by Nicole Helm
She’d waved that sad, little stone in all their friends’ faces as if it were something meaningful and important instead of a promise she’d inevitably smash to bits.
“We’re getting married!” Becca said excitedly.
Jack knew he was supposed to be happy for them, but there was something dark and sharp in his chest that hadn’t yet allowed that knowledge to move on to become actual feeling.
Jealousy, if he had to name it. That was supposed to have been his life. With Madison. And she was living it with his brother, working on the family farm and everything. Their kid. His family.
And he was here. Half a country away from home. Stuck in this empty, blank space.
“Are you going to congratulate us?” Becca asked, her eyebrows furrowing, that little dent of worry settling itself in her forehead.
It was a look Jack never wanted to be on the receiving end of, especially not now. So he moved first, which was a bit of a surprise to him and probably everyone involved.
“Congratulations,” Jack said sincerely. Because he did mean it. He shook Alex’s hand and gave Becca an awkward hug. Gabe followed suit, the congratulations and jokes about giving Becca a good-luck kiss paving over that long, uncomfortable silence that had come directly after their announcement.
“Let’s get a drink. What would you consider celebratory, Bec?” Alex asked.
“Whiskey,” she said. Alex and Becca exchanged some secret smile, and Alex went to the bar to order their whiskeys. Gabe pulled a chair over for Becca, smiling broadly and talking in that overly cheerful way he had when he was the opposite of cheerful.
Jack plastered the best smile he could manage on his face.
“So that’s why you had your mother over for dinner and we weren’t required to be there,” Gabe said, taking a very, very long drink from his bottle directly after.
Becca smiled, a little blush in her cheeks. “Yeah, that was pretty much the thought behind it.”
“How’d your mom take it?”
“She cried. I cried. In a good way, I think. I hope. It was mostly good.” She glanced over at Alex, balancing four tumblers in his hands as he walked toward them. “I’m happy. That’s what matters.”
Alex put the glasses down and they each took one.
“How about a toast to the happy couple?” Gabe asked, lifting his glass in the air.
Becca held up her glass and smiled. “I think a toast to being happy would work.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Alex said, clinking his glass to hers.
They all brought their glasses together, but it didn’t escape Jack’s notice that neither he nor Gabe echoed Becca’s toast about happiness. Luckily, Alex and Becca were too lost in each other and the moment to catch on.
Which was for the best. Alex had found someone to bring him out of the dark place he’d been in since the accident, and that was worthy of celebration.
Rose approached and slid another round of whiskeys onto the table. “I hear congratulations are in order, so here’s a round on the house. And a little goodwill to you all bringing more heavy tippers to Blue Valley in the near future,” she said, referring to their plan to bring in more injured soldiers to work on Revival Ranch.
“Thanks, Rose,” Becca said with a big grin.
“And for you.” Rose turned to Jack and fished something out of her pocket. “My number,” Rose said, slapping a Post-it into his palm. “You let anyone else see that and I’ll personally make you wish you’d never been born.” She trailed her fingers up his arm, while Gabe, Alex, and Becca stared at them openmouthed.
“See you later, sweetheart,” she murmured, brushing her bright-red lips across Jack’s cheek before sauntering away.
Jack stared down at the Post-it and then turned to watch her disappearing form.
What had that been about? Maybe she thought the point he needed to prove was to his friends, or maybe she just wanted to mess with Gabe or make Jack uncomfortable. With Rose, there was just no way to tell.
But no one had touched him like that in a very long time. Something intimate. Her lips brushing against the whiskers of his cheek. That had to be the cause of the vibration that ricocheted through him. Not necessarily Rose herself, but the absence of such a physical contact suddenly interrupted.
“You care to explain that one to us, buddy?” Gabe demanded, staring after Rose as well.
Jack cleared his throat and shoved the Post-it in his pocket. “It’s nothing.”
“She kissed you!” Becca said, her voice high pitched and maybe a little too delighted.
“She’s just messing around,” Jack grumbled, uncomfortable with all three of his friends’ attention.
“I saw her almost break a guy’s hand for trying to grab her elbow,” Alex pointed out. “Whatever that was, it was a little more involved than messing around.”
Jack took a long drink of his whiskey, not bothering to look at any of them. He focused on the sticky table underneath the glasses. “I just agreed to do her a favor is all.”
“What kind of favor?” Becca asked. Her curiosity did nothing to ease the uncomfortable weight deep in his gut, nothing to erase the feeling that Rose’s brief kiss had left a brand.
“She needs some help for the bar. Security. Just Friday and Saturday nights. She figured I’d be a good candidate. Former military and all.”
“So why didn’t she ask me?” Gabe demanded.
“I don’t flirt with all her bartenders.”
“Who knew it paid to be a humorless motherfucker?” Gabe grumbled.
Jack raised his glass and smiled. “Oh, it always pays to be a humorless motherfucker, my friend.”
Gabe laughed and chucked a crumpled-up napkin at him. The subject change worked, and they spent the rest of the evening celebrating Alex and Becca.
If Jack caught himself following Rose’s trajectory around the bar or reliving that short, inconsequential brush of her lips…well, no one had to know about it but him.
* * *
Rose had always loved summer. It had been the most freedom a girl like her had been allowed. She could escape. She could disappear. She could spend days outside, and no one would ever find her. Summer was a blessing even these days when she had nothing but freedom and power.
She drove her coughing and wheezing car up the slope to the Shaw ranch. It was gratifying to see the beautiful place slowly come to life, even though she had next to nothing to do with it.
In the two years since her sister had moved in and married Caleb Shaw, the pair of them had put their hearts and souls into transforming the place. Rose had watched it go from something hardscrabble and dreary to something bright and welcoming.
Which never failed to set Rose a little bit on edge. Bright and welcoming was something she still didn’t know how to settle into.
The only comfort in that was that her sister had never known it either and was still thriving in this bright and welcoming life. Delia had always been the source of Rose’s hope, even in those dark, dark years.
She swallowed. She would not allow those dark years to come back. Not under any circumstances. Which was why she needed to let Delia and Caleb know about what was going on, no matter how much she didn’t want to. Them being blindsided would be worse.
So she was going to spend a nice evening with her sister and niece and the Shaws, and then talk to Caleb and Delia after Sunny had gone to bed. She was going to make sure they protected themselves. It wasn’t a failure on her part that she couldn’t protect them too.
It wasn’t.
Rose drove the remainder of the path up to the Shaw house. Delia was sitting on the porch, the fading sunlight glinting against her dark hair. There was such a marked difference in her sister these days. No longer the sharp, fierce protector. She’d gotten a chance to settle in and build a family and a life that included plenty of food and
shelter and love.
There was a deep, sharp pang Rose was beginning to have trouble fighting away. Jealousy, plain and simple, though Rose had no right to be jealous considering everything she’d done.
Rose forced herself to smile and look at this as what it was—visiting her niece, a girl who Rose loved with a fierceness only matched by the love she had for her sisters.
She’d made a lot of mistakes in her life, and she would never be the type of person her niece could want to be like. But she still wanted to be the kind of person that her niece could be proud of. She wanted Sunny to always know you could have nothing, you could be nothing, and you could still find strength and power.
Rose slid out of the car and waved, walking toward the porch stairs. Caleb stood in the yard, urging Sunny to let go of the toy horse she was holding on to and take a few steps toward him.
Rose opened her mouth to say something about putting too much pressure on a not-yet-one-year-old. Before Rose could get any words out, Sunny let go. A hush fell, as though everyone in the yard held their breath.
Rose was not an emotional person. She didn’t cry ever.
So why watching her brother-in-law joyfully coach his little girl into her first steps made her eyes burn, Rose didn’t know. But it was there, some horrible tide inside her that she couldn’t fight or ignore. Her niece was taking her first steps, and her brother-in-law was the kind of man who would hold out his arms and scoop her up when she fell and kiss her face as though she was the most precious thing in the world to him.
Rose glanced at Delia and saw the same emotion she felt. The kind of raw feeling only little girls who’d grown up with cold, violent fathers and then somehow witnessed amazing ones could truly appreciate.
Rose did her best to swallow down the lump in her throat and get ahold of it all before she walked up the stairs to where Delia was sitting on the rocking chair on the porch, watching.
Apparently Delia had no compunction about showing her emotion, because the tears were trickling down her face. She sniffled and glanced at Rose with a rueful smile. “You came at the wrong moment if you want to avoid emotional crap.”
“Damn.”
Caleb was still in the yard, eagerly trying to get Sunny to walk a few more steps. His smile was so big, it nearly split his face and Rose didn’t know what to say.
So instead of saying anything, she took a seat on the porch next to her sister, watched a really good guy be a really good dad, and tried to ignore any pangs that provided.
“I haven’t told the other girls yet,” Delia said quietly. “Girls” in this case meaning their three other sisters who didn’t live in Blue Valley.
“Told them what?” Rose asked, shading her eyes against the setting sun.
“I’m pregnant.”
Rose whipped her head to face Delia. “Again? After being so sick with Sunny?”
“Oh, like I could keep it in my pants with all that going on.” She gestured toward Caleb as he walked toward them, Sunny cradled in his arms.
Rose’s heart ached in a way she didn’t understand. Oh, she’d witnessed plenty of imperfect moments between Caleb and Delia. Arguments and demands, days when the baby was screaming and nobody knew what to do. She’d seen all sorts of versions of the ways families didn’t work. Seeing that there could be moments like this almost made it seem worth it.
Rose shook that thought away. Worth it for other people—not for her.
“Congratulations, Sissy,” she managed to say, because Delia had been through enough. She was the oldest, the one who’d done everything she could to protect them, save them. Delia was the only one Rose couldn’t keep the tough girl act up for. “I hope you know how good a mom you are.”
“Damn it. I had just stopped crying.”
Rose laughed, but she also realized that her reason for coming over would have to wait. She wasn’t going to worry Delia with her news now, when she’d already had such problems during her pregnancy with Sunny.
Rose would have to keep this to herself and far away from the Shaw ranch. Maybe with Jack’s help she could protect her sister from ever knowing the threat existed. If it kept Delia and Sunny away from the man who’d made all her sisters’ childhoods a living hell, she’d ask Jack for a million favors.
“I hate to break it to you,” Caleb said, stepping onto the porch with Sunny in his arms, “but I’m on dinner duty tonight. I hope you like frozen pizza.”
Rose got to her feet, holding her arms out for Sunny. The little girl squealed and launched herself from Caleb’s arms to Rose’s, making all sorts of babbling noises as if telling Rose all about her great adventure in walking.
“With this company, how can I complain?”
Chapter 4
Jack tried not to grimace as he maneuvered himself off the horse. He’d spent the morning working with Hick to move the cattle from the south to the north pasture on horseback, and now he was going to pay.
The grizzled ranch hand, who didn’t say much and therefore was one of Jack’s favorite people at Revival Ranch, surveyed him with an eagle eye.
“Seems to be gettin’ worse,” Hick said, nodding at the leg Jack was trying to surreptitiously massage.
“It isn’t,” Jack returned. Which was sort of the truth. In the grand scheme of things, his leg was no worse than it had been when he’d arrived. Of course, it wasn’t any better either, and the scarring on his leg tended to pull. Especially when getting on and off the horses. It never failed to make him think he should have just gone home to Indiana and lived his life climbing in and out of tractors. But Mike and Madison had ruined that for him. Not his accident or the Navy SEALs. His fiancée and his brother had blown apart that life plan irreparably.
But it had been nearly two years. A long stretch of trying to wrap his mind around what his brother had done to him. He was supposed to be getting over it. Moving on. Forming a new life plan.
Except now his family was coming to him, and all he could seem to think about was finally having to face this horrible thing he’d been avoiding and—
“Break wouldn’t kill you.”
Jack scowled at Hick. Before he could assure the old ranch hand he was fine—at least as fine as he was ever going to be—the sound of a puttering car engine, followed by an impressive backfire, interrupted the pastoral quiet.
They both squinted at the unfamiliar car that clearly needed something like a new transmission and who knew what else. It stopped at the end of the drive and a dark-haired woman stepped out.
Jack inhaled, not quite sure what odd thing shifted in his chest when he recognized the screw-the-world stride coming right for them.
“Is that the girl who runs Pioneer Spirit?” Hick asked, something like awe in his voice.
“Uh, yes.” He could feel Hick’s eyes on him, but Jack ignored it. Then Becca stepped out of the stables with Monica. Jack and Gabe appeared from the bunkhouse, where they’d been working on some minor repairs.
Rose walked across the yard, making a beeline straight for him, and Jack shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling a little too on display for his tastes.
“This is quite the welcome committee,” Rose said as she approached, flashing that sharp-edged smile of hers. The colorful tattoos on her right arm were a bright beacon in the summer afternoon. “I need to talk to you,” she said, looking right at Jack. “Privately.”
All eyes turned to him. Jack ignored the questioning gazes and nodded toward the bunkhouse. “Follow me.” He tried to smooth the more-pronounced-than-usual limp out of his walk, but damn, his leg hurt. If Rose noticed, she said nothing as they stepped into the bunkhouse.
Rose marched into the center of the narrow building, her eyes taking in everything. The two beds on either side, both military spartan. Eventually there’d be more beds. More men. For now, it was just him and Gabe sleeping out here.
“This is wh
ere you live?” Rose asked, moving through the room, then back to where he stood at the doorway.
He realized then that she was pacing, no matter how she tried to hide it. An edgy energy pulsed beneath her don’t-give-a-shit persona. This was not the in-charge bar owner. This was someone else.
“Yeah. Don’t be too jealous,” he managed, hoping to see a flash of her usual sarcastic humor.
She didn’t crack a smile or give him that smoky laugh. She just looked him in the eye. “I need you to start at the bar tomorrow night.”
He wondered if she realized how much emotion swirled in her eyes. Even when she was threatening to kick a rowdy guy out of her bar, she seemed untouchable.
But there was a worry in her dark-brown eyes. Panic.
“Okay,” he agreed easily, still studying her, but she looked away.
She grabbed a picture out of her pocket. “This is the guy you’re looking for,” she said, shoving the picture at him. “He drives a blue 1985 Ford truck. I want you to watch out for that too, even if you’re just in town getting a bite at Georgia’s or something.”
He took the picture and was surprised to find an older-looking guy. Whoever he was, he’d clearly lived hard and mean. Jack was starting to worry that Rose’s concern was something a little closer to fear.
“You sure you don’t want to involve the police? This sounds serious.”
“It’s complicated.” She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him defiantly. “But your role in this is simple. See him? You tell me. See his truck? You tell me. The end.”
Jack frowned down at the picture. There was something about all this that stirred up old gut feelings he’d listened to as a SEAL. The situation reminded him that he’d once protected people and his country and his fellow SEALs.
And for what?
“Are you going to tell me why I’m doing all this?” he asked instead of entertaining the answer to his own question.
“Are you going to tell me what point you have to prove?” she returned archly, as if that would shut him up.