As badly as he wanted to kiss her and have her in his bed, he could never do that. Fiona wasn’t a fling kind of woman, but a fling was all he could give her. It was inevitable he’d let her down. He’d told the truth about not breaking vows and he wouldn’t break the one he’d made to himself about never hurting her.
* * *
After three and a half awkward days, one of which included the best kiss she’d ever had, Fiona was relieved that it was finally time to pack up and go home. Luke, Ronan and Keegan were driving the cattle back to the ranches. They were at the barn saddling horses and making sure everything was stowed away and organized for next year. Jamie and Brendan would take two trucks while she rode with her dad. She wanted to brainstorm some ideas for ranching articles with him. Anything to keep from thinking about the way Brendan had distanced himself after that excruciatingly romantic kiss in the moonlight.
At dinner in Kalispell they’d had a great time, and then he skipped the good-night kiss. When he finally did kiss her, she was ready to go wherever he would take her. Which, apparently, was nowhere, based on the fact that he’d barely said two words to her since. That night by the stream it felt to her as if he couldn’t help himself, but afterward he resisted her just fine.
She was getting so many mixed signals, this “thing” was giving her whiplash.
“I’m done thinking about him.”
And now she was talking to herself as she shoved the last of her clothes into a duffel, then carried it downstairs and out to the truck. She tossed it into the back seat and slammed the rear passenger door.
Her gaze was drawn to the horse trailer hitched to Luke’s truck, where Brendan was sweet-talking one of the animals inside. Her heart did a little flip that made a liar out of her. She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him.
If only he wasn’t so gosh-darn good-looking. Even as she thought that, she knew it wasn’t just about him being handsome. If he wasn’t a decent man, Luke and Eva wouldn’t have him at Sunshine Farm.
“Something wrong, Fee?”
“Hmm?” She glanced around as her father walked up behind her. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Looked like you were a million miles away.” Paddy put a box of supplies in the bed of the truck, then met her gaze. “Something on your mind?”
“Always. You know me,” she said vaguely.
“I do. Better than you think.” There was a curious intensity in his eyes. “And I suspect what you’re thinking has something to do with the new fella.”
She flicked a glance in Brendan’s direction. Now he was leaning against the horse trailer, patiently waiting to head out after loading the animals. Looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world. What would it take to shake that casual attitude?
“Why would you say that?” she asked her dad.
“There it is.” Her father nodded knowingly.
“What?”
“The tone. The one telling me I’m just a man and couldn’t possibly understand women. Your mother uses it on me all the time.”
“And you always tell her she’s right.”
“Mostly she is. And she likes hearing it.” He grinned, showing a hint of the charmer who’d captured her mother’s heart. “But don’t you believe that I’m completely clueless about this sort of thing.”
Paddy O’Reilly had pretty much let her mom deal with it. Even when Fiona had been the talk of Rust Creek Falls after being dumped, her dad had only muttered that he never liked the rat bastard scum-sucking loser. But he’d never actually talked to her about it. So she was curious about his interest now.
“Define ‘this sort of thing,’” she told him.
“Let’s just say it didn’t escape my notice that you and Tanner disappeared the other night. Together. Just the two of you.”
Fiona felt heat creep into her cheeks. She’d hoped no one had noticed that. When not a word was said about it, she’d believed she was home free. “It’s not what you think, Dad.”
“So you know what I’m thinking?”
She didn’t want to spell that out. Not to her father. “We talked. And there is no ‘this sort of thing.’”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
Paddy didn’t respond. He just stared at her. Fiona felt like a little girl again, the one who always cracked and confessed wrongdoing under the pressure of that look. It hadn’t seemed like it at the time, but life was easier when she’d been a child. Now she wasn’t her father’s little girl anymore. She was a grown woman and didn’t have to tell him that Brendan had kissed her. And that she liked it. That kiss had rocked her world like an earthquake, but obviously she was the only one feeling aftershocks. Hence, there was nothing between them.
Paddy finally sighed and shook his head. “You’re as pretty as your mother and as stubborn as me. I’m not sure that’s a good thing, Fiona.”
How about that? She’d stared down the master and he got nothing out of her. It was just a small thing, but she still felt proud. “I love you, too, Dad.”
“Love is both a blessing and a curse.” He fished the truck keys out of his jeans pocket. “I need to start her up and make sure this old girl will get us home.”
Seeing Brendan here at the roundup staging area had pushed everything else from her mind. Fiona had forgotten that when they left home, the truck had been running rough. Like all the ranch equipment, her father took care of maintaining his vehicles.
“Are you worried about it?” she asked.
“No. But if there’s a problem, I want to know about it before everyone takes off from here.” He nodded in Brendan’s direction. “Want to make sure I don’t need his help. I’ll take a look at everything, then start her up.”
He walked to the front of the truck and lifted the hood, then leaned in to inspect the engine guts. A couple minutes later he straightened and got in behind the wheel to start it up. Suddenly there was a loud, explosive sound as the engine backfired.
Fiona happened to be looking at Brendan, who instantly dropped to the ground as if he’d been shot. She’d seen enough movies and TV shows and read articles about the challenges of combat soldiers returning to civilian life. Not all the wounds showed on the outside. She didn’t have to be a shrink to realize the unexpected boom must have triggered memories of a dangerous war zone, where an explosion meant injury and death.
Almost as quickly as he’d gone down, Brendan was back on his feet. His back was to her so he wasn’t aware that she’d seen.
“Doggone it.” Her father slid out from behind the wheel and poked his head back under the hood. “That’s never good. It could be the spark plugs or a dirty air filter. Or something else.”
“Should I get Brendan to have a look?”
“Couldn’t hurt,” he said. “He fixed the tractor when I couldn’t see squat wrong with it. The man is a genius with this stuff.”
“Should I tell him you said that?” she teased.
Paddy looked up from the wires and gizmos under the hood. “Can if you want to. Doesn’t mean I’m not still watching him real close.”
“Don’t think I don’t appreciate that.”
He grinned. “The heck you do. But fathers watch out for their baby girls. Before you say it, I know you’re not a baby anymore. Doesn’t make a damn bit of difference.”
Now that she thought about it, Paddy didn’t involve himself in her love life, except to say he didn’t like the loser who dumped her. And he was the only one in the family who’d felt that way. What had he seen that no one else had?
“What do you think of Tanner, Dad?”
“Don’t have enough information yet to answer that. I can tell you one thing. Serving this country in the Marine Corps goes a long way with me.” He straightened and met her gaze. “But you’re asking if I like him for you.”
“No. It’s not like that.” Because Bre
ndan had made it clear he wasn’t for her. There was no “them.” “I was just wondering what you thought.”
Her father glanced at the other truck and horse trailer, where the man in question was waiting, then back at her. “It’s a long ride home and there will be plenty of time to share my thoughts on everything. But if you don’t get on over and ask that fella to have a look at this truck pretty quick, we may never get started.”
“Yes, sir.”
She headed over to Brendan. The front of him was still a little dusty from dropping to the ground and he was absently brushing it away.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hey.” He didn’t look up.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Horses and gear are all loaded up. Just waiting on the others to say the word that we’re ready to move out.”
Fiona didn’t miss the fact that he’d deliberately made her question impersonal. She could play along and pretend she hadn’t seen how the truck backfiring had affected him. The others were busy, so no one but her knew how he’d reacted. Or she could ask straight out. A case could be made for either course of action, but the reality was that she just couldn’t ignore he was going through something.
“So, the truck backfire was loud,” she started.
He looked at her then, and there was a mix of emotions in his clear green eyes. Suspicion. Wariness. Embarrassment that someone had seen. A little residual fear, maybe.
“Could be the catalytic converter,” he said.
“Actually, I wasn’t asking why. It was more about what happened when you heard it.”
His mouth pulled tight for a moment before he shrugged. “I jumped.”
“I jumped. You hit the deck, Brendan.”
“You saw that, huh?” He looked away for a moment. “Wasn’t expecting it.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nothing to say.” He slid his fingertips into the pockets of his worn jeans.
“I don’t think that’s true. You might not want to discuss it but I bet there’s quite a bit to fill a conversation. And I’m happy to listen. In fact, Dad doesn’t need me. I could ride along with you—”
“As you’ve pointed out, I’m not much of a talker. Just the way I’m wired, I guess.”
“You’re not alone,” she said. “I’ve got brothers and they keep things bottled up pretty tight. Probably a guy thing. So I get it.”
“Nothing really to get.” He lifted a shoulder. “Not much to say.”
“Okay. I won’t push.”
“Good.”
“I just have one more thing to say,” she told him.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Maybe because I’m wired that way.” She stuffed her cold hands into the pockets of her sheepskin jacket. “The other night you told me you don’t ever take for granted your oath to protect and defend the Constitution of this country. I’m pretty sure you can’t forget things that happened to you in the service of it.”
“Fiona, don’t make a big deal out of this—”
“I’m almost finished.” She heard the beginning of irritation in his voice and didn’t care. There was nothing to lose by giving him a piece of her mind. “You don’t have to tell me anything. But it might help you to talk to someone.” She stopped and looked at him. “Now I’m done.”
“Okay. I’m going to see what’s keeping the guys.” He half turned toward the barn.
“Wait. One more thing.”
“What?”
“Dad wanted me to ask you to look at the truck. Make sure you don’t see something that can’t wait until we get home.”
“Okay.” He didn’t say it, but everything about his body language said he was relieved that she’d changed the subject.
Fiona’s heart broke a little bit for him. Everyone needed help sometimes, someone to listen. Even strong men like Brendan Tanner. Clearly he wasn’t about to confide in her, but she would really like it if he did.
She would like that way too much.
Chapter Seven
Several days after returning to Rust Creek Falls, Brendan still couldn’t forget the way Fiona looked at him. With pity. It made him so mad. Not that he blamed her. She had a soft heart and wanted to help. He was ticked off at himself for not being able to control his reaction to that truck backfiring at the cabin. The unexpected sound had put him right smack in the middle of a firefight in Afghanistan.
Fiona was the last person he would pick to see him like that. He didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him, but especially not her. It was pointless to puzzle out the why of that because A, he didn’t do commitment and he wouldn’t do anything less than that with her, and B, he was getting into shape to reenlist in the Marine Corps.
It was early afternoon when he pulled his truck to a stop at the curb of a cute little house on South Broomtail Way in Rust Creek Falls. An American flag was proudly displayed in front. Eddie Halstead had asked for his help with a couple of projects. On top of the fact that her husband was a former marine, Brendan wasn’t much enjoying his own company right now and figured it couldn’t hurt to give them a hand.
The siding on their home was painted green, a shade that reminded him of his woodland utilities uniform. Shutters framing the windows were white. A sidewalk led to three steps and a covered porch. The grass was cut and neatly edged, bushes and flowers strategically arranged. The property was buttoned down, he thought. It definitely passed inspection.
He exited the truck and retrieved his portable toolbox from the back, then headed up the walkway. Moving closer, he saw a sign above the door that said, “Semper fi.” Semper fidelis—always faithful—the Marine Corps motto.
Brendan felt emotion and pride and something that could have been homesickness all roll into a ball and come to rest on his chest. He missed belonging somewhere, having a purpose, someone else counting on him and him counting on them. Although, now that he thought about it, Eddie was counting on him to do some things around here that she didn’t want her husband to do.
He rang the bell and waited. When the door opened, an older man stood there. He was nearly six feet, with silver hair cut military-short and sharp, clear brown eyes. He stood straight, his shoulders back, as if standing inspection.
“You must be Brendan Tanner. The tools are a clue.” He glanced at the metal box. “I’m J. T. Halstead.”
Brendan shook the hand he held out. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“It’s J.T. And just so we’re clear, son, it’s Eddie’s idea for you to be here. I’m perfectly capable of getting on a ladder, but I agreed to please her. Plus, if I fell off and didn’t kill myself in the process, she’d never let me live it down.”
“Yes, sir.” Brendan figured J.T. was a lucky man to have someone care about him that much. Fiona would care that way.
J.T. shook his head. “I’m still trying to decide whether or not to thank you for fixing that blasted blender. A man drinking his breakfast is just wrong.”
“Roger that, sir. Did you sabotage the blender?”
“Wish I’d thought of it,” he said wryly.
“Are you going to ask the man in, J.T.?” Eddie’s voice was coming from somewhere beyond the doorway. “Hurry up and close the door. I can feel a cold draft all the way back here.”
“My bride.” There was amusement in the man’s expression. “Feel free to salute her. She likes that.”
J.T. motioned him inside then shut the door. He turned and started walking toward the back of the house. His gait was uneven, the left leg stiff as the man sort of swung it forward from the hip. The prosthetic leg. This marine had come home from war physically changed yet had figured out how to move on, and Brendan was impressed.
They walked into the kitchen, where Eddie was standing at an island in the center of the room, removing cookies from a pan and s
etting them on a rack to cool. “Hi, Brendan. Thanks for coming over.”
“No problem. Nice place.” He looked around the cozy room and breathed in the delicious smell of freshly baked cookies.
On the pale yellow walls there were pictures of parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Womanly touches were everywhere, making the room feel like a foreign country to him. Most of his growing-up years had been just him and his dad. Testosterone central.
Then he noticed a couple other wall hangings. One said, “All men are created equal and then a few become brothers. United States Marine Corps.” Another read, “I’m not a hero, but I had the honor of walking beside a few who were.” This manly touch made for a nice balance.
Eddie smiled at him and asked, “Would you like a cookie? Maybe a cup of coffee to go with it?”
“Probably I should just get started on that list of yours.”
“It’s an impressive one,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “But when’s the last time you had home-baked cookies?”
Brendan wasn’t sure he ever had. “Well, if you’re sure—”
“You know, Ed, someone should try one—just to make sure they’re up to your usual standards.” J.T. gave him a wry look. “It’s the least a brother can do.”
“Oorah.” Brendan grinned.
Eddie set two cups of coffee and a plate of cookies on the table along with Halloween napkins. “Here you go.”
He sat in one of the ladder-back chairs.
J.T. sat at a right angle to him and automatically kneaded his left thigh, as if it bothered him. But there was no evidence of discomfort in his expression when he smiled at his wife. “Thanks, honey.”
“This is my day to call Kyleigh, our daughter who lives in Colorado,” she explained to Brendan. “J.T., you’re clear on the list?”
“Crystal,” he answered.
She met Brendan’s gaze. “Do not let him step foot on a ladder.”
“Understood.” He wanted to salute but resisted.
When the two men were alone J.T. said, “That look was the one she used to keep sixth graders in line when their impulse control got out in front of their common sense. She’s a retired teacher.”
Unmasking the Maverick Page 8