True Love at Silver Creek Ranch (19 page)

As Adam came out of the barn after shoveling out the horse stalls, he saw a beat-up two-door car pull up in front of the ranch house, and a lanky young man wearing a ball cap emerged from the passenger side. He shut the door, and the car drove off. The kid put his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the wind. He was wearing a coat, but in the way of teenagers, it wasn't enough to keep him warm outside for any length of time.

As Adam strode across the yard, the kid looked up, and in that moment, recognition sparked between them. This was the kid who'd stolen the Thalbergs' ATV and gone for a ride, wrecking a fence post but luckily not damaging the machine. He had unruly black hair, sullen gray eyes in an angular face, and stubble on his chin as if he were trying to be older than he was. What was he—sixteen, seventeen?

The way he stood, hands in his pockets, hunched against the cold, went through Adam with a shock of sad memories. It was like seeing Paul Ivanick all over again, that first day at boot camp. Adam happened to be visiting Parris Island on another matter, and he'd seen the incoming recruits. Paul had been an inner-city kid, plopped into the middle of the swamps and marshes as if in another world, cut off from his old life. And all of the uncertainty and fear had been there on his face, poorly hidden beneath a sneer. By the time he landed in Adam's platoon, he'd become an eager, gung ho jarhead, confident in himself and his training, wanting to learn even more from Adam, barely recognizable from the kid he'd once been. And he'd served to the best of his abilities until friendly fire had wiped out his future.

Adam had given the ATV-riding kid a second chance—did that mean he'd come to apologize?

The kid stiffened and faced him as if they were about to shoot it out at high noon, and Adam tried not to smile.

“So you're back,” Adam said mildly.

“I'm here to see Brooke.”

“You mean Miss Thalberg?”

The kid opened his mouth, then slouched a bit, mumbling, “Miss Thalberg.”

“So what are you here to see her about?”

The kid gave a sigh, and for just a moment, Adam glimpsed a lost boy rather than a defensive teenager. But it didn't last long.

“Who are
you
?” the kid demanded.

Adam strolled toward him and leaned a hand casually on the front railing. “Funny you should ask,” he said, keeping his voice light. “I'm the guy who knows what you did on this ranch.”

“You're going to turn me in, aren't you,” the kid said bitterly.

“I didn't say that.” Adam spoke quietly, and his tone alone seemed to get the kid's attention.

“Why not?” he demanded. “I bet you've been waiting to point me out.”

“Actually, I haven't. I was hoping your close call straightened you out.”

“Well, it didn't, so I guess I disappointed you, too. Welcome to a very big club.”

Adam recognized the signs so well—arrogance, defensiveness, and a tough-guy exterior—to protect the kid from the world. More than just Paul, that was him twelve years ago.

“Why do you need to see Miss Thalberg?” Adam asked again.

“She told the courts I could do my community service with her. But go ahead, once you're done, I'm sure she'll kick me out. Why did I bother coming here?”

He turned away, hunched his shoulders, and started walking.

Adam raised his voice against the wind. “So that's it? You just quit.”

The kid spun on his heels but continued to walk backward. “I'm not a quitter! I'll find somewhere else to work.”

“What happens if you don't? It can't be easy.”

“Then they lock me up in Juvenile Hall. You don't need to care.”

“You've obviously gotten yourself in more trouble since I last saw you, and rather than prove yourself a coward by walking away—”

“I'm not—”

“I suggest you go on into the office and talk to Miss Thalberg.”

The kid came to a halt. “Are you playin' with me?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you're just gonna tell her what I did. That'll be two strikes against me, and I'll go away for sure.”

“What did you get caught doing?” Adam asked.

The kid scowled. “What do you think?”

“Joyriding an ATV. Was anyone hurt?”

“Naw, but I busted part of it. Sweet called the sheriff.”

“I'm sure you meant to say ‘Mr. Sweet.' Do you blame him?”

The kid didn't answer, only looked away and kicked at a rock framed in the packed snow.

“You know, I've already kept quiet about you,” Adam pointed out.

The kid narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I didn't tell anyone what you did. I gave you a chance, but you're on a rocky ledge right now. We can try this again, and if you prove yourself worth my support, I'll continue to keep quiet.”

The wind howled between them, and both squinted as snow danced against their faces.

“What are you saying?” the kid demanded at last, his disrespectful tone down a notch.

“You do your community service, and you do it well. And nobody needs to know it wasn't your first offense.”

“That's like . . . blackmail or something.”

“Really? If that bothers you, guess you can head back into town.”

“Hey, Adam!”

He turned to see Brooke coming across the yard, her words almost garbled from the wind. She glanced the kid's way and came to a stop.

“You must be Tyler Brissette,” she said, smiling even as she held out a gloved hand.

Tyler? That name was familiar to Adam.

Awkwardly, the kid put his bare hand in hers. “Afternoon, Miss Thalberg.”

The kid had all kinds of manners when he desperately needed them, Adam thought with amusement.

“Your mom couldn't stay to see you settled in?” Brooke asked.

The kid hunched his shoulders again. “Naw, she had to get to work.”

“I see. Well, come on, we've got some paperwork, then I'll show you around. Did you meet Mr. Desantis?”

Tyler's gaze seemed to settle on Adam's chin. “No, ma'am.”

“This is Adam Desantis, one of our hands. Adam, Tyler Brissette.”

Adam put out a hand, and the kid finally took it. “Good to meet you, Tyler.”

“Tyler will be here every day after school,” Brooke said. “I'll be teaching him the ropes.”

“I'll be glad to help,” Adam offered.

She brightened. “Thank you! Come on, Tyler.”

As Tyler turned to follow Brooke, he looked over his shoulder at Adam, his expression wary.

Someone came through the double doors of the barn behind Adam.

“Was that our new employee?” Josh called.

Adam turned and walked toward the barn. “You knew about him?” Stupid thing to say—Josh was family, and one of the bosses.

“After the fact,” Josh said with amusement. “Brooke made this decision all on her own.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Adam murmured.

Josh glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but only said, “Yeah, she keeps her soft heart pretty well buried most of the time. But she wants to work with this kid. Hope she doesn't regret it.”

Me, too,
Adam thought. He was uncomfortable with the position he'd put himself in, lying about Tyler to a family that had been good to him. But Tyler was right—if anyone knew, he could end up in jail, and Adam had to prevent that. Maybe hard work could straighten the kid out.

Chapter Seventeen

A
t six that evening, Adam showed up at the kitchen door to wait for Brooke. He was driving her and Grandma Palmer to the town-council meeting early to save seats. The rest of the family and the other widows would be following. Sylvester Galimi had added an item to the agenda, a discussion of “new and inappropriate businesses,” and townspeople on both sides were gathering.

Once they were in the pickup, Brooke dropped her head back and heaved a sigh.

“Did the kid give you too much trouble?” Adam asked with sympathy. “You know I'll be glad to help.”

She reached across the seat and clasped his hand. “I know, thanks. Tyler has sixty hours of community service, two hours a day, six days a week. That's five weeks. I thought it seemed short—until today. I'm so sorry I forgot to warn you. I meant to the other night, but . . . things got out of hand.”

Their eyes briefly met and held as they remembered intimate kisses, shuddering breaths, long, slow caresses. Adam gripped the steering wheel and forced himself to look at the road.

“I don't blame you,” he said in a husky voice. “I wasn't thinking too clear either. And besides, I'm the hired hand, right? Who you hire is your business.”

“Well, you have to work with him, too.”

“Brooke, the whole reason we're a secret is because I'm your employee. Don't get me wrong—you can always talk to me. But I get where your allegiance lies. It's with your family.”

She glanced away, her frown signaling her troubled thoughts. “Thanks for understanding,” she murmured.

If honest words about their respective stations was a reality kick in the pants to her, it was best this way. Hearing that the Thalbergs had donated a house to veterans was just the reminder he needed of his place on the ranch. He might want more from her, a way into her life that was out in the open, with her family's blessing, but he had to accept that he couldn't
force
it to happen. But he sure could persuade . . .

“So how'd you get involved in community service?” he asked.

“Steph begged for my help.”

He shot her a frown. “Steph? What does she have to do with—” And then it all came together and he gave a low whistle. “
Tyler.
Of course. I saw him at the Chess Club meeting, but his back was to me as he talked to her.” Adam wasn't even sure what he would have done had he recognized Tyler that night as the ATV joyrider. Maybe he could have given him a warning; maybe the kid wouldn't have dared try that stunt at Sweet's.

But “maybes” were pretty useless now.

“The boy's had a tough time,” Brooke continued, as they turned down the road that ran along Silver Creek to the Widows' Boardinghouse. “His dad ran out on them, his mom is working two jobs to afford their apartment, and his brother just got out of jail. I thought . . . well, you had Coach McKee's help. Maybe we can be the ones to give this kid a chance.”

“He has to want the help, Brooke,” he reminded her. “I talked to him before you got there. He's got a pretty big chip on his shoulder. And I never saw a kid move slower than when he was following us around on the tour.”

She grinned. “I know. It was pretty funny. That heavy-duty coat I found him was too big, and he wasn't happy. He's never been around horses, so I was grateful to have you as my demonstrator while I talked about caring for horse and tack.”

After he pulled around in back of the boardinghouse to park, he watched her practically bounce out of the cab, saw her excitement at this new challenge, and was impressed. Steph had put her in a tough spot with a personal plea. There weren't many who'd take it as well as Brooke.

Brooke's grandma was driving Mrs. Ludlow into town, and they followed Adam's truck to the town hall. Evergreens wound with Christmas lights grew three stories high on either side of the building. Town hall itself was a tall stone building with a clock tower, wreaths in each window, and spotlights brightening it for the season. Though you couldn't see it at night, he knew the Elk Mountains were the backdrop for town hall, and tourists always took lots of pictures.

He dropped off the women because there were dozens of cars lining every nearby street, and ended up parking at St. John's, three blocks away. Hearing a raised chorus of voices inside town hall, he had no problem finding the assembly room where the town council met. A Christmas tree presided in one corner, and fake boughs of greenery hung from the main table. Adam paused in the doorway when he saw his grandma walking briskly down the aisle, no limp in sight, back straight. She used her cane to point at people, asking whose side they were on and what she could do to convince the other side to change their minds. When she saw him, she leaned on her cane so fast it sent a ripple of chuckles through the audience. Adam pretended not to notice.

There were only a few seats left near the back out of about a hundred, and Brooke was gesturing to him from a few rows closer than that. She had coats thrown across a half dozen seats.

“It was all I could get,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Sylvester has taken up more than half the room.”

Adam glanced at the old man, dressed in a charcoal suit and bright red tie. “I didn't know there was a dress code.”

“That Sylvester,” Grandma Palmer said, tsking as she approached.

She did a slow slide into her seat, as if it were painful to bend over. It was hard for him to keep a straight face.

“Such a vain man,” Grandma continued. “Ignore him.”

“Is Whitney here?” he asked.

“First row. I can't imagine what time the poor girl arrived. I made sure she knows we're here for her.”

By the time the rest of the widows and Thalberg family took their places, the room was packed. The widows sat beside each other closest to the aisle, Adam sat beside his grandma, and Brooke was on his other side, near the rest of her family. Though Monica, Emily, and Nate arrived on time, they couldn't get through the crowd and had to stand near the door. The opposition was already displaying signs: “No Pornography!” “Protect Our Children!”

The town-council members filed in, five men and three women, and took their places at a long table in front. The mayor occupied the center, and that's when Adam remembered that she was Sylvester's sister. The expressions of each politician registered shock and speculation at the turnout, which Adam imagined might usually be a dozen people in this sleepy little town. After the call to order and the roll call, the restless spectators sat through the “student of the month” presentation, where the pimple-faced girl looked horrified to have to stand up before so many people; an update from the Economic Development Group; and a discussion of a restaurant's liquor-license renewal.

“I can't eat there without havin' my Manhattan,” Grandma Palmer said loudly. “Give them their renewal and let's move on!”

The rumbling of discontented voices drowned out the laughter and got a little louder with each successive discussion, until at last Sylvester was called to speak on the item he'd added to the agenda.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mayor Galimi,” he intoned. “We have strict rules against pornography, and I am here to see that they're upheld.”

The Honorable Mayor Galimi, a woman in her sixties with short hair she left its natural silver-white, peered over her glasses at her brother, looking like everyone's idea of a strict, spinster teacher. “Sylvester, what are you talking about?”

Adam and Brooke exchanged a surprised glance. He hadn't discussed it with his sister yet? Was that good or bad?

“A business called”—he hesitated, as if regretting having to speak the name—“Leather and Lace is trying to worm its way into our innocent, unaware community of Valentine Valley.”

Whitney stood up on the opposite side of the room from Sylvester. She looked slender, unthreatening, but when she spoke, Adam thought her voice calm and rational.

“May I speak, Your Honor?”

“And you are?” Mayor Galimi asked.

“Whitney Winslow, owner of the Leather and Lace stores in San Francisco and Las Vegas. I am looking into purchasing a building off Main Street to open another branch of my store. I sell lingerie, ma'am, and I have a portfolio here with some of my work. Believe me, it is not pornography. Women can wear any type of undergarments they like. The whole point”—she gave Sylvester a frown—“is that they're worn
under
clothes.”

Muted chuckles spread through their half of the room.

“Maybe we should have planned a fashion show,” Mrs. Thalberg grumbled. “Or we could have worn our undergarments outside our clothing!”

Grandma Palmer slapped her knee. “Why didn't we think of that sooner?”

Before Adam could protest, Brooke leaned across the front of him, bracing herself with a hand on his thigh, to whisper at the widows. “Because it would be inappropriate and possibly damaging to Whitney's cause. Now shh!”

Adam smiled at her, covering her hand with his until she quickly pulled hers away, wearing a blush. All this secrecy was such interesting foreplay.

“But such risqué lingerie will have to be displayed in the store, Your Honor,” Sylvester was quick to point out, “without the benefit of being covered by clothing. I have been talking with my fellow townspeople, and most of us are appalled that—”

His sister interrupted him. “I'm not sure you even have half this room, Sylvester, so let's not make broad statements.”

Adam and Brooke shared a relieved look. Sounded like the mayor could be impartial.

“You're welcome to see my catalogue online, Your Honor,” Whitney pointed out. “I admit, some items are only for sale online because they would not be appropriate for a small-town store. My window displays will be tasteful, nothing that you wouldn't see in any department store.”

“If it's for sale, it will find its way into her store,” Sylvester insisted. “I have a petition signed by hundreds of people—”

“We do, too, Mayor Galimi,” Grandma Palmer said, rising to her feet to be seen behind the half dozen rows in front of her. “Not everyone agrees with Sylvester.”

As the petitions were passed forward, people started arguing with each other across the aisles. Mrs. Ludlow used her walker to block the way of someone collecting petitions for their opponents until Doug Thalberg pulled it back.

Grandma Palmer calmly waited her turn to continue. Adam realized she was dressed almost understated for her, in bright red that made her stand out but not in her usual wacky way.

“Mayor Galimi,” Grandma Palmer said at last, “Miss Winslow approached the Valentine Valley Preservation Committee about grants to help her restore the old funeral home on Grace and Fourth. We've found nothin' objectionable, nothin' pornographic. I don't see how Sylvester can try to tell women what they can wear under their clothes!”

Over half the room roared with laughter, overwhelming the glowers of the rest.

Another woman stood up, and everyone else settled down when the mayor pounded her gavel.

“You have something to say, Debbie?”

The plump woman wore a sweatshirt with the logo of her B&B, an etching of an elegant woman with an Edwardian large-brimmed hat tilted over her face. “I'm the owner of The Adelaide, where Miss Winslow is staying. I'm planning to host a lingerie event so everyone can see how tasteful each garment is. If you remember, Mayor Galimi, many people resisted bed-and-breakfasts thirty years ago, claiming they'd bring tourists to ruin our wholesome family town. Well, tourists have saved us, and upscale lingerie in a town called Valentine can only help.”

She sat down to cheering applause from half the room and boos from the other. People took their turns speaking about morality, and harming children, and anything they could think of. The elder Mrs. Thalberg talked about a woman's need to feel pretty for her man, and Adam noticed with interest that Brooke was blushing. Eventually, the mayor declared that the council would have to discuss this in executive session, promising a response at their next meeting, just before Christmas.

While the opposition went to the True Grits Diner to hash over everything, Emily opened up her bakery for Leather and Lace's supporters. A couple dozen people milled around, elbows brushing, and the widows helped her serve customers. Adam pretended he wasn't watching his grandma, but more than once, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her put the cane aside because it kept catching on Mrs. Ludlow's walker.

He tried to blend into the background, recognizing more than one face. He wanted Leather and Lace to be the focus, not him, but one by one, people came to greet him at his grandma's table and shake his hand, thanking him for his service to their country.

“I heard what you did,” said Gloria, Nate's secretary. “You're a true American hero.”

Much as he was resolved to accept his past and forgive himself, his heart was beating too fast, and he actually felt clammy.

“Adam?” Grandma Palmer touched his hand, her expression concerned.

Brooke was at their table, too, along with Coach McKee, and they were all looking at him.

“I might have told some people how proud I was that you saved all those men,” Coach said. “I didn't think it would upset you.”

Brooke said nothing, and Adam felt her watching him closely.

“I'm not upset,” he assured the man. “I just . . . any one of those men would have done the same for me.”

“Then if you're okay,” Coach continued. “I need you two to leave Renee and me alone. We have some things to discuss for the preservation committee, and since you two aren't on it—scram.”

Brooke had a hard time taking her eyes off Adam as they left the two old people in peace. He moved toward the back of the bakery, pretending to look at a cheesecake display in the glass cooler, but she knew he wasn't seeing it. He'd been wonderfully supportive of his grandma all evening even though he didn't seem at ease in big crowds. She imagined even if he knew the truth about his grandma's “condition,” he wouldn't be all that upset. Sometimes it was hard to remember he was once that cocky boy from high school. When they were alone, he had humor and charm; more and more, he was his talkative self. But tonight, she was seeing a very different side of him.