Along the Broken Road (The Roads to River Rock Book 1)

by Heather Burch

  Gruber pointed to his own coffee cup. “You want one?”

  Ian was already drenched in sweat. Coffee didn’t sound good. “No thanks.”

  “Why’d you join if you were in culinary school?”

  “Uh, well.” Ian sighed. “I got the administrator’s daughter into a little trouble one night and was given an ultimatum.”

  Gruber leaned back, brows furrowed and looking instantly angry. “You get his girl pregnant?”

  Ian blushed. “Oh, no. Nothing like that. I just . . . well, for kicks we broke into a college’s private swimming pool. I got stuck in a locker room when the door shut behind me. Someone called the cops and they arrested her. Didn’t find me. It didn’t sit well with her father.”

  Gruber’s face was twisted into a disapproving frown. “I expect not. You don’t seem like a rabble-rouser to me, Carlisle.”

  Ian nodded. “Back in the day, I was. Not now. Joining up changed all that.”

  “Yep. Had a bit of wildness in myself back in the day. Joined up at age seventeen.”

  “You were in the military?”

  Gruber sat a little straighter. “Beginning of Vietnam.”

  “Army?”

  “Navy.”

  Ian’s finger trailed the wood on the banister. He wasn’t here to chat about the military. He needed answers and though Gruber was a crusty, temperamental old man, he also seemed to be the one who knew Charlee the best. “Is Charlee avoiding me now?”

  Gruber was wearing a sweat-stained ball cap. He lifted it and rubbed a hand over the springy hairs on his head. “Ah, I wouldn’t think so. Women are easy enough once you understand them.”

  “And how long does that take?”

  Gruber’s face broke into a crooked smile. “Not sure; I’ll let you know when I get there.”

  Ian chuckled and set the rocking chair into motion. The squeak, squeak, squeak of wood against porch floor calmed his nerves.

  “Before she passed, my wife used to say, ‘I don’t need you to fix it; just let me talk about it.’ ”

  Ian’s chair stopped abruptly. “What’s that mean?”

  “Means shut up.”

  He nodded, wished there was a manual, planted those words deep into his psyche. “Shut up, got it.”

  Gruber pointed a long, slender finger at him. “But you better talk when they need you to or they say—” and for the next few words, the edges of his mouth went down and his voice went up, “—we never communicate.”

  Ian drew a deep breath. “Should I be taking notes?”

  “Nah. It’s simple. Shut up and talk. And while you’re thinking about all that, you could go work on the fence line.” Gruber closed one eye and pinned him with the other. “It’s real important to Charlee to get that fence line complete before her brother moves onto the property next door.”

  “Charlee seems like she loves her brothers. Putting up a fence suggests they don’t get along. What’s your take?”

  “They all get along fine.” Gruber drained his coffee cup and sat it on the porch floor where a water ring waited for it. “Just doesn’t want them in her business. Doesn’t want people dictating what she does. That’s her business, not theirs, and I agree with her. Both her parents are gone and she doesn’t need someone trying to take their place.”

  Oh boy.

  “About that fence . . .”

  Charlee spent the day in town to avoid Ian. It wasn’t him particularly; it was just the whole thing. He made her miss her brothers. And worry about them even more. Really, more worry was the last thing she needed. But when she looked in his eyes, saw the pain he was trying to leave behind, saw the fight and the battle that still plagued him, well, her nurturing gene kicked into high gear. After leaving town, she drove home and found Ian at dinner with the rest of the clan.

  “I hadn’t expected you to work on the fence today,” she said, stepping up to the table where he sat chatting with the sisters and King Edward.

  Mr. Gruber was just dishing plates when she arrived. He motioned her with a spatula dripping with cheese. “Sit. I don’t want it to get cold.”

  Ian grinned up at her. “Bossy, isn’t he?”

  “Mmm. You have no idea.” She spun and moved to the empty table while Gruber placed a generous helping of lasagna on Ian’s plate. “Thank you, sir.”

  He picked up the fork and was just getting ready to take a bite when Gruber barked, “Now get outta my seat, Lunch Box, or you’ll be eating that through a feeding tube.”

  Charlee rolled her eyes. Ian hustled out of the seat and moved to her table, plate in hand, fork perched on the edge. “May I?”

  Her hands covered her face. “I’m so sorry about this.” She leaned in. “They’re hopeless busybodies.”

  From above her, Ian winked. He really was a lovely specimen to look at, with his easy smile and toned body. She’d spotted him earlier through the tree line as he worked. He’d been bare from the waist up, his jeans worn and snug on muscled legs, his tool belt hanging carelessly and at just the right angle to draw a girl’s attention. Whew. It was hot out tonight.

  “You want me to turn on the fans?”

  Oh, dear Lord! She hadn’t said that out loud, had she? “What?”

  “You’re holding your hair up.”

  Oh. She was. She’d scooped the mass into one fist and held it off her neck. Ian’s gaze drifted down from her eyes to her throat and all that exposed skin of her neck. He licked his lips and something in her stomach thudded.

  “No.” She dropped the mass and hoped it would cover her. Stupid idiot of a guy made her feel naked. “I’m not hot.”

  A twinkle, a blink. Ian sat down and she was pretty sure she’d heard him mumble, “That’s highly debatable.”

  Gruber paused at their table and filled her plate. Here they were again, alone and having dinner. This could so quickly turn into a disaster. Best to stick to business. “The fence.”

  “I got your list done and was told that was your ongoing project.”

  “You did a great job.” Charlee scooped a generous helping of Gruber’s cheesy lasagna into her mouth. There was no need to act dainty. She wasn’t dainty and this wasn’t a date where she had to pretend to be sweet and demure. This wasn’t a date at all. Even though the night’s sky was dressed in perfect romantic fashion, the kind lovers stargazed at while planning their futures. Even though the giant trees swayed with the softest of breezes creating a gentle whisper like a song for couples only. She could feel sauce at the edge of her mouth but didn’t bother to wipe it away. Definitely not a date.

  When Ian’s gaze stalled there, her tongue darted out to catch the runaway sauce. But what entered his eyes didn’t help the situation. He actually looked hungrier.

  He leaned back, lungs expanding and showing off the tone of his pecs. “I finished the other stuff, so I figured why not?”

  “Well, it shows a lot about your character.”

  His fork paused halfway to his mouth. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Huh?”

  “Putting up a fence to keep your brother out shows a lot about your character.” His gaze dropped as soon as he said it.

  Charlee huffed. Below her line of vision was a lovely helping of lasagna that Soldier Boy had just ruined. She used her fork to move the ricotta cheese around on her plate. “Look, you don’t understand and you don’t need to.” She actually had a whole bunch of words in her head to spew at him, but he already looked sorry for saying it.

  “I, uh, tend to say all the wrong things at all the best times. I’m really sorry. Stupid mouth gets me in more trouble.”

  Well then. Charlee didn’t know exactly how to handle that. So, she didn’t.

  They each took a few more bites. But her mind kept spinning. “Look. I love my brothers, but they are all up in my business all the time when the
y’re around.”

  “Do you see them often?”

  “They all four wander in and out when they’re on leave. Our family home is still here, in town. It remains their home base.”

  “Have they always been so protective of you?”

  Charlee thought back. “Yes. I think it got worse after our mom died.”

  “How so?” Ian pushed his empty plate away and leaned forward.

  “They went into hyperprotective mode where I was concerned. I went into nurturing mode. Thought it was my job to raise them all. Even though Jeremiah is almost six years older than me and I was only twelve.”

  His dark eyes grew troubled. “That’s a lot for a young girl to carry.”

  “I didn’t mind it. Unfortunately the boys still treat me like I can only survive on my own when they’re away at war. And I’m going to shatter into a thousand pieces when they get back if they don’t rescue me. I don’t need to be rescued.”

  And that’s when he did it. Ian rested his forearms on the table and trapped her in that dark gaze. His words were barely a whisper and all but lost in the sound of the breeze. “Everyone needs someone to rescue them.” One second ticked by. Then two. Then three. And something in Charlee’s heart twisted because there was a place, a place deep, deep inside her where she wanted a shining knight on a white horse. Someone who wouldn’t just lift her, but someone who would give her wings. And that, she knew, didn’t exist.

  Flickering lights above her twinkled their own Morse code. If only they could flash the answers to life. The wind intensified, mountain gusts moving the treetops, the rustling sound increasing until it drowned out the questions. Ian had a right to his opinion. And Charlee had a right not to give a crap what he thought about her.

  Noise from the other table drew her attention. She realized it had been a while since she’d spoken and Ian wasn’t the least concerned. He’d turned around in his chair and was locked in some good-natured argument with Gruber about army versus navy. His hand was flat on the table. Why she reached out and snagged it, she didn’t know.

  He turned to look at her and the talk at the artists’ table went on without them. She gave his fingers a light squeeze. “I’m really sorry about last night.”

  Ian held her gaze as she slowly released his hand. And though they were no longer touching, she could feel the sear of his flesh against her skin. She wasn’t good at apologies. Growing up with her brothers, one tended to get it right the first time or suffer unimaginable goading. Or clam up, set your face as flint and hold your ground no matter how wrong you were.

  When he offered the faintest of smiles, Charlee pulled her lower lip into her mouth and bit down. “I . . .” I what? She couldn’t easily explain what had happened last night.

  “No need to apologize. And no need to explain. Okay?” His velvet voice offered assurance; the tilt of his head and open demeanor exemplified his willingness to let it go.

  “Okay.” She took another bite. “No. It isn’t okay.” Charlee squeezed her eyes shut for a few moments and nodded toward the other table. “They’re kind of . . . protective of me.”

  “The artists?”

  Charlee could tell he wasn’t certain if she meant them or her brothers. “Both them and my brothers. But right now, the artists. I was in a bad relationship a few months ago and now I think they’re bent on playing matchmaker.” She motioned at him with an upturned palm. “Unfortunately for you, you’ve passed their bar.”

  “Lucky me,” he joked, but a flicker of relief and, dare she say, anticipation skated across his features.

  “I’m not looking for any kind of relationship deeper than employer and handyman.”

  Ian tilted toward her. “My CO said the best things in life happen when we aren’t even looking for them.”

  Charlee bristled. “As do the worst.”

  “Touché.”

  She flashed a quick smile. “So, now you know my secret.”

  His eyes leveled on her. “You’re safe with me.”

  Fire shot right into her stomach. Safe with him? She doubted that. She couldn’t even trust her body’s reactions. Cold and angry one second and . . . well . . . hot and bothered the next. “You mean my secret is safe with you?”

  Tiki light danced in his smile. “Yes, Charlee.” It wasn’t exactly patronizing. It was patient, willing to wait. Blasted soldiers knew how to wait for the right moment, then sail into a guerrilla attack and make the kill. “Your secret is safe. In fact, one day I’ll tell you mine.”

  Seemed fair. But as she watched his shoulders tighten, noticed the muscles of his jaw harden, she knew Ian wasn’t ready to talk. “When it’s time,” she said, and was shocked at the display of emotions that danced across his face. Relief, seeming to lead the parade.

  “Really?”

  “When you’re ready to share your secret, Ian, I’ll be ready to listen.” The sound of other voices and banter had all but disappeared around them.

  The seriousness of the conversation was palpable enough to grow legs and walk away. But it didn’t. It stayed right there between them.

  Ian worked the muscle in his jaw. “You mean that?”

  She could almost hear the gears turning in his head. Weighing something. “Absolutely.”

  “Friends, then?”

  “Of course.” Liberation flooded her. Friends, she could handle.

  One side of his mouth slid into a smile. “Is it too early to ask for a pay raise?”

  “Darn it. I was just going to ask if you’d mind a pay cut.”

  Charlee returned to the lasagna she had lost interest in. It wasn’t until Mr. Gruber served dessert that the conversation between Ian and Charlee picked up. “What about you, Ian? Any bad relationships in your past, or is that topic off-limits? You know, with the new rules about telling secrets and all.”

  “Uh.” Ian wiped his mouth and spread the napkin in his lap, leaning back. “Bad relationships? How about all of them?”

  Charlee took another bite of key lime pie. “Can’t be all that bad.” She had figured whatever his deep, dark secret was, it had more to do with where he’d spent the last two years than what was in his little black book. Relationships seemed so easy for guys. You have one, you don’t. Life goes on.

  His dark hair glistened in the tiki light. “It was all bad, trust me.”

  “One in particular?”

  When he looked up at her, Charlee saw it. The same pain she’d felt when Richard betrayed her. An older wound perhaps, but a severe one.

  “I was in love once. Her name was Brenna.”

  Charlee choked on the bite she was trying to swallow. Guys didn’t typically throw around words like love. “What happened?”

  “I guess my whole life I’ve been a bit of a screwup.” He laughed without humor. “So, you can probably guess.”

  “Was it recent?” He’d been deployed for a long time; had he fallen for someone there?

  “High school sweethearts.”

  “Oh.” That was a long time ago if he was about her age.

  “I messed it up then. And when we reconnected right before I joined up, I messed it up again.”

  “I’m sorry, Ian.” And she was, because whatever happened still weighed on him. And that was a brand of pain she understood.

  “It wasn’t until I was in the military that I learned what it really is to be a man.”

  “War can do that to a person.”

  “It wasn’t the war. It was my CO.” Ian reached for his dessert plate and lifted the fork. “If not for him, I’d still be a screwup.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Ian shrugged. “And if you consult my father, I’m still a screwup.”

  “Don’t feel bad about that. I think most of us feel like our parents don’t understand us. It’s human nature, I guess. My dad never understood me.” She motioned ar
ound her. “This place. Thought it was a huge waste of money and throwing away my college education.”

  “And your mom?”

  “This was her dream first. She talked about it so much, it became real to me before it even existed. What little girl wouldn’t dream about living where she can paint pictures all day and eat dinner under the stars every night?”

  “Do you get to paint every day?”

  Charlee looked beyond him to the mountain range. “No. Too busy. But now that you’re here . . .”

  Ian smiled.

  It was a nice smile, filled with interest in her words. Charlee shook her head to clear it. They really needed brighter light out here. Glaring, ugly, incandescent light. Yes, that’s what they needed.

  Wilma cleared their plates and followed Mr. Gruber into the kitchen while Ian and Charlee stood and gathered their utensils and cups. Before they could move away, Wynona sailed in and grabbed their things. “We’re cleaning up tonight to help Mr. Gruber. You two would just be in the way. It’s a lovely night; why don’t you go for a stroll?”

  Charlee opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  Ian to the rescue. “I’m beat. Maybe some other time. But, hey, Charlee,” he lightly punched her shoulder, “I’ll walk you home.”

  It was such a brotherly gesture, Charlee had to bite back a smile at Wynona’s look of disapproval. “Sure. Whatever.”

  With a wide berth between them, they headed off in the direction of Charlee’s house.

  When they were out of earshot, she leaned a bit closer. “I’ll give you props for the arm punch.”

  “Good. Props has to be better than a knee to the groin . . . like I was expecting.”

  “What? That’s stupid. Why would I do that?” The path home was well worn and she knew where all the stumbling blocks were.

  “You grew up with brothers. I just thought the arm punch might cause a flashback.”

  She stopped to turn and face him fully. “You were expecting that, really?”

  “Noooo,” he said, but as he did, his open hands came together as a shield below his belt.

  Charlee threw her head back and laughed. It was good to laugh. It had been a long time. It was good to stroll to her house with a clever conversation passing between herself and someone else . . . someone under the age of fifty. And that’s when she realized, maybe it was too nice. Too easy. Something squeezed on her heart. Charlee turned from him and kept walking, picking up the pace just enough to outrun the feelings shooting through her system. But Ian picked up his pace too and suddenly they weren’t only walking, they were close. His arm nearly scraping her shoulder. When he stumbled forward, obviously not knowing the path as well as she, instincts took over and she reached out and grabbed him.