. The snow, the silence, the solitude...all of it seemed to wrap them in a bubble for the briefest of moments.
His touch should have sent her running for the hills. Or leaping back. But it didn’t. Whatever was burgeoning between them, with that one simple gesture it jumped ten paces forward. She wanted to press closer, be closer, stay closer. She wanted to feel his arms around her. And more. There was something so magnetic in his gaze that she couldn’t have broken free no matter how much the practical part of her brain was telling her to.
“I can’t promise you that,” he said quietly, gently rubbing his thumb along her jaw. “I wish I could.”
With those words the moment disappeared as quickly as it had come. Brooke sucked in a deep breath and stepped sideways. Cara cooed and laughed and Brooke’s attention quickly focused on the baby. But the tension remained, swirling around them, making her loathe him and like him at the same time. She was about to pull on every ounce of her good sense and tell him to go to the devil when she spotted a car coming down the driveway.
“Expecting company?” Tyler asked when he saw her expression as she noticed the vehicle.
Brooke shook her head, slipping a halter onto Sharnah and tying her to the post. “No,” she said. But she knew the truck. And the occupant. “I’ll be right back.”
She strode across the yard, knees inexplicably shaking. The logo on the side of the truck made her experience a familiar dread. The P & P Ranch. One of the largest in the county. Ruled over by Frank Pritchard and his no-good stepson, Devlin. But it wasn’t Frank or Devlin who got out of the car. It was Will Serrato—foreman of the P & P. When the vehicle came to a halt he uncurled his six-foot-something frame out of the truck. The dogs raced up and jumped around, sensing no threat. Despite the fact he worked for Pritchard, Will wasn’t a bad sort of man. But he still belonged to the enemy camp.
“’Mornin,’ Brooke,” he said and tilted his hat.
“Hi,” she said cautiously. “What do you want, Will?”
“Boss would like to talk to you.”
“Then why isn’t he here?” she asked.
His handsome face creased into a wry smile. “Might have somethin’ to do with the shotgun you had at your side the last time he stopped by.”
“I never threatened anyone,” she reminded him. “Despite the fact he was trespassing on private property.”
Will didn’t flinch. “So, about the meeting?”
“I’m not interested.”
He named a monetary sum, way less than she knew was fair. “That’s his offer, Brooke.”
“The Laughton Ranch isn’t for sale,” she said flatly. “Any part of it. And certainly not to Frank Pritchard. Or to anyone connected with him. You’ve wasted a trip, Will.”
“Better to sell now than when the bank forecloses, don’t you think?” he said and raised a brow. “You’ll get a better price.”
Annoyance snaked up her spine. “You should leave. And tell your boss not to make any more offers because I’m not interested.”
Will shrugged a broad shoulder and tilted his hat again. “I’ll pass on your message.”
“Everything okay here, Brooke?”
Tyler’s voice jerked her gaze sideways. She hadn’t heard him approach, but was torn between being foolishly pleased to have him by her side, and despairing that he might work out how deep in trouble she really was. Not that she felt threatened by Will Serrato in any way, as the good-looking cowboy had always been polite and respectful toward her.
“Everything is fine,” she assured the man now standing at her side. She noticed the pulse in his cheek was beating rapidly and Cara was snuggled close to his chest. If she’d ever had the idea a baby in his arms could be emasculating, she was wrong. He’d never looked stronger or more ready to come to her defense. “He was just leaving.”
She didn’t introduce them and instead called the dogs to her side and turned to walk away. She heard the vehicle door slam shut and within seconds the truck was heading back down the driveway, leaving snow and mud churning in its wake.
Tyler caught up with her quickly and asked the obvious question. “Who was that?”
Back at the corral, Brooke unclipped Sharnah’s girth strap. “No one.”
“Old boyfriend?”
She glanced sideways and scowled. “Hardly. If you must know he is the minion of my mortal enemy.”
His mouth twisted. “You have a mortal enemy?”
She pulled the saddle off. “I was being dramatic.”
He shifted Cara onto his other hip and touched her shoulders. “Well, how about you be less dramatic and more honest.”
Brooke turned to face him, so close that the edge of his jacket brushed hers. “His name is Will Serrato.”
“And?” Tyler prompted.
“He’s the foreman of the P & P Ranch,” she explained. “Which is one of the two biggest spreads in this county.”
“And?” he asked again.
“And his boss wants to buy part of my ranch,” she said hotly.
“Is it for sale?”
“No,” she replied. “And it never will be. So I sent him on his way. End of story.”
He dropped his hand and stared at her...through her...into her...his green eyes seeing all her fears, all her regret...all her pain. She was sure of it. He was a lawyer, and by all accounts one of the best around. He questioned people for a living. Of course he would be able to see through her paltry attempts to stay strong and in control.
“I’m not buying it, Brooke,” he said bluntly. “There’s more to this than you’re letting on. And I’m pretty sure it’s got something to do with the bank threatening to foreclose, the accident that killed your parents and your missing-in-action brother.”
He was right. It was all tangled up together and was one unholy mess.
“I said I would tell you,” she replied as she unclipped Sharnah’s lead. “And I will. Just not now.”
His expression narrowed. “If you want a shot at keeping Cara,” he said and touched the baby’s head gently, “then I want the truth. All of it. Not some abridged version. Everything. You decide, Brooke.”
Then he turned and walked off toward the house.
&nb
sp; * * *
Tyler wasn’t sure what was making him madder—Brooke’s reluctance to talk, or his own interest in knowing her problems. Sure, part of his job required inquisition and having questions answered. But this was different. This felt different. This felt like involvement. Something he never did. Of course, he didn’t like the idea that he’d pretty much blackmailed her into telling him. But he needed to know. He wanted to know. And if being ruthless got him what he wanted, so be it.
He gave Cara a drink and put her down for a nap. And then he waited in the living room for Brooke to return. It was a nice room, tastefully decorated. He glanced around the room. There was still no tree. Funny, but he would have pegged Brooke as someone who liked Christmas and all the festive nonsense that went with it. He never bothered with it himself and most years spent the day alone, usually declining any of the invitations he received from friends or colleagues to join their families. Tyler was used to his own company over the holidays. Occasionally he would go to Nebraska to spend Christmas with his parents, but he hadn’t done that for several years.
Half an hour later he heard the door to the mudroom creak, and then her booted heels clicking over the polished timber floors as she headed down the hallway and into the living room. She stood behind the sofa and sucked in a couple of deep breaths.
“Okay,” she said, hands on hips, indigo eyes ablaze. “I’m here. Ask away.”
Tyler shifted his position on the love seat by the window and rested his elbows on his knees. “How much financial trouble are you in?”
“I have two months to find the mortgage back payments. After that the bank will foreclose.”
He nodded. “And will you be able to find the funds?”
She shrugged lightly. “I plan to sell off most of my cattle. My cousin Grady is happy to take them off my hands for a good price.”
“Will that be enough?” he queried.
“It will help...maybe give me time for an extension.”
He nodded again. “And your mortal enemy...what does he have to do with it?”
She sighed. “I told you how up until recently Cedar River used to be two separate towns, right?” she asked, but didn’t wait for his reply. “And like most small towns there are prominent families...some through wealth, some through reputation. Like the O’Sullivans, who own the big hotel in town and commercial property on both sides of the river. And then there are the Pritchards, Frank and his stepson, who own cattle and half the grazing land in the county.”
“And where do you come in?”
“When the towns merged there was some land rezoning. I lost forty acres of my best grazing land that went to the Pritchard ranch, which sits south of this place. To the east is the big Culhane spread...it’s a horse ranch mostly. Then there’s me, kind of stuck in the middle.” She sighed heavily. “But I have a strip of the best grazing land in the county that wasn’t part of the rezoning...and that’s the piece of dirt that Pritchard wants. It runs along the river and since the Pritchard ranch doesn’t have the underground water table that the Culhanes and I do, he wants to get his hands on it.”
Tyler sat back. So far, everything made sense. “So, what’s his offer?”
She told him the figure as she came around the sofa and sat down. “It wouldn’t matter what he offered. I won’t sell.”
“I don’t know much about land value, but that seems like a low offer.”
“It is,” she said. “But the Pritchards aren’t known for their generosity. Only their self-righteous belief that they can do whatever they want, whenever they want. But I won’t be bullied.”
“Of course not,” Tyler said in agreement. “However, if the offer was fair and equitable would you consider it?”
“No,” she said quickly.
Tyler frowned. “Why not?”
She looked toward the ground before meeting his gaze. “It’s complicated.”
He leaned forward. “We agreed you wouldn’t give me the abridged version, remember?”
“Okay,” she said, twisting her hands in her lap and clearly frustrated. “It goes back to the accident that killed my folks. Do you remember how I told you the other day that there was another car involved?”
“Of course.”
“That car was...” She trailed off, stalling for a moment. “That car was driven by Frank Pritchard’s daughter. She’s some kind of musical prodigy and lives in Italy, I believe. She comes home once or twice a year to see her father and stepbrother. It was her car Matt saw on the road that day. Her car that was on the wrong side of the road.”
Tyler leaned forward a little more. “Why wasn’t any of this in the police report?”
She shrugged. “Because she was a Pritchard. And no one would believe my brother. When I confronted the old man about it he said I could never prove it...and he was right. It would have been Matt’s word against hers. A genius from one of the richest families in the county against a teenage boy who’d already had his fair share of trouble with the law. In the end, Matt was charged with vehicular manslaughter, got a fine and a suspended sentence, and lost his license for five years. And Raina Pritchard headed back to Italy and to her symphony. But I know Frank Pritchard knows the truth,” she said passionately and hooked a thumb toward her chest. “I feel it in here. I also know there is nothing I can do about it. And his insulting offer for my land is his arrogant way of letting me know he can do whatever he wants, without consequence.”
Tyler watched her, saw her flashing eyes and pink cheeks and trembling chin and figured she was just a few more words away from either crying or throwing something. It made him uneasy. He didn’t want to see her cry. He didn’t want to see her unhappy. But he pressed on, trying to get to all of the truth.
“Are you refusing to sell because of pride?” he asked quietly. “Even though it would keep the bank at bay?”
Her jaw tightened instantly. “Even then,” she said hotly. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
He couldn’t help smiling a little. “Principles won’t get your ranch solvent again, though, will it?”
“You think I should sell?”
“I think,” he said with emphasis, “that you should do what is best for you and the ranch you want to keep. If that’s selling to Pritchard, or to someone else, then it’s worth considering.”
She got to her feet and paced the room. “Ignoring the fact that the idea of selling to him makes my teeth hurt, he will never increase his offer because in some twisted way he thinks he has me on the ropes.”
“Then let him know that he doesn’t,” Tyler suggested. “Make a counteroffer.”
“I’ve been down that road. My lawyer says that—”
“It sounds like your lawyer is either lazy or incompetent. Or both.”
She stilled instantly as he cut her off. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who gives their opinion so freely or as regularly as you.” Her eyes flashed brilliantly and she offered an overly sweet smile. “No wonder you’re such a success in the courtroom...where I’ll bet you enjoy hearing the sound of your own voice over and over.”
He laughed loudly, trying to remember the last time someone had called him out as an overbearing know-it-all. Maybe never. But Brooke Laughton didn’t mind telling him what she thought of him. And he wasn’t insulted. On the contrary, he found her candidness fascinating.
“You know, there’s something incredibly sexy about you when you’re angry.”
She glared at him as color rose up her neck. “You’re an ass. And there’s nothing sexy about me at all when I’m angry. And don’t be thinking that saying things like that will make me less angry, because it won’t.”
Tyler fought the urge to laugh again and realized he did that a lot around Brooke. He relaxed in the chair and met her gaze. “Why don’t you have a tree?”
; She scowled. “Huh?”
“A Christmas tree,” he explained. “You seem like a traditional kind of girl underneath all the swagger and bravado. So, why no tree?”
“I haven’t bothered with a tree since my parents died.”
“Why not?”
She sighed heavily and returned to the sofa. “I guess it’s one of those times that are hard to face, like birthdays and anniversaries. Once Matt left it was as though my whole family had gone. And then when Doyle took off for Texas it just became easier to avoid celebrating things. Don’t get me wrong, I have an aunt and two cousins in town who I’m really close to and my group of friends, most of whom you met. But once the core of my family was gone I just let traditions slide. It was easier, you see, to not be surrounded by the memory of what was.”
Tyler understood her meaning better than she probably knew. “Your friends would walk through fire for you.”
“I know,” she said, nodding. “I’d do the same for them. What about you?” she asked, flipping the conversation. “What’s your usual holiday routine?”
“I don’t think I have one,” he admitted. “Work, probably. I don’t have a wife or children, or a significant other at the moment, so the holidays are usually spent with friends or with a mountain of paperwork from whatever case I’m working on.”
“Why don’t you?” she asked enquiringly. “Have a wife and kids. I mean, you’d be considered something of a catch in most circles... Aren’t there any lady lawyers who would fit the bill?”
“None I like enough to marry,” he replied, aware that the mood between them was suddenly shifting.
“Ah, we’re back to that,” she said, brows up. “You want to fall in like with someone first. I remember.”
“You don’t agree?”
“Not especially. Liking someone is all well and good if you want a hiking buddy or someone to carpool with...but for marriage... I think it has to be deeper than that. I think it has to be all consuming. When I get married, I’d like him to be so crazy in love with me that he can’t think straight.”