Adam

by Jennifer Ashley

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thriteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Author's Note

  Excerpt of Riding Hard: Grant

  Mrs. Ward's Harvest Apple Pie

  Books by Jennifer Ashley on Kindle

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Adam heard himself flatline. The machine shrilled one long sound, and everything he’d ever known vanished. He saw no light, felt nothing; he had no body, did not exist.

  There had been a roar, red fire, the stunt crew yelling, his best friend trapped in a pickup, surrounded by flame, eyes fixed in an unseeing stare. Then paramedics, fire trucks, noise, smoke, something jammed to Adam’s face. And then nothing except lying motionless while the machine sang out that Adam Campbell was dead.

  Next to his bed, a woman was crying. Couldn’t be his mother; she never cried when things were bad. She’d get through it and then go to pieces later, like she’d done when his dad had died.

  Dad had been about thirty-two when he’d passed—Adam was four years younger than that. Sorry, Dad, meant to take care of them a little longer.

  Bright, hot fire blasted through Adam’s body, streaking along every nerve. Adam’s legs jerked, his fingers burned, pain seared through his chest to shoot upwards into his brain. What the f—?

  He slammed back down on the bed, gasping for air. Cold and dry, it grated into his lungs. The machines stopped their long scream and started a rhythm, soft signals that overlapped one another and pulsed like his heart.

  Beat … pause … beat … pause …

  A very long time later, Adam peeled open his eyes.

  They surrounded his bed, his mom flanked by four big, tough-looking men—Tyler, Grant, Ross, and Carter. Carter’s large hand rested on the shoulder of his eight-year-old daughter, Faith’s hazel eyes enormous in her small face.

  His family had come all the way from Riverbend to watch him die.

  “Hey,” Adam croaked. His throat was raw with serious pain, his voice barely audible. “I feel like shit.”

  His younger brothers, Faith, and his mother relaxed into wide smiles—except for Carter, who’d never caught on to what smiling was all about. But even Carter’s eyes warmed, the hand on Faith’s shoulder easing.

  For some reason, they were all very, very happy with Adam.

  Chapter Two

  Bailey watched the family drive in. She remained in the big corral, with Dodie on the other end of the longe line, teaching the horse to master her latest tricks for the upcoming movie shoot.

  “You’re supposed to be afraid,” Bailey told the chocolate-brown horse waiting patiently for her cue. “Not enjoying it. No one’s going to buy that.”

  Dodie reared up when Bailey gave the signal, pawing the air, then came down and danced aside, shuddering. Perfect shot—that should have been a take—but Dodie looked, well, smug. Bailey refused to actually scare a horse to make the trick work—no one on the Circle C Ranch was cruel to horses—so this was the best it was going to get. If the camera caught Dodie’s movements and edited out that the mare was overacting, it should work.

  A black SUV and two pickups rolled to the house on the rise, the family climbing out. Bailey moved to the rail to watch.

  The entire Campbell family had flown to L.A. when word had come that Adam had been pulled out of the burning wreckage of a movie stunt gone wrong, barely alive. He was an experienced stuntman, but Adam performed some of the most dangerous feats in the business, and accidents happened.

  Adam’s mom had stayed out there with him for a few weeks while he began his healing, his brothers going back and forth, but they’d all congregated today to bring him home from the airport in Austin.

  Bailey’s heart had dropped like a stone when she’d heard about Adam’s accident. Olivia Campbell, Adam’s mother and Bailey’s current employer, had asked Bailey if she’d like to come with them, knowing Baily and Adam had once been close. Bailey had declined, though it had taken all her resolve to not rush to his bedside. She knew the family would want to be together if they lost him, no outsiders.

  Whether Adam made it or not, Bailey didn’t trust herself not to betray her feelings. She and Adam had led very different lives since age eighteen, when they’d both left the small town of Riverbend, Texas, to go their separate ways—he to Hollywood to wrangle horses and ride in movies; Bailey to Austin and UT.

  They’d parted as friends, each moving on to other relationships, but when Bailey had heard the news that Adam might not survive, she’d realized that, in her heart, it had always been Adam.

  Bailey stilled as she caught sight of Adam in the passenger seat. The longe line went slack, and Dodie joined Bailey at the fence, the horse watching with her.

  Adam was helped out of the truck by Grant on one side, Carter on the other. Small Faith moved like a satellite between them, her hands out as though ready to catch her uncle Adam in case he slipped.

  Bailey saw Adam make a curt gesture at his brothers as he adjusted his crutches. She could guess what he was saying: Don’t baby me. I’m older than you.

  Dodie, recognizing the family, let out a throaty neigh of welcome.

  Every single one of them turned and looked down to the corrals. Tyler and Grant waved, and Bailey lifted her hand in return.

  Faith made a gesture to Adam, as though telling him not to fall while she was gone, and broke away toward Bailey. She pranced to the corral in her imitation of a horse’s canter, and Dodie’s ears pricked.

  Now Adam was looking down the slope. He raised a hand to shade his eyes. Who is that? he’d be asking.

  One of his brothers, probably Grant, the second-oldest Campbell, would answer. Your ex. She works for us now.

  Grant liked to teasingly call Bailey “Adam’s Ex.” A year younger than Adam, Grant had been a good friend the few weeks Bailey and Adam had gone out.

  At the time, Bailey had kept Adam from flunking out of school by helping him through the last of his exams so he could stand up and graduate with his class. They’d had a small, intense fling—the kind you have when you’re young and poised on the edge of adulthood—then they’d gone their separate ways. No recriminations, no hurting. They’d both been ready to get on with their lives.

  Who am I kidding? Bailey had told herself, when Adam was offered the chance to take his riding skills to Hollywood, that her rosy dreams of marrying him and settling down had been just that, dreams. Not reality.

  Bailey had accepted a scholarship to the University of Texas in Austin and started her own life, quickly earning a bachelor’s then a master’s degree in math and computer science, working as a programmer in a large tech company after that. Interesting projects, long hours, lots of money, a new kind of crowd, a three-year marriage, and a divorce.

  When she’d discovered the true nature of her cheating husband, and the lack of loyalty among their friends, she’d quit her antacid-popping job and returned to her roots in the little town of Riverbend, in the heart of Hill Country. She’d asked Olivia Campbell and her sons, the best stunt trainers in the business, for a job. Bailey might be a math geek, but she’d grown up with horses and knew how to bring out the best in them.

  The Campbells, along with their foster brother, Carter
Sullivan, were stunt riders and horse trainers, their talents highly sought after, their acts popular at rodeos and exhibitions throughout Texas. Adam had been snatched up to work full-time on movies by California studios, while the other brothers were wranglers and horse stunt riders for small-studio movies, television, and commercials throughout Texas and New Mexico.

  Bailey knew when she came home that she didn’t want to work anywhere else. Her stress levels had gone way down in the last year—she’d arrived burned out and defeated, and now she slept like a baby. The Campbells had offered Bailey a refuge, and she’d taken it.

  And now Adam was home.

  The brothers were pretending not to hover around him, but they surrounded Adam like bodyguards as he hobbled onto the porch and finally dropped into a waiting chair. The crutches that had held him up clattered to the wooden porch floor.

  Adam irritably waved off his brothers as they stooped to retrieve the crutches, and again, Bailey imagined what he was saying: Stop fussing and grab me a beer.

  Bailey saw Olivia shake her head and Adam flop his hands to the arms of the chair in resignation. Probably he couldn’t have any alcohol on whatever meds he was on.

  Olivia would offer him her famous iced tea now—not sweet tea, which Adam didn’t like. Adam gave a nod, and Olivia walked into the house.

  From this angle, Bailey could see through the window into the living room. Olivia was heading to the kitchen, wiping her eyes.

  Faith reached the corral. She was horse-wise enough to stop fluttering around once near Dodie, but she was still excited.

  Faith addressed Dodie first. “I don’t have any treats for you,” she said as the mare lowered her nose to Faith’s hands. “But if you’re good, I’ll sneak you some tortilla chips later. You know she really likes those,” Faith said to Bailey.

  Six months ago, when Dodie’d had the horse equivalent of a bad cold, the only things she would eat were tortilla chips and pizza. Faith was convinced they’d saved her life.

  “Uncle Adam growled all the way from Austin,” Faith said. “He growled on the plane from L.A. too. He is not a good patient, Grandma says.”

  “Can’t blame him.” Bailey observed the brothers trying to make their oldest sibling comfortable. “The wreck was really bad.”

  “A truck crashed into his motorcycle then Uncle Adam and the truck smashed into a building that fell down on them, and the pickup blew up. For real. The other stuntman died, and Uncle Adam is really upset about it. He doesn’t say that, but we can tell.”

  Bailey had heard details of the accident from Olivia and Grant, but Faith’s matter-of-fact summation made her heart constrict. “It’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

  “Uncle Adam broke a lot of bones, and his face is all burned, but his injuries weren’t as bad as they could have been, the doctors told us. Uncle Adam’s mad—not that he was hurt, but that nothing more happened to him. He keeps saying Dawson died, and all I got was a broken leg and a sissy burn.”

  Bailey’s hand tightened on the longe line until her knuckles hurt. “Poor Adam.”

  Adam Campbell didn’t like to show his emotions. He’d be gruff and growling, all the while his heart was breaking. Bailey had seen that in him before, and she didn’t like that it was happening again.

  “We feel bad for him,” Faith said, in her clear-eyed way. “But he doesn’t want us feeling bad, so that makes him angry too. It’s complicated, Dad says.”

  Faith’s dad was Carter Sullivan, whose life had been extremely complicated before Olivia had brought him here to foster him.

  “I guess we have to let him heal,” Bailey said. She leaned her arms on the top rail of the corral and gazed at Adam on the porch, surrounded by tall Campbell men.

  Dodie stretched her neck down to Faith again, so Faith could keep petting her. All the horses liked Faith, except for Buster, but he was a crabby old fart who hated everybody.

  “I guess,” Faith said. “Grandma says, do you want to stay for dinner?”

  Up at the house, the brothers were dropping away from Adam, one by one, to unload the SUV, to go inside and help Olivia, or head to the barn to help settle the horses for the night. Adam remained in the chair, alone, giving Bailey a clear view of him.

  He sat there, exhausted, broken, and Bailey’s heart squeezed again. Adam had always been so alive. Being with him had been like holding a lit firework. He’d had a restless energy that could fuel a rocket, and a smile that lit up the sky.

  Now he sat, head back, body still. Adam Campbell never, ever sat still.

  As though he sensed her, Adam raised his head and looked down the hill.

  Bailey could feel his intense blue gaze, those eyes framed with the blackest lashes she’d ever seen. His hair wasn’t black, it was dark brown—when they’d been kids, it had always been burned with blond streaks. These days he wore it short, and the streaks weren’t as obvious, but the short cut revealed every line of his handsome face.

  Now that face was burned and scarred, she’d heard from Grant, though she couldn’t see it from here. Beautiful Adam used to have every girl in town quivering when he walked by. Even ones who considered themselves too sophisticated for a local cowboy had turned their heads to watch him pass. They’d made sure their breasts turned in his direction too, and Adam hadn’t been oblivious.

  Bailey had gone a lot further with him than those girls ever dreamed—but that was a long time ago.

  “Not sure it’s a good idea,” Bailey said in answer to Faith’s offer of supper. “I don’t want to make Adam self-conscious.”

  “Oh, come on, Bailey, pleeeze? He’ll want to see you. I know all about you and Adam in the old days—Dad told me. Adam’s still in love with you.”

  Bailey looked at her in alarm. “Adam told you that, did he?”

  “He doesn’t have to tell me,” Faith said, stroking Dodie’s neck. “I know.”

  Sweet of her, but Bailey wasn’t stupid. There had been too many years, too many differences in their lives, to think anything she’d kindled with Adam in high school would remain. He’d recover from his injuries and return to Hollywood, and Bailey would stay here, working with the Campbells, enjoying the unhurried pace of her life.

  That was how it would be.

  “Okay, Bailey?” Faith said. “You’re staying, right?”

  Bailey sighed as she unhooked the longe line from Dodie and started winding it up. She’d have to face Adam sometime, and it might as well be now as later. They’d get the awkwardness out of the way then go on with their lives until he left again.

  “All right,” she told Faith. “Help me put away Dodie, and I’ll stay for dinner.”

  “Woot!” Faith climbed through the bars and easily caught sweet-tempered Dodie by the halter. Bailey snapped on the lead rope, and Faith happily led Dodie to her stall as the sun sank behind the hill, everything good in the little girl’s world.

  Chapter Three

  “Will you stop trying to help me?” Adam snarled at Carter, who’d put a strong hand under Adam’s elbow. Grant held the crutches, both brothers ready to get Adam inside so they could eat.

  They didn’t let go until Adam was on his feet, Grant tucking the crutches under Adam’s arms. Then Carter, who’d had not just a troubled, but totally messed-up youth, looked at Adam and said, “Fuck you.”

  Adam made an exasperated noise. “Sorry. I’m just …”

  “I know,” Carter said.

  Carter had dark hair, eyes that varied from hazel to light green, a tall, raw-boned body, and a mouth that could move from easygoing to a tough, mean line in a heartbeat. “But screw you if we don’t want you falling on your ass,” Carter went on. “Mom would get mad at us, and I’m not taking that for you.”

  “I said I was sorry.” Adam and Carter had been scrapping since Carter had come to live with them at age thirteen. “Get over it already.”

  Grant fixed them both with an exasperated stare. Grant had the same coloring as Adam—brown hair, blue eyes, same solid build.
The two of them looked more like twins than brothers one year apart. Grant had been wilder than Adam ever was, but in a good-natured way. While Adam had worried everyone, Grant had charmed his way out of trouble.

  “Man, you got full of yourself being a Hollywood star,” Grant said. “Think you’re too good for us now?”

  Adam wasn’t in the mood for banter. “Just get me inside.”

  He wouldn’t have minded so much stumbling around with only the family. But Bailey was coming up from the barn with Faith, and the last person he wanted seeing him like this was Bailey Farrell.

  Not because he was ashamed that half his face had been through a meat grinder, but because she’d been the one who’d set him on his feet and sent him off all those years ago. Adam would never have had the success he did without Bailey, and he knew it. Now Adam was hobbling home, his mistakes maybe having killed a good man. His mentor had told him to take some time to heal, then come on back—there would always be a place for Adam.

  Adam was one of the best in the business. He’d had bad crashes before, had been hurt before—worse than this, though he hadn’t actually died—and had recovered and gone right back to work.

  This time, thinking about going back to work clenched something in his gut. Getting into a car to go to LAX, and then again for the drive home from the airport in Austin, had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

  Now he wanted to sit on this porch, crumble to dust, and blow away on the warm Texas wind.

  It wasn’t only the thought of stunt driving again that made him sweat; it was anything that required taking a risk. Even thinking about climbing up on his beloved horses while he was home made him sick to his stomach.

  What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Watching Bailey walk up here didn’t help his frayed nerves. “What the hell did you invite her to dinner for?” he snapped.

  “Mom did,” Grant answered without heat. “You’re old friends, and Bailey’s been worried about you. Be nice to her. You had sex with her back in the day, and she deserves a lot of niceness for that. Hell, you should buy her an island for getting into bed with you.”