The Legacy of Copper Creek (18 page)

“Hey, it can happen, if you're willing to do the hard work.”

She looked over at him with a warm smile. “Those are words, Whit. The reality is this—I need to put my childish dreams aside and make a life for myself.”

Hearing the pain beneath her brave words, his heart melted. “We've spent enough time talking, woman. Now for that slow, lazy seduction I promised you.”

As the storm raged overhead, they came together in a storm of their own. And later fell asleep to the sound of the steady, soothing rhythm of rain beating a tattoo on the tin roof.

W
illow and Brady, astride their horses, were keeping an eye on the approaching storm.

They'd spent the day with the wranglers up on the east meadow and were heading toward the west, where a smaller herd was kept, when the sky turned dark as night.

“We need to find shelter.” Brady shouted above the wind. “That storm's coming in fast and furious.”

“A range shack?” Willow stared around.

“Over that rise.” Brady pointed. “We can try. But I don't like our odds.”

They were forced to keep a steady hand on the reins of their horses, who were spooking at the sudden claps of thunder, followed seconds later by jagged slices of lightning.

By the time they reached the deserted range shack, rain was falling in torrents and the wind was whipping trees around them in a frenzied dance. They were greeted by a loud flapping sound coming from a door hanging by one hinge and blowing open and shut. The roof had blown off and the shack had collapsed in on itself. The only thing standing was the rear wall and the lean-to behind it.

Leading their mounts inside the lean-to, they worked quickly to secure the door with a length of rope before Brady withdrew a battery-operated lantern from his saddlebags.

He glanced over at Willow, shaking rain from her wide-brimmed hat before tossing it aside. “It's not much, but at least we're dry in here.”

She gave him a smile as she unsaddled her mount and tossed the saddle and blanket to the ground. “And that's more than we can say for the wranglers babysitting the herd.”

“They're used to it.” He followed suit, unsaddling his gelding and spreading the saddle and blanket beside hers.

He filled the horses' troughs with hay and oats and used a dipper in the rain barrel outside the door to fill a second trough with water.

He looked around at their tight quarters. “I'm afraid we won't be able to make a fire in here.”

Willow sighed. “Coffee would have been nice, but we can live without it. I wish we hadn't been so quick to go through that entire Thermos Cara sent. As for the chill…” She drew her cowhide jacket around her. “I'll be warm enough with this.”

“Good.” Brady unrolled one of the packages from his saddlebag. “We have the last of the beef sandwiches Cara sent, and a cookie.”

Willow sat down on the blanket-covered earthen floor and leaned her back against her saddle before accepting half a sandwich from his hand. “All the comforts of home.”

Brady settled himself beside her, stretching out his long legs.

They ate in companionable silence, listening to the storm raging outside.

“From the sound of that wind, I'll be surprised if any of this shack is still standing by morning.” Brady touched a hand to Willow's. “If that last wall goes, this will go with it.”

“Just so it doesn't take us and the horses, too,” she said with a laugh.

His eyes crinkled. “That's what I love about you. Even in a crisis, when most women would be terrified, you find the humor in it.”

She shook her head. “Brady, in my years of living life on a ranch, I've come to expect the unexpected. This storm is just a little bump in the road.”

“Yeah.” He finished the last of his sandwich. “We can't have coffee, but we can have some whiskey, if you'd like.”

She nodded. “Now that I've eaten, I think whiskey would be the perfect touch. Let's save that cookie for our breakfast, if the storm doesn't blow us away first.”

He reached into his saddlebag and removed a bottle. Uncapping it, he poured some in the cap that also served as a cup and handed it to Willow, who drained it before handing it back.

Brady poured a second capful. “Another?”

“No thanks.” She laughed. “That one's still burning a path of fire down my throat. The rest is all yours.”

He drank, feeling the warmth snake through his veins. Content, relaxed, he drank a second shot before capping the bottle. “You have to be tired. We've put in a full day.”

“It's funny.” She eased off her boots before crossing her ankles. “Ranch work, even really hard, physical ranch work, doesn't tire me nearly as much as spending a few hours on paperwork. Now that really leaves me feeling extremely cross and cranky.”

“You?” He chuckled. “You don't even know what cranky is.” He folded his hands beneath his head. “Do you remember the day Bear was bringing home your brand-new truck? He came up over a ridge and had to veer off the road to avoid a bull that escaped the fence?”

Willow nodded. “Bear ended up running into a tree and totaling that truck before I even had a chance to drive it.”

Brady started laughing at the memory. “He was so mad. He called me to come and pick him up, and all the way home he never once seemed grateful that he'd walked away alive from such a terrible crash. Instead, he was steamed about the fact that you'd have his hide for ruining something you'd ordered and waited over a month for and never even got to drive before he smashed it to bits.”

She joined in his laughter. “When he walked in, swearing a blue streak, I took one look at his left eye turning shades of blue and purple and the blood dripping from a terrible gash in his head and asked him who he'd been in a fight with and how badly he'd hurt the other guy.”

Brady wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “And then he admitted that he'd been in an accident with your new truck. And all you said was, ‘Thank heaven you're all right. It's easier to order a new truck than a new husband. Now let's take a look at that wound in your head.' And I thought Bear, after getting himself all worked up over telling you, was going to keel over right there in the kitchen.”

“His bark was always worse than his bite.”

“Only with you, Willow. With mere mortals, he was hell on wheels.”

“Yes, I know.” She fell silent.

After a particularly loud clap of thunder, she shivered before turning to Brady. “Thank you for telling me about your wife and son the last time we were together. It helps to know…It helps me to know that it's possible to survive and go on.”

He looked over. “There's no road map for life. We just have to follow its twists and turns and figure things out as we go along.” He listened to the steady beat of the rain. “But I do believe there are no accidents in life, either. When I ran into Bear at Wylie's that night we met, he was too drunk to make it on his own. I thought I was saving him that night, but he was actually saving me. You see, I wasn't sure what I was going to do. But one strong, steady thought was that I might be better off just ending things than trying to live with the pain of my loss.”

Willow caught his hand in hers, her eyes revealing her shock. “No, Brady. You wouldn't have…”

He placed a finger over her mouth to still her words. “It's no good denying the truth. At that time, I had nothing more to live for.”

She knelt up, wrapping her arms around him. Against his temple she whispered fiercely, “I refuse to believe you would have gone through with it. You're too good, too strong willed, no matter how painful your life had become.”

He went very still, then allowed himself to gather her close. With one hand he stroked her hair. “When I saw what was about to happen to Bear, I decided I'd do one last good deed before leaving this world. I never dreamed that decision would change everything.” He looked at her, his eyes hot and fierce, even though his words were barely a husky whisper. “When I learned that Bear was so crazy in love with someone he'd just lost, I could understand that and sympathize. But with every day I stayed on at his ranch, I heard more and more about the amazing, lovely, talented Willow Martin.” His eyes gentled. “I think I was half in love with that mystery woman, too. And then you came back to him and admitted that you wanted a life with him more than you wanted a glamorous career as a model, and I understood why any man would fall under your spell. I did. Instantly. After meeting you, I knew that no other woman would ever measure up to you. Not the Willow of my imagination, but the real Willow, who was everything I'd ever dreamed of and more.”

She was so stunned, all she could do was stare wide-eyed at him. “Brady, what are you saying?”

“I'm saying that I completely understand why Bear loved you more than his own life. I feel the same way. And through all these years, the only reason I've been able to admire you from afar and keep a steady hand on my feelings is because of my loyalty to Bear. Everything I have—my life, my satisfying years here on this ranch—I owe to Bear MacKenzie. I would never do anything to dishonor his memory. But I have to admit, Willow, the temptation to act on my feelings right now is almost more than I can fight.” He touched one rough finger to her lips. “I can see by the look in your eyes that I've completely blindsided you, and for that I'm truly sorry.”

He lowered his hands and turned away from her, arranging his saddle as a pillow before folding over his bedroll.

“Brady…” She twisted her hands together, unable to form a simple sentence.

She hadn't seen this coming. Hadn't had a clue.

On the one hand, she couldn't help but be moved by his admission. What woman wouldn't relish being admired and loved from afar? On the other hand, she had no doubt that it would be impossible to behave with him as she had in the past. There had been a level of comfort in her ignorance. Now she would be aware of him in a whole new light. As a man. A man who…loved her. Who desired her.

Brady Storm was her dearest friend.

Could she possibly think of him as more? And even if she could, was she ready for such a step?

Beside her, the object of her thoughts rolled to his side without another word. And though she agonized over this latest change in her life, she knew she could no longer seek the comfort of her best friend's arms. Because to do so would invite a storm of another kind.

Whit stared down at Cara, curled up against him.

It had been an amazing night. They'd had the freedom to love loudly, lustily. And to talk. She had a way of listening, really listening, that caused him to open up to her as he rarely opened to anyone. He'd told her about his childhood here on the ranch and the hurt and anger he'd felt when his brother Ash had left in a blind rage after another fight with their father. And the pain when he'd learned of his father's murder. And then the shock of learning that their father had discovered he had a son by a woman he'd known before his marriage to Willow.

All that talk had left him feeling somehow cleansed. As though just sharing it with someone else had forced him to take a hard look at his family and realize that, despite all they'd gone through, they were doing fine. They were all surviving. And he loved them. All of them. Ash, who had once left him feeling abandoned. Griff, the stranger with his father's face and voice and mannerisms. Brady, who had always felt like his second father. Mad, who, despite suffering a crippling injury, refused to be held back. Willow, who continued to be the heart and soul of their family. And even old Myrna, the closest thing he'd ever had to a grandmother, who had fussed over him and made his favorite foods during his growing-up years, as though trying to make up for the loss of his brother.

Cara had opened up, too. About her painful childhood and about the dream she'd nurtured all these years. No wonder she'd carried all her old notes and drawings with her throughout the years. They weren't just childhood treasures. They were a lifeline from her past to her dreams of the future.

She not only opened up about herself and listened, but she made him laugh as well. He couldn't recall the last time he'd laughed so hard. And all because of that quirky, silly sense of humor that always caught him by surprise. How could someone with so many painful memories have such a wonderful sense of humor?

She was such a surprise. Everything about her was new and fresh and wonderful.

When he'd found her in that range shack, he'd considered her simply an annoyance in his life. When he'd brought her here, he'd expected her to last a few days at the most before she figured out where she wanted to go next.

And now?

He studied the curve of her eyebrow, barely visible beneath the veil of hair that spilled over half of her face.

He'd thought he could enjoy her company, indulge in some casual sex, and watch her ride off to her next adventure. But something had happened to him along the way. Something that wasn't at all planned.

He found himself worrying about her. Caring about her safety and more, about where she would go and what she would do with her life going forward.

He lov—

He resisted permitting the very word to form in his mind. As long as he didn't think it, it wasn't so.

Hadn't he ridiculed his brothers for getting all mushy and gooey over their women?

Their women.

His woman.

That simple phrase had him feeling a rush of tenderness.

He felt a band begin to tighten around his heart. He had never meant for this to happen. Though he didn't want it, wasn't ready for it, it had happened anyway.

God, he loved her.

She sighed in her sleep and he used that moment to roll aside and head toward the ladder.

He needed coffee.

He needed air.

He needed…Cara. Needed her desperately. And that realization terrified him.

“Do I smell coffee?” Cara opened her eyes to find Whit kneeling beside her, holding out a steaming mug.

She sat up and took a deep drink before handing it back to him. “Oh, that's heavenly. Have you been to the house?”

“I have.” He settled in beside her and held out a bagel and cream cheese. “I thought you might like this, too.”

“Thanks.” She took a bite before passing it to him. “Was Myrna up?”

“Not yet. But soon, I suppose.” He motioned toward the window. “The rain's gone. How did you like sleeping up here?”