“Go screw yourself,” Adam rumbled, but Grant’s teasing made him feel a little better. He’d missed this.
He hobbled determinedly into the house. Maybe if he got himself sitting at the table before Bailey came in, it wouldn’t be so bad. She wouldn’t watch him lurching and shaking like a little girl. Faith had more strength than he did right now.
His mother, God bless her, knew what to do. She always did. Olivia ignored Adam’s struggles, letting him make it across the living room to the dining room alone, but poised to help the minute he truly needed it. Or at least make his brothers help. Olivia, half the height of her sons, was good at keeping the Campbell boys in line—the only one who’d ever been able to.
It was good to see the familiar long table set with plates and silverware, napkins at the sides of the plates plus a pile in the middle—five boys weren’t going to eat and not make a mess.
When Adam had been little, the plates had been mismatched, Mom putting together whatever she could. Now, thanks to the successes of her sons and the Circle C Ranch the whole family owned, the plates were a set from her favorite home decor store, the silverware new. Olivia had turned the family around since their dad’s death had left them alone and dirt poor. As they’d gotten older the brothers had pitched in and helped every step of the way. They’d made it together.
Even Adam leaving for California hadn’t meant he was deserting them. He’d made that clear. He came back for holidays and down time between movies—not that there was much of that. He sent a large portion of his checks home to keep the ranch going, and he was part owner in their business.
Yep, he always had a place here. Nice to have that at your back in a world where money ruled and people were hired and fired on a whim, and men like Dawson died so tightwad bean counters could save money.
Adam dropped into his chair at the far end of the table, arranging his leg the best he could. This was a smaller splint than what he’d had in the first weeks, but it was still effing awkward.
He let out his breath when he finally settled. He was here, looking down the table from the chair he’d sat in for so many years. When they’d had their first family meal after their father died, Olivia had turned to Adam and said, “You sit at the head of the table—it’s your place now.”
Adam, ten at the time, had been thrilled, sad, and a little scared. Being the man in the family was a lot of responsibility.
The entire family entered the dining room in a pack, surrounding Bailey and Faith, the room suddenly filled with people. When everything quieted down, Bailey ended up sitting directly on Adam’s right, in the place Grant usually sat.
Somehow, Grant had moved one seat over to accommodate the extra. He didn’t look one bit guilty either, the shithead. Bailey gave Adam a little smile, not at all awkward.
Damn, but she’d grown even more gorgeous than ever. She’d been nice-looking back in high school, though she’d hidden it well. Adam had discovered what other guys hadn’t—that underneath the geeky bangs and glasses were fine brown eyes in a fresh face, and that her sloppy sweatshirts hid a body of sweet curves.
Bailey had grown up a lot since then. She wore her dark hair shorter now, waving back to reveal her whole face. The color on her cheeks was natural, tanned from working under the Texas sun, flushed with life.
Her eyes were brown—deep fall-into-them brown. She didn’t wear glasses anymore, which meant she’d probably gone with contacts or maybe had vision surgery. Whatever she’d done, she’d learned how to throw back her shoulders and confront the world instead of ducking her head and peeking at it sideways.
Not only that, she’d become unself-consciously sexy, filling out a clinging black shirt that showed some hot cleavage. Jeans hugged her hips and one great ass.
She’d been like a budding rose ten years ago, beautiful in her own way but with potential beauty closed from the world.
Now Bailey had blossomed, and she was breathtaking.
Grant, playing nice brother today, had made sure Bailey was on Adam’s right—the scars were worst on the left side of his face. Bailey looked him over with frank interest, no shirking, no embarrassment.
The last night they’d spent together, before they parted ways, she’d been under him in the dark, her smile languid as she stroked his then-long hair. They’d been young and inexperienced at sex—Adam knew that now, in spite of his supreme cockiness at the time—but it had been mind-blowing all the same. A man never forgot his first love.
When Adam caught her eye, Bailey let her smile come—that sexy, lopsided smile that said there was more to her than met the eye.
Adam’s body, though pumped with pain-killers and tired as hell, responded. Bailey had been a hot little firecracker when she’d been his shy math tutor—how much more would she have to give now?
And here was Adam, bandaged and splinted, exhausted and aching, broken in body and spirit. Even so, he made the good half of his face tip up in an answering grin.
Bailey flushed, and she leaned absently forward, her breasts grazing the edge of the table. Adam couldn’t help himself—he was a red-blooded Texas boy. He looked straight down her shirt.
Oh, yeah. Worth the wait.
A loud snicker erupted on his left side. Tyler, two years younger than Grant, had his elbow on the table, hand pressed to his face, laughing at his busted up but horny older brother. The others were pretending not to notice, but smirks were visible all around.
The food got set down, and Olivia and Ross, the youngest brother who was a terrific cook, took their seats. Nice that Ross was home—he was a deputy sheriff, one of the few in small River County, and worked all hours.
“Adam,” Olivia said, “Say grace for us.”
All eyes turned to him.
Adam dragged his gaze from Bailey’s glorious bosom, cleared his throat, and stretched out his hands.
Bailey took one. Her fingers were strong, her grip firm, when years ago she’d been hesitant. Now she held his hand without shrinking, met his eye, gave him a smile, and dared him to be embarrassed about staring at her chest.
Adam flushed, grabbed Tyler’s hand, and waited while the others joined up.
The lifeline that ringed the table flowed its warmth into him and lifted his heart. He was home.
He couldn’t remember any prayers but one. In his movie life, they grabbed what food they could when they could. Sit-down dinners happened in restaurants surrounded by a ton of other people, and usually arranged to talk business. No time for saying grace.
Adam cleared his throat again. “Dear Lord, bless this house, this family, and this food we are about to receive. Amen.”
A resounding Amen went around the table, then five pairs of masculine hands shot out, including his, the Campbell boys and Carter always hungry. They were polite, though, passing the dishes first to Bailey and Olivia, making sure they got their share, while Carter helped Faith fill her plate.
The room soon rang with loud voices, clattering silverware, praises to the cooks for the food, followed by the usual modest answers—It was just a little something. We had Bailey thaw out some steaks this morning, then we threw them on the grill and scrubbed some veg. That’s all.
Olivia sat at her place at the foot of the table, her hair a sandy shade of blond that Adam knew came from the salon, but it looked good on her. She was tanned like the rest of them, her face bearing more lines now than when he’d left home, but her eyes were as lively as ever. Their mother was a strong rider, and though she didn’t stunt ride, she helped with the training, kept the stables running smoothly and the horses healthy, and dealt with a lot of the business details, along with Carter, who’d proved good at it.
Now she talked with her sons and Bailey, shooting fond-mother glances down at Adam when she thought he wasn’t looking. She knew Adam didn’t like being coddled.
The meal was hot, juicy, tasty, savory, satisfactory. Adam didn’t have much of an appetite these days, between pain and the meds, but he tried to do the food justice
. Bailey joined in the dinner conversation with ease, but then, she’d been working here for almost a year, Grant had told him. She was a part of the Campbell machine now.
Adam liked that, and felt at the same time as though he were looking in through a window, watching people he didn’t know. He’d been away too long.
For instance, Adam asked both Bailey and Grant, in all innocence, “So, how’s Christina doing?”
Christina was two years older than Bailey, and she and Grant had been living together for a while. The two of them were well matched in looks, laughter, and a love for a good time. Christina bartended at the local bar, owned by the Farrell girls’ uncle. She was part of the fabric of life in Riverbend, and so naturally, Adam asked about her.
A current of tension ran around the table. No one looked at one another; Bailey stared at her plate. The one who stiffened the most was Grant, and Adam watched him with narrowed eyes. What the fuck?
Faith was the one who answered. “Christina and Grant broke up,” she said, as though wondering why everyone else didn’t just say so. “About a year ago.”
Adam bent a severe look on Grant. “A year? When the hell were you going to tell me?”
Grant stabbed his fork into a hunk of mashed potatoes. “You were busy. Then you were busy being dead. I didn’t have the chance, and I didn’t want to talk about it.” Another stab. “Still don’t.”
Adam watched him a while longer, then gave up. Bailey glanced at Adam and sent him a quick smile. “Christina’s fine. I’ll tell her you asked.”
Everyone breathed out and went back to eating. Tyler said quickly, to fill the silence, “We’ll get you back up on Buster tomorrow, Bailey. He’s the best for this.”
They were obviously continuing a conversation they’d had before. “Why should she want to ride Buster?” Adam broke in. “Bobby’s gentler, or Dodie. I saw you working with her today, Bailey.” He forced down another bite and swallowed. The food was great, and he wished he could better appreciate it. “What are they making you do? Grooming and saddling? Warming up the horses? Because they’re too lazy-ass to do it themselves?”
Bailey’s smile had fire in it. “I want Buster because he’ll run in a straight line while I do a vaulting leap.”
Adam’s fork clattered to his plate as a sudden spike of agony shot up his leg past his painkillers. “What the hell are you doing a vaulting leap for?”
That’s what they called the trick of jumping from a running horse onto a moving object—another horse, a stagecoach, a train. It was dangerous—the timing had to be perfect, and the horse under you had to be one you could trust completely.
“They’re teaching me stunt riding,” Bailey answered. “More women are doing action-adventure movies these days—which I’m sure you know. They need stunt doubles that look more real than a guy in a wig.” As Adam kept staring at her, she laughed. “What did you think I was doing? Mucking out stalls? Cleaning bridles? Holding horses while the menfolk get on with the business of riding?”
Yes, Adam had assumed something like that, when Grant had said, Yeah, Bailey works here now. It never occurred to him that Bailey would be doing the crazy-ass things he and his brothers had spent a lifetime mastering.
He should let it go. It was Bailey’s life. Adam had nothing to do with it.
But again he saw the face of Dawson Sheppard, a guy who’d become his closest friend, as the pickup Dawson had been driving spun out of control, snapping into Adam on a motorcycle and sending them both through the wall.
The stunt should have been cut and dried. They’d mapped it out, walked it out, rehearsed it. Adam didn’t have a clear memory of the entire thing, but the accident should not have happened. The stunt coordinator had wanted the take done before the end of the day, had rushed them into it when Adam had wanted to wait and check out a few more details. He’d been talked into starting his run, and he never should have done it. Something in Dawson’s truck had gone wrong, and he’d hit Adam and then the wall at the wrong point, smashing into solid brick and sparking off explosives before they could be contained.
Adam remembered Dawson’s face, his eyes staring, face bloody as the fire burned around him. His best friend, dead. Just like that. For a stupid stunt in a dumb-ass movie that would never see the light of day.
“Like hell they’re teaching you stunt riding,” Adam growled. “It’s an easy way to die or be crippled for life. Forget it.”
Bailey leaned toward him, her bosom again resting on the table. “Excuse you—I’ve been doing this for months already. We’re careful. I know you got hurt, but…”
“But what? You think you won’t?” The others were silent, uncomfortable. “I’m careful, Bailey. I’m the most careful man I know, and look what happened to me!”
“Well, I’m a woman,” Bailey said, like that was a good argument or something.
“You think that makes you immune?” Adam jerked his gaze from Bailey and her sweet breasts and swept it over his stubborn-faced brothers, letting his glare land on Grant. “Look at me,” he snapped. “Look at my face.”
He turned his head so Grant could see the entire wreck of his left side, the scars from the grafts that went down his neck and spread under his sweatshirt.
“Is this what you want her to look like?” Adam’s broken voice filled the room. They were all staring at him now, even Faith. They watched him in concern, except Bailey, who was flushed and angry.
Adam pointed at Bailey. “You want to take this gorgeous woman and make her look like me? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He pushed himself out of his chair, lost his balance, and caught himself on the table. His crutches were against the wall, four steps away—damn it.
Bailey and Grant were out of their chairs, both reaching for the crutches, Grant backing off after a second to let Bailey bring them to him.
Adam snatched them and jerked away when Bailey tried to ease them under his arms. “Don’t help me,” he snarled at her. “Do not help me.”
He saw his mother rise from her chair, either ready to yell at him or yell at the others, he wasn’t sure. Adam knew he was acting like an asshole, but he didn’t have time to be ashamed of his temper.
Bailey flushed again, her eyes starry with anger. Adam pushed around her—he was still strong enough to do that—and made his way to the dining-room door. To his mother he said, “Sorry. I’m not hungry. It’s the meds.”
They let him go, even Carter, who looked as though he wanted to tackle Adam and start beating on him. Carter wasn’t one to pity a guy, which right now was easier to take than the troubled guilt from everyone else.
Adam was fine all the way to the door, which was closed. He hadn’t yet mastered juggling crutches and turning doorknobs, and his idea of storming off came to an end.
A small body pushed past him, one tiny hand turning the knob for him, the other holding on to his arm. “Are you all right, Uncle Adam?”
Adam looked down at Faith, who had Carter’s eyes and the soft face of the woman who’d deserted both Carter and daughter. Faith had nothing in her expression but anxiousness for Adam. Motherless Faith, being raised by her grandmother and five take-no-shit men, was the gentlest of souls.
“Sure, baby,” Adam said. “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry.”
Faith didn’t believe him. She kept her hand on his arm all the way down the hall and wouldn’t turn him loose until he was in his old bedroom, lying on his bed. Faith took Adam’s boot off his unsplinted leg, covered him with a blanket, kissed him on the forehead, and left him alone.
Damn the girl. Now he wanted to cry.
Chapter Four
Buster was a good runner. No matter how much he tried to stomp on Bailey’s feet or lean his weight on her when she saddled him up, he was a solid partner once they were riding out.
That is, after she stopped and retightened the cinch. Buster knew the trick of taking a deep breath when the cinch was buckled the first time, so that once he walked around and breathed out
, the saddle would slide around, loose.
Grant, Tyler, and Carter always tacked up their own horses, and Bailey had fallen in with their routine. That way there was no doubt that the equipment was on exactly the way they needed it to be.
The Campbell boys and Carter had started stunt riding when they were kids—they’d been fearless, figuring out how to stand on the horses, how to vault on and jump off, how to make the horses do tricks. Their acts had become popular in town, and then on the rodeo circuit. One day a man who’d needed horses in a movie he was shooting nearby had seen their riding, and asked Adam and his brothers, then teenagers, to help him.
They’d gained a rep for it, and got more film jobs. Adam had been the best at it, spending all his waking hours with the horses—one reason he’d started flunking school and needed Bailey’s tutoring.
A man who’d worked with Adam on small-budget films had introduced him to a guy from Hollywood—Mark—who’d asked Adam to come out and assist him on some bigger movies. Adam had gone … And that had been that.
Adam had become known for his effortless riding, and had moved from stunt riding to doing falls from buildings, and other things expensive movie stars couldn’t or wouldn’t do. Then he’d started stunt driving, and had been fantastic at that too.
Bailey had watched all the movies he’d done, riveted to the screen, knowing that the driver of the car that was flipping over was in fact Adam, not the movie star of the day. She’d worried sick for him, but she kept in touch with Olivia and knew that Adam had made it out of every scary stunt … except for the last one.
She hadn’t thought about stunt riding herself—she’d truly planned to just help out with the horses until she got her life back together. Bailey had learned how to cue the horses to do their tricks—rearing, bucking, falling without hurting themselves.
Most of the horses absolutely loved the job. If they didn’t, they were taken out of training. No horse was pushed to do things that terrified it. The Campbells weren’t cruel, and they knew that a horse without the heart for performing could let a rider down at the wrong moment, hurting itself and the rider, potentially fatally.
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