Ladd Haven

by Dianne Venetta

Cal returned a stern gaze. “It wasn’t my responsibility to convince a young woman that her man hasn’t run off and left her. I believe I told you as much at the time. She was pretty torn up.”

  Irritation pitched and heaved in his heart. How could Casey think he would have done such a thing? Because he didn’t call her every single day? That was the part that didn’t make sense. Sure, she might have been unhappy with the separation, same as him, but how could she think he was never coming back?

  “She has her pride, Troy.”

  Troy dumped his gaze to the trail. “Dad gum,” he said, frustration boiling over. “It was a miscommunication. I told her I had to get a job and make something of myself so everyone around here would understand I wasn’t a loser!”

  Cal’s accusatory gaze softened. “No one thinks you’re a loser.”

  Troy nearly tore the hat from his head at the lie but instead turned away with a grunt. Casey’s mother was number one on that list, but he wasn’t about to insult Mr. Foster’s wife by speaking the same. Shoot, his family was a close second. “After what happened, it wasn’t like I could’ve gotten a job around here. I had to start fresh. Kentucky was the only place I had any contacts.”

  Cal nodded, as though he understood. Troy hoped that he did. He could use some allies right about now, especially if he were going to convince Casey’s momma he was worthy of a second chance. Or third. But who’s counting?

  “Have you seen Vegas?” Cal asked, moving to completely different terrain.

  “Not yet,” he replied, grateful for the shift, “but I was hoping to today.”

  “He’s a strong one. A real fighter, just like you predicted. Six months old and he’s already challenging the ranch hands!”

  Pride swallowed Troy whole. “He’s spirited, is all. Just needs a firm hand an encouragin’ word. I bet he’ll grow into one of your finest stallions.”

  Cal winked. “I believe you’re right and I bet you’re the man to do it.”

  Troy’s cheeks warmed at the compliment. “Thank you, sir. I’d sure like the chance to work with him.”

  Cal glanced up the trail. “Speaking of work, I’d suggest you get a move on it. Delaney’s an early riser too and not the woman you want waiting on you.”

  “No, sir.” Troy tipped his hat. “I’m on my way.”

  Cal’s expression quieted, an understanding simmering in his brown gaze. “Glad to have you on the team, Troy.”

  No more than he was to be a part of it.

  Entering the stables, Troy cruised down the center corridor, searching for sight of Delaney as he skimmed horses in passing. The smell of hay and horse surrounded him, filling him with a pleasure and comfort he’d missed. Hooked by the shake of a small black-maned head through a metal grill, his heart bucked. Was that Vegas?

  Troy hurried over to check out the foal. His spirit soared at the distinct white star stamped in the inky black space between his eyes. Black ears perked and big eyes honed in on him. Excitement bounded as he took in the animal. “You’re a big one, ain’t ya? Just like I thought you’d be.” He was strong, sturdy, not spindly like some foals, fully proportioned, only smaller than a full-grown animal. The horse angled its head as Troy reached between the bars for a stroke of the solid-muscled neck, the super-sleek black coat. One ear went forward, the other drifting back as the horse raised his snout. Troy grinned. “You remember me, don’t ya?” he asked, more statement than question. “You remember I helped bring you into this world.”

  The animal gave a soft snort, clearly enjoying the attention. Troy laughed, warm pleasure spreading through him. “They treatin’ you all right around here?” He examined the animal from head to toe, noting the shiny hair, the intelligent black eyes. Vegas was relaxed but alert. Troy definitely thought he had a mark of intelligence about him. “You sure do look good. You’re gonna grow up to be a big one. Real strong,” he said softly. “Fast too, by the looks of those legs of yours.”

  “I see you’ve met our star attraction.”

  Troy whirled, yanking his hand from between the bars. “Hey, Miss Delaney.”

  She was dressed as usual in ratty low-waisted jeans and tank top, her boots muddied by her active lifestyle, her blonde hair long and loose down her back. A few strands framed her sun-tanned face, her brown eyes gazing at him with a fondness he remembered well. “Vegas seems to have taken a liking to you.”

  Slightly embarrassed at being caught loving on the animal, Troy replied, “This here’s the one I was telling you about. The one I helped deliver over at the Foster ranch.”

  She nodded. “Looks like he remembers you.”

  Gratification swept through him. “Maybe.” Casting a glance over his shoulder he said, “He’s a smart one. Gonna make you a real fine stallion one day.”

  “All he needs is the perfect trainer.”

  Hope bounded. “I sure could teach him a thing or two.”

  “I’ll bet you can.”

  The sentiment was more observation than encouragement and gave him pause. Troy focused on Delaney’s eyes, searching for the reassurance he so desperately yearned for yet finding a reticence instead. “Everything all right?” he asked as casually as he could. “You seem a little down.”

  A faint smile crossed her lips. “You’ve known me a long time, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, grateful to realize this might not be about him but about her.

  “It’s Felicity.”

  Concern jabbed at him. “She okay?”

  “Yes. She’s going to the Fosters to meet the family.”

  Foreboding erased all question. She didn’t have to say another word. Troy knew the history. Felicity didn’t have a relationship with her grandparents on her daddy’s side. They were kin, lived in the same town, but as remote as family could get. Growing up, Felicity never talked about them much. Maybe she said more to Travis than him, but it was understood by the three of them to be a taboo subject. Jack Foster and his family weren’t on the list of conversation. Not until Casey’s momma began dating Cal did they even dare mention the family. When Miss Delaney began puttin’ Casey and Felicity together, Troy understood it was only a matter of time before the Fosters could no longer be ignored. But Felicity was harboring thoughts of getting to know them better? “What for?”

  Delaney’s mouth tipped up at one corner. She must have been wondering the same thing. “They invited her.”

  Pulling his hat slightly forward, Troy scratched behind an ear. “That seems odd. Real odd. Anything I can do to help?”

  “Talk her out of it?”

  “Seriously?” Delaney’s quick half-laugh assured him she was kidding. Troy tried to laugh with her but came up short. “I mean, I would if you wanted me to...”

  “But it wouldn’t do any good,” she finished his thought. Delaney stared at Troy, her dark gaze hot, intense, like she was trying to see clear through him. He’d always known her as a sharp-edged woman, but he’d never been on the wrong end of her blade. It was a bit unsettling. Planting her hands to her hips she said, “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Has Felicity ever mentioned the Fosters?”

  “Mentioned them how?”

  “You know, has she ever indicated that she wanted to see them? That she missed out on being with them through the years?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Never did.” It was the honest truth.

  “What about her father? Did she ever mention wanting to get to know him?”

  “No, ma’am. Felicity didn’t ever mention wantin’ to be close to the man.” Strange, but where Troy thought she’d be happy to hear the words, Delaney seemed depressed by them.

  “A girl needs her father, Troy.” He returned a blank stare. Was he supposed to have a comment on that? “A girl needs a strong man in her life.” A point he couldn’t argue. “I told Casey I was going to give you a job.”

  Troy lost balance at the blunt statement. “Was she mad?”

  Delaney shoo
k her head. “Actually, she was pleased. Said you were the best horse man around.”

  Pleasure swamped him like a tidal wave, forcing him to take a step back. “I know my business, Miss Delaney. I’ll do right by you, you can count on it.”

  “I know you will.”

  Her reply was soft as a drifting cloud, yet it was her gaze that punched him in the chest. She believed in him. There was no doubt in her eyes. There was no question, only a vague something hovering behind the deep brown of her gaze. It wasn’t doubt, it was...it was...

  Troy didn’t know.

  In the blink of an eye, whatever had been hiding behind her eyes disappeared. Delaney straightened, shook her hair and returned to business mode. “C’mon. I’ll check you in at the office then introduce you around to the staff. We have guests signed up for trail rides at nine and running all day, with a carriage ride at sunset.”

  Troy fell into step beside her as she strode toward the office, unsettled by a twinge of uncertainty. Why had Delaney brought up Casey? Did she think there was a chance for the two of them? Was Casey really happy to hear he was working for the hotel?

  Chapter Ten

  Felicity sat in her car outside the Foster estate, her heart riddled with nerves. Her stomach was a mess, her insides churning up a storm. The Foster home was so big it looked like a hotel. Two-storied and completely built from brick, it had a porch that stretched from one end to the other, wrapping around both sides. A huge lantern hung from the second floor ceiling by a thick chain and centered over two massive front doors. Windows lined upstairs and downstairs, causing her to wonder how many rooms were inside. The tiny cabin she shared with her mother had one bedroom, one living area and a kitchen tucked into a corner. Her bedroom wasn’t enclosed, rather a loft overhead with a makeshift bathroom. She’d always loved her home. It was like living in a tree fort, a secret hideaway in the woods. She gulped. She’d never been inside a home as big as the Fosters. Even the Parker home wasn’t as big as this one. Shoot, this wasn’t a home—it was a mansion! Would there be servant’s quarters? Maids and butlers running around asking what they wanted, if they were okay?

  She was going to stand out like a dope on a highway. She didn’t know how to act around wealthy people. Were their plates made of gold? Their glasses made from expensive crystal? The front door opened and her heart stopped. A dark-headed man stepped outside and relief swept through her. It was her father. Words she was still getting used to. Dressed casually in jeans and a button-down plaid, Jack Foster was a man she hardly knew—in and out of her life for as long as she could remember—yet here she was about to have dinner with him and his parents. He spotted her and a quick smile formed on his lips. He waved for her to come on, a gesture so casual, so normal, it felt strange.

  Pushing from her car, Felicity gathered her purse and instantly assessed her attire in comparison. Had she overdone it by choosing an ankle length skirt and heels? Her blouse was a silk floral that could go either way but... She raised her head to face him. Her father looked like he was hanging out at the stables. She looked like she was going to some ladies’ luncheon. When she didn’t move from her car, he began to walk toward her. Shoving the car door closed, she hurried to him.

  When she neared, his smile grew into one of genuine appreciation. “Well, don’t you look beautiful this evening.”

  “Thank you,” she replied quickly, privately cursing her reaction. Her fair skin freckles would light up like a sheet of red bulbs and surely expose her for the simpleton she was! She inhaled as deep and full as she could to calm the flutter of pulse.

  “My parents are anxious to meet you.”

  “Me, too,” she replied and followed him inside the enormous wood-paneled front door.

  Weird. She had grandparents who lived in the same town but who had never officially met their granddaughter. Felicity had seen them around town, of course. But usually flanked by her mother or the Parker boys, and it never seemed like a good time to say hello. Then again, how did one say hello to family members she barely knew? Hiya, I’m your granddaughter, the one your son abandoned. Or did her mother leave him? Felicity was fuzzy on the details. All she knew was her parents divorced and the relations were sour as buttermilk.

  As she entered, the interior took her breath away. In the foyer sat the largest bouquet of flowers she’d ever seen perched on a pedestal table beneath a huge chandelier. It was glittery and glassy and light sparkled through it like diamonds floating in the air. Inclining her head forward, she noted a huge stone fireplace across the room, empty of flame at the moment, topped by a wood beam mantle. It looked more like a heavy log than an actual mantle. On it were a bunch of framed portraits. She couldn’t make out any of the faces from here but assumed they included the extended family. A fleeting thought occurred to her. Was she up there? Did they display a picture of her even though she wasn’t actively part of their life? Allowing her gaze to drift over Oriental rugs sprawled across shiny wood floors, she gazed upon sofas of soft brown leather, their seams lined by rounded metal bolts. Fat, interior wood posts reached from floor to ceiling, supporting equally large beams overhead, their wood surfaces sanded to a polished shine. The smell of evergreen potpourri infused her senses.

  “What do you think?” Jack asked.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she murmured. Ambling further inside, she realized the extended family was in attendance. She flung her gaze to him. He didn’t mention all these people would be here!

  Mrs. Foster rose from a wing chair. Gliding across the floor in almost fairy-like movement, she reminded Felicity of the dance majors at college. As a flutist, she often spent time in the Theater Department watching waiflike actresses dance and sing. Some were amazing, mesmerizing her with their ability to sweep across a stage in weightless fashion. Jack’s mother could have been one of them. Extending a hand, the woman introduced herself. “I’m Victoria Foster. Your grandmother.”

  Anxiety streamed through Felicity’s limbs as she accepted the slender hand. Mrs. Foster’s skin was so delicate, it felt paper-fine in her grasp. “I’m Felicity Wilk—” Realizing her error, her cheeks burned hot.

  Mrs. Foster simply smiled, overlooking it as nothing more than a minor misstep. The senior Mr. Foster shadowed her, staring at Felicity with a strange look on his face as his wife said, “We’re so glad you decided to join us.”

  “Thanks for having me.”

  Mrs. Foster turned, and introduced the rest of the family. “Boys, come say hello to your niece. Two strapping men stepped from behind the sofa. Two women she assumed to be their wives remained seated until their prospective men escorted them forward. “Clint, Beau, I’d like you to meet Felicity.”

  Mrs. Foster spoke as if they hadn’t been standing there the entire time, witnessing the previous exchange. The tallest one of the group stuck out a hand to greet her. Warm and firm, his grip matched the strong lines of his face, his skin tanned and weathered from a life outdoors. He looked a lot like her father, only bigger. “Beau Foster. About time my lazy brother brought you around to meet the family.”

  She smiled, accepting the insult as a compliment to her. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I’d like you to meet my wife, Becky Lynn.”

  Felicity greeted the attractive brunette by his side. Trim and fit, she could have been a model in her form-fitting denim skirt and high-heeled boots. Her white blouse was adorned with a row of frilly lace down the center, her teeth perfect and gleaming white.

  The second Foster brother did likewise. “I’m Clint. This here’s my wife, Tara.” Felicity shook hands with the woman. A bit more subdued than the first yet equally as good-looking, she wore a simple cotton skirt and matching top, the sandy color a near match to her long straight hair. “You sure are a pretty thing,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Felicity replied, annoyed by the repeated flare in her cheeks. It undermined any savvy she attempted to exude.

  “I told you she was a looker,” Jack said. “Looks nothing like her mother.�
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  “Hush your mouth,” Mrs. Foster admonished with a sharp glance.

  Felicity wasn’t surprised by her father’s comment. After living with the animosity for all these years, his feelings popped out naturally. Her mom’s did the same. “It’s okay,” Felicity assured. “I know what he means.”

  “You look exactly like your grandmother.”

  Startled by the fragile quality of his voice, Felicity looked to Jack’s father. His plaid flannel shirt and pressed jeans suggested a strong outdoorsman—tall, in pretty good shape for his age, complete with a full head of brown hair. She would have expected him to be more outgoing, yet his first words—practically a whisper—were powerful enough to strike the room silent. How did he know her grandmother?

  No one said a word as he approached her, muttering, “It’s uncanny, the resemblance.”

  And eerie, the way he was staring at her. He looked as though he were under some kind of spell. Mrs. Foster must have noticed it, too, because her expression had changed from friendly to stunned. Felicity took a step backward, closer to her father. Suddenly, the man she hardly knew felt like a security blanket.

  “Dad, you’re staring.” His blunt observation cut his father’s stupor. It was like an eraser had been swiped over a whiteboard. Collecting himself in a complete sweep of transformation, he boomed with a large, affable smile, “Excuse my manners. Gerald Foster.” He reached for her hand and shook gently. “We’re happy to have you in our home, Felicity.”

  Felicity peered at the solemn expressions surrounding him and thought, Turn around. You might discover you’re alone in that sentiment.

  The air of discomfort was cleared quickly as Mrs. Foster regained control of the situation and re-directed everyone back into party mode. She unleashed a litany of questions, beginning with how did Felicity enjoy college, what courses was she taking, what was her major, her future plans, what did she think of the new hotel... It was an exhausting dialogue, punctuated by the occasional question from other family members. Everyone took part except Mr. Foster. He took a back seat to most of the conversation, though he was clearly dialed in, staring at her in the oddest way.