True Love at Silver Creek Ranch

Chapter Ten

Adam looked up at the incredible view of Brooke Thalberg, her lean, supple body in charge, guiding him as she wanted. Her breasts were high and full on her rib cage, bouncing with each thrust. Her hair was a chocolate waterfall all around her body, and her face was intense as she sought her pleasure.

The sight alone could have driven him over the edge, but he held off, waiting for her. And when she came, he rolled her onto her back and drove into her, meeting her orgasm with his own before she was even finished.

Shuddering, panting, he braced himself on his elbows and buried his face in her hair, smelling coconut and pineapple, a far cry from a Colorado winter.

At last, he lifted his head and looked down at her. She was staring up at him a bit wide-eyed, and he knew how she felt. What the hell had just swept over them both?

“Are you all right?” he asked, kissing her cheeks and her chin and her fluttering eyelids.

“Oh, believe me, I feel incredible.”

“And I agree you do.”

They were still joined, and he felt as well as heard the rumble of her laughter. He slid to the side, gathering her into his arms and resting among the pillows.

“Adam,” she began tentatively, “I know we shouldn’t have done that, but I don’t regret one bit of it.”

“Me neither.”

“And I don’t want you to think I planned this, plying you with pumpkin pie and whipped cream.”

He kissed her again. “The taste of it on your lips drove me wild.”

She seemed so natural about the whole thing, unembarrassed, uninhibited. He wanted to take her all over again.

“And I don’t think you took advantage of me,” she continued. “I’m a big girl, and there are two of us in this bed.” She looked up at him, her expression sobering. “We can’t have any kind of relationship, Adam. It will look so bad to my family—you’re my employee, and I’m your boss.”

“I know. Your father trusted me to work for him, not to seduce you.”

She groaned. “Can we not bring up my father? And can we not pretend that I’m a delicate flower you had to persuade to ‘give myself’ to you?”

“Okay. You said you wanted no one to know what we’ve done.”

“No one,” she said, her expression serious, even as she brought up a hand to cup his whiskered face. “This is—I don’t know what you call this between us—”

“Lust?”

“God, yes, but otherwise . . . Adam, it can’t be any more.”

“You’re saying this one time will be all I ever have of you?”

“No, I’m not saying that,” she said too quickly, her gaze lingering on his chest.

The more distracted and unfocused her expression became, the more Adam could feel satisfaction seep through him. “We’re going to do this again.”

“I—I don’t think I could stop myself,” she admitted breathlessly. “This will be our secret, something just for us.”

Relieved, he started kissing her. When he slid his hand down between her thighs, she stopped him.

“No, I’ve got to go. It’s not like I can spend the night when my parents are right in the next building.” She sighed. “I still have to worry about this when I’m twenty-eight years old.”

“When can I see you again?”

As she got out of bed, unabashedly naked, she grinned wickedly, and said, “Tomorrow morning as we feed hungry cattle.”

After a quick stop in the bathroom to dispose of his condom, he followed her, saying, “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

She found her bra and put it on, along with her underwear, a lacy little thong the same bright pink as her bra. Who’d have guessed what she had on under those cowboy shirts and jeans?

He stared at her, openmouthed, then groaned. “I won’t be able to wait long to see all of you again.”

“This is a secret, which means we can’t plan anything.” As she pulled up her jeans, she shot him a look. “I think spontaneity can be exciting.”

He found his own jeans and donned them, not bothering with the top button. He pulled her to him and kissed her again. “Anything with you is exciting. But I’ll be patient.”

“Patient—and distant,” she added in a mock-severe tone, waving her finger in front of his face.

He caught it in his mouth and nipped her. “Just don’t go wagging that cute ass in front of me every chance you get.”

She pulled on her coat, grinning. “This cute ass will do whatever it wants. I’m the boss, remember?”

After one last smoldering smile, and an appreciative look down his body, she disappeared out the front door. Adam went to the window and peered through the edge of the curtain. She faded into darkness across the yard, but nearer the house she came back into the light. He watched her until she opened the kitchen door and was gone.

Then he sat on the couch, dropped his head back, and closed his eyes. He hadn’t seen that coming. But damn, what a lot to give thanks for.

Her request to keep things simple was for the best. He knew he had too much baggage to bring to any deeper relationship, and that would really be burdening the Thalbergs too much.

It was just sex, safe and protected, and no lies involved. No one was going to get hurt, and he’d never let Brooke suffer any embarrassment because of him. She was a proud woman, doing a man’s job. No way was he going to let her family think anything bad about her. She didn’t deserve that.

And then he realized there’d be no risk at all if he just stopped seeing her outside the job.

But he wasn’t going to do that.

As Brooke left the house in the morning, driving her Jeep into Valentine, she realized that last night with Adam, she’d forgotten her annual Black Friday shopping trip to Aspen with Monica, and hadn’t told him about it. It would be Emily’s first time.

But Brooke hadn’t exactly been thinking when she’d been with Adam. Every response had been physical and overwhelming. Sex with him had lived up to the heated imaginings she’d had the last couple weeks. After looking out the window at the bunkhouse and savoring her memories, she’d fallen into the deepest, most relaxing sleep and awakened in the morning feeling utterly . . . delicious. Satisfied. She had a little secret, something all her own that had nothing to do with her family. And Adam was passing on through, so she did not have to worry about something permanent happening. That was too much to think about right now.

She’d missed this intimacy with a man. It was only sexual intimacy, but that was just fine, she told herself. The worst part was feeling like a teenager, having to sneak back home.

As she drove away, she glanced at the bunkhouse one last time, and a faint uneasiness stole some of her contentment. The place looked so lonely, just like its new resident. She had her friends to hang out with, and he’d always had his, including the brotherhood of the Marines. But he seemed to have become a loner, and she wondered what had made him that way. Was it her place to suggest he go into Valentine and find some of his old friends? Steph’s brother Chris Sweet had gone to school with them—he’d been on the football team with Adam though he hadn’t been in Adam’s bad-boy posse before that.

But no, she wasn’t his girlfriend. She couldn’t talk to him about problems in his life. Yet she was a talker—no way could she avoid conversations with Adam. He’d just have to understand that.

Now that he lived so close, would she see him coming and going, perhaps even into town in the evenings? But no, Adam seemed to focus on work and his grandma, where she enjoyed being out with people, too.

Or did she just enjoy getting away from the ranch?

She tried to tell herself that everyone needed a break from their job, but the ranch was more than that—it was a way of life. She couldn’t believe she’d try to escape that—it would mean that everything she thought she loved about her life was a lie. She’d just helped Emily find a new direction—the bakery—so for Brooke to discover that she herself was feeling a bit uncertain was a blow.

After a long day of shopping and good food in Aspen, Brooke and her friends stopped in at Outlaws for some dancing. She had done her best not to think about Adam because she wasn’t going to tell Monica and Emily about him, but at the honky-tonk, he was never far from her thoughts.

Sitting in a booth, having a beer to cool down after dancing with the other two women, Brooke snacked from a bowl of popcorn on the table.

“Well, you’re getting some looks tonight,” Emily said, glancing over her shoulder where two guys at the bar were staring at them. She had to speak loudly to be heard over Miranda Lambert belting out a mournful tune.

Brooke and Monica followed her gaze, then shared a groan and quickly pretended their bottles of beer were very interesting.

“They’re Derek and Chad, two guys we went to school with,” Brooke said. “Actually, they used to be in Adam’s posse.”

She wanted to wince—she hadn’t meant to bring him up that day, and had been successful—until then.

Emily gave her an interested look. “You said Adam straightened himself out with the help of football. How about them?”

Monica shook her head. “Both have been divorced already, and Derek doesn’t see his kid enough. Bad news.”

Emily looked at both Brooke and Monica. “It never ceases to amaze me how much you small-town people all know about each other.”

Brooke risked another glance at the two men. That could have been Adam if he hadn’t been sentenced to community service as a football manager. But, of course, there were many men who would forget about community service when it was over, and go back to their old lives. Adam hadn’t.

It was men like Derek and Chad that made Adam none too eager to renew old acquaintances. But he’d found new friends on the football team. Wasn’t he curious about them? She thought about getting out her high-school yearbook and perusing the faces. Adam would want to know who—and then she stopped herself. If Adam was interested, he’d do something about it. He wouldn’t welcome her interference.

He just welcomed her into his bed.

Her face got all hot, and she told herself it was because of the dancing. She’d never kept this kind of secret from her friends.

As if reading her mind, Monica mused, “You know, you’ve got a handsome man right on the ranch to distract you every day.”

Brooke shrugged and gave her a bright smile. “We work together. It’s not like that. Maybe you should ask him out.”

“Nope; I already said, he’s my past.”

Brooke took another sip of beer, then changed the subject. “Hey, I’ve got something interesting. You know this mess about Leather and Lace? Mrs. Palmer says she predicted there would be problems when reading her cards.”

Monica and Emily gave a collective groan.

“She brought her cards to Thanksgiving. Good thing Adam wasn’t there,” Brooke added, shaking her head.

“He didn’t come to Thanksgiving?” Monica asked.

“He celebrated with the widows at the boardinghouse.”

“Wonder why he didn’t celebrate with you?” Monica eyed Brooke with speculation. “I mean your family, of course.”

“He’s become a loner—strangest thing,” Brooke said, keeping her voice light. “He said after the Marines, he needs a little peace and quiet.”

“At the boardinghouse?” Monica said, her expression one of incredulity.

Trying to speak nonchalantly, Brooke said, “My dad invited him to move into the bunkhouse. So he’s got his peace and quiet.”

“Good for him,” Emily said.

But Brooke was trying not to watch Monica, who was eyeing her with too much interest.

“The bunkhouse?” Monica echoed, elbow on the table, chin propped on her hand.

Brooke summoned her acting skills. “Yep. He moved in a few days ago. He’s still a loner. I barely see him but for work.”

“Twelve hours a day,” Monica mused.

Emily looked from Monica to Brooke in confusion. “Is there something I’m not seeing?”

“I don’t know, is there?” Monica asked innocently.

Brooke smiled and shook her head. “You’re thinking too hard, Monica. Adam and I weren’t attracted to each other in high school, and there’ll be no relationship beyond work now.” And that wasn’t even a lie—oh, she was good.

“If you say so.”

Monica gave her a last, searching glance, and Brooke threw her hands wide, as if she didn’t know what Monica expected of her.

“But back to Leather and Lace,” Emily said. “Are we going to go to the next town-council meeting? The widows need our support.”

“Of course,” Brooke said. “And that way, maybe we can head off the preservation committee’s counterresponse.”

“You really think they’ll try one of their stunts?” Emily asked, her blue eyes going wide.

Monica and Brooke shared another glance and a grin.

“Oh, believe me,” Brooke said, “this is like waving a red cape at a bull.”

That was the last beer Brooke allowed herself as she spent another hour dancing. She even danced with Chad because, what the hell, she liked how his appreciative look made her feel sexy. Then he opened his mouth, and she remembered why they didn’t get along.

On the drive home, she found herself going slowly along Main Street, looking up at the apartments over the stores. Many now had single candles in their windows, or icicle lights. Monica and Emily each lived above their stores. More and more, it seemed wrong to Brooke that she was twenty-eight and living with her parents. But her job was right there—and so was her mother, who needed her. Now wasn’t the time to start changing things just because she was feeling restless. But . . . was she supposed to put her life on hold? After all, she didn’t even know what kind of life she wanted anymore.

As she pulled into the yard beside the ranch, she glanced at the lit windows of the bunkhouse and felt a hunger that was so overwhelming, she knew she wasn’t going to follow up on it. Sex wouldn’t make her uncertainties go away, and she didn’t want Adam to think she was crazy about him.

There wasn’t a TV in the bunkhouse, but Adam didn’t mind. He read until he fell asleep each night, which was usually pretty early. If he’d had a TV, he wouldn’t have noticed when Brooke’s Jeep crunched the hard snow outside, he wouldn’t have gone to the curtain to catch a glimpse of her.

Her hair was long and wild tonight. He knew from a casual question to Josh that Black Friday shopping was a tradition, but it would hardly go so late at night. She’d gone somewhere else that evening—a date?

The shot of jealousy took him by surprise. He hardly needed to remind himself of the rules he’d agreed to where their nonrelationship was concerned. It seemed all of his emotions were coming back to life, welcome or not.

He went back to the fridge and pulled out the pie for a late-night snack. He’d stocked up on groceries. Although he wasn’t the world’s best cook—the Marines had fed him, after all—he’d learned a thing or two when he was still a kid, and his parents had been too drunk to care about feeding him. He made a mean omelet, and his spaghetti was always perfectly boiled.

But he had the pumpkin pie, and thought of Brooke, and what other parts of her body he should have decorated with whipped cream.

He was going to get himself all riled up at this rate.

And then he heard a scratching at the door. He wasn’t proud of how quickly he jumped up, and this time it wasn’t because of any military habit. Had Brooke decided she had to see him and didn’t want to knock for fear it would carry across the pasture?

Adam opened the door wide, already feeling satisfied—but there was no one there. And then he looked down.

Ranger, the cow dog, was sitting on his haunches on the porch, looking up at him with a wide doggy grin. His ears went back, and he gave a little whine.

Sighing, Adam squatted and rubbed between his ears. “What’s up, boy? You lonely?”

Ranger gave another whine and licked his face.

Adam sputtered. “Okay, okay, you can come in for a visit. Let’s see how muddy you are, first.”

He used the barn towel on the dog, then Ranger happily trotted around the living room, smelling every corner, then lifting his nose to the edge of the table.

“Not my pumpkin pie,” Adam warned.

Ranger seemed to sigh, then, after a cursory inspection of the bedroom, curled up on the rug before the fire.

“I know the barn is warm enough for you,” Adam told the dog.

Ranger’s tail thumped, but he didn’t lift his head.

“Oh, all right, you can stay here for the night.”

But soon, Adam regretted his decision, because the dog took up more of the bed than he did.

The nightmare started like it always did, a typical patrol in-country, asspack, canteens, and six rounds of live ammo bouncing around his torso, his rifle in his hands like a part of his body. That rifle was so real, but everything else around him was a dreamy blur, a torn picture of Paul’s girlfriend moving in and out of focus, Adam picking up an unusual stone for Zach’s son.

Then artillery rounds landed too close, the impact like a belch of air from the earth, the explosion shaking the ground, sending rocks to slice flesh. Adam’s voice sped up and slowed down as he called in fire support, but the enemy’s position wasn’t attacked. Instead, the bombs fell on them, screaming out of the sky from the jet long past them. The dead and dying were like bright blood on hunks of meat. Dragging his mangled leg, he felt the weight of Eric as he pulled him behind the shelter of rocks, but the man’s face was already lifeless. The smell of smoke and death swirled around him, the heat of flames as hot as his damaged thigh.

And that was always where he woke up, his mind filled with regrets and recriminations and a desperate plea to God to turn back time so he could save them all. But the true nightmare was what he discovered later, that they’d dropped a 500-pound bomb rather than a 250, altering his calculations, and men had died.

He was breathing hard in the dark, and Ranger whined softly in confusion. Adam closed his eyes and put his hand on the dog’s silky head.

He had to let them go, he told himself in sorrow, his friends, the men he’d watched war movies with before being deployed, drinking beer until they’d yelled Semper Fi like idiots. They were dead, and he was not. They’d want him to go on living his life, to forgive himself. But no one had ever told him it would be so hard without them.

Ranger gave a sad whine and leaned against his thigh in a companionship as old as time.