Winners (6 page)

She dragged a case from one of the
closets, and he opened it up on the bed. Candy tossed in a variety of clothing
items, shoes, and after sealing toiletries in a plastic bag, she dropped it on
top. “There.”

“No pictures?
Keepsakes?”

She sat on the bed abruptly, and
Reece got on one knee, taking her hand and staring up into her face. “Candace?”

“It takes my breath away to realize
how little I actually have.”

His handsome face
softened,
the anxiety easing. “Stuff means very little.”

“I know. That’s why I packed the
one case. It’s the reminder I have nothing of my mom’s. That’s a killer.”

Her Reece didn’t try to fix it with
words. He held her hand and waited, his presence soothing her angst.

“Let’s go see my daddy.”

Reece put her stuff in the SUV
while she stood in the shadow of an American beech, its leaves drifting in the
light wind, and escorted her back to the house. Roslyn reappeared quickly, and
Candy thought she must have been hovering. There was no sign of her father, and
she made a decision. “Tell Emerson I’m here, please. We’ll just wait in the
living room.”

“He’s in his study.” Her stepmother
shifted from one foot to the other and clasped her hands.

“And I’m not going to take one of
those chairs and have him lean back in his big old chair while he pontificates,
Roslyn. I’m done with that. If he has anything to say to me, he can come out of
his den.”

With a shrug, Roslyn gestured to
the formal living area and then turned on her heel toward the study. Candy saw
Reece hide a smile behind one big hand that rubbed across his face, as he
accompanied her. They sat together on a stiff couch, a new addition to the room
if memory served, and waited.

“Two minutes.” If Emerson didn’t
make an appearance she was leaving.

“Sure, honey.”

Movement caught her eye, and she
looked to see her father stalking in, trailed by Roslyn. His features were
schooled as always, but Candy knew he was shaken. She’d sorted out the cues
over the years, a certain slant to his eyes and the way he held his mouth. He
dropped into a wing chair, and her stepmother perched on another beside him.
Reece had risen in respect, and Candy was glad when he sat again, this time
closer. She wished she could be so gracious and mannerly,
then
dismissed the idea.

“I suppose I should be grateful you
deigned to visit.” And that was why she wouldn’t acknowledge her daddy.

Silence reigned,
then
was broken by Roslyn. “I asked her to come, Emerson.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve stood by all these years
while you pined for another woman and ignored her child except when it suited
you to exercise your authority. I’m amazed Candy grew up as well as she did. I
certainly didn’t help.”

Emerson scoffed. “She barely finished
high school and hasn’t made a good match.”

“What did you want for me then,
Daddy?” Candy couldn’t contain the question.
“Aside from
marrying me off like chattel.”

Her father opened his mouth,
then
shut it. Roslyn again interjected.

“He won’t allow himself to consider
it, Candy. You’ve survived benign neglect, and I’m ashamed to have been part of
it.”

“Roslyn—”

“Because I remind
him of my mother.”
She cut her father off.

“I’m not listening to this …
psychobabble.” Her father shoved to his feet.

“You might want to sit back down,
Grant, and take a moment.” Reece spoke quietly but with authority.

Her father paled before Candy’s
eyes and sank into the chair. He finally met her eyes. “Roslyn’s right. I’ve
been a terrible father, and there’s no excuse. I saw her every time I looked at
you. We’d argued before you and I went out that day.”

Candy held her breath, afraid he
wouldn’t continue,
terrified
he would.

“Your mother wanted me to take her
home. Here. She missed Barrister, and her parents came to support her, offering
me a position in the business with a view to taking over. I didn’t want that,
didn’t want the nepotism and leaving the city for such a rural existence. I
thought she would leave me and take you with her, actually. It was a mess. And
then you and I went home to the … carnage.”

Roslyn grasped his arm and squeezed
it. “Your father honored your mother’s last wishes, Candy. Moved here and took
over your grandparents’ business, and raised you here.”

It felt like too little, too late,
and she became aware of Reece leaning into her as she pressed his way. He gave
her strength. “More like housed me and left me to my own devices until he had
to step on me when I stepped out of line.
A line that changed
frequently.”

“I can understand you’re bitter. I
have no excuse.”

She couldn’t soften toward the man
who had never given anything of himself to her for so many years. Or count the
times she vied for his attention over her stepbrothers. Oh, she had no quarrel
with them, for they’d treated her okay, like a pesky little sister, but she
couldn’t deny the jealousy.

“You’re still his child,” Roslyn
said softly.

Probably her stepmother thought
they had something in common, both reduced to taking the scraps from a man
who’d never recovered from the loss of the love of his life, but Candy didn’t
feel the camaraderie. Roslyn must care for her daddy a great deal, however, to
want to ease the estrangement between Candy and Emerson.

“Do you have a picture of my
mother?”

Emerson flinched and stared. He
cast a glance at Roslyn, who nodded and got to her feet, moving swiftly from
the room. They sat in awkward silence until the other woman returned, handing a
small frame to her husband. He took it with a visibly shaking hand and stood,
finally approaching Candy.

“I’ll see that you get a copy,” he
offered, giving it to her.

A veritable image of
herself
gazed up out of the oval frame, and Candy’s heart
seized. Take away the earrings and dated hairstyle…

“She’s as beautiful as her
daughter.” Reece’s deep voice pulled from her thoughts and into the present.

Her father loomed over her, and she
could feel his anguish. Handing the frame back with reluctance, she nodded. “I
want a copy.”

He retreated to his chair.
Abruptly, he spoke. “I wanted a future for you, Candy. One that gave you everything
I couldn’t. I didn’t believe Murdoch could provide it. Not even when he joined
the military.”

“Especially then,
Emerson.”
Roslyn’s tone was sharp. “You thought she’d follow him
wherever he was stationed and you’d lose touch with her.”

“You did that to yourself by
ignoring me, Daddy.” Candy pushed up from her seat on the couch. “You lost me a
long time ago. And Reece is the best thing that ever happened to me despite
your interference.”

She made her way past her father
and stepmother, knowing Reece was right behind her.

“Candy…” For once, her daddy seemed
bereft of words.

She turned to speak, but didn’t
look at him. “I don’t know that I can forgive you, or even if you want to be
forgiven. I don’t know if I need a family—or whatever this is.” Lord, she was
being cruel.
And rude.
She swallowed the rest of her
imprecations. “I need some time.” Time to process what she’d figured out a
while ago and time to consider if her parent had truly done what he thought was
best—or acted with his usual disregard for his daughter’s feelings.

“I’ll call you.” Well, that was a
first. Her daddy had his secretary summon her, or have Roslyn call if it was a
family thing. Candy hesitated at the door.

“You do that.” It was the best she
could offer and wasn’t a promise for anything.

She had no memory of the walk
across to the SUV or climbing inside, but her seatbelt was latched and they
were driving at a decorous speed toward Reece’s place when he spoke. “You okay,
honey?
As much as you can be?”

“I think so.” She hitched in the
seat to watch his profile. “It’s good to find out something I suspected for a
bit now, but it doesn’t take the sting away.”

“I never knew my dad, Candace, but
it doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes think on what my mom told me about him.”

“I don’t know much about my mom at
all.” Although she could take Mrs. L, Patricia, up on her offer. Her daddy
could go hang.
And he might open up a
little if you met him halfway, too.

“You think your dad will share?”
Reece had read her once again.

“Who knows? I’m going to take one
day at a time. Roslyn cares about him, and seems to want us to work things out.
Maybe she thinks he’ll … oh hell, I don’t know. I’ll see. But I’ll do it on my
terms.”

Reece set a hand on her knee and
squeezed.
“Whatever you need, Candace.”

She shifted back to lean into the
seat, covering Reece’s hand with her own. He’d have her back no matter which
way things went, and that fact calmed her agitation. She felt she could do most
anything with Reece beside her.

****

He felt Candace relax and let out a
deep breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. He figured she’d connect with
her old man, and maybe even develop some kind of familial relationship with him
now the truth was out and Emerson Grant was no longer challenging her choices.
Reece would walk the path with her, but he wouldn’t let her father screw her
over again, nor interfere with the relationship he and Candy were building. It
was
gonna
be okay. They’d be victorious in this, too.

Chapter Six

Sinclair washed the last of the
afterbirth from her forearm where the glove hadn’t reached, and glanced over at
the sweet little foal snuffling against its momma’s teat. The little creature
had been coming breech, and turning its body wasn’t easy, but she’d done it.
And then the mare had expelled most everything in her big old uterus, with
Sinclair unable to get out of the way. Grimacing at the mess on her overalls,
she used her gloves to strip them off and balled the fabric up, slipping it
into a plastic bag, drawn from the side pocket on her satchel.

“You did as
good
as Doc Webber,” George Roberts observed. “That mare is of good stock and worth
a lot of money. Thought we’d lose her.
And the foal.
‘
Preciate
you taking the time.”

Sinclair had thought they’d lose
the horses, too, but figured it wasn’t politic to share. “She seems fine,
although you need to watch her. There are still things that could go wrong.”

“Uh huh.
I’ll have Bobby sit up. You come back tomorrow and check in.”

“Doc Webber—”

“He didn’t make it out tonight,
Miss Sinclair. The mare is your patient.”

Doc Webber wouldn’t be okay with
that. The other vets would be, but not Webber. Sinclair was too tired to argue,
and would cross that bridge tomorrow.
Having Mr. Roberts as a
sponsor wasn’t the worst thing.
Webber couldn’t face someone like him down,
and she’d bet George knew about the drinking. The reason Webber hadn’t
responded to the after-hours call.

She nodded and gathered up the rest
of her gear, wondering again if she should have called another vet once she’d
assessed the situation. But she’d been on her way home after yet another day in
the field when one of the hands had motioned her in, waving from the end of the
drive in extreme agitation. Mr. Roberts demanded she help, so she pitched in
and didn’t have a moment to think, expecting Doc Webber at any time. He never
showed, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be pissed.
Whatever
.
No point in worrying
now. She was made of sterner stuff than that.

With a final check of the mare, she
ran a hand over the downy flank of the foal, a sweet little filly, and picked
up her case. “I’ll come by early tomorrow, Mr. Roberts. And after my field work
if you want.”

“I want.” The older man gave her an
even look and moved to let her step from the box stall. She sketched a smile
and went out to her vehicle, tired to death. Her cell buzzed, and she fished it
from her pocket. There were several missed texts, and she vaguely recalled
hearing the signal while she was working on the horse.
Crap
. Both Craig and Ashton were on her case, probably worried
sick. She never worried them needlessly, and this was one of those times they’d
have to come to expect. She tried to reason with them, tried to explain how
important this career was to her, but they continued to voice their concerns
and pressure her to give up the “risky” calls. Sometimes she’d get frustrated
and remind them it was her choice.
Just as she’d chosen them.
That tended to shut things down pretty quick, although it upset her to upset
them. She texted
back
a short reply, the better to
reassure them and head out right way.
At George Roberts.
Emerg
foaling.

As she lifted the trunk to throw
her stuff inside, a feminine voice spoke her name. “Sinclair Renton.
All grown up.”

Lord, it was her. Melinda Roberts.
Of the
once upon a time one
of Craig and Ashton’s women
Melinda Roberts.
The one she’d seen them
… do, giving Sinclair a window into their sexual predilections. Any joy of
saving the mare and her offspring faded away as Sinclair pasted a neutral
expression on her face. Time she faced this particular demon she had no right
to fear. Craig and Ash belonged to her, and that solid fact clarified her
thoughts and warmed her heart.

“Hi, Melinda.”

“I hear you’re back living on the
ranch.” The older woman’s hair shone in the yard lights, and her heavily made
up face loomed too close to Sinclair’s. She could smell a heavy, exotic perfume
and wondered if eau d’ foaling compared.