Love is a Battlefield (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Book 1)

by Whitney Dineen

  According to my mom, his fiancée is no longer around. I can absolutely see why she left. No one likes a bossy, know-it-all, naked god of a man. Whoops. Even when angry at him, my body seems to be having a hard time remembering not to be attracted to him.

  “Can you please point me back in the direction of the lodge?” I finally ask, breaking the thick wall-like tension between us.

  “You’re here because you’re lost?” He seems genuinely surprised.

  “You didn’t think I came looking for you, did you?”

  “That’s exactly what I thought,” he says. Damn, now that he knows I need help, I’ve given him the upper hand. Note to self: Try not to make him any cockier by drooling.

  “I’d be happy to take you back to the lodge, but you’re going to have to wait until I’m done with my swim.” He moves to take his pants off again.

  My heart starts to hammer so intensely it feels like it’s trying to make a break for it. “I’ll find my own way,” I say as I turn to walk away.

  “Watch out for cougars,” he warns.

  I can’t tell if he’s being serious or if he just wants to scare me. “Cougars?”

  “Yup, my friend Billy mentioned there have been some sightings. He’s looking for dens so we can make sure to post signs warning guests. But if you feel comfortable enough on your own, I’ll see you later.” He and his perfect butt—yes, I’m staring—walk into the stream, dismissing me entirely. Which I’m glad about. I’m feeling a little unsteady on my legs and I don’t need an audience if I go crashing to the ground.

  Once I find a rock to sit on, I consider my options. Either I chance a cougar confrontation, or I sit here and watch my nemesis taunt me with his gorgeous body. There’s only one thing to do, I turn my back on Brogan and wait for him to finish his swim.

  Unfortunately, the devil on my shoulder starts to whisper the naughtiest things in my ear and I’m hard-pressed to tune her out.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Mothers

  “I’m going to invite James to supper tonight. That way you’ll have a chance to see him before you desert me.”

  Libby ignores the veiled accusation in Ruby’s tone. “How nice. I look forward to catching up with him. How’s his farm doing, anyway?”

  “He just bought fifty acres adjacent to his property with his sights set on expanding. He’s also got the best farm stand in the area.”

  “And he doesn’t have a special lady in his life?” Libby asks.

  “I’m pretty sure his horse, Dakota, is the only female at present. He’s too busy, especially this time of year, to have any time for a social life.”

  Libby nods her head understandingly. She and Ruby both worked on a farm during the summer of their junior year in college. They’d moved off campus into an apartment and the only way their parents would let them do that was if they paid for half of their rent. “I assume you’ll start looking for James’s other half once you take care of Brogan.”

  “Start nothing. I know who she is, but this one is going to be a hard pill for my son to swallow.”

  “Why don’t you just find him someone nice and sweet who he’ll immediately be interested in?”

  Ruby shakes her head. “My boys don’t need nice and sweet. They need strong and opinionated. They need women who will challenge them.”

  “Well, you’ve got your wish with Addie. There’s no one more pig-headed than my little girl.”

  “I’m counting on her being just like her mother.” Ruby ducks just as the empty water bottle sails across the space her head just vacated.

  Brogan

  Addison Cooper is sitting on that rock so tall and straight she looks like she has a metal rod up her spine. God, she’s fun to torment. I actually like New York City, a lot, and think Central Park is a great place. But Addie seems to think she knows who I am and I’m enjoying toying with her.

  I don’t hurry my swim for her benefit. I decide to have some fun with her and yell out, “Oh no, I’m stuck! Is that a …” Then I make a gurgling sound as I go under the water.

  I wait for what feels like ages before quietly resurfacing to see if she’s coming to my aid. She hasn’t moved an inch. So, I yell, “Addison, help”—gurgle, splash, gurgle—as I go under water again. I count a full minute before coming up for air. She hasn’t budged.

  I stand up and holler, “Were you just going to let me drown out here?”

  Without facing me, she answers, “That was the plan.”

  “What’s your problem, woman?”

  She spins around so fast she falls off her rock. It takes her a moment to jump to her feet before replying, “You’re my problem! Have you forgotten the time you stood on James’s shoulders underwater to lure me out claiming the creek was shallow? I was only seven and I could barely swim!”

  “Yeah, but we saved you.”

  “I shouldn’t have needed saving. That was a horrible trick and it took me a long time after that before I felt comfortable in the water again.”

  After a massive wave of guilt washes over me, I tell her, “I’m sorry. You’re right, we did some pretty crappy things to you, but you have to admit you were the perfect target.” How could I not have realized we might have done some long-term damage?

  “The perfect target? Excuse me? I was a little girl. What about that read target to you?”

  “Addison,” I walk toward my pants that are sitting on the bank. “You were bossy, prissy, and intensely annoying with all of your complaining.” Clearly I never wrote a bestseller on how to woo a woman. ‘Cause let me say, this is probably not the way to go about it.

  “You’re saying it’s all my fault that you and your rodent of a brother were so horrible to me?”

  “No, I’m saying I’m sorry and doing a poor job of it. But please keep in mind I was ten, that’s what ten year-old-boys do.” I walk by her and add, “Come on, I’ll take you back to the lodge.”

  “What about the times you were eleven, twelve, thirteen …”

  Before she can list every age I’ve ever been when I pranked her, I interrupt, “Boys do stupid things at all ages. We don’t mature as quickly as girls.” I lead the way toward the path.

  She doesn’t look very trusting when I glance over my shoulder to see if she’s behind me, but she is following, albeit at a distance. We’re walking for ten minutes in total silence before she says, “This doesn’t look familiar.”

  “That’s because I need to stop off at the fishing cabin first to get dressed.”

  “You said you were taking me back to the lodge,” she accuses as though I was luring her to a den of iniquity with wicked intent. Which I’d be game for, but she’s made it pretty clear she’s not interested.

  “My mom would pitch a fit if I went down there like this.” I walk past her into my ramshackle lodgings. She doesn’t follow.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve felt as drawn to a woman as I do to Addison Cooper. I’m guessing part of the appeal is her belligerent attitude and the challenge that presents, and part is probably due to the fact that she isn’t falling at my feet. Emma always seemed happy to let me make the decisions, but of course that wasn’t the model of a good relationship. There certainly wasn’t a happy ending, for me anyway.

  I decide to make Addison wait a bit longer and hop into the outdoor shower to rinse off. When I stroll by her wearing only a towel and flip flops, she demands to know, “Where are you going now?”

  “I’m going to take a quick shower.” I repeat my earlier offer, “You’re more than welcome to go inside and heat up a cup of coffee while you wait.”

  “I’d rather lick the pavement in Time Square.”

  God, I’d love to take her in my arms and give that tart mouth of hers something else to do, other than hurl insults at me. Instead, I just shrug. “Watch out for cougars.” Most cats go out of their way to avoid people, but Addie doesn’t know that. Therein lies the fun.

  “I don’t think there are cougars in Oregon,” she announces like she�
��s an expert on the subject. “You’re making that up to mess with me.”

  “Ask anyone,” I say while walking away. I’ve lived in Oregon my whole life and have never known anyone who’s lost more than a baby goat or chicken to wildcats, but there’s always the potential for more, so even though Oregonians aren’t usually afraid of them, we’re still cautious.

  I take my time showering. There’s no water heater out here, so it’s a cold shower, which is exactly what I need after spending time with the snippy Miss Cooper. That woman could make a man of the cloth rethink his vow of chastity.

  I’m either going to have to convince her that I’m worth her time, or I’m going to have to infuriate her enough to appeal to her passionate nature. The fine line between love and hate often blurs during moments of passion. But even more than that, I’d love to make the woman genuinely laugh.

  As I contemplate how best to deal with Addison, I also consider checking in with a local real estate agent and looking for my own place in Spartan. I could probably sell my beach house in a day, especially if I list it during the summer. The only thing that has kept me from moving home sooner is the lack of social life. Most people around these parts are married, and while I’m in no hurry to join their ranks, I’d certainly like the option of dating.

  Although at the moment, I’m not thinking about the single women of Spartan. I’ve got Addie Cooper on the brain in the worst way.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Mothers

  “What do you say we start going on our annual camping trips again?” Libby asks as she and Ruby walk the path leading back to the lodge. “Our last one had to be nearly five years ago.”

  “I’d feel like a third wheel, with you and Bob.”

  “Then we won’t take Bob. We’ll have a Wild Women Nature Week. What do you think?” Libby stops walking so she can focus on breathing in the fresh scent of the forest.

  “Just say the word and I’ll be ready.”

  “Let’s do it when I come back from Amsterdam.” Libby turns around and leans into a tree while staring up at the tops of the trees. “By that time, Addie will either have gone home never to speak to me again, or she’ll be happily diverted decorating cabins in the woods. I’ll be as free as that eagle.” She points upward for her friend to see the majestic bird.

  “Hopefully, she and Brogan will be well on their way to realizing how right they are for each other,” Ruby declares.

  “From your mouth to God’s ear, my friend.”

  Addison

  My decorator brain kicks into overdrive once I step foot into the Cavanaughs’ fishing cabin. While it barely feels habitable, I immediately start to visualize its potential. The river rock on the fireplace needs a good cleaning, but if you added a mantel and a rustic nature painting above it, it could be beautiful.

  A couple of cane-seated Kennedy rockers would provide the perfect spot to sit and enjoy the fire. The living area is tiny, but an overstuffed loveseat and reading chair would make it very inviting.

  The corner of the cabin where the kitchen is located needs to be completely gutted. As it stands, it’s nothing more than a glorified campsite. I peek in the bedroom hoping not to get caught by the current resident. It’s not horrible. Stark and simplistic, yes, but not without hope.

  Brogan is taking forever. I found out earlier that I have no cell phone reception in the woods so I can’t check my messages while waiting for him. I hope there’s a book or magazine to flip through while his royal highness finishes up.

  Rounding the corner to the living area, I run smack into an old man carrying a bucket. “Howdy,” he says.

  “Ha … hello,” I stutter after the initial shock of him passes. My gaze shifts around the room looking for some kind of weapon should I need one.

  “Brogan around?” he asks.

  “He’s in the shower. Sorry, who are you?”

  He sticks his free hand out and offers, “Billy Grimps.”

  I take his appendage briefly wondering at its cleanliness. This man looks like he might possess a soap allergy although no offensive odor has made its way to my nose yet. “Addison Cooper.”

  He nods his head once. “Tell Brogan fishing is off for this afternoon. I found two cougar dens and want to get some signs up warning folks to steer clear of them.”

  Darn it, cougars really do exist here. I’m definitely not going to be wandering around on my own. “I would think people should avoid the trails entirely, don’t you?”

  “Nah. Cougars aren’t interested in folks. But if you get too close to their young, they’ll make an exception.”

  “What do I do if I run across one, lay down and play dead?” I think I saw that on a National Geographic special when I was a kid. Either that or it’s the only thing I can imagine doing if confronted by a wild animal.

  “Not unless you want to be dinner. Just stare ‘em straight in the eye and stand as tall as you can. Then lift your arms up and make a lot of noise. Most of ‘em will run away if you do that.”

  “What do the others do, the ones that don’t run away?” I ask in alarm.

  “They’ll attack, but that don’t happen often.”

  Say what you want about New York City, but there’s a zero percent chance of a cougar attack in the streets or in Central Park, for that matter. “Do you live around here?” I ask Billy.

  “I’ve got a campsite set up by Jefferson Falls.”

  So, what, he’s a homeless man patrolling the grounds for wildlife? I start to walk toward the door, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave. He doesn’t. Instead, he heads into the kitchen and bangs around for a bit. When he finally comes out, he hands me a tin mug. “Nothing like a cup of tea to soothe your emotions.”

  I take the cup, oddly touched by the gesture. I must look as anxious as I feel. Of course, he could have made me a steaming cup of hemlock for all I know. I can see the headlines now, “Woman Disappears in Oregon Wilderness, Local Homeless Man Suspected.”

  “It’s wild raspberry,” Billy says. “I picked the leaves myself.”

  I lift the cup to my nose, and it does smell like raspberries. “Thank you,” I finally offer. “I do love a cup of hot tea.”

  A quick smile crosses his lips as he moves toward the door. Before he gets there, it slams open and another man walks in. Dear God, the potential headlines are feeling more real by the second. The man who joins us is young and tall and as soon as he gets far enough inside that he’s no longer backlit by the sunshine, I see that he looks a lot like Brogan.

  I immediately surmise the newcomer is James Cavanaugh. I’m so relieved, I nearly sprint into his arms to hug him. Luckily, I compose myself before that happens.

  James smiles at me. “Addison Cooper?”

  My brief nod is all he needs to stride toward me and wrap his arms around me. Once he’s accomplished his goal, he steps back. “I wouldn’t have known it was you if my mom hadn’t mentioned you were in town. You look great!”

  Does he mean he wouldn’t have known it was me because he hasn’t seen me in so long, or he wouldn’t have known it was me because I look great? While I try to figure out whether to be offended, he asks, “Where’s my brother?”

  “In the shower,” Billy answers before I can.

  James turns his attention to the older man. “Hey, Bill, how’s it shakin’?”

  In lieu of a verbal response, Billy shoots James a double thumbs up.

  “You want some work out at the farm?” James asks.

  “What do you need done?” Billy wants to know. “I’m not gonna weed or nothin’.”

  “I was thinking you could come out and supervise the kids I hired to pick berries. I’d pay you in cash and all the berries you can eat.”

  “What kind of berries?” You’d think money would be enough of a motivator for a person who doesn’t have a home.

  “This time of year, it’s mostly blueberries and blackberries,” James tells him.

  “Yeah, okay,” Billy says. “But I have to be finishe
d at two. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do up here.” What, rearrange his rock collection? For the life of me I can’t figure out the relationship between Billy and the Cavanaugh family.

  At that moment, Brogan strolls through the front door with a towel slung low on his hips. Beads of water glisten on his sun-kissed body and I have the strangest desire to lick the droplets off of him like a parched desert dweller. Where did that come from?

  He sees his brother and Billy before turning to me, “Entertaining?”

  “Obviously,” I reply drolly.

  James looks Brogan up and down before demanding, “You want to tell me what you’re doing up here with little Addie Cooper dressed like that?” His tone suggests something of a lascivious nature has either occurred or is scheduled to.

  I decide to field the question. “I got lost and Brogan is going to show me the way back to the lodge.”

  “She caught me skinny dipping up at Jefferson Falls,” Brogan unnecessarily adds while giving me a slow wink. If I were closer I’d poke him in the eye.

  James turns to me. “You want me to show you the way back?”

  “I’m taking her,” Brogan says.

  What I wouldn’t give at this moment for a map and ignorance of the local cougar population. I decide to leave the brothers to fight over me and walk out the front door. Within moments, Billy joins me. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll show you where the lodge is.”

  I’m not sure why I suddenly feel comfortable with him, but I do. If nothing else, his company is far preferable to the tormentors of my youth.

  “Thanks, Billy,” I say to his back. The guy might be nearly seventy, but he moves like he’s twenty. He’s probably twenty yards ahead of me before I catch up to him. Brogan and James haven’t followed us out of the cabin which makes me wonder if they even know we’re gone.