Trish Milburn - Cowboy to the Rescue

Merline squeezed Brooke’s hand. “Listen to me. Everything is fine. Your job is secure unless you suddenly poison all the guests. That would certainly be bad for business. I saw how exhausted you were last night and should have told you then to take today off.”

“Really, I’m ready to work.”

Merline smiled. “Of that I have no doubt.” With a final squeeze, Merline returned to her task. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can make lunch for the guests. They’ll be back from a wildflower tour then.”

“Thank you.”

They worked side by side the rest of the morning, preparing lunch for the twenty guests. Brooke’s heart twinged because the situation reminded her so much of days spent in the kitchen with her mother. The two women looked nothing alike. Merline had a silver bob and remarkably smooth skin for a woman her age. Brooke’s mom had looked more like an older version of Susan Sarandon, but with a tougher life. Despite the differences, Merline’s kindness started to fill the hole left by Brooke’s mom’s death.

“You seem to lose yourself when you’re cooking,” Merline said as Brooke slid two cherry pies from the oven.

“I’m sorry. Did I miss something?” She could hear her mother’s voice, commenting on Brooke’s constant daydreaming. Back then, she couldn’t wait to leave home, see something new, be someone important. Now, she’d give anything to be able to step into her mother’s West Virginia kitchen and feel her comforting arms around her.

“No. I was just watching the look you get when you’re cooking, like you’re in another world.”

Brooke sat the pies on the island to cool. “There is something about it that takes me away.”

“That’s how I feel when I’m painting.”

“You’re an artist?”

“Evidently.” Merline laughed. “It’s a recent realization. We’re beginning to be overrun with creative types around here. I’m painting. Grace does interior design. Ryan’s furniture.”

Brooke nearly looked up at Ryan’s name but caught herself in time. She’d picked up on just how much Merline had talked about her sons throughout the morning, particularly the two unmarried ones. She wondered if Nathan’s recent wedding had Merline on the hunt for wives for Simon and Ryan. Brooke swallowed, wondering if she’d ever be able to trust a man enough again to be willing to get married. After all, she’d thought Chris was going to be that man.

How wrong she’d been.

If there was anything in her life to be grateful for, it was the fact that Chris had shown his true colors, the man he was behind the mask of his public persona, before she’d had the misfortune of marrying him.

Thankfully, the guests returned, and talk of available Teague sons was replaced with feeding hungry tourists. As she served food and made small talk, she relaxed even more. It felt a little like her old job, making convention guests happy. Only now she accomplished the task by preparing chicken salad and cherry pie rather than consulting with chefs on the fare for special events and hotel guests on the perfect meeting space.

She insisted on doing all the cleanup while Merline retreated to her home office to work. Once Brooke was finished and had planned for dinner, she spread out the local classifieds on the dining room table.

She skipped over the sections that held no interest before locating the For Rent listings. With red pen ready to circle possibilities, she started reading. As it turned out, she didn’t need the pen. What few availabilities she found came with pricey rental rates attached, no doubt a result of Blue Falls being a popular tourist destination.

Brooke closed the paper, already planning to seek information about neighboring communities. How far would she have to go to find something more within her budget? She feared she’d encounter the same problem throughout the Hill Country.

“Find anything?” Merline pointed at the newspaper as she walked into the dining room.

“Not yet. But I’ll get a room in town until I do.” And try not to cringe at the price of the temporary space to lay her head at night.

“Don’t be silly. I was thinking, why don’t you live permanently in the bunkhouse? It’s just sitting out there. You could fix it up however you like.”

The convenience beckoned Brooke. Plus, she liked the idea of not having to venture forth from the ranch more than necessary. She had to believe that the longer she was gone, the less Chris would look for her. Eventually, he’d stop. At least that’s what she told herself.

“Only if I pay rent.”

“I think we can work something out. Now, I’m running into town for a while. Do we need anything?”

Brooke shook her head. “I’m going to do some meal planning this afternoon and may shop after that.”

“Sounds good. See you at dinner.”

Brooke decided to use the sliver of free time she had to go check out of the Rochester. But when she walked outside, she noticed the right rear tire on her car was flat.

She sighed, imagining a day when everything would go perfectly—none of this one step forward, two steps back stuff. She straightened and took a deep breath. No focusing on the negative. She had a job and a place to stay. Compared to only a few short weeks ago, today was absolutely peachy.

Telling herself that things could be so much worse, she opened the trunk and started pulling out boxes and bags filled with pieces of her life. Winter clothes, books, childhood mementoes. By the time she reached the spare tire, sweat was rolling down her back and stinging her eyes.

“Come on, damn you,” she said as she tugged the tire out of the trunk. When it finally came free, she stumbled and nearly fell on her butt. The tire slipped from her slick fingers and landed with a thunk. She eyed the tire then mashed it with her foot. Also flat.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She kicked the useless ring of rubber.

“Careful. It might kick back.”

Brooke wiped the sweat from her eyes so she could see who was speaking. Nathan stood a few feet away.

“Sorry I didn’t see you sooner or I would have come out to help,” he said.

“It’s okay.”

“Looks like you’re in need of some tire patching.”

“That or I just shoot the car and put it out of its misery.”

Nathan smiled. “Perhaps a bit drastic. We’ve got a friend with a garage in town. He can fix the tires in no time. Dad and I can’t get away right now. Have to give some riding lessons. But Ryan can probably run you into town.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”

“He won’t mind.” Nathan pointed down the driveway. “Hang a left at that mailbox. Ryan’s place is back there.”

So he lived on the property, too. She’d wondered since he tended to pop up often, but she hadn’t wanted to cause speculation by asking.

“Okay, thanks.”

Nathan tapped the front edge of his hat. “Glad to help.”

After Nathan returned to the barn, she shoved her belongings back in the trunk before heading for Ryan’s.

No matter how much she told herself she couldn’t be interested in Ryan Teague, part of her wasn’t having it. In fact, denying the attraction seemed only to make it stronger. Her nervousness grew with each step down the driveway. When she reached Ryan’s mailbox, she stopped and stared up the hill in front of her. Somewhere beyond that hill was a good-looking man who did funny things to her pulse without even trying.

She shook her extremities like a runner trying to rid herself of tension before a race. Maybe the key to getting past this initial attraction was to just acknowledge it—but only to herself. Okay, so Ryan was totally drool-worthy, and he seemed like a nice guy. Based on appearances alone, he was the kind of guy dreams were made of.