The Cowboy's Autumn Fall (Grass Valley Cowboys Book 4)

by Shanna Hatfield

  “It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes to go fill the car with gas. What do you suppose they are doing?” Travis said, staring at his watch for the sixth time in the last ten minutes.

  “Who knows?” Brice said, leaning against the counter. “If it makes you feel better, I met the man. He bought the gas station and owns the new house and barn we’ve been building. We’re just finishing up with the project and he came by yesterday to check it out.”

  “And?” Trey and Travis both asked, wanting more information.

  “He seems pretty nice. Must have some money because that house and barn are really something,” Brice said taking out his knife and picking at his already clean fingernails.

  “But what does he look like?” Trent asked, joining the questioning.

  “About like Tess said. I thought at first it was Bon Jovi, but then realized there was no way he’d be hanging out in Grass Valley,” Brice said, noticing the hard looks that settled on the faces of the Thompson brothers.

  “You guys haven’t got a thing to worry about,” Brice said reassuringly, trying to act calm, knowing Bailey was along for the ride with the other three women. He was as tied in knots as his friends, but he sure wasn’t going to admit it.

  “Who is this guy?” Trey finally asked, sending Cass outside to play with her dog so they could have a few minutes of quiet.

  “He owns the Renegade gas stations and convenience stores. From what I heard him tell my boss, he started out with one station, then two, and his enterprise grew from there,” Brice said, still striving to keep a sense of nonchalance.

  Trent whistled. “Then he does have an extra penny or two to spare. Those stations are all over the northwest. There’s got to be about thirty or so of them.”

  “The one here in Grass Valley, once he changes the name and puts up the signs, will be number fifty-two, same as his age,” Brice said, doling out the details a little at a time. “His name is Hart Hammond. Said he spent his childhood summers somewhere around Prineville with his grandparents and used to drive through here on his way to and from his home in Spokane. He liked the area and that’s why he decided to finally settle here. I got the idea he’s lived all over the place, from Seattle to LA and everywhere in between.”

  “Did you say Hart Hammond?” Travis asked, suddenly sitting up at attention.

  “Yeah. Why?” Brice asked, studying his friend, wondering what Travis knew that he didn’t.

  “I wonder if he’s the Hart Hammond,” Travis said, drumming his fingers on the countertop, looking thoughtful as he stared at Brice.

  “Who the heck is Hart Hammond?” Trey asked, running a hand through his thick honey-colored hair.

  “Hart Hammond was one of the best bull riders of his time. He was on his way to being the world champion when he went off the grid. He quit competing and seemingly fell off the face of the earth,” Travis said, warming to the subject. He and Brice both had ridden bulls. For Brice it was a way to have fun and hang out with his friends but Travis was much more competitive and driven about the whole thing. “Hart was gored by bulls twice in the same year and still managed to place third in the ranking. The next year he came back and took second place. All indicators pointed to him claiming the title the following year. He disappeared just a few weeks before the finals.

  “Have you seen photos of him?” Trent asked Travis.

  “Sure. Even thirty years ago, he looked like Bon Jovi,” Travis said, realizing one of his bull-riding heroes was most likely the same man who purchased the gas station. He might have to go fuel up his truck in the next few days to see if was true.

  “Fantastic,” Trey muttered. “Just what we need to keep our women all stirred up. A good-looking, former bull riding, rich guy with a fancy new house.”

  “I doubt he was still at the station by the time the girls got there,” Brice said, trying to sound positive.

  No one had a chance to reply as the door burst open and the girls came in chatting excitedly. They each held a to-go cup of coffee and were all smiling.

  “Well?” Trey asked, trying his best to look authoritative and cross.

  “Well, what, boss-man?” Cady asked, kissing his cheek and giving him a flirty grin.

  “Where were you for the last hour?” Trent asked, giving Lindsay a narrowed glare. “Surely it didn’t take that long just to fill your car with gas, did it, princess?”

  “Nope,” Lindsay said, grinning at her husband, taking a sip of the coffee in her hand.

  “Mr. Hammond was so nice. He invited us to come in and see the changes he made in the convenience store. You won’t believe this, but he’s got coffee. Really good coffee. As in, I have a caramel macchiato in my hand kind of good coffee,” Cady said, taking a quick sip of her drink before Trey pulled it out of her hand and tasted it, nodding his approval.

  “Does he really look like Bon Jovi?” Trent asked. All four girls nodded their heads and smiled dreamily.

  “Exactly,” Tess said, glancing at Travis and batting her eyelashes at him.

  “You girls should be ashamed of yourselves setting such a bad example for cousin Bailey,” Travis said, pointing to the three sisters-in-law. “You’re supposed to be loving and responsible married women. What kind of behavior are you exhibiting? Certainly not the actions of a devoted wife.”

  “Oh, pipe down, Tee,” Tess said, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “We’re just having some fun. No harm in that. Besides, it’s not every day someone new buys the gas station and it certainly isn’t every day we get celebrity look-alikes pumping gas.”

  “Be that as it may, you ladies should…” Trey started to say but was cut off when Cady put a hand over his mouth.

  “Get out and have fun more often, I know,” Cady said, nodding her head at Trey. “Thanks for suggesting it.”

  “That is not what I was going to say, darlin’, and you know it. You are officially in big trouble,” Trey said, scowling at her.

  “I’m not too worried about it,” Cady said turning away from Trey. She grinned over her shoulder when he popped her bottom before getting to his feet and following his brothers out the door.

  “If you girls set out with the intention of making your men jealous and driving them crazy, job well done,” Brice teased as he grabbed Bailey’s hand and hurried them both out the back door.

  Giving her a kiss she thought might melt the insulated coffee cup she still held in her hand, Brice took a long drink from it and handed it back to her.

  “Should have known it would be pumpkin-flavored coffee, sugar. You have a serious pumpkin problem,” Brice said, climbing into his pickup while Bailey stood by the door.

  “My biggest problem is that I don’t get nearly enough of it,” Bailey said, taking a sip of the coffee.

  “One of these days I’ll come to find you and you’ll have turned into a big ol’ orange blob, won’t you?” Brice said, starting his truck.

  “Maybe,” Bailey said, feeling unusually flirty. “Would you kiss me until I turned back into a girl?”

  “I’d kiss you until I used my whole tube of ChapStick, blistered my lips and wore out my ability to pucker, if that’s what it took to turn you back,” Brice teased, waving at Bailey as he headed down the driveway, leaving her smiling.

  ><><

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Atticus,” Brice said, looking at his employer with a somewhat dazed expression at the news the man had just delivered. “I thought you liked my work.”

  “I do, Brice, and you’ve been a great employee. Even when you worked for me part-time when you were in school you always did a good job, but I have to lay some people off,” Brice’s employer said, not quite looking Brice in the eye.

  Today was the last day on the job at Hart Hammond’s place. Brice assumed he’d drive to The Dalles on Monday and report for work at a new location. Only Mr. Atticus was now walking through the crew, letting some of them know they no longer had jobs to report to, effective immediately.

  “I ho
ped to make it through a few more months before it came to this, but even with this big job,” Atticus said, waving his hand around the impressive Hammond home, “I’ve got to cut some expenses. I’d like nothing better than to keep you on, Brice, but some of these guys have families to support. I know you understand where I’m coming from.”

  “Sure, Mr. Atticus,” Brice said quietly, shocked at this news. If he’d seen it coming, had time to prepare for it, it might not have been so bad. He got up this morning, expecting to have a great last day on the project, looking forward to whatever new job they’d be starting next week.

  Only for him, there would be no next project with Atticus Construction.

  “Look, Brice, I’m really sorry about this and if I could, I’d keep you on,” Atticus said, putting a hand on Brice’s shoulder and squeezing. “I’m happy to write you letters of recommendation, whatever I can do to help.”

  “Thanks,” Brice said, trying not to rail at the man who had just pulled the rug out from under him. It wasn’t Brice’s style.

  Giving him another pat on the shoulder, Atticus walked off, squaring his shoulders to deliver the unwelcome news to another of his employees.

  Brice’s mind spun in a hundred directions while he finished his work. Atticus was letting those he was laying off leave at noon rather than working a full day. Quite generous of the man, Brice thought with a thick dose of sarcasm.

  At noon, Atticus walked around handing those he’d given their walking papers their final paychecks.

  Brice packed up his personal tools and made the rounds, wishing his coworkers and friends well. Sitting in his pickup, it didn’t surprise him when he opened the paycheck to see the amount was for his exact wages owed, not a penny more. He should have listened to his dad years ago when he told him not to trust Atticus.

  Not used to feeling depressed or down, Brice drove home and went out to his woodworking shop. Turning on some music, he lost himself in a carved side chair he was making for his mom’s friend.

  There wasn’t a rush on getting it done, but he’d have plenty of time to complete it much sooner than he expected. As the smell of wood shavings and the motions of carving a design into the smooth grain soothed him, Brice wondered again if he could really pursue his dream of woodworking and be successful at it.

  Several people had encouraged him to make furniture for a living, he just wasn’t sure he’d be able to support himself, let alone a wife and family.

  Thinking about a wife made his thoughts turn to Bailey. How could he hope to have any sort of committed relationship with her when he didn’t even have a job? She would see this is a failure on his part. He knew she would.

  Wondering how he could feel any lower, he ignored his mother’s request to come in for dinner, refusing to tell her, or his dad when he came out later, what was bothering him.

  A soft knock at the door an hour later caused him to frown and ignore it. When the knock came again, he still wasn’t ready to deal with anyone.

  “I already told you, I’m not hungry, I don’t want to come in, and I’m fine,” Brice yelled, hoping his parents would leave him alone. This is what he got for still living at home.

  “You don’t sound fine,” a decidedly feminine voice said as a honey-colored head poked around the door. “You sound mad and upset to me.”

  “Bailey,” Brice said, releasing a little of his anger. Just seeing her seemed to have a calming effect on him. “Sorry, sugar, I thought it was Mom or Dad coming out to annoy me again.”

  “They care about you, Brice, that’s all,” Bailey said, walking into his workshop and closing the door. Instead of immediately going over to Brice, she wandered around, running her hand over some of his projects, savoring the smell of wood and Brice that filled the room, taking her thoughts to a spicy autumn afternoon spent in golden sunshine.

  “I know, but they still are annoying sometimes,” Brice said, with a half-hearted smile.

  Bailey might not be good at reading people or understanding relationships, but it didn’t take an expert to see something was bothering Brice. Something big. According to his parents, he’d been locked in his workshop all afternoon. Normally, he didn’t get off work until four, so that in itself gave her reason for concern.

  “Why don’t you tell me what stole the sparkle from your eye and the smile from your face?” Bailey said, placing a gentle hand on Brice’s arm. They both felt the tingle at the contact and Brice tried not to jerk away. He wasn’t in the mood to have his anger softened. Feeling like he’d earned the right to be mad and brooding, he planned to nurse it for as long as possible.

  “Nothing. I’m fine,” Brice said, ignoring Bailey’s touch and the hint of compassion in her voice. “And if Mom sent you out here to try to get me to come eat dinner, tell her to feed it to the dogs. I’m not hungry.”

  “Yes, I gathered that much from the yelling when I knocked on the door,” Bailey said, deciding it was her turn to tease Brice out of a funk. Goodness only knew he’d done it for her more times than she wanted to think about. Plopping down on the stool at the workbench, Bailey placed her elbows on the counter, leaned back and crossed her legs, watching Brice.

  She knew something was wrong when he didn’t reply to the text message she sent earlier confirming their date tonight for the football game. When he didn’t show up for dinner, as he usually did on Friday night, everyone wondered what was going on. Travis and Tess both tried calling him and got his voice mail, then a call to his folks confirmed he was hiding out in the workshop, not talking.

  Tired from a long day at work, Bailey drove over to the Running M with the intention of finding out what was wrong. Now that she was here, she wasn’t certain how to go about getting Brice to open up or even how to cheer him up.

  “Why don’t you tell me what has you acting like me and we’ll decide an appropriate course of action?” Bailey asked, hoping that would at least make Brice smile. He didn’t even pretend to hear her as he kept his focus on the wood he was smoothing.

  Bailey suddenly wondered if this is what other people felt like when they were dealing with her in one of her snits. If so, she would have to be more mindful of not repeating similar behavior. It was unpleasant and quite distressing.

  Thinking about what would get Brice’s attention or inspire him to talk, Bailey studied him for a while. The heat was turned on in the workshop, making the room toasty and inviting. Brice had peeled off his outer layers until he was down to a T-shirt that molded to every muscle in his arms, back and chest.

  Bent over, smoothing a piece of wood, Bailey enjoyed watching him work, watching those muscles bunch, move and flex. Brice was beautifully formed and the very fact of that often left Bailey a little off-kilter. Guys that attractive were usually self-centered jerks.

  Like her good-looking Thompson cousins, though, Brice seemed to take it in stride. He was a genuinely kind, big-hearted man who didn’t seem to dwell too much on his looks. Bailey, however, spent enough time for three people dwelling on how good he looked.

  “Brice,” she said, sliding off the stool and walking over to him. “I’m fairly certain if you tell me what’s bothering you, it will not only make you feel better, and it will also allay the concerns of those who care about you.”

  “No,” Brice said gruffly, rubbing his hand over the wood and giving it a close perusal. Finding a rough spot, he went back to sanding and smoothing the piece.

  “No, it won’t make you feel better or no, it won’t help give everyone else some peace of mind?” Bailey asked, stepping behind Brice and placing her hands on his tense shoulders. She slowly began rubbing away the tight spots, massaging his muscles. Brice tried to hold onto his anger, but with Bailey slowly incinerating his skin through his T-shirt, he finally let it go and enjoyed the feel of her capable hands smoothing out the tension.

  Smiling to herself, Bailey was quite pleased to see Brice’s shoulders drop down where they should be as he stopped his work and stood quiet and still. She wasn’t experienced
in giving anyone a back rub, purely following instinct. “Are you ready to converse now?”

  “Not really,” Brice said, tipping his head forward to give her better access to his neck. He felt her fingers on his skin and it made waves of heat wash through him.

  “Why don’t you try it anyway?” Bailey asked, standing on tiptoe so she could press a moist kiss to his neck.

  Brice spun around and pulled her to him, crushing her lips against his with a brutal force that caught Bailey off guard. Always sweet and gentle, if somewhat mischievous with his kisses, this demanding, possessive kiss was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

  “Brice!” she gasped when he let her up for air.

  “I’m sorry, sugar,” Brice said, dropping his arms and taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just…”

  “You what?” Bailey asked, grabbing Brice’s hands and holding them in her own. He was behaving so unlike himself, Bailey was really beginning to worry. “You just what?”

  “I needed you,” Brice whispered, staring at his boots. “I needed to feel you close.”

  “And that’s a bad thing because why?” Bailey asked, thrilled at Brice’s admission since she so often felt like the needy one in their relationship. She was coming to need Brice like she needed air to breath, water to drink, and food to eat.

  “Because I had no right to kiss you like that. I’ve got no right to want you like I do,” Brice said, trying to turn away from her, but Bailey kept a firm grip on his hands.

  “What’s going on Brice? You aren’t acting like the teasing flirt I’ve come to know and…” Bailey caught herself before she admitted she loved Brice. Somehow she knew once she said the words aloud to him, there would be no going back, no changing her mind, no telling him goodbye.

  “And what?” Brice said, perking up a little as he stared at her intently.

  “Care about greatly,” Bailey said, hoping he would be satisfied with her answer. He studied her face, his eyes meeting hers and he seemed to find what he needed in the depths there because he nodded and let out a sigh. “Brice, it isn’t like you to bottle things up. Tell me what’s wrong and I know you’ll feel better.”