Thorne was Brooke’s ace in the hole. His experience in these areas would set the range up for success, and even though there was sometimes friction between him, Eric and Rick, they all respected his business acumen. Even Ridge had to admit that while his brother might not be able to sketch a gown to save his life, he had a knack for developing successful operations.
Rick and Eric exchanged glances, and Rick raised his hand. “You may as well tell them,” he said.
Brooke frowned. “Tell us what?”
Eric leaned forward to rest his arms on the conference table. “We were going to make an announcement later in the week, after some details were confirmed, but I see no problem in letting you all know—Thorne has tendered his resignation. He’s been working with Thomas, and has slowly been transfering more of the Forrester International responsibilities to him. He finishes up officially at the end of next week.”
Brooke paled. “What?” Thorne, no longer a part of Forrester Creations? Her heart twinged, which was surprising. She didn’t think she had the capacity to feel more pain, more uncertainty.
Hope gasped, and Ridge sat back in his chair, his eyebrows raised.
“Thorne is leaving Forrester Creations? Why?”
Eric shrugged. “He says he’s done this for long enough, and wants a change.”
“What kind of change?” Brooke folded her arms. Thorne—gone. It didn’t make sense. He was the solid anchor of Forrester Creations, had been for as long as she could remember. It wouldn’t feel right, not having him at Forrester Creations. She swallowed a tide of dark anxiety.
“He’s bought a ranch in Texas. He’s going to work off the land,” Rick said.
“He used to go horse-riding all the time,” Eric commented, a dry smile stretching his lips. “All those magazines and journals he used to read.”
“I knew about the horse-riding, but I didn’t know about the ranch,” Ridge said in surprise.
Caroline leaned back in her chair, her expression stunned. “Seriously? I don’t believe it—Thorne’s going to be a cowboy?”
*
Thorne Forrester leaned forward in his saddle, gazing out across the hilly terrain.
A satisfied smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he watched the sun set over the hills, turning the river running through his property a sparkling gold, and casting blue and indigo shadows across the higher pastures. It was his favourite time of the day, and he made the pilgrimage to this vantage point regularly. A small herd of longhorn cattle lined one side of the riverbank. Past the lonesome oak tree that gave the property its name, horses galloped, silhouetted across the crest of a nearby hill, their manes and tails caught by the wind.
Mine.
Something he could finally call his own—whether the ranch succeeded or not, it was up to him, and no one else. And he desperately wanted it to succeed, to prove once and for all to his father and brothers that he was his own man, capable of running his own endeavor, making his own decisions—and for those decisions to pay off.
He’d bought the ranch from an elderly widow, and in the short time he’d had it, he’d already made some significant improvements. At the time of purchase, the ranch didn’t quite cover its own running costs. Okay, so it was running at a significant loss. His father had been appalled at the risk, but Thorne had already increased the size of his herd of longhorn cattle, and with the sale of his own home in L.A., as well as the return he’d made on some savvy investments and the considerable fortune he’d earned working at Forrester Creations all those years, he was able to invest in some thoroughbred horses and a breeding program—and other, more risky projects that his father didn’t yet know about.
He glanced down at the extensive game enclosure. With the help of his ranch manager, Silas, Thorne had selected two does to complement the dwindling stock and hopefully, after their arrival in a couple of weeks, they would boost his deer population.
The horse shifted beneath him, and he absently patted its neck. “Easy, Buck.” The stallion was the first horse he’d bought, and out of the stallions he’d purchased so far, this Arabian was his favourite. With a dark mane and tail, a golden coat and an eager disposition, the horse was always ready for a run, and they already shared an almost intuitive relationship. Thorne whistled to his puppy as Buck stepped forward with a light neigh. The German shepherd’s head popped up from behind a rock, looking like a bear cub.
“C’mon, Major. Buck’s getting antsy again. Time to head back.”
Major ran up and jumped—and missed the horse. He yipped, turning in a circle and jumped again. Thorne leaned over and caught him easily, despite Buck’s sidestep, and settled the dog on the saddle in front of him before kicking in his heels and urging the horse into a walk. He grinned. A ranch in Texas was about as far as you could get from the Forrester Creations boardroom and the fashion industry he’d worked in for as long as he could remember—and he’d never been happier.
He had mixed emotions when it came to Forrester Creations. He was going to miss the people who worked there, the engine room of the company: the sewing team, the warehouse staff, the accounts department—okay, and his family, despite how absolutely annoying, frustrating and confrontational they could be. One person, though, always came to mind when he thought of home.
Brooke.
He sighed. He’d missed his chance. Again. He’d given her space when Ridge left her, and had regretted that decision when Bill Spencer betrayed his own wife to be with her. Ridge’s return, though, had shown him there was no future for him at Forrester Creations. Ridge wanted to take over the reins of the company from his half-brother Rick, proving to Thorne, once again, that Thorne would never be promoted out of the basement. And he really didn’t want to sit through the emotional pendulum of another round of on-again, off-again between Ridge and Brooke.
Leaving the family business and striking out on his own was the best thing he’d ever done, and with the significant amount of money he’d invested into the Lonesome Oak Ranch, there was no going back: the ranch had to succeed—or bust. Returning to the operations division at Forrester Creations and working for his two warring half-brothers as he lost, once again, the woman he loved to another man just wasn’t an option. Not anymore.
Chapter Two
Brooke pulled over to consult the navigator screen on the hire car dashboard once again, a slight frown marring her brow. She’d left Dallas over an hour and a half ago, and she still hadn’t arrived at Thorne’s ranch. She traced her finger down the orange line … the small town of Cryptic River was just up ahead, and his property was another fifteen minutes or so out of the town limits—at least, that’s what the GPS indicated. Oh, she hoped it was right.
She pulled back on to the highway, gazing with curiosity at the sights as she drove through the outskirts of Cryptic River. The courthouse was an imposing structure built of white limestone with slender arched windows and a clock. She couldn’t resist turning off the bypass to drive past it, and found herself in a street with quaint shops, cafés and a bank, an antiques store that she already wanted to have a browse through, and then—what in the world? She checked her rear-vision mirror for traffic, then slowed down to really look at the murals painted on the sides of the buildings.
She turned back onto the main road out of town. This place could have been found in any search for the “quintessential Texan town,” it was so far removed from the glitz and glamor of L.A.—and maybe the smog, traffic and crowds—but what was Thorne thinking? He belonged back at Forrester Creations—and not just because she needed his support and expertise for her proposed project. As far as she was aware, the closest Thorne had ever been to “rustic” was the Forrester cabin at Big Bear—and nobody could call that luxurious abode set in a premier recreational lake area rustic.
She’d tried calling him, and they had played phone tag for a few weeks, always just missing each other. She hoped he wasn’t avoiding her—Ridge hadn’t really had a chance to talk with Thorne, either; at least, that’s wha
t Ridge had told her in their last conversation at the office.
She shook her head as she drove on down the highway, blind to the fields of native grasses and the occasional mesquite bush—although she did notice the regional airport as she passed it, something it would have been good to know about before she left L.A. What had made Thorne up and leave Forrester Creations? She hadn’t realized how often she’d found an excuse to quickly pop down into the warehouse—just ever so briefly—for some trivial query until he wasn’t there with his usual good-natured grin to greet her. And now it felt weird—no, it felt wrong, not having him there. The number of comments she’d overheard, and what she’d learned about him since his departure showed how much he was missed—she hadn’t known he played in the company’s baseball team, or that he’d hosted Friday afternoon social hours with the warehouse employees. She doubted Eric recognized the void his son had left in the bedrock of the company. Thorne was a well-loved, well-respected boss. His resignation didn’t make sense.
She thought she and Thorne had a pretty good relationship, despite their divorce many years ago. If there were any problems, she would hear about it—preferably from the man himself. Maybe something had happened during his time running Forrester International in Paris. Or maybe Ridge’s return to the head office had him riding off into the sunset? Well, she could hardly blame him for that. She was tempted to stalk off somewhere, too. Being co-vice president of Forrester Creations with Ridge Forrester made for a lot of disagreements and an eventful work day.
Her grip on the steering wheel tightened as she turned the car on to a narrow road, eyeing the letter boxes and property signs as she drove along at a moderate pace. Ridge had certainly upset the status quo. The whites of her knuckles appeared, and she had to will herself to relax. Her ex-husband had left her confused and lonely, challenging everything she’d believed to be true—like having a soul mate. She’d always thought they would be together, and that no problem was too big for them to resolve.
No, she refused to waste more time agonizing over the ashes of that failed marriage.
She spied a stone fence that followed the curve of the road, rising to a high point when it reached a gate. A white sign, modest yet tasteful, came into view. LONESOME OAK RANCH. Finally. She shook her hair off her forehead and she turned down an unsealed drive. Nope, she wasn’t going to dwell on Ridge. She’d promised Rick that she wouldn’t wallow in the dark hole she was tempted to crawl into.
So Ridge didn’t want her. So what? So her soul mate, the one who had promised to love and to cherish her, who had vowed she was the only woman for him, who’d shared a home and had a son with her, and who’d abandoned her on their honeymoon—well, so what if the man she’d wanted to bind herself to for eternity had discarded her? She skimmed over the fact that she’d hurt and disappointed him—that part was still painful, still too shameful to face.
Brooke lifted her chin. She had survived breakups before, more than she cared to count with Ridge, but she was no longer going to let a man define who she was. She would survive this soul-destroying episode and move on to bigger and better things.
She rounded a bend in the drive and slammed on the brakes. A cow stood on the road in front of her. Or was it a bull? Either way, its horns looked lethal as it glared balefully at her, lifted its tail and dumped on the drive. Brooke’s eyes narrowed. Bigger, yes. Better—not so much.
She tooted the horn, slowly edging the car forward until the cow finally moved. She grimaced as she drove on, already adding the car’s detail bill to the rental fee.
Rounding the final bend, she sucked in her breath as the tree cover thinned and she caught her first glimpse of the house. Well, it was better than she’d imagined. A hell of a lot better. It was beautiful: cedar, stone and glass; with a high, gabled roof and peaks over the bay windows, along with a wraparound porch, it looked like a ranch home right out of a western movie. A flagstone path led to steps climbing up to the porch and a wide timber door. Low-maintenance rockery gardens flanked either side of the path, and small shrubs with pretty purple buds were planted evenly along its length. She got out of the car and started along the path. While there was a definite down-home charm to the place, the building materials combined to create a home that looked not only visually stunning, but spoke of comfort and strength.
A lot like its new owner.
Her stomach flipped. She was equal parts excited and anxious to see Thorne. She told herself it was because she hadn’t seen him since her trip to Paris, months ago, and that she had so much at stake here. She was turning up uninvited, as well. She hesitated, looking out across the hills. The home was built on a rise, and she could see for miles: cows, horses, pastures and wooded areas. This place was bigger than she thought it would be. She sighed. She wasn’t here to admire or enjoy Thorne’s new pet project; she was here to convince him to come home with her, to come back to Forrester Creations.
She knocked on the front door and waited.
No answer.
Brooke frowned and knocked again, then leaned to the side to peer in the long narrow windows that lined the door. The house was dim, and if she squinted, she could make out an impressive foyer and a breathtaking staircase, gleaming where the setting sun’s rays caught the patina of years of loving attention.
But no Thorne.
She stepped back from the door and gazed around. Goodness, she hoped he was actually at the ranch. What if he’d driven into town? Or even back to Dallas? Or L.A.? The last thought cheered her for as long as it took that little voice inside her to say there was no way she could be that lucky, not with her current losing streak.
She leaned against the porch rail and gazed across the vista. Thorne’s property had a mix of high and low pastures, and from this vantage point the view was wonderful. The sun dipping behind the hills bathed the land in cool lilac shadows, while the leaves on the trees sparkled. A river ran through the lower pastures.
A whoop sounded from behind the house, and Brooke strode along the porch until she could peer around the corner of the home. Her jaw dropped.
The man and horse moved as one, galloping across a low meadow. The golden horse shone in the dwindling light. Brooke loved horses, and normally her attention would have been captivated by this magnificent creature—if it wasn’t for the man riding him.
His head was lowered, his sandy-colored Stetson covering his face. His red-checked shirt was open and flapping behind him, and even from this distance Brooke could appreciate his powerful, tan physique. His broad shoulders were well defined, and the muscles in his abdomen bunched and rippled as he controlled the horse’s full-out gallop with strong, jean-clad thighs.
A dark shadow flashed through the field behind the horse, and although Brooke glanced in that direction, her gaze kept returning to the cowboy riding the horse in all of his golden glory. Something fluttered deep inside her, like a candle that had finally found its flame. Her fingers tightened on the wooden rail. Well, for goodness’ sake. That man was temptation in a saddle: built for strength, stamina and seduction.
She darted a glance behind her, almost feeling guilty—almost. Where was Thorne? What would he think of her salivating over one of his ranch hands? She turned her gaze back to the sexiest man she’d ever seen—in or out of a saddle. His hips flexed as he pulled the horse into a canter to climb the hill. The dark shadow pursuing them slowly took shape, and she realized it was a dog. Or some sort of barreling bear cub. No, it was a pup. A cute little German shepherd, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth in an expression of glee as it chased its owner.
She had no business lusting after a strange man. No, no, no. This was her time to learn from her mistakes, not repeat them. Her priority at the moment was her work, and her family. Pulling off this Glamazon line in honor of her mother, and restoring respect in her children’s eyes—nothing else mattered. Not even hunky cowboys who moved with mesmerizing grace. She knew she needed the time to mend, and to reassess. This was her time—her time to figure out
what was important, what was necessary—what kind of woman she really wanted to be. She’d come to the realization that she needed to make some changes in her life—and getting all hot and bothered over a sweaty, sinfully sexy cowboy didn’t factor into that.
She turned as the man rode over the crest of the hill and across the yard to disappear into the barn beyond the house. Although, she wasn’t actually in a relationship … No partner to be faithful to … She frowned. No, she had to be faithful to herself. She didn’t need a man to be happy, or to feel good. She gazed into the barn. A pity, really.
It wasn’t long before the cowboy strode out, his long legs eating up the distance as he made his way toward the house. Good golly almighty, the man moved even better on his own two legs, if that was possible. Brooke straightened, trying to wipe all hints of lust from her expression. She’d ask the sexy cowboy where she could find Thorne, and get back to her mission.
The puppy pelted across the yard and pranced around the cowboy’s heels. The man laughed, a low, throaty sound. Brooke’s eyebrows narrowed as the pleasant sound teased at a memory. The cowboy bent down to pat the dog, and the dog jumped, knocking the Stetson off his head.
Golden hair, short and crisp, was lifted and ruffled by the slight breeze. Brooke gaped at the man’s familiar profile as he scooped up the hat and turned toward the house.
Oh, dear. Thorne Forrester.
Well, darn.
*
Thorne halted when he caught sight of the woman standing on his porch. It took him a moment to compute the image, so unexpected was it to see her in this setting.
“Brooke!” His lips split in an easy grin as he jogged over to her with Major at his heels. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” He took the steps in one leap and scooped her up in a bear hug. Of all the folks he’d left behind in L.A., this was the one he missed the most. He set her back down on her feet and stepped back.
Sunset Love: The Bold and the Beautiful Page 2