"More or less," Adam said, still giving Ryder a suspicious look.
"We are friends, and it's time this nonsensical feud ended," Ryder said.
"Ryder is right," she said. "And you know that, Adam."
"Maybe, but I still don't know if I like this." He waved his hand at the two of them, then turned his gaze on Ryder. "Bailey got hurt in New York. She won't tell us what happened, but we all know it was bad. I don't want her to get hurt again."
"Neither do I," Ryder said. "The last thing I want to do is hurt Bailey."
"Hey, I'm right here," she said. "And I make my own decisions. Right now, my decision is to leave. So, you two can do whatever you want to do—scowl at each other, throw down some punches, have a beer—I don't care. I'll see you both tomorrow."
She walked away, feeling as if she'd managed to regain a tiny bit of control over the situation, but when she reached the corner and took a quick glance over her shoulder, she couldn't help wondering what Adam and Ryder were talking about now.
* * *
"Let's get a beer," Ryder suggested. "Baldie's?"
Adam hesitated, then said, "I was actually on my way over there to meet Zane."
"Perfect. I'll meet you there."
"All right."
Ryder walked back to his Jeep and started the engine, blowing out a tense breath as he did so. He hadn't anticipated Adam's negative reaction to seeing him kissing Bailey, but maybe he should have. The Tuckers were a tight family. And he didn't think it was just his name that was the problem; he doubted Adam would like anyone kissing his sister.
But he wasn't anyone, and he wasn't going to hurt Bailey. He needed Adam to understand that—Zane, too. The last thing he needed was more misunderstandings between the Tuckers and the Westbrooks.
A few minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot next to Baldie's, a local bar known for its impressive list of craft beers, classic rock jukebox, and the greasiest, most delicious cheese fries known to man.
Adam was already sliding into a chair across from Zane when Ryder walked in. Side-by-side, the Tucker brothers were impressive, although in childhood Zane had been known as the sickly, scrawny one. He'd suffered so many respiratory illnesses, he'd barely made it to school during the damp winter seasons, but somewhere along the way, Zane had found his health and had grown even taller and broader than his brother.
The twins were tight—always had been. Adam tended to be a bit more on the serious, intense side, while Zane was easygoing and always looking for a bet to make or to win. They'd all grown up playing sports together, but it really wasn't until he'd landed in detention the spring semester of his senior year that he'd really gotten to know them and to like them.
While they'd occasionally gotten together for drinks over the years, now that they were back in the same town, he was looking forward to a closer friendship.
But first he obviously had some peace to make…
"Looks like we'll take three Blue Mountain lagers," Zane told the waitress as he sat down. "Okay with you, Ryder?"
"Absolutely," he said.
A somewhat awkward silence fell between them after the waitress left.
Zane sent them both an inquisitive look. "Did I miss something? Or did you two bet on how long it would take before I start talking?"
"Ryder was kissing Bailey," Adam ground out, folding his arms across his chest.
Zane's brow shot up in surprise. "You were kissing my sister? When did that start?"
"When she got back," he said. "And for the record, she kissed me tonight."
"Tonight, huh?" Zane said. "Sounds like we're talking about more than one kiss."
"Look, all that matters is that I like Bailey, and she seems to like me," he replied. "That's it."
"No way is that it," Adam said. "She just got out of a relationship. And she came home to recover."
"Is that what she told you?" Zane asked his brother. "I thought it had something to do with people getting sick at her restaurant."
"Her boss—her boyfriend—threw her under the bus," Adam said, turning his attention to Zane. "At least, that's what everyone seems to think. She hasn't actually talked to me about it. Has she talked to you?"
"Not me," Zane replied. "She keeps saying she's busy or not ready to talk. Dad said let her be, so I've let her be. But maybe that was a mistake."
"We definitely need to talk to her," Adam agreed. "Especially now."
Ryder cleared his throat as both men looked back at him.
"What do you know, Ryder?" Zane asked. "Is Bailey talking to you?"
"She told me a little about what happened in New York," he admitted.
"Told him—not us," Zane pointed out to Adam.
"Yeah, I'm aware," Adam said grumpily.
Ryder was more than happy to see the waitress arrive with their beers. He lifted the bottle, took a long draught, and then said, "You two might not like the idea of me and Bailey together, but the only opinion I care about right now is hers. I appreciate that you worry about her, that she's your sister, but she's also a grown woman."
"With a last name your family hates," Adam reminded him.
"The three of us got past the feud back in high school, didn't we?" Ryder challenged. "Is this really going to be a problem?"
"It's only going to be a problem if you hurt her," Zane said pointedly.
"Then we'll have to kick your ass," Adam said.
"Otherwise…it's up to Bailey to decide what she wants," Zane added.
"Agreed," he said. "It's up to Bailey."
"I don't like your chances, Ryder," Zane continued. "If I were a betting man—"
"Which you are," he said dryly.
"I'd bet that Bailey goes back to New York and leaves you with a broken heart. This town is too small for her. She has always said that."
He took another sip of his beer. "I won't take that bet, but I will take the risk. And that's all I'm going to say on it right now. So, what else is going on? Anyone heard from Noah or Wyatt lately?" Both Noah and Wyatt were Navy SEALs, although they worked in very different parts of the world.
"Nothing," Adam said. "But they're often out of touch for weeks at a time."
"True," he said, reaching for the bowl of pretzels on the table. "We should order some cheese fries."
"Good idea," Zane said, signaling for the waitress.
After ordering up three burgers and three cheese fries, one with a side of chili, he said, "I texted Jack about coming to Founders' Day weekend. Now that he's out of the service and living in Seattle, it's not a big trip. He said he'd try, but I'm not counting on it. There's something off with him."
"I agree," Zane said. "I hope he shows up this weekend. It would be good to catch up."
"It would," he said, sipping his beer. "By the way, Adam, if I can get my runway expansion through, I'm going to need some experienced search and rescue swimmers for that part of the business. I was thinking you might want to be a part of the crew."
An uneasy gleam passed through Adam's eyes. "I don't know. I'm busy with A To Z Watersports. I might not have the time. I've got a lot of plans I'm working on."
He was surprised Adam wasn't jumping on the suggestion. "Well, think about it. You don't have to decide right now. And it wouldn't be full-time, just when we really need you."
"I'll see," Adam said, taking a swig of his beer.
"I like your plans for the airport, Ryder," Zane put in. "But like I told you before, I don't think you're going to get Tucker land, so I hope you have an alternative in mind."
"There aren't any other alternatives without completely moving the airport, which is not anything the city wants to do, but Bailey said she'd talk to your grandfather for me. I'm hoping she'll have some pull."
"If anyone can work miracles with our grandfather, it's Bailey," Zane said. "But I still wouldn't bet on it."
Which meant the odds were about as long as they could be, because Zane would bet on anything.
Eleven
Bailey worked
alongside her father during Saturday morning's breakfast rush and then headed off to see her grandfather. She'd been putting that conversation off, but she needed to get to it, find out where her grandfather stood on the land issue and figure out if she had any chance of helping Ryder with his plans.
She walked back to her father's house, then hopped into the car and drove the two miles to her grandfather's home. The rain that had held off all morning suddenly broke as she got out of the vehicle. Fortunately, she'd grabbed an over-sized poncho from her father's closet before she left. Unfortunately, the strong wind and slanted rain burst soaked her in the short distance it took to walk from the car to the house.
"Bailey," Max Tucker said in surprise as he opened the door for her. "I didn't know you were coming out here today."
"I wanted to surprise you." She took off her poncho and hung it on a hook in the entry. Then she gave him a quick hug. "Sorry, I'm a little wet. It's pouring out there."
"Come and sit by the fire." He led her into the small living room, and she felt a wave of nostalgia at the sight of the blue sofa and matching loveseat, and the worn recliner next to the floor lamp where her grandfather spent most of his days. Above the fireplace was a television, framed on both sides by bookshelves filled with books. Her grandfather had always been a fan of war novels and thrillers, and judging by the ragged look of the books, he'd read many of them several times.
Max Tucker had lived in this two-bedroom house for as long as he'd been in Eagle's Ridge. He'd built it with his own hands, and he'd never wanted to live anywhere else. Even after his wife had died, he'd refused to leave. She could understand why. There were touches of her grandmother, Rebecca, everywhere, from the hand-sewn curtains over the windows, to the watercolor paintings of river and mountain life that she'd picked up at local art fairs, to the crocheted afghan on the back of the sofa.
She sat down on the brick bench in front of the fireplace as her grandfather took a seat in the recliner. His gray hair had thinned down to only a few strands and there were more lines on his weathered face, but at ninety-three years old, he looked damned good, and his blue eyes were very alert. She felt lucky every day to have had him in her life for so long. "How are you doing, Grandpa?"
"Well enough. I hear you've had some trouble."
"Yes, but I'm working my way out of it."
He gave her an approving nod. "That's what Tuckers do. When we get knocked down, we get right back up."
"I'm trying."
"It's good you came home. You should stay—take over No Man's Land, or work somewhere else if you want something fancy. People eat here just the same as they do in New York. I don't know why you can't cook here."
"I'm considering all my options. I know change can be a good thing," she added tentatively, slowly working her way toward where she needed to go. "Like when Dad moved the diner to the bridge. That was a good idea. Business doubled."
His gaze narrowed suspiciously. "Something on your mind, Bailey?"
She nervously licked her lips, not wanting to blow things apart before she had a chance to make her case. "Zane and Adam are working hard to build up their business and the restaurant can always use more customers. I know Eagle's Ridge is growing, but it could grow faster, if it was easier for tourists to get here."
Her grandfather didn't say a word, but there was a tension and a simmering anger in his gaze. "I've heard some rumors that Westbrook wants my land to extend the runway. Is that what you're talking about?"
"Yes. I think it might be something to consider. I'm sure you'd get a good price for it. And a larger airport would be good for everyone in Eagle's Ridge."
"Especially the Westbrooks," he ground out. "John took all of my good land, and now he wants more. There's no way in hell that's happening, not while I'm alive."
She swallowed hard at the harsh tone of his words. Her grandfather had always been loving and loyal to family and friends, but where the Westbrooks were concerned, he only saw red. "You wouldn't be selling the land to John Westbrook; you'd be selling it to Ryder and eventually to the city when they have enough money to buy Ryder out. In the long run, it's the whole town that benefits."
"No."
The harsh finality of his answer made it difficult to argue, but she couldn't just give up.
"What if you hear Ryder out, give him a chance to tell you exactly what he wants to do? There's a search and rescue aspect to the airfield operations that would also provide an important service to the city. This isn't about the Westbrooks."
"It is as long as a Westbrook is doing the buying."
"I don't understand. How can your anger toward one man be so strong after so many years? How can it color every decision you make? How can it stop you from doing something good for our own family just because someone else might benefit?" Her passion grew with her questions. It wasn't just Ryder she was fighting for; it was something more, something she couldn't really even define. But she was tired of being told no. "Our family is never going to use that strip of land. It's right under the flight path. It's just sitting there, when it could be doing some good."
His face had paled during her speech, his blue eyes dark with emotion. "You don't know what went on between Westbrook and me, Bailey."
"I know what you've always told me about the poker game, the drinking, the bad bet, but you've never really explained the part about Veronica. Were you in love with her?
He gazed into the fire for a moment and then looked back at her. "I did love Veronica. But like everyone else in this town, she fell for the Westbrook charm, and John stole her away from me."
"I know it's painful when someone you love chooses someone else," she said carefully. "But what about Grandma? Didn't you love her? Weren't you happy together? Didn't you end up with the true love of your life?"
"Of course, I did. Veronica has nothing to do with Rebecca."
"It seems to me that you and Grandma made a wonderful life for yourselves and for our family. So maybe things worked out the way they were meant to."
"You're not going to talk me into this land deal, Bailey."
"I'm not trying to. I just want you to agree to meet with Ryder. He's a good guy—a soldier, a Navy pilot—just like you. He's not his grandfather; he's his own man. Give him a chance to lay out his plan. Can you do that?"
"It sounds to me like you're sweet on him."
It was an old-fashioned way to describe the intense attraction she had to Ryder, but she certainly couldn't deny it. "I do like him."
"He's a Westbrook."
"I can't let his last name be the obstacle between us, Grandpa. I can't fight your fight. I don't want to be disloyal to our family, but Ryder isn't his grandfather, and I'm not you." She blew out a breath. "I'm not trying to hurt you. And if I didn't think Ryder's idea was a good one for our family, I wouldn't be here."
"You're a lot like your grandmother," he muttered.
She had a feeling her grandmother had not been a big fan of the feud, either. "Does that mean you'll meet with Ryder?"
He chewed on his bottom lip while he pondered her question. Finally, he said, "You can bring him by tomorrow. If I'm going to listen to him, you are, too."
She was thrilled to have made it over the first hurdle. "Okay. How about around ten thirty? I'm helping Dad at the diner this week, so that's a good time between breakfast and lunch."
"I'll be here."
She got to her feet. "I should get back to work."
"I'll walk you out."
She put on her damp poncho as her grandfather opened the door. The rain had lessened to barely a drizzle. "Well, that was fast. I hope that's the worst of the storm. I couldn't help noticing how high the river is."
"It's been a wet winter. But it will be fine. I've lived by this river for more than six decades, and I know its moods. Right now, she's running high and fast, showing off her stuff, but in a few weeks, she will be back to peaceful and calm, ready to entertain the tourists."
"You make the river sound like a p
erson, Grandpa."
"Sometimes she's a stubborn and contrary woman, much like someone else I know."
"I'm a Tucker," she said with a grin. "Stubbornness is in our DNA. I'll see you tomorrow. And be nice to Ryder."
"I know you won't listen to my advice, Bailey, but a Westbrook is always going to look out for himself first. I don't want that for you. You deserve better. So, you should ask yourself if it's really the expanded airport runway you want, or if it's Ryder. If it's him, think twice, or three times."
She didn't reply, just gave her grandfather a kiss on the cheek and said, "I'll see you tomorrow. And don't worry, I know what I'm doing."
At least, she hoped she did.
* * *
On her way back to the diner, Bailey pulled out her phone to call Ryder. Just the thought of hearing his voice immediately sent blood rushing through her veins. And when he did come on the line, her heart skipped a beat.
"Bailey," he said, a warm, husky note in his voice that told her he was happy to hear from her. "How are you?"
"I'm good. Are you at work? Am I interrupting?"
"I'm at work, but you're not interrupting. What's up?"
"I just spoke to my grandfather, and he's willing to hear you out."
"Are you serious? When?"
"Tomorrow morning, around ten thirty. Would that work?"
"I'll make it work. You really can work miracles with your grandfather."
"I wouldn't say that. He told me his answer is probably going to be no, but I did get him to agree to listen to your plan, so I hope you have a good presentation ready to go. It's still a long shot, Ryder."
"I'm just happy I get to take the shot."
"You can stop by the diner on the way over there tomorrow and pick me up. He wants me there, too."
"Even better. I would love to have you by my side."
And she wanted to be by his side—for far more than just a conversation with her grandfather.
"Bailey? Are you still there?" Ryder asked.
"Yes, I'm here," she said, putting a quick stop to a sexy daydream that kept running through her head.
"I want to see you tonight."
Ryder (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Book 1) Page 11