by Dara Girard
Jameson grinned. “Brooke, if you leave steak on the table the dogs are going to drool.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re avoiding the question.”
“I’m doing exactly the same as you. So let’s both be honest. Yes, I do notice, but no, she’s not my type.” He stood. “Now do something about her or I will,” he said then left the room.
Brooke covered her face in her hands. She didn’t know what she could do without hurting Leslie’s feelings. But she didn’t want Jameson to be upset. Their relationship was tenuous enough, and she didn’t want him thinking she was as silly as Leslie. She felt guilty but trapped at the same time.
“He’s right,” Cecelia said, coming into the room.
Brooke looked up at her. “You don’t like her either?”
“I like her. She’s full of life, but she doesn’t belong here. She’s pretty, but she should know when and where to catch a man’s attention. Like at the saloon. Not when he’s doing dangerous work.”
“I never saw this side of her before.” But she had in small doses. In college they’d both enjoyed their new freedom but had never been reckless. Leslie had liked to flirt and had had many boyfriends, but she’d always come to her senses before she did anything stupid.
Brooke went to Leslie’s room but was surprised when she knocked and there was no answer. When she opened the door, the room was empty. She searched the house and grounds for her, but couldn’t find her anywhere. She called her cell phone but got no reply.
She had to fix this problem before Jameson got more upset. She was about to leave when she heard a strange moaning sound. She walked into the barn, and all the animals looked fine, but the moaning sound continued and grew louder. She followed the sound to one of the stalls and found Leslie tangled up with the ranch hand she’d recognized from the rodeo circuit.
“Did you hear that?” he asked.
“No,” Leslie said. “Keep going.”
“I could swear I heard something.”
“It’s probably just one of the animals.”
“Or me,” Brooke said.
The man swore and scrambled to cover himself. Leslie quickly pulled her skirt down. “I know what you’re going to say.”
Brooke shook her head. “I don’t think you do.”
“I’m sorry about this,” the ranch hand said.
“You’d better move fast before Frank or Jameson start looking for you.”
“You won’t say anything?”
“Do your best today and I’ll think about it.” After he’d gone, Brooke glared at her friend. “I warned you.”
“I couldn’t help myself.”
“You don’t even know him.” Brooke threw up her hands. “You’re not making any sense. First, you want to be an actress, then I find you sleeping with some guy you saw at a rodeo. This isn’t like you.”
“I know. I lied. I didn’t just stop by. I just found out my parents are getting a divorce and I broke up with my boyfriend and I feel awful about myself. I just needed to feel desirable again. I thought this would be a good way to act when other parts of my life are falling apart.”
“You’re only twenty-five. Plenty of other men are on the horizon. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“I am short.”
“You know what I mean.”
“It’s easy for you to say. You’re beautiful and now rich and you have a man who loves you.”
If only that were true. “Life’s about a lot more than that.”
“Like what?”
“Being happy.”
Leslie nodded. “You’re right. I’ll leave tomorrow. I guess my parents’ breakup is hitting me harder than I thought. They’d been married for years and now they can hardly stand each other. It makes me wonder if love ever really lasts.”
* * *
Brooke wondered the same thing as she prepared for bed that night. Part of her wanted Leslie to stay. She’d enjoyed pretending that she and Jameson shared the same bedroom. She didn’t want to go back to the way it had been.
“So?” Jameson asked. He lay against the headboard, his arms folded over his bare chest. “Did you get to talk to her?”
“Yes,” Brooke said, pulling on her nightdress then closing the drawer. “She’s leaving tomorrow.”
“Good. Where was she?”
Brooke froze. “Why?”
He narrowed his eyes. “It’s a simple question.”
“I don’t understand why you’re asking it.”
“Because I want to know. I’d wanted to talk to you and you were nowhere in the house.”
Brooke licked her lip. “We met outside. Leslie had decided to go for a walk. Does it matter?”
“It does when you look guilty.”
“You’re the one who’s suspicious.” Brooke got on the bed and straddled his waist, hoping to improve his mood and make him forget about her friend. “Aren’t you happy that I’ve handled this situation?” she asked, inching up her nightgown to expose her thighs.
Jameson lowered his gaze, rested his hand on her leg and slowly trailed a path up until his hand disappeared under her nightie. “She must really have done something. Just tell me, did she break anything?”
“No.”
“Then I forgive her,” he said, then kissed Brooke, making them both forget Leslie’s indiscretion.
* * *
As promised, and to Brooke’s relief, Leslie left the next morning. For the following few days Jameson and Brooke settled back into their own routine. They both kept themselves busy with their daily chores then spent the nights in each other’s arms. And they began experimenting by making love in the afternoons in addition to their nighttime soirees. After one rigorous afternoon interlude, Brooke changed into a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting shirt to go to her workshop then grabbed his cowboy hat. Jameson took it off as she headed for the door. “A woman should know better than to take a man’s hat,” he said, placing it on his head.
“Oh, come on.” She reached for it. “Just for fun.”
He moved it out of reach. “It’s too big for you anyway.”
“I don’t care.”
“Get your own.”
“Don’t you know how to share?”
He set the hat firmly on his head. “I’m sharing my bed, but I’m not sharing this.”
Brooke made a face. “Not even for a minute?”
“Not even for a second, but you can borrow one of my shirts.”
Brooked leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “So, there’s nothing I can do to make you change your mind?”
“Nothing.”
“Fine.” She turned, walked past him, opened one of his dresser drawers, grabbed one of his T-shirts and put it on. She then tied it in the front, leaving her midriff exposed. She walked to the door.
He swore then blocked her path. “I knew your friend was a bad influence. You’re not going out like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you look sexy as hell.”
She wiggled her hips. “That’s the plan. But maybe I should let the ranch hands decide who is more distracting, Leslie or me.”
“Do you want their wives coming after you?”
“Not all of them are married.” She rested her hands on her hips. “It’s either the T-shirt or the hat. You choose.”
Jameson rested his arms on the doorframe, effectively blocking her. “Okay, let’s come up with a compromise.”
“I’m listening.”
“You can wear the hat in bed.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
Jameson’s voice lowered to a seductive rumble. “Ever ride a mechanical bull before? After tonight I’ll give it a w
hole new meaning.”
Brooke untied the shirt. “Then tonight can’t come fast enough. If I could make the sun set now, I would.”
“And I’d help you.” He kissed her and then left the room.
* * *
Brooke closed the door to the kiln and thought about what Jameson had planned for the evening. She’d had boyfriends in college, but no man had ever made her feel the way he did. Lately it seemed she really mattered to him. She couldn’t believe Meredith had let him go. He was everything she’d imagined him to be and more. He wanted her in bed, he liked her as a friend, but he’d loved Meredith. Would he always consider her second best? Would he ever love her? Would he always think of her as Meredith’s little sister? They were friends, but would he ever let what they had become something more?
* * *
Jameson didn’t like what he was hearing, but he made sure that fact didn’t show on his face. He sat in the kitchen of the Baileys, where Rod Bailey’s wife had ushered them.
“It’s a lot of money and we’re getting on in years and none of our children want to stay here.”
Jameson nodded but he knew that was baloney. Their son was around his age and had talked about raising his family in Granger. But what he noticed most were not the words Mr. Bailey was saying but the look on his face. The Baileys were one of the older families, like the Browards, who had lived in Granger for years. He looked worried, as if he were trying to convince himself about something.
“Who is it?”
“The broker won’t say. I did ask, but he said the investor likes to let the money talk for itself.”
“And that’s it?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t like Rod Bailey to be so reticent. Even his wife was. They weren’t telling him something, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t want to be suspicious of them. He knew that was how a town got divided. Someone was buying up the town, but he couldn’t fight an invisible foe. Whoever the investor or investors were, they were powerful.
Chapter 10
The summons came right on schedule. Jameson looked at Cecelia as he sat behind his desk in his study.
“You said tonight?” Jameson asked, annoyed.
Cecelia nodded. “She said she was afraid if she told you sooner, you’d come up with an excuse not to go.”
His mother was right. Dinner at the main house with family wasn’t high on his list of priorities. “I already had plans for tonight.”
Cecelia looked alarmed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything on your calendar.”
“Private plans,” Jameson corrected.
“Oh,” Cecelia said. “Your mother expects you both to dress your best because it will be Brooke’s first dinner as a Broward.”
Jameson rubbed his chin. “I guess it can’t be avoided.”
“I think it will be good for Mrs. Broward.”
Brooke was just as disappointed as Jameson by their change in plans, but she knew it was an opportunity to stay in the Browards’ good graces. “Do you think they’ll talk about Samara’s upcoming press conference?” she asked as they drove to the main house.
“It’s likely. Everyone in town is talking about it. I wonder what Samara’s going to say.”
“Some locals believe she’s going to announce she’s filming a movie in town. Others hope she is going to open a movie studio here.”
“That’s a scary thought.”
* * *
Dinner that evening consisted of braised asparagus, stuffed mushrooms, oven-roasted potatoes, barbecue pulled pork and rice pilaf. Everything was cooked to perfection, but Brooke could hardly taste a thing. She felt like a fraud. All she could see was how false her relationship with Jameson was compared to the others. Wes and Lydia had postponed going back on vacation and as they sat at the table it was clear how much in love they were. And Gwendolyn and Steven had been in love for years. Grandpa Charles had loved and seemed open to falling in love again. In the glaring light of all this, Brooke knew that all she and Jameson had was a great sex life.
“You’ve hardly touched a thing,” Gwendolyn said, looking at Brooke’s plate.
“It’s so delicious, I’m trying to savor every bite,” Brooke said quickly. “I really enjoy being here with you all.”
“Get used to it,” Steven said. “We’re a family that likes to get together.”
“And that’s an order,” Jameson added.
Gwendolyn shook her head. “Brooke, I don’t know what you saw in this surly cowboy.”
“He has his own special charm,” Brooke said.
“And he also happens to be sitting right here,” Jameson said.
“I’m just glad he was finally ready to settle down,” Gwendolyn said, ignoring him. “I can’t tell you how happy Steven and I are to have you as part of our family.”
Jameson pushed his chair back and stood. “I’ll get us some more wine.”
* * *
Jameson was coming up from the wine cellar when he saw Grandpa Charles coming in the opposite direction.
“What’s bothering you?” he said with a serious blue gaze.
“Nothing,” Jameson said, startled by the question. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about the Samara woman but—” He stopped when his grandfather shook his head.
“No, something besides that. Something besides Granger and the ranch. You left rather abruptly when your mother was teasing you and your new bride.”
“I just thought we should get more wine.”
“Really?”
Jameson sighed and leaned against the wall. “If I said yes, you still won’t believe me, will you?”
“I just want you to tell me the truth.”
“I’m fine.”
Charles nodded. “You look happy.”
“I am,” Jameson said, a little amazed to realize that his words were true. He hadn’t felt like this in years. He liked playing this role with Brooke. He liked being her husband. His good mood dipped because he knew it was just a role and that one day soon it would end.
“Afraid it’s not going to last?” Charles said, seeing Jameson’s expression change.
I know it won’t. “Things change.”
“You know that can be a good thing. We feel safe when things stay the same, but growth is essential for life to go on.”
Jameson smiled. “I know you’ve found some new happiness of your own,” he said, referring to Polly Ann Wier, the widow his grandfather had brought to his wedding.
Charles grinned. “I have, but we’re not talking about me. Brooke is happy, too, so that means you’re doing something right. Don’t worry so much. Enjoy what you have and don’t let it slip away.”
Jameson was thinking about his grandfather’s words an hour later as everyone enjoyed a light dessert and an expensive after-dinner wine in the main room.
Wes and Lydia went off to snuggle together on the porch, Grandpa Charles went home to rest and Gwendolyn spent time with Brooke looking over the wedding album. Jameson took the opportunity to steal some time to talk to his father.
“I couldn’t get much out of the Baileys.”
“I’m not surprised. Few people are talking. Have you been approached yet?”
“For what?”
“Brooke’s land. I spoke to Mitch and I know before you two married there was interest from buyers. I thought they might have contacted you.”
He knew he couldn’t tell his father about the will. “Not yet.”
“That’s a surprise. Do you know if she wants to sell?”
“She doesn’t.”
“That’s a relief. You probably already discussed it before you got married. This is a really good deal for us. Is that what you were thinking about when you proposed?”
“Are we back to that? I already said my piece,
but you can believe what you want to.”
“I’m sorry. That was out of line. I guess these land deals have gotten to me more than I want them to. You know I love Granger and, somehow, seeing it get sold off feels personal. It gets me right here.” He pounded his chest.
Wes came into the room. “What’s all the whispering about?”
“Nothing that would interest you.”
“Still worried about the investor,” he guessed.
“You obviously don’t think we have a reason to,” Jameson replied.
“No. And Samara isn’t as bad as you think.”
“That’s you’re unbiased opinion, of course.”
“You don’t have to believe me.”
“We were just talking about the Palmer land,” Steven said as the atmosphere tensed.
“It’s not all Brooke’s. There’s Meredith’s side,” Jameson said.
“Shouldn’t be too hard to convince her to sell to you,” Steven said.
Jameson nodded, hating feeling like a fraud. The Palmer land wouldn’t be his anyway, but his father didn’t need to know that.
Jameson was so lost in his thoughts he nearly jumped when a light hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and saw his sister, Laney.
“Could I talk to you a minute?” she whispered.
He nodded and they went into another room. “What’s up?” he asked once they were alone.
“I need the name of a private investigator.”
“What do you need an investigator for? Have you spoken to Mom and Dad?”
Laney waved his questions away. “I can’t tell them.”
“Why not?”
“It’s personal. Please don’t ask any more questions.”
His gaze sharpened. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“How can I not worry if you’re in trouble?”
She hugged herself and forced a smile. “I’ve got everything under control. I’m an Olympiad, remember?”
“You’re my little sister first.”
“All I need is the name of a private investigator. All you have to do is just give me the name.”
* * *
That night Steven looked out at the stars.