When Bruce Met Cyn (8 page)

She trailed off and Shay said, “Meaner?”

The girl winced. “I wouldn't say that. But yeah, Bruce's are more compassionate.”

“Compassionate. That's our Bruce.”

Bryan gestured for a waitress. “You want some coffee?”

She rubbed her forehead, pushed her long braid over her shoulder, and nodded. “Sure, why not? That'd be great.”

Conversation was suspended until the waitress had poured another cup of coffee and walked away.

“So.” Shay held out a hand. “I'm Shay Kelly, Bryan's wife and Bruce's sister-in-law, and this, of course, is my not-so-mean husband, Bryan.”

The girl gave a sheepish grin and accepted handshakes. “Cynthia Potter. ‘Cyn' to my friends.”

Bryan still struggled with disbelief. “You say you spent the night with Bruce?”

“On his couch,” she clarified. She doctored the coffee with cream and sugar. “He gave me a ride into town and it was late and so he let me crash. I'm hunting up a job today.” She glanced up and grimaced. “And a place to stay.”

Bryan saw his wife go on the alert. Shay couldn't resist helping people, and he loved that about her, but her efforts to save the world sometimes exhausted him. Since they'd finished their house, a huge undertaking all on its own, she'd been on a regular rampage of town improvements. From the fire department to the sheriff's office to the schools, Shay wanted a hand in making everything better.

“Any luck finding a job yet?”

Cyn shook her head. “Not even a nibble. I guess I need to get settled first so I can give a place of residence and phone number and all that. I'd wanted to get the job first, but…” She shrugged like someone well used to adversity.

A wolf whistle was heard above the din of conversation and Cyn stiffened. Chagrined, she glanced toward the men ogling her, then away again.

Bryan, too, looked at the men, and his smile wasn't nice. It was the same look he used to discourage men from ogling his wife. And as always, it worked like a charm.

Shay laughed. “Yep, mean.”

Bryan disregarded her teasing; he knew Shay enjoyed his more possessive tendencies. “Sorry about that,” he told Cyn. “Some guys have no manners.”

“It's because you're beautiful,” Shay said. “I imagine you get that a lot.”

Cyn looked more pained by the moment.

Sympathizing with her, Bryan folded his arms across his chest and settled back in his seat. “Shay, didn't you need to be on your way?”

She waved that off. “In a moment.” And then to Cyn: “If you don't mind me prying—”

“As if anyone could stop you,” Bryan said, and got an evil look from Shay in return.

“What type of job are you looking for?”

Cyn relaxed at the change of subject. “I'm not in a position to be picky. Anything would do, as long as it pays enough that I won't starve.”

“My do-gooder wife and saintly brother would never let that happen.”

Shay kicked him under the table and Bryan jumped. “Damn it, woman, that hurt.”

“Then behave and it won't happen again.”

Cyn laughed. “You and your brother may look alike, but you're plenty different.”

Bryan rubbed at his shin. “In some ways, yeah, but don't let him fool you too much.” He scooted out of reach before Shay could land another kick.

“He told me you're a bounty hunter.”

“Used to be, yeah. I like being with my wife too much—when she's not violent—to be on the road for weeks at a time, and that's what it takes to be a bounty hunter. You go where the criminals go. Now I'm a domesticated lamb.”

Shay gave a rude hoot of laughter over that exaggeration. Bryan just grinned. “Actually, I own a warehouse that distributes security equipment. It's about an hour north of here.”

Glowing with pride, Shay added, “The business is new, but Bryan's drawing customers from everywhere. He's used most of the equipment that he sells, so he knows what works and what doesn't. People trust him. He's got a mail order catalogue and Web-based sales, too.”

Suddenly Bruce appeared beside the table. He was with Julie Rose, the schoolteacher. The two saw each other whenever Julie Rose was available, and though she was engaged, she was available more often than not.

Sometimes, Bryan wondered if they were romantically involved. Not that Bruce would poach on an existing relationship, but…

His curiosity was put to rest the second Bruce looked at Cyn. His brother had the strangest expression on his face, an expression Bryan hadn't seen on him since the more rambunctious days of their youth. It was a look of hunger.

Well, what do you know? Bryan grinned, prepared to enjoy himself.

“Cynthia,” Bruce said, and he sounded more like a clergyman than ever.

Bryan noticed that the girl, who really was a knockout, twisted to face Bruce with naked happiness. She grinned, saw Julie, and her slim brows came down in a frown.

Supposedly, they'd just met last night, but they were both showing possessive signs already. Interesting.

Bryan stood. “Bruce, Julie. Should we all move to a bigger table? Or since Shay's about to leave, maybe we could just grab another chair?”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Shay protested.

“But you have an appointment,” Bryan reminded her, doing his best to swallow his grin.

“It'll wait,” she all but hissed, and Bryan couldn't help but chuckle as he reseated himself.

Bruce cleared his throat. “I was just walking Julie out.” And then, because Bruce was always a gentleman, he did introductions. “Cynthia, this is Julie Rose. Julie, Cynthia Potter.”

“A pleasure.” Julie held out her hand.

Bryan could understand Cyn's jealousy when she spotted Shay. After all, his wife was about the most delectable woman he'd ever met. But Julie? She was a stereotypical teacher-type. Plain. Medium brown hair, puppydog brown eyes. Skinny, nondescript bod.

He'd give Cyn credit for trying to hide it, but she looked murderous. Wearing an insincere smile, she accepted Julie's slender hand in a very brief shake. “The same.”

Bruce nodded to Cyn's bag. “So you did a little shopping?”

“Just an ACE Bandage for my ankle. The pharmacist suggested it.”

“How's it feeling?”

“I'm ignoring it.”

After that conversational gambit fell flat, things came to a screeching halt, so Bryan decided to stir things up a bit. “Bruce, Cyn was just telling us that she spent the night with you.”

Bruce went rigid as hot color crept up his neck. “I offered her a place to sleep, yes.”

Julie, never one to get involved with rumor or gossip, never so much as blinked. “You're new to town?”

“Brand spanking new.”

Bruce turned his gaze down to Cyn. Bryan watched his brother, so he didn't miss the way Bruce's attention grew hot and sharp with pure masculine awareness.

Bryan exchanged a glance with Shay. She, too, had noticed the change in Bruce and she looked as amazed as Bryan felt. It was about time his brother rediscovered his masculinity. Not that Bruce was a wimp. Far from it. But he spent all his time helping others, with no consideration for his own needs.

In a voice as soft as butter, Bruce asked, “How did the job hunt go?”

For the first time since she'd walked into the diner, Cyn looked vulnerable. “Not so great—yet. But the day's not over. After I check into the motel, I'll start looking again.”

Julie, always nice if too puckered up, said, “The motel is okay, but costly, especially if you're planning to stay any time at all.”

Cyn's smile looked like a feminine warning. “I'm moving here for good, but I don't have much choice on the motel.” She looked at Bruce. “I've got to sleep somewhere.”

“I know a place,” Julie said, before Bruce could even get his mouth open. “It's not far from here.”

She pulled a pen and paper from her very organized purse and jotted down an address. “Mary Donniger, a lovely lady who works day care, needs someone to care for her horses now that her husband has passed on. She's offering a small salary plus a room that was put into the loft of the barn. It's not fancy accommodations, but it is less costly until you find something better.”

Bruce looked from one woman to the other. “But…a barn?”

“It's finished off,” Julie promised, and handed the piece of paper to Cyn. “She showed it to me the other day, and asked me to spread the word around. You'd have your own bed and bath, but no cooking. I'm afraid you'd have to rely on the local eateries for meals.”

“No sweat.” Cyn read the address and frowned.

“I don't know much about horses.”

“Mary can teach you. The work is physical, but you look young and healthy.”

“Her ankle is hurt,” Bruce protested.

“It's nothing.” Cyn gave him a quelling look that Bruce visibly ignored.

Julie dismissed their sniping with little notice. “From what Mary told me, the chores won't take up much of your time.” She shrugged. “You feed the horses twice a day, muck out the barn, throw down new straw, stuff like that.”

“So I should have plenty of free time to work at another job, too?”

“If you can work out the hours. I know Mary wouldn't mind that at all. Unfortunately, there's not much work opportunity in Visitation. Have you tried the factory?”

“I didn't know there was one.” Cyn, the paper clutched in her hand, returned her attention to Bruce. “Where is it?”

“We passed it coming into Visitation, but you were almost asleep then. It's assembly line work.”

“No skills needed—right up my alley.” Cyn's eyes lit with optimism. “It would be too perfect if I could get both jobs.”

Bryan had never seen anyone so thrilled at the prospect of hard work. Knowing his wife was about to burst, he asked, “Any other ideas, Shay?”

Shay pounced on the chance to contribute. “As a matter of fact, yes. There are still all kinds of things to be done for the new church, jobs that aren't part of the contractor's agreement, but are more than the volunteers can handle. There's regular cleaning, bookkeeping, lawn maintenance, stuff like that. And I could use help with some of my other projects. There's—”

“That's generous of you,” Cyn interrupted, polite but firm. She pushed back her chair and stood.

“But I don't want to impose.”

“You'd be doing me a favor,” Shay insisted as she, too, came to her feet.

Bryan could tell by Cyn's expression—she didn't believe that.

“I appreciate it, I really do. Still, if it's all the same to you, I'd like to check out the horse care and the factory first.”

Shay subsided, but she didn't look happy about it. “Of course.” She dug a card out of her purse. “Here's my number, in case either of those don't work out. You can call me anytime, okay?”

With some reservations, Cyn accepted the card. “Okay. Thanks again.”

Bruce let out a big breath. “If you want to check out those places, I'll take you.”

“No, that's—”

“I'll take you.”

Bryan raised his eyebrows at his brother's unusually commanding tone. Wow. He'd never heard Bruce be quite so forceful, especially not with a woman. Cajoling, yes. Sympathetic and gentle, all the time. But not insistent.

Mutinous, Cyn said, “Fine.”

“Good.”

Julie looked between the two of them and laughed. “I'll call Mary and tell her you're stopping by today. She'll be thrilled. Now, I'd better be off.” She waved a hand at Bruce when he started to follow her. “No need to walk me out. I'll see you tomorrow.”

With everyone else standing, Bryan scooted back his own chair. “Looks like things are all taken care of, then.” He offered Cyn his hand. “It was nice meeting you. Don't be a stranger. And really, don't hesitate to call on my wife if you need anything. She lives to interfere in others' lives.”

Shay pretended affront, but her eyes were filled with laughter. “I call it making friends.”

The factory job fell through. Bruce waited in the hall while Cyn sat on a plastic couch and filled out an application form. He could see and hear her through the open office door, and he noticed right off the way the woman behind the desk watched Cyn with disdain. Jealousy was an ugly thing, but he supposed with Cyn being so beautiful, it was something she'd have to learn to deal with.

At the moment, she had her bottom lip caught in her teeth, her braid hanging over her shoulder, her brows beetled in thought. The form couldn't be that complicated, but for someone with no past history of work and no references, it probably felt intimidating.

After Cyn finished, she approached the woman's desk and handed in the form with an optimistic smile.

The woman glanced over it, said something low, and Cyn's face fell.

Bruce went to the door, feeling helpless to assist her.

The woman said, “You must have some past work experience.”

Her expression wiped clean of emotion, her chin tucked in, Cyn said, “Nope. You're saying the job requires special skills?”

Rather than answer, the woman's mouth pursed. “Were you in school? Do you have a college degree?”

“No.”

“Then what have you been doing with yourself since high school? Oh wait, it says here that you don't have a high school education, either? Oh my.”

Very slowly, Cyn straightened. “I never completed my senior year.”

Smug, the woman pushed back in her chair. “Perhaps you should at least get your GED before applying for work again?”

She was nasty, even vicious in her satisfaction, and Bruce wanted to slap her. Instead, he stepped into the office and took Cyn's arm. “Let's go.”

Cyn straightened her purse strap, thanked the woman with haughty disdain, and walked out with her head up and her shoulders back. Thanks to the Ace bandage, there was no noticeable limp to mar her grand exit.

Bruce admired her spunk in the face of rejection.

“You're better than her,” he told Cyn, and meant it.

Cyn's
yeah, right
look was there and gone before he could comment on it. She didn't say a word.

Her silence chewed on his peace of mind. Everyone deserved the chance to start over, to correct mistakes and make a better life. His sister-in-law Shay had given many of the women at his safe house just that type of opportunity. But Cyn was determined to make her own opportunities, not have them given to her. Her obstinacy would make things that much more difficult, when Bruce knew they'd be hard enough already.

He had a feeling Cyn knew it, too, but she wasn't going to let it stand in her way. One way or another, she'd accomplish anything she set her mind to.

The urge to protect her, to offer to care for her, beat inside him.
Stupid.
He couldn't ask to take her in like a stray pup. She was a grown woman—smart, proud, determined.

He knew as well or better than most that what Cyn needed was some form of independence, a way to regain confidence in herself.

Once they were on the road, Bruce cracked. He just couldn't bear letting her stew in silence. “There'll be other jobs, Cyn.”

“Sure. I mean, isn't everyone looking to hire a gal with my experience? Maybe I should test out mattresses or fishnet or—”

“Stop it, Cyn.”

She exhaled a long breath, as if preparing herself, then blurted, “That woman took one look at me and she knew who I was and what I'd done.”

“Baloney.” Bruce could have laughed at such an absurd, paranoid observation, but somehow he knew the truth wouldn't make Cyn feel much better. “She took one look at you and was shriveled with envy.”

Incredulous, Cyn stared at him. “Envious of
what?”

“Maybe it's escaped your notice,” Bruce said, “but you're an incredibly beautiful young lady. And that woman…well,” he laughed, “she's most definitely not.”

She stared at him in mute surprise for a moment before laughing. “That's not a very Christian observation.”

“It's the truth. And a mean spirit sure doesn't help make a body prettier.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “So. You think I'm beautiful?”

“Don't be coy.” She was so beautiful that men and women alike would make notice of her, everywhere she went, whatever she did. Bruce cleared his throat. “I imagine a lot of women will treat you differently. Men, too. But not because they know your past or suspect a black soul as Thorne accused. Forget that nonsense.”

His tone must have been harsher than he realized, because she saluted. “Yes, sir.”

He didn't relent. “I mean it. People are human, Cyn, and jealousy is a normal reaction. You should just get used to it.”

She was silent a moment, then asked, “Do you think I'm sexy?”

Bruce's hands flexed on the steering wheel. What a loaded question to put to a man struggling for good intentions. “Yes,” he said, but tempered that with the admission, “I think Shay and Luna are both sexy, too.”

“Luna?”

“Joe Winston's wife. Sexiness is something that comes as much from a woman's attitude as her looks. It's appealing, not sinful, not something to be ashamed of.”

She surveyed him from head to toe. “Julie seems nice.”

Now where were her thoughts headed? Second-guessing Cyn would keep him busy, that's for sure.

“She's very nice,” he ventured, but with a lot of caution. “She takes people at face value. You can count on her to always be kind and generous.”

“Do you think she's sexy?”

How in the world had they gotten onto this conversation? Bruce glanced at her, and saw the speculative gleam in her eyes. He felt the trap closing around him but was helpless to avoid it. “I've never really thought about it.” As if it explained anything, he stupidly added, “Julie is a good friend.”

“But you don't think she's beautiful?”

He wanted to ask her why she cared, but knew that'd take him down a path better left to his imagination. “Outwardly, Julie might seem plain to some, but when you get to know her better, you'll see her backbone and conviction and her generous heart.”

“And those things make her attractive?”

“To me, yes. To people who look beyond the surface.”

“Men don't.”

“You're too smart to spout ridiculous platitudes.
Good
men do, and Cyn, you need to trust me that the world is filled with good people.”

Her mouth flattened in disbelief, but she refrained from disagreeing with him. “Your brother must have been looking at the surface when he married Shay.”

“You only think that because you don't know Bryan.”

“How do you mean?”

“Bryan's been with plenty of beautiful women. Don't doubt it. If that's all Shay had to offer, he'd have been able to resist her.” Memories brought a smile to his face, and he decided to tell her about them. He glanced at her to watch her reaction to his tale. “When they first met, Bryan thought Shay was a prostitute, and it made him nuts trying to keep his hands to himself.”

Her eyes widened. “Why would he think that?”

“Because Shay wanted him to.” He laughed. “She had some trouble and didn't want anyone to know her real identity.”

“But if he thought she was a hooker, why didn't he just—”

“Cyn.” Bruce interrupted her before she could finish that damning thought. “You haven't known many good men, or you wouldn't have to ask.”

Eyes narrowed, she sneered, “So a good man wouldn't dirty himself with a whore. Gotcha.”

“Maybe I should reassess your intelligence.” He didn't give her a chance to get offended. “When Bryan met Shay, he was impersonating me.”

“Just for the fun of it?” she asked in that same nasty tone. “Or was there a reason?”

To avoid a long discussion, Bruce condensed the story enormously. “Someone had targeted my safe house with threats, and it made it easier to figure things out with both Bryan and me involved.”

That got her mind on a different track. “Did you find the person?”

“Yes, and everything's all right now. But while Bryan was being me, he met Shay. He mistook her for a prostitute, she believed he was a preacher, and neither corrected the other. Bryan fought it because he knew it wouldn't be ethical to get involved with a woman he thought had come to him for help.”

“But he wanted to?”

Nodding, Bruce reiterated, “Not so much because of how she looked, but because of her outlook on life, how she treated others.” Bruce turned down the gravel drive to the twenty-acre home where Cyn would apply for work. “Bryan likes to say that Shay has a beautiful heart. And he'd be right. She's pretty incredible.”

Skeptical, Cyn asked, “He thought Shay was a prostitute and he still married her?”

“No, he knew the truth before they married. But not before he fell in love with her.” Bruce parked the car, grateful to avoid more difficult questions.

“We're here. Ready?”

Instantly diverted, Cyn looked around at the fenced acreage, the immaculate two-story house, and the enormous barn out back.

“Wow. We've arrived at Tara.”

“Remember, Julie said Mary was a nice person. And Julie would know.”

Nervousness had Cyn smoothing her sweater and tidying her braid. With a wince, she added, “Whatever. Nice or not, the worst she can do is not hire me, right?”

“True, and if she doesn't, there's always Shay. Now let's go.”

 

Cyn fell instantly in love with the horses, and given how they kept nibbling on her hair and butting her shoulder with their muzzles, they liked her, too.

Bruce stood back and watched her with an indulgent smile as she petted and spoke with the animals. It was clear she knew very little about horses, but she wasn't afraid of them. If anything, she seemed to strike an instant rapport.

After her disappointment at the factory, her animated happiness now was a welcome relief.

There were two mares: Satin, a black with a white star, and a gray named Silver Bells. They were fifteen years old and kept strictly for pleasure, not for showing or breeding. Their stalls were clean and roomy, the horses obviously well cared for.

Mary Donniger, a very nice lady in her mid-sixties, wanted to keep it that way. “They adore you,” Mary said with wonder.

“I'm amazed. I mean, they're
huge.
And so beautiful. I hadn't realized.” Cyn smoothed her hand along the gray's back, then patted its shoulder. The black protested being ignored, and with a laugh, Cyn moved to the other stall and treated that horse to the same attention. “I've never been around animals much.”

“You're a natural.” Mary watched her crooning to the animals, then smiled. “I love them both very much.”

“I can see why.” Silver Bells let out a whinny, and Cyn laughed in delight. “You're both spoiled, aren't you?” She took turns stroking the horses, talking to them as if they understood her, praising them.

Mary gave them a little more time to interact, then suggested they tour the space above the barn that served as living quarters. Bryan took that as a positive sign, and given Cyn's look of cautious expectation, she did, too.

The main entrance to the apartment was by stairs outside the barn, but a steep ladder from the barn floor also led to an interior door into the loft. The space was indeed small, but tidy and warm.

Bruce hated to admit it, and he didn't like himself for it, but he had half hoped it would be unsuitable to give him a reason to take Cyn home with him again.

Hands in his pockets, his heart strangely full, Bruce said, “It smells a little of the horses.”

Cyn closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “And leather and hay. Clean, natural smells. I like it.”

Everything she did seemed to incite him to lust. He cleared his throat and tried not to watch her so closely. “It's not an unpleasant smell at all.”

Mary leaned in the doorway. “I've always enjoyed it and if I was younger, I'd relish spending time out here working. It makes me feel closer to my husband.”

The room included a very small refrigerator, an electric coffeepot, a microwave, and a tiny television. The telephone was an extension of the main line, so if Cyn used it, she'd be sharing with Mary.

But as she said, she didn't have anyone to call, anyway.

“What do you think?” Mary asked.

Cyn looked as if she were standing in the middle of a palace. “It's great.”

“It has everything you'd need, but probably not everything you'd want.” Mary smoothed her hand over the quilt on the twin-sized bed tucked into one corner, opposite the appliances. “My grandmother made this quilt. My husband and father worked together to turn the loft into an apartment. My mother and I could hear them laughing all the way up to the house.”

Bruce felt her pain. “I'm sorry for your loss.”

She gave a slight smile. “Before Dave's health deteriorated, we'd planned to travel. We were going to hire someone to tend the horses to give us more free time.” She walked over to the window that overlooked the backyard. “We thought we'd have years, until a heart attack took him.”

To Bruce, her loss only emphasized the value of life, and why you should never waste a single moment. He glanced at Cyn and saw the sympathy in her pale gaze. She looked injured by Mary's pain, as if she shared it. And indeed, Cyn certainly knew more about loss than most people would ever have to learn.

Mary sighed. “Since then, I've been caring for the animals myself, but it's not easy on me. I want to ride them, to love them, but I'm afraid I need someone else to do the physical work.”

Cyn licked her lips, determined, anxious. “I'd love to take the job. I'll be honest—I've never been around horses. But I'm more than willing to learn and I swear I'll be good to them. I'll do the best job I can.”