Marie Ferrarella - Her Forever Cowboy

The expression on Liam’s face testified that he’d thought this argument had been resolved in his favor. “But—”

Brett pretended he didn’t hear his brother’s protest.

“With luck, I’ll get Finn to help. He doesn’t whine,” he added for good measure.

“Oh, he whines. You just don’t hear him” were Liam’s parting words.

But Brett had already tuned him out. There were still things to see to before Murphy’s officially opened its doors for the evening.

Chapter Two

“It’s open, but I’m not serving yet,” Brett called out in response to the light knock on the saloon’s front door.

He thought it rather unusual that anyone would be knocking rather than just trying the doorknob and walking in. Most everyone in town knew that the door was unlocked not just during normal business hours—hours that extended way into the night—but also during nonbusiness hours if any one of the Murphys were down on the ground floor. The only time the doors were locked was if they were all out or if one of them was upstairs.

The upper floor housed a small apartment that had once been occupied by Patrick Murphy, their father’s older brother, when he was alive and running the family establishment. Although Brett and his brothers lived in a house close to Murphy’s, there were times when Brett stayed in the apartment after putting in an exceptionally long night, too tired to walk home. And there were those times when he just wanted to grab a little time away from everyone in order to recharge batteries that were almost perpetually in use.

“That’s fine because I’m not drinking yet,” Olivia Santiago replied as she walked into Murphy’s.

Turning around to look at the tall, slender blonde, one of Forever’s two lawyers, Brett was more than a little surprised to see the woman here at this hour—and alone. It wasn’t even noon.

He stopped restocking and came to the bar closest to the front door. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of having the sheriff’s wife grace my establishment?”

“I’m not here as Rick’s wife,” Olivia told him, sliding onto a bar stool.

Brett reached for a bottle of ginger ale, knowing that was the lawyer’s beverage of choice before six o’clock. Taking a glass, he filled it and then moved it in front of her, before pouring one for himself.

He took into account the way she was dressed. Olivia had on a dark gray jacket and a straight matching skirt. A soft pink shirt added a touch of warmth to her appearance. Nonetheless, she was dressed for business.

“Then this is an official visit?” he surmised.

“If you mean am I here as a lawyer, the answer’s yes,” she confirmed, then paused to take a sip.

“Someone suing us?” Brett asked, unable to think of any other reason she’d be here in her professional capacity. Even so, he couldn’t think of a single reason anyone would be suing them.

Olivia’s mouth curved. “Should they be?” she asked after taking another long sip from her glass.

Brett paused for a moment, as if giving her question due consideration. “Can’t think of anyone who’d want to, but both my only relatives are accounted for and alive, so I can’t think of another reason for you to be here at this hour like this.”

“Maybe I decided to take a break from work,” she suggested.

“You’re a workaholic. You don’t take a break. I don’t think you even stopped to take a breath after you gave birth.” Births and deaths were very big events in a town the size of Forever. Each were duly noted and remembered by one and all.

“Oh, no, I stopped,” Olivia assured him with feeling. “Trust me, having a child is a pretty life-altering event. You have to stop whatever else you’re doing in order to absorb the full impact.”

“I wouldn’t know firsthand, but I’m not about to dispute that,” he told her. He nodded at her glass and asked, “Can I get you anything else?”

Slight confusion creased her brow. “I thought that you and Miss Joan had an agreement. She doesn’t serve any alcoholic beverages, and you don’t serve any food.”

“We do and I don’t,” he confirmed. “But I’ve got several kinds of nuts to offer my customers.” Then, by way of an explanation in case, as a lawyer, she viewed that as a deal breaker, he said, “I don’t think anyone really considers nuts to be food.”

“Don’t tell that to the squirrels,” she commented, then smiled. “I’m fine,” she assured him before adding, “No nuts. Thanks.”

Brett shrugged as he returned to restocking the bar. “Don’t mention it. Any time I can not get you something, just let me know.”

Olivia remained silent for a few minutes, as if waiting. She smiled at Brett when he turned around again to pick up another bottle of alcohol.

“You’re not going to ask, are you?” she marveled. “You have an amazing lack of curiosity. Either that, or you have remarkable restraint.”

“It’s not that,” Brett replied. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned on the other side of this bar, it’s that if someone has something to say, you give them enough time, they’ll tell you—if only to get it off their chest. All I have to do is wait—and if there’s one thing I’ve gotten really good at, it’s waiting.”

Olivia bided her time until he’d set down the two bottles of vodka in his hands before telling him, “That’s not the only thing you’re good at, apparently.”

“Okay, now I’m curious,” Brett admitted. “That comment’s going to need some explaining.”

Olivia leaned slightly over the bar, her body language calling for his undivided attention even though they were the only two people in the bar. “Do you remember Earl Robertson?”

He thought for a moment—not because he couldn’t put a face to the name, but because he was trying to remember the last time he’d seen the man who had been a friend of his father’s. It had to have been at least three years since the man left town. Maybe more.

“Sure, I remember Earl. He took off to live in Taos, New Mexico. Said he always wanted to see that part of the country.”

He didn’t add that he had tried to persuade the man to stay. Earl had been getting on in years, and as far as he could tell, the man had no friends or family in Taos. No one to look out for him. But to suggest that would have meant wounding the man’s pride, and that was something he hadn’t been willing to do. For some men, pride was all they had. That was the case with Earl.

“What’s he doing these days?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

“Not much of anything,” Olivia replied. “Earl Robertson died last week.”

The words hit harder than he’d expected. The man wasn’t family, but at this point, Earl was the closest thing to family he and his brothers still had. He felt he owed the old man a lot.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. He was a good guy,” Brett said after a beat.

“Apparently,” Olivia went on, “Mr. Robertson thought the same thing about you.” Brett looked at her, not sure what to expect as she continued. “He was grateful that you came to look in on him when he was sick that last time.”

Brett wasn’t much for taking credit for things. He preferred being perceived as a laid-back, carefree man rather than the nurturing person he actually was.

He shrugged off Olivia’s words, saying, “Hey, he didn’t have anybody, and he’d been there to help out when my parents died in that car accident. I think Uncle Patrick would have been completely at a loss as to what to do about the funeral and—to be honest—us, if it hadn’t been for Earl.

“And then when Uncle Patrick passed on,” he recalled, “Earl was there to make sure that my brothers and I were okay. He told me that if there was ever anything that I needed, to be sure to come to him. I was just sixteen and determined to look after Finn and Liam. I don’t have to tell you that I was pretty damn grateful that there was someone to catch me if I fell.” He shrugged as if his own actions were no big deal. “I was just trying to pay him back a little.”