Rough Road Home (The Circle D series)

by Harders, Audra

  “Are you just going to stand there?” Gabe waved him toward the fire, a hint of a grin warming his gaze. “I don’t think a concussion and pneumonia mix well.”

  “You’re feeding your lady friend to the wolves.” Zac nodded toward Rachel. He sat on the couch across the room and stretched his legs in front of him as he rested his arm on the cushion behind Jennifer. “Not very gentlemanly of you.”

  “No one’s called me a gentleman in a long time.” He stopped beside the club chair where Rachel sat and leaned his hip along the arm. She laughed at something his brother had said, her smile wide and light dancing in her eyes when she looked up at him. She seemed so relaxed surrounded by his family. Funny, he’d thought her a loner since she rarely mentioned family or friends, other than Mitch. What else was he wrong about? He brushed away the thought. It didn’t matter anyway. In a day or two, she’d be gone.

  “It’s a good thing we didn’t turn up the drive to your house.” She indicated Gabe with a nod. “They put a chain across the road to keep people from taking a wrong turn. Running into that chain would’ve done a number on your grille.”

  His heart thumped as she reached up and ran her fingers along his arm, her touch soft and reassuring, as if she knew the torment he fought deep inside. “Good thing you never listen to me.”

  She perked. “I listen to you when you have good ideas.”

  “Like when?”

  Her grin grew wider. “Like when we agree the music does not need to blare in the cab of your truck.”

  “I’m glad to hear you’re still calling it my truck.” A rusty grin tugged at his lips. He’d never view his truck the same again. “I was beginning to worry.”

  “Don’t assume too much, cowboy.” She patted the pocket of her jeans as she laughed. “I haven’t returned your keys to you yet.”

  “Sounds like you have a pretty good handle on our boy, there.” Martin Davidson sat in the lounge chair he’d claimed as his own years ago. He stared over a pair of glasses angled down his nose.

  Rachel shook her head. “Not really a handle, but I think I have him figured out. Rodeo cowboys don’t always listen to reason.”

  “Bully.” He cuffed her with a gentle swing.

  “Grouch,” she countered.

  “Sounds like she fits into the family already.” Melanie angled on the couch, her swollen feet up on the cushion, her puffy fingers kneading her belly. “Jen? The three of us can discuss strategy.”

  Nick sensed a bond had formed between the women. In less than a half an hour, Rachel managed to fit in and become one of them, something Steph had never done. Not that she had wanted to; she never bothered to try. He waited for the resentment to rise. When it didn’t, his mood lightened and he drew a deeper breath. “Lord, help us all.”

  Rachel pushed at his arm as she schooled her face into a scowl. “Don’t mind him. He’s been cooped up in a truck with me for 10 hours and I fear the rise in his blood pressure might have given him a concussion relapse.” She couldn’t keep up the pretense and laughed. “I’ve been trying to keep his head on straight for a week now.”

  “Yeah, well. What you know.” He ran his hand down her sleek hair to the base of her neck and gave her a squeeze. “I make a fine co-pilot.”

  Warmth ignited in her eyes. Her lashes fluttered as if absorbing more than his words. “You’re okay.”

  He held her gaze for a long moment, the crackle of the fire warming the chill from his heart. A week. He’d known her less than a week. It seemed like forever. For once, he ignored his inner cynic, and clutched to hold the feeling. He was so tired of fighting and running.

  “I’ll bet the snow is blowing pretty wild up at the Trails’ End. Good thing Zac and Jen stopped by yesterday.” Grace broke into his musing as she stretched and looked out the window. “At the rate that snow is falling, you’ll have to use snowmobiles to get close to the ranch house.”

  “It’s easier to cut across the Circle D fields than taking the road. I crossed up to the Trails’ End all the time when I was a kid.” Zac waved off his mother’s concern.

  The Trails’ End had been part of the Circle D originally and then used as collateral for a losing hand of poker generations ago. Zac had always held a fascination for the ranch, even as a young boy. It had taken years, but he’d managed to buy back the property.

  “I’m just glad Jen and I were here when the prodigal son returned.” Zac turned a stupid grin on Nick.

  Nick glared at his youngest brother. Zac was a wizard at math and ran the Davidson Enterprise’s investments and financial holdings. Didn’t matter how valuable he was to the company or how old he’d gotten, he remained an annoying little brother to Nick. “So, you’ve seen me. Go home.”

  “No, way.” Zac laughed, not offended in the least. “The way it's snowing, we’ll be here for days. Plenty of time to hear how your adventures trumped your share of work here at the Circle D.”

  “Zac.” Jen tugged at his sleeve.

  “What? Aren’t we all curious?” A scowl froze on his face. He waved his fingers between himself and Gabe. “After all, he missed both our weddings.”

  “His loss, little brother.” Gabe got up from the log box where he’d been feeding wood to the fire and crossed over to the couch. “That left more food for the rest of us.”

  Pressure built in Nick’s chest. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone’s feelings when he ignored the invitations that had eventually caught up with him on the road. He hadn’t been prepared to talk to his family, much less attend a sacred event like a wedding.

  Truth be told, he doubted he’d ever attend another wedding again.

  “Congratulations.” He coughed as he cleared the gravel from his throat. “I wish you happiness.”

  Rachel picked at the seam of his jeans with gentle pressure. Understanding colored her emerald eyes making his chest hurt all the more.

  Gabe lifted Melanie’s feet as he sat down and began to rub her insteps. She closed her eyes and the lines between her brows disappeared as she visibly relaxed. “Thanks, Nick. Will do.”

  The simple words told him Gabe understood, too.

  “Congratulations on the additions to the family.” Nick tried to smooth the waters, not wanting to disturb the apparent calm Melanie had found. “When are you due?”

  Melanie gave him a tired smile. “Not soon enough.”

  Gabe continued to rub her feet with gentle, deliberate motion. “She’s scheduled for a C-section in a week.” Lines grooved at the corner of his eyes as he glanced at Melanie’s face. “The girls should be out of danger by then.”

  For what it was worth, Nick added his prayers for Melanie’s health . . .and for their joy to lighten his regret.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Rachel opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The cold hardwood floor beneath her bare feet made her toes curl. Darkness surrounded her and blinking only caused vivid spots of light to swim before her. Raising her hand, she lightly touched the wall and prayed the Davidsons hadn’t decorated with priceless art. A tapping noise in the direction of the living room made her stop. Countless movies of stupid characters walking down a dark corridor toward a sound they couldn’t identify raced through her mind.

  She’d just joined the ranks.

  Her weak laugh tried to bring some reality to the situation. Lord? She stood a minute, not certain what to pray for as she strained to hear the noise again. Nothing. The faint crackle of the fire gave her courage, even in her stupidity. Licking her lips and swallowing, Rachel brushed her fingertips along the wall and headed toward the living room.

  A soft light from the flames flickered behind the cast iron door of the fireplace insert. Warm air blew through the grates mounted above and beneath the door teasing the loose hairs that had fallen out of her clip. She drew a breath and frowned. Bacon? Turning in the direction of the kitchen, her heart stopped as a shadow moved toward her.

  In an instant, the conclusion of all those scary movies flashed across her mind.


  “Storm wake you, too?”

  A flash of heat raced through her muscles as she recognized the voice. Abject fear quickly morphed to righteous anger. “You scared me.”

  “Who did you think it was? The boogie man?” Nick picked at the plate in his hand and stuck a piece of bacon in his mouth. He indicated the food. “Hungry?”

  “No.” No way would she confirm her reasons for venturing out of her room. She hadn’t thought about food since lunch. Arms crossed in front of her, Rachel turned toward the fire. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  The enticing scent of peppery bacon coupled with Nick’s own brand of enticement made her mouth water. She leaned closer and reached for a slice of bacon, her fingers brushing over his soft cotton shirt. “That smells good.”

  “Mom has it cured special at the Importers in town. Half a dozen different kinds of pepper and a hint of molasses.” He took a bite and chewed. “Nothing else comes close.”

  Rachel broke off a piece and let the flavors mingle in her mouth. “Your mother is a genius.”

  “That’s what she tells everyone.” His low chuckle rumbled around her. “Here. Hold this.”

  Grasping the edge of the plate, she watched Nick maneuver the leather couch up to the bay window adjacent to the fireplace. The shade pulled three-quarters of the way up revealed a whip of flakes swirling like a tornado in the eerie snow-reflected light. He motioned for her to sit as he reached for a folded blanket in a basket a few feet away. “Might as well be comfortable. I just loaded the fireplace and the storm isn’t dissipating anytime soon. Sit here a second. I’ll be right back.”

  Rachel sank into the leather cushion and placed the plate of bacon beside her as she squirmed beneath the soft cotton throw. Nick milled around the kitchen, opening cabinet doors, searching the refrigerator, punching time in the microwave. She nibbled on a slice of bacon as the microwave hummed and beeped. The door opened and closed, and Nick appeared beside her, offering her a mug.

  “What this?” She popped the end of the bacon into her mouth and accepted the steaming drink.

  “Hot chocolate.” He sank into the cushion beside her and pulled the cover over his legs. “Rumor has it you have to have a fire and hot chocolate to watch a snowstorm right.”

  Her heart pounded and warmth shot through her. He remembered. She couldn’t hide the silly grin that spread across her face. “Thanks, Nick.”

  He shuffled beside her, his shoulder and arm snuggled against her. “Anytime, Your Highness.”

  “Mmm, marshmallows. You think of everything.”

  “I try, but Mom bought hot chocolate with marshmallows already blended in.” His warm breath fanned her cheek as he leaned over her and grabbed the plate of bacon. Rachel inhaled the scent of his woodsy shampoo before he sat back in place, his shoulder still pressed close. He bit into a slice of bacon and moaned with contentment. “Nothing better than a thick slice off the peppered slab.”

  Blowing the marshmallows around before taking a sip, she imagined Grace kept all sorts of goodies around for her boys. Bacon, hot chocolate, marshmallows. She probably kept pickles and ice cream around for her pregnant daughter-in-law, too. “Do you think Melanie will be okay?”

  Shadows played off the strong muscles of his forearms as he finished the slice. Resting the plate on his leg, he interlaced his fingers across his belly. “My brother would move heaven and earth for her. I’m sure he has a sled dog team on call just in case things start early.”

  Rachel nudged him with her elbow. “I’m serious. She didn’t look too comfortable tonight. I’ve heard storms can send a woman into labor.”

  He looked down at her, a trace of a grin deepening his dimple. “Where’s your faith? Don’t you know there are more prayers covering her in this house alone than any storm can mess with?” His lips pressed together as a faraway look glazed his eyes. “Generations of Davidsons have been born at the Circle D. Gabe will make sure that legacy continues.” Unlacing his fingers, he straighten in his seat and offered her another slice of bacon. “Take the last piece.”

  Placing her mug on the floor, she snatched up the slice and popped it into her mouth. Nick put the plate down on the empty cushion beside him and stretched his arm around her. With a gentle tug, he brought her against him. The strong beat of his heart pulsed around her despite the howl of the wind. Rachel rubbed her cheek against his soft flannel shirt, the scent of strong, healthy male permeating each fiber.

  “Why didn’t you want to come home?” She spoke the words before her brain engaged.

  Muscles tensed beneath her cheek, but Nick didn’t move away. His fingertips brushed her arm in a circular pattern, soothing her even as she knew she was treading on dangerous ground. The silence stretched. “Nick, forget I asked. I didn’t mean to pry-”

  “I’m irresponsible, don’t you know?” His voice held a strange softness as if the words had been pulled from another lifetime. “Better to leave the important work to those who know how to do it.”

  Rachel tried to look up, but his hand held her firmly against his side. The thump of his heart grew quicker. She ran her hand over his knee, the denim fabric of his worn jeans almost as soft as his flannel shirt. She didn’t know what to say. The connection between them had never been stronger, yet the bond was so fragile, she worried any words might break it.

  They sat in the darkness, warmed by the fire and watched the snow blow past the window. His fingertips continued to draw lazy circles down her arm. She tilted her chin and studied the reflection of the flames dance across his face. The bruises had faded over the past week, but in the erratic light, different shadows contoured his face revealing the weariness she’d sensed in him for a long time. A sheen brightened his eyes as he refused to meet her gaze.

  As far as propriety went, her next move should have been thanking him for the snack and going back to her room. Instead, Rachel snuggled down beside him and let her arm flop across his belly. He stilled as if mounting some strategic defense against her, his breathing shallow. Deep down inside, Rachel recognized Nick had been battling some unknown demon for a long time, he’d fought the fight for so long he’d probably forgotten how to let down his guard and free himself from whatever fortress he’d built to protect himself. She wasn’t in the business of psychoanalyzing anyone, heaven knew she was the last one to offer advice, but she did understand when simply being there for someone was enough to keep the pain at bay.

  “I think you’re the best at what you do.” She buried her nose into the rise of his chest, stopping at his sharp intake of breath. His ribs. At least one was still cracked. She may not agree with his methods of dealing with his pain, but she did know he’d poured his whole heart into anything he chose to do. Just like her dad had. “Don’t ever forget that.”

  * * *

  Nick stood at the kitchen counter, a mug of hot coffee in one hand, his other tucked into the pocket of his jeans. How many times in his life had he stood at this window and watched the snow fall? Countless. He’d always been the early riser of the family. He loved the quiet of the house before everyone woke up and the day started. He’d often prayed for blessings on the day as he stared out the window into blinding snowstorms or the bright oranges and reds of the light of dawn. Peace didn’t come as easily now.

  Lifting the mug to his lips, he blew into the steaming coffee.

  Outside, big, fat flakes floated to the ground without a hint of wind. Only hours earlier gusting winds and brutal cold had pounded the protected plateau where the house and buildings of the ranch house sat. A ring of Ponderosa pines shielded the compound from the worst of the storm’s fury. A fortress of trees had protected the Davidson spread for generations. Nick drew a ragged breath as he glanced over the metal rails of the corrals and the drifts blown up against the black barn across the way.

  Home.

  Dear God. Nick closed his eyes, the image of the barn remained vivid in his mind. I messed up all those years ago by not asking for Your blessing on my marriage. I’ve
hurt so many people, and — he couldn’t bring himself to finish what was on his heart. Because of his bull-headedness, his wife was dead, the long-time friendship and business relationship between two families severed, the trust and love within his own family shaken. All because of his own selfishness.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat, but the raw pain refused to be soothed. Setting down the mug, he flattened his palms on the cold granite counter top and dipped his head until the muscles running down his neck strained. God, forgive me. I don’t deserve a second chance; I don’t deserve that. I just want to say I’m sorry.

  Muffled footsteps crossed the living room and the squeak of the fireplace handle warned Nick someone was up. No better time than now. He had to make things right before he left again. God give him the words to say it right. Staring out the window again, Nick watched a fresh gust blast the flakes as if the storm had reawakened with the dawn. His stomach churned with the same force and an icy knot chilled him all the way through.

  “Coffee smells great.” Gabe shuffled into the kitchen. “You’re still the early bird of the family.” He grabbed a burgundy mug with the Stock Show logo on it from the cupboard, poured a good measure and raised it to Nick. ”Some things never change.”

  Nick fought to appear calm. “It’s the best time of the day.”

  “If the morning isn’t good, the rest of the day won’t be much better.” Gabe blew on his hot coffee and then took a drink. A familiar grin pulled up one cheek. “Good and strong. Since dad had his heart attack, Mom’s been going weak on the caffeine. Melanie can’t stand the smell of coffee right now.” Mug lifted to his mouth, he took another quick drink. “Good to have a drinking bud.”

  “It’s just coffee.” Gabe lifted a brow at the comment, his dark gaze boring into Nick until Nick wished he hadn’t said anything. “Nothing to get worked up about.”