They had both broken her heart, though they never knew it, but it was enough that she did. She knew, and she would never tell them. It was her secret. One she planned on taking to the grave.
Not wanting to wither in pain for what was never going to be, she put the small frame back into the top drawer of her nightstand and got up to start her day. Today was going to be a busy one. Fridays always were. The ranchers always knocked off early. They came to town to eat a home-cooked meal before heading off to the Rawhide for fun, liquor, and dancing.
After showering and dressing, she threw her long hair up into a makeshift twist and clipped it with a barrette. Grabbing her sneakers and keys, she headed down the backstairs of her apartment and unlocked the backdoor of her diner.
Having the construction crew build a small apartment above her beloved business was pure genius. She didn’t have far to go when she was dog tired and ready to collapse when she had overworked herself. All she had to do was lock up the diner, and in less than one minute she was walking into her home.
Turning the lights on in the kitchen, she headed over and started up the burners so her stoves could get hot. Then after hitting the power button on the coffeemaker, she walked into the restaurant part of her diner and began to open the shades.
Her diner was reminiscent of a time long forgotten about. Vinyl booths lined three of the walls with simple seventies-style tables and chairs filling in the gaps. A large counter ran the length of the back wall, separating the kitchen. She put in an old-fashioned see-through so customers could smell the yummy food as they walked in the door. After she built the diner, she installed an old-fifties style soda fountain that catered to all the kids once school let out. She covered all her bases. Fun for all ages, her diner was simple with only breakfast, lunch, and dinner on the menu. She had no need for fancy menus because she cooked what she wanted, and if the customers didn’t like it, then they could eat somewhere else.
She kept her diner simple just like she kept her personal life.
No mess, no fuss, and she liked it that way.
* * * *
Andrew Jenkins groaned as he rolled over to stop the blaring alarm clock from making any more racket. He was tired and wanted so much to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t. It was Friday, and it was well check-up day at the clinic.
As the only doctor for the residents of Treasure Cove, he didn’t have the luxury of calling in for a sick day. The residents called him for that, and often. However, it wasn’t just that. He groaned knowing that he was going to have a clinic full of kids today.
He also moaned knowing he had only hit the sheets less than two hours ago.
Staying out late was starting to take its toll.
Ever since his daughter, Emma, returned, he needed to make sure she was okay. The moment he saw her, he knew she was his daughter, and he sure as hell didn’t need some damn paternity test to prove that. She was in danger, and he would be damned if he let anyone harm her or his beautiful granddaughter, Tabitha.
It was a shock when the Quinn brothers called him and asked him to come out to the ranch. They never said why, and thinking it was one of them, he brought everything he would need to stitch one of them back up, but when Tucker greeted him at the door, telling him it was Emma, well, everything in him stilled.
He had watched her grow from an infant into a beautiful young woman. Spirited and wild, she brought happiness to those around her. However, though he had his suspicions, her mother kept insisting that she belonged to Glenn McKenzie. When the night of the McKenzie fire decimated the family home, Isabella McKenzie disappeared with Emma and never returned. Andrew had looked for Isabella but never found a single trace. Therefore, when Tucker stood on the porch of the Quinn Ranch and told him the news, to say he was shocked was an understatement.
He never said anything when Tucker walked him toward the back bedroom, but the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew. Deep in his gut, he knew that she belonged to him and his brother.
Emma had grown and matured. She was a striking look-a-like to his mother. After examining her, he knew she had suffered a trauma but was blocking it out. It wasn’t healthy, and he wanted to take her and have her admitted, but Tate stood in his way. He couldn’t tell the brothers why he really wanted to run the test because they would not understand, so he agreed to treat Emma at the ranch and have his assistant Kelly pop in on her every now and then.
With weekly updates from Kelly, the Quinn brothers kept an eye on her during the day, but at night, when no one was looking, he would saddle up his horse and ride over to the Quinn Ranch and just watch, making sure his daughter and granddaughter slept safe and undisturbed. During that time, he found a peace that he never knew he was looking for. His daughter was home, where she belonged. Loved by many, and god willing, someday, she would welcome him as her true father. He prayed for that day.
A long time ago, he thought he was going to have the chance to have it all. He was in love with Isabella Romanov and would have done anything for her. He never knew why she didn’t come tell him about her pregnancy. If she did, he would have married her right then and there, regardless of the stupid charter and all that it entailed, but she didn’t.
By the time he found out about her pending marriage. It was too late. He had arrived at the courthouse just as the judge pronounced her and Glenn McKenzie man and wife. Her sisters attended, and when they saw him, it was Tatiana who grinned evilly at him, and he knew then it was all her fault.
However, it was what came later as Emma grew that concerned him. He had seen Isabella on more than one occasion with bruises that she couldn’t explain. When he confronted her about them, threatening to take her to court over Emma, she said he would lose. She informed him that no judge on the planet would give a young girl to a single man who wasn’t her father. Then she sealed his fate by telling him she only slept with him to get his money.
She had never loved him. She only wanted the prestige that came with the Jenkins name. She had devastated him. From that moment on, he washed his hands of her and devoted his life to being the best doctor Treasure Cove ever had.
Climbing out of bed, he stretched his aching body and slowly walked to the adjoining bathroom. Standing before the mirror, he hardly recognized the man staring back at him. Where once a younger more energetic man had stood, now there was an aging old man. At forty-five years of age, his dirty blond hair had begun to gray. Laugh lines marred his eyes, and the once tight, muscular body he worked so hard to acquire was now fuller and sagging in places. “Damn, Andy, you look like shit,” he whispered to himself as he proceeded to shave, brush his teeth, and then shower.
Dressed and ready for the day, he grabbed his bag as he headed for the front door. Not bothering to lock it, he just shut the door and headed toward his beat-up old truck.
He smiled, looking at the truck his father gave him before he headed off to college. It was a true classic, a ’57 Chevy, red with white-wall tires. She may be a little old and rusty in a couple of places, but she purred like a kitten every time he turned the ignition. “Damn, girl, you look as bad as I feel.”
Pulling into the reserved parking spot in front of his clinic, Andrew turned the engine off and slid from his old truck. His body still ached, and he desperately needed a nap. Maybe he could sneak a couple of hours between appointments.
Looking across the street, he saw that Macie was already hard at work. Needing a cup of coffee, he took his time walking across the street.
The town of Treasure Cove was quiet this early in the morning. A peaceful town, he had grown up here his whole life, only leaving to attend medical school. He did his residency at the Silver Springs Memorial Hospital, just to be close to his aging parents, and when old Doc Weaver retired, he left his practice to him. He loved his job. He loved helping people, but with doing for others, there was remarkably little time for him left.
The door chimed as he walked into the diner, alerting Macie she had a customer. He knew she would be in the back,
stocking and getting the morning breakfast started, so he just yelled, “It’s just me, Macie.”
“Coffee’s ready, Andy. Help yourself.”
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he responded, walking around the counter and into the kitchen.
Helping himself to a cup of coffee, he leaned against the counter, and watched her as she grabbed butter and eggs. His beautiful, spirited Macie had grown up into a knockout woman. He could still remember when she wore her hair in pigtails. She was a handful then, and even more so now. Soft, voluptuous, and curvy in all the right places, Macie Lynn Owens was all woman. A body built for sin, and he couldn’t touch her. Well, he could touch her, but not in the way he wanted to. Instead, he was resigned to looking, just like all the other men around. They could look but not touch.
He enjoyed his early morning coffee ritual with Macie.
It was one of the few pleasures he allowed himself where she was concerned.
There was a time not so long ago that he thought he could give Macie more, but with his schedule and her refusing to contemplate such a relationship, he figured it was best that they stayed friends. He understood, though, at times like this, he wished for something more.
Growing up in Treasure Cove, he watched as Macie grew into a beautiful young woman. With a ten-year age gap, he never once considered her anything but a young woman just starting her life. Nevertheless, as time passed by, he noticed that she never went out with anyone, never gave any man an extra smile or a lingering look. She stayed controlled and to herself. However, over the last few years, something between them started to change. A quiet acceptance built between them. With quiet moments like this, Andrew felt as if they were meant to be. He couldn’t place the feeling, but he knew it was right.
“What’s for breakfast today?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Eggs, bacon, biscuits, and gravy, with hash, grits, and assorted fruit,” she answered, gathering all the items her cook would need.
“Sounds good. Has anyone noticed you switched from lard to olive oil, yet?”
“Only Tomas, but he isn’t bitching too much. He even says the food tastes better.” She smiled, reaching for a twenty-pound bag of flour.
Putting the cup down, he rushed to take it from her. “Damn it Macie. I said ask for help for stuff like this.”
“Oh, please. It’s just a bag of flour. Hell, Andy, you should see me when the delivery trucks get here.”
Andrew growled, setting the flour on the counter. Turning to look at her, he couldn’t be angry with her when she smiled brightly at him. He knew she thought with that brilliant smile she could weasel herself out of any trouble. What she didn’t know was that he allowed it to happen. Sighing, he just shook his head and quickly finished his coffee. Rinsing out his glass, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Be sweet, Macie. I’ll see you at lunch.” He left her to finish her morning chores as he started his day.
The day was shaping up to be a busy one at the clinic. Andrew, or Doc, as the town liked to call him, had Kelly checking in the patients as soon as they arrived while he ushered them back as soon as possible. With his waiting room full, he knew he would have to be efficient and courteous while getting them in and out in record time. There was nothing worse than young kids who desperately needed a nap, and the longer he took, the more rambunctious they could get.
Walking a young mother out with her two little ones, he stopped when Kelly handed him the next file. Scanning the name on the file, he smiled. “All right, Mr. Colby, I’m ready for you now.”
Looking up from the file, a young, precocious six-year-old headed straight for him.
“Howdy, Doc!” the youngster said, grinning, wearing his trademark cowboy boots and overalls.
“Howdy, Colby. How’s life treatin’ ya?”
“Purdy good, but Daddy says I gotta be here.”
“I see.” Andy knelt down to look the young boy straight in the eye. “And let me guess. Being here is cuttin’ into your ropin’ time, right?”
“Yes, sir. I ain’t gonna get any gooder if I got’s to get physical. I ain’t sick, you knows that. Can I go now?”
“Well, I don’t know. Have ya been feelin’ poorly?”
“Nut-uh, Doc, I swear. Only Daddy.” Throwing his father under the bus, the young cowboy leaned forward and whispered, “He’s been puking, too.”
“Really?” Andy smiled, looking up at the man standing behind the boy. Getting to his feet, Andrew looked at Colby’s father. “How are you feeling, Peter?”
“I’m better, Doc. It’s nothing to worry about, just a stomach bug,” Peter admitted.
“Well, why don’t you both come on back and I’ll check you both over, all right,” he said, moving aside so father and son could precede him.
“Aw man. I knew I shoulda kept my trap shut. I ain’t gonna get no ropin’ in today, that’s for dang sure,” Colby said loud enough for the entire waiting room to hear. The six-year-old walked toward the back with hunched shoulders, looking as if he were about to walk the plank. Colby groaned the whole way.
Andrew followed, smiling and shaking his head, thinking how much he loved his job.
* * * *
Los Angeles, California. That same day.
Matthew hated his job! As always, he was stuck inside with mounds of paperwork that needed his attention, while the world moved on without him. A contract attorney for the largest contract firm in Los Angeles, Matthew Jenkins was a commodity that other firms needed. He could always find a loophole in any contract. If anyone needed out of a contract, they came to him. It didn’t matter what the profession was or if it was just a simple legal matter. Matthew Jenkins would find a way to resolve the burden someone had gotten themselves into, for a large, hefty price. That was his job.
Moreover, he hated every minute of it.
Tired and frustrated, he leaned back in his leather wingback chair and rested his head. He could already feel another migraine coming on. They were happening more frequently now. He had been to several doctors, and they had all told him to lighten his workload and find some form of rest and relaxation. He was working himself into an early grave if he didn’t find some balance within his life.
The only problem he had was that his job was his life, had been since he graduated the University of Southern California. Offered a job right out of college, he had been working ever since. Single and devoted to his craft, he jumped in with both feet and never looked back. The problem was his devotion was now slowly killing him.
Getting to his feet, he walked over to the large window in his corner office and looked out over the landscape. Wanting so much to see the caps of the Rocky Mountains, all he saw were skyscrapers on top of skyscrapers. A thick bank of smog weaved in and out of the buildings, prohibiting the sun from shining through. There was no greenery, no tress, no flowers, no fresh air, just congestion, metal buildings, and smog.
He couldn’t breathe anymore. The very life he had worked so hard to attain now suffocated him, slowly trying to kill him. He needed to get away, but looking at his desk with all those files stacked on top of each other, he didn’t know how or when he would be able to break free.
To make matters worse, his eyes focused on a red file, sitting in its own tray, alone.
That single file held his legacy, his only hope for the future, and she had disappeared.
He had been looking for her for the last six years now, with no luck. He had hired numerous private detectives, and personal investigators, but nothing panned out. It was as if she vanished without a trace. That was until last week, when he received notification that she had been found, in Treasure Cove of all places. The one place he didn’t think to look. Since then he had kept an eye on her from afar. He wanted so much to get into his car and see for himself what the detailed photos entailed. He knew she had returned to her birthplace, but that was it. Oh, he got the occasional photo of her in town, but nothing of her smiling or looking happy. Every photo had a faraway look in her eye, as if she was se
arching for something.
“Mr. Jenkins. Call on line two,” a female voice said, interrupting his trip down memory lane.
Sighing, he replied, “Thank you, Jeannette.”
Walking back over to his desk, he groaned as his back twinged a bit. Stretching, he reached for the phone. “Matthew Jenkins.”
“Matty, its Anne Conner.”
“Miss Anne?”
“It’s time to come home, and bring the file Isa gave you. Your daughter is in trouble and needs your help.”
“What about Andy?”
“He is with her now. You better hurry,” she softly said with steel in her voice. Matthew knew she was serious, but before he could respond, the line went dead. He had no idea what was going on. Reaching for the file, he pulled out the most recent photo, his finger slowly caressing the solemn face. He didn’t know what was happening, nor did he care. She needed him, and he would go. He would not walk away from her again.
Closing the file, he gathered what he needed, barking orders at his secretary. Within the hour, he was hailing a cab.
After twenty-six years, he was finally going back home.
Chapter Two
The hot sun beat down on him as he dusted off the dirt from his two-hundred-dollar Armani suit. He should have known better than to wear such a thing. Jeans, a T-shirt, and boots were best for this part of the country. Looking at the sprawling ranch house before him, he grinned. The place hadn’t changed one bit since he last saw it. He remembered riding fast across the range with his friends and neighbors. They were all a rowdy bunch back then without a care in the world. Now, most of his friends were gone. Living the life as a rancher wasn’t an easy job. It was hard work, back-breaking work, and some good men and women died preserving their way of life. He wasn’t one of those men, men that he once admired growing up. His fathers were such men, and when they should have been here, they weren’t. They, too, were gone.
Mastering Macie [The Men of Treasure Cove 7] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2