"What's your name?" he asked.
"Bailey Tucker." She couldn't keep the irritation out of her voice.
"Adam and Zane's little sister?" he asked in surprise.
"That would be me."
"You need some help?"
She jumped back as a frog landed on her foot. She kicked it into the water while Gambler barked again. "Does it look like I need help?"
"It does," he said, amusement in his voice. "What are you doing out there?"
"I'm rescuing Zane's dog."
"He looks fine to me."
"Oh, he's fine all right—he's just nuts. He's scared of frogs."
"How did he get out there?"
"I have no idea. He ran away from the house, and I found him here." She looked down at the dog, who was nuzzling her hand and now seemed happy to have her with him on the island. "Oh, sure, now you want to make friends, Gambler. You just knocked me off my feet."
"Gambler?" Ryder echoed. "Your brother's dog is named Gambler? That's fitting."
Since Zane's love of betting was well known in Eagle's Ridge, she couldn't argue with that. "Yes, and you can go. We're fine."
"You're fine? How are you getting Gambler through those frog-infested waters?"
"I'm thinking about carrying him."
"He looks like he weighs more than you do."
"Yes, well, it will work out. Don't worry about it." She didn't need Ryder Westbrook witnessing her latest disastrous moment.
"I could help you," he offered.
"I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"Because…"
"Because I'm a man and you're an independent woman?" he challenged.
"No, because you're a Westbrook and I'm a Tucker," she snapped back. "Tuckers don't get help from Westbrooks."
Good grief! Where had that come from? She was channeling her grandfather's favorite mantra.
"Seriously?" Ryder asked. "You're bringing up that old feud?"
"If you spent five minutes with my grandfather, you'll know it's as fresh in his mind now as it was when it started sixty-five years ago."
"Well, it's fresh in my grandfather's mind, too, but we're not them. And if you don't accept my help, you're going to have to leave Gambler and go find one of your brothers. Then who knows what will happen to the dog?"
He made a really good point. The last thing she wanted was for Zane to find out she'd let Gambler out of the house.
Taking favors from a Westbrook went against the grain, but there was a part of her that thought it was a silly old feud, too. Besides that, she was getting cold covered in muddy river water. And there was no way she could carry Gambler back to the shore.
Before she could say anything, Ryder was making his way toward her, striding through the foot-deep water with steadier feet and a hell of a lot more purpose than she had.
He looked a bit like a rugged, powerful warrior, and a shiver ran down her spine that had nothing to do with the chill in her bones.
It was possible she might have had a tiny crush on him when she was younger—really tiny—barely there.
As Ryder got closer, the moonlight danced off the planes of his handsome face, and she swallowed a knot in her throat.
Okay, so he was even better looking than he'd been in high school. So what?
She was off men forever, or at least the foreseeable future. And even if she wasn't off men—Ryder Westbrook would definitely be off-limits. He was a Westbrook and she was a Tucker, and if there was anyone in the world she owed loyalty to, it was her grandfather.
But when Ryder reached her, she felt even more overwhelmed by his attractiveness. Up close, the power of his body, the breadth of his shoulders, the sexiness of his mouth, the hint of humor in his dark eyes sent little trills down her spine. And she couldn't help but wish she didn't look a little better than a bedraggled, soppy mess.
"Hey, buddy," he said to the dog.
Gambler was happy to meet a new friend and immediately jumped up, putting his muddy paws on Ryder's chest.
To his credit, Ryder didn't take offense at the new layer of mud on his jacket. Instead, he took the opportunity to swoop Gambler up in his arms. The ninety-pound dog tried to wrangle free, but Ryder was having none of that. "Stop," he said in an authoritative voice. "You're fine."
Somehow Gambler seemed to believe him, quieting his panicked movements.
She watched in astonishment as Ryder carried Gambler back through the frog-filled marsh and set him down on dry land. Gambler barked and then lay down, as if exhausted by his adventure.
She was torn between relief that Gambler was safe and annoyance that Ryder Westbrook had saved the day. But that was petty. All that mattered was that she had not lost Zane's dog in the river.
"You need some help?" Ryder called back to her. "Want me to carry you?"
"Not a chance," she said, stepping into the cold water. She waded back to the shore, stumbling a few times as her feet sank into the mud. When she got close, Ryder extended his hand.
She hesitated for one minute, not really sure why. She told herself it was because of the feud between their grandparents, but she didn't really think that was it.
There was just something about taking Ryder's hand that seemed dangerous…like she was crossing a line she shouldn't cross.
"Really?" he asked dryly. "You're as stubborn as your grandfather, Bailey."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It wasn't meant as one."
"I know." She tried to take another step, but the mud sucked her foot down deeper into the ground, and she almost fell over. She might be stubborn, but she wasn't completely stupid. She grabbed Ryder's hand.
His strong fingers closed over hers, and he pulled her onto dry land.
"Okay?" he asked, his gaze sweeping across her face.
She nodded, her mouth going dry as his eyes met hers. "I'm fine." She belatedly let go of his hand. "Thanks."
"No problem."
"What were you doing out here anyway?" she asked. The only two houses on this stretch of road belonged to her father and grandfather.
"I stopped at your dad's house. I wanted to talk to him about some business I'd like to do with your grandfather. I heard barking and yelling and decided to investigate."
She was confused by his words. "You have business with my grandfather? I can't imagine what that could be."
"I have a proposition for him."
"No. You have a death wish. My grandfather hates everyone with your last name."
"I'm aware of that, which is why I wanted to reach out to your father first. This could be a very viable financial venture for your family."
"If that venture is tied to your family, my grandpa will not be interested."
"Wouldn't he be interested in bringing more business and more tourists to Eagle's Ridge?"
Her gaze narrowed. "Aren't you in the Navy, Ryder? What's this all about?"
"I was in the Navy. I'm not anymore."
"Why not?"
"It doesn't matter. I got out a few weeks ago. Now, I'm taking over operations at the Eagle's Ridge Airfield, and I'd like to lengthen one of the runways so we can bring in bigger planes. It will be better for tourism as well as for aircraft participating in search and rescue, fire assault, etc. All I need is a few more acres of land."
Now, she knew where he was going… "Tucker land."
He nodded. "Yes."
"But the city owns the airport, doesn't it? Why isn't the mayor or the city council talking to my grandfather?"
"Because the city doesn't have the money in the budget this year for that kind of purchase. They said it could be five years before they could raise the cash. But if I buy the land now, I can get started on my plans, and eventually the city will buy it back from me." He paused. "I have considered the possibility that your grandfather might be more willing to sell to the city than to me, but it's a long time to wait. We need the expansion now."
"Your family is fairly synonymous with the city;
I'm not sure it would make a difference, especially if you're the one running the airport. Which brings me to another question—what happened to David Bennett—to his son Greg? I thought they ran the airport."
"Greg is retiring. The Bennetts are done with running the airport."
"Did you ask David to ask my grandfather? They're very close friends."
"David says he can't or won't do it. That he made it a rule a long time ago not to take sides between Westbrooks and Tuckers. So, it's on me."
She folded her arms across her chest, studying his intense expression. There was a willful purpose in his eyes that told her he wasn't going to take no for an answer—at least not without a fight. There were also shadows in his gaze, and she couldn't help wondering what the story was behind his leaving the service. Ryder had gone to the Naval Academy right out of high school. He'd had, according to her brothers, an illustrious and meritorious naval career, risking his life more than once to save others.
"Why did you leave the Navy?" she asked.
He shrugged. "It was time."
"That's vague."
"Is it? There's no big story. I just decided to do something else."
She wasn't quite sure she believed that, but Ryder obviously wasn't interested in giving her more information.
Gambler got up and started barking, obviously now rested and hungry. "I have to get Gambler back to the house."
"Okay." Ryder fell into step alongside her.
"My father isn't home tonight," she added. "He's playing cards with my grandfather and some family friends. But it doesn't matter that they're not here for you to talk to. My grandfather will not sell his land to you, not one inch of it. You're a Westbrook. He won't see past that, especially not when it comes to land. He believes your family stole the best land in this area right out from under him. You already know that."
"I know it's an old fight that should have ended a long time ago."
"That might be true, but that's not the way my grandfather will see it."
"I can be fairly persuasive."
"Maybe with the ladies, but Max Tucker is another story."
"We'll see." He gave her a curious look. "When did you get back to town, Bailey? I thought you were living in New York these days, cooking at some super fancy restaurant."
She sucked in a breath, hoping he hadn't heard more than that. "I was doing that. I got in last night."
"For a visit, or…"
"I don't know yet. I'm exploring my options."
"That sounds like the beginning of a story."
"Your leaving the Navy sounds like a better one," she returned. "I thought you were going to be a lifer."
"Things change."
"Yes, they do," she muttered.
"Maybe we'll share our stories some time."
"I doubt that. You're on the wrong side of the river, Ryder."
"Your brothers don’t hate me because of my last name—why do you? Habit? Family tradition? Or is there another reason?" he queried.
"I don't hate you. I just don't think we have anything to talk about. But thanks for helping me with Gambler." She paused at the bottom of the steps leading up to her dad's house. "The feud goes two ways, Ryder. If you want to end the fight, why not start with your family? Why not talk to your grandfather?"
"He doesn't own the land in question, so talking to him can't help me."
"It might help you understand that the hatred between our families goes back a long time. If anyone is going to end this feud, it will probably have to be the men who started it."
"Maybe not. Maybe it's up to us, to our generation."
"Have you spoken to Adam or Zane about your quest to get the land?"
"I spoke briefly to Zane. He told me he wouldn't bet on my success."
"That should tell you something," she said dryly. "Because Zane will bet on just about anything."
A smile curved his lips. "I know that. His bets got me into trouble back in the day."
"I'm sure you're used to getting your way, Ryder, but I think you've met your match in my grandfather."
"Then maybe you should help me," he suggested.
"I don't think so. I have enough of my own problems."
"Just think about it."
"I don't want to waste my time. There's no way in hell my grandfather will sell you his land."
"I can't take no for an answer."
"Then you better not ask the question." Pausing, she added, "Do you want to come in the house and get cleaned up?"
"I’m fine."
"Okay. Thanks again for your help with Gambler."
"You're welcome. I'll see you around."
"Maybe," she said vaguely. She went up the steps, kicked off her shoes and rolled up her jeans to her knees. Then she opened the front door and let Gambler into the house. He'd leave muddy footprints all the way to the kitchen, but she'd clean him and the house up later. Right now, she just wanted to get inside. As Gambler bounded down the hall toward the kitchen, she closed the door behind her and let out a breath.
Impulsively, she moved into the living room and looked out the window, watching as Ryder got into his Jeep. More tingles ran down her spine. She liked confidence, men who had ambition, drive, even stubbornness. But she could not like Ryder; that would be a mistake, and she couldn't afford another one of those.
Two
Bailey Tucker had certainly grown up nicely. Ryder started his car and pulled out of the drive. Even covered in river mud, her pretty blue eyes had sparkled in the moonlight, and her wet clothes had clung to some very nice, adult curves. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her, but it was probably at least ten or twelve years. She'd been a teenager then, with skinny legs, a long blonde ponytail, blue eyes almost too big for her face, and a smart mouth.
She still had the smart mouth…
Only that mouth now included a pair of full, kissable lips…
He shook that thought out of his head. Being attracted to a woman with the last name of Tucker was asking for trouble. And she'd already made it clear she was on her grandfather's side when it came to the old feud. Her reaction to his proposition had also given him second thoughts about his strategy for approaching her grandfather. He clearly needed a good reason to make Max Tucker hear him out. Without a new runway, his new business plan for the airfield would be over before it got started.
He still couldn't quite believe a sixty-five-year-old argument between two stubborn men was still going as strong as it was. He thought it was past time for it to be over, but apparently not everyone felt the same way he did. Even Bailey had practically spit out his last name when she'd first recognized him. It had surprised him, because he'd made his peace with her brothers back in high school. But apparently, he needed to make peace with the rest of her family.
He'd have to find the right angle to work.
As he crossed the bridge over the Snake River that separated Eagle's Ridge into two parts—east and west—often thought of as the haves and the havenots or the rich side and the poor side—he was reminded of what a huge impact the fight between his grandfather and Bailey's grandfather had had on everyone who had settled in Eagle's Ridge.
His grandfather, John Westbrook, and Bailey's grandfather, Max Tucker, along with two other friends, David Bennett and Will Coleman, had served in the Army Air Corps together in WWII. After the war, they'd made their way to the southeastern part of Washington State, looking for a place to settle. They'd climbed the Blue Mountains and stood on the large ridge overlooking the Snake River and thousands of acres of beautiful land and decided this would be their new home.
All had gone well in the beginning—at least according to his grandfather. John Westbrook was the wealthiest of the four men, so he'd financed much of the land purchase, while each of the other men had bought into their share over time. While his grandfather had taken some of the prime land for himself, he'd said that he'd made sure everyone had some portion of land that was viable for building, farming, whatever…
But several years into their new lives, John and Max had had a falling out—a drunken poker game and a bad bet, the details of which were never very clear—and Max Tucker had ended up losing a big chunk of prime land to John Westbrook, leaving the Tuckers with land on the hillier side of the river. The two men had not spoken since, their feud running through the next generation into his. But Ryder was over it.
The men were both in their nineties now, and Eagle's Ridge had a population of ten-thousand people and an economy that would continue to grow if he could move ahead with his plans to expand the airfield. He'd tried to enlist the help of David Bennett, who had run the airfield since it was built and was still good friends with both Max and John, but David wanted to stay out of it. Will Coleman had made the same claim, saying he'd decided a long time ago not to take sides.
He hadn't spoken to his grandfather yet about his idea. John Westbrook wasn't an easy man to talk to. He was stern, gruff, opinionated, and very judgmental—basically like all the Westbrooks. But it had to be done. And it was past time to do it.
He changed directions at the next intersection. Instead of heading home, he made his way to his grandfather's house. His parents had moved in with his grandfather eight years ago, when it was clear that he needed more help in the house than just a housekeeper, and the two-story, six-bedroom, seven-bathroom house with pool and gardens was plenty big for the three of them. Although, his mother didn't always think so. She'd made a few comments about having to move out of her house and into his grandfather's place, but one day, probably not too far in the distant future, his grandfather would be gone.
Ryder (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Book 1) Page 2