Читать книгу The Rancher Returns - Brenda Jackson - Страница 11
ОглавлениеLayla Harris smiled as she accepted the plate of cookies. “Ms. Melody, I wished you wouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”
She said the words out of politeness, knowing they weren’t true. Nobody could bake like Melody Blake and she was glad the older woman not only liked doing so but also enjoyed sharing her baked goods with Layla. Especially when the snack included a delicious tall glass of milk that had been produced right here on this ranch.
“No trouble at all,” Melody Blake said, smiling. “Besides, I enjoy your company. It can get lonely in these parts.”
Layla knew the Silver Spurs was a good half-hour car ride from town. At least Ms. Melody had neighbors living fairly close who checked in on her regularly. Layla had discovered the land owned by the majority of the people in this area had been in their families for generations and most of it was used for ranching cattle.
There was something special about the eighteen hundred acres encompassing the Silver Spurs and the spacious Blake family ranch home. Layla had felt welcomed the moment she had driven into the yard. The sprawling ranch house was massive and Layla figured it had to be over fifty-five hundred square feet. What she liked most was the wraparound porch with a swing that faced a beautiful pond.
Ms. Melody, a retired librarian, had said she didn’t mind living in the huge house alone because she was used to it, and reading and baking kept her busy. The kitchen alone was massive and it was where the older woman spent a lot of her days, creating mouthwatering treats. In addition to the huge main house, there was a spacious guest cottage located within walking distance.
When Ms. Melody had agreed to let Layla conduct her archaeological dig on the property, she’d also kindly invited Layla to stay in the main house, but Layla preferred the guesthouse. She could come and go without disturbing the older woman.
According to Ms. Melody, the Silver Spurs had been a prosperous cattle ranch for years. It had even survived when the majority of the men, including Ms. Melody’s husband, left to fight in the Vietnam War. When her husband and son became full-time military men, they’d hired a foreman to keep things running smoothly. Ms. Melody also explained that although her grandson was active in the military as a navy SEAL, whenever he returned home he reclaimed his role as a rancher.
Layla met Caldwell Andrews, the ranch foreman, and found the man pleasant and capable. The same held true for the men who worked for him. They appeared to be hard workers who were dedicated and loyal to the Blake family.
There was so much about Melody Blake that reminded Layla of her own grandmother. Both were independent, in the best of health for women their ages and were active in their churches and communities. Only thing, Gramma Candace wasn’t a baker. She preferred spending her time with a knitting needle instead of a baking pan.
“I thought I’d bake chocolate chip cookies this time. They’re Gavin’s favorite,” Ms. Melody said, breaking into Layla’s musings.
At the mention of Ms. Melody’s grandson, Layla couldn’t dismiss the shiver that went through her body. Gavin Blake was a hunk. Although she’d never met him in person, she had seen enough of the man to judge his looks thanks to the numerous framed photographs that hung on several walls in this house. Layla knew it wasn’t the man’s ego that was responsible, but the grandmother who loved her grandson and was proud of the fact that, like the father and grandfather before him, he was a navy SEAL.
From all the photographs she’d seen, Layla could tell just how well built Gavin Blake was, how drop-dead gorgeous. He was definitely eye candy of the most delectable kind. Any woman would be hard-pressed not to feel some kind of sensual pull whenever she feasted her gaze on his image.
Layla had studied one of the close-up photos, which showed dimples when he smiled, a blunt nose, stubborn jaw and full lips. His angular face made him look so much like the warrior she’d heard him to be. She’d also heard he was quite the ladies’ man. That bit of information had been shared by some of the locals she’d met at the café where she occasionally ate lunch. Once they’d heard she was about to dig on Blake property, they didn’t hesitate to give her an earful.
According to a very talkative waitress whose eyes lit up whenever she spoke of Gavin, Layla had learned he had been a local football hero who had put Cornerstone, Missouri, on the map after leading his high school team to the state championship. No one had been surprised when he’d gone to the naval academy since he’d come from a military family. His father had been killed in the Gulf War and very little was known about his mother. Rumor had it that she’d been pretty, a few years younger than her husband and the two had married within a week of meeting in New York. Apparently, she’d never adjusted to being a military wife or living out on a ranch and had packed up and left. To this day she had never returned.
“Your grandson and I have something in common,” Layla said, returning her thoughts to the conversation, “since chocolate chip cookies are my favorite, as well.”
As she bit into a cookie, she thought that chocolate chip being their favorite was all she and Gavin had in common. Unlike him, she hadn’t spent much time enjoying the opposite sex. She’d spent most of her life in school, getting her advanced degrees and working toward tenure with little time for male companionship. She had doctorates in History and Archaeology, and at twenty-six she was the youngest professor at Flintwood University in Seattle. That position had come with sacrifices such as limiting her social life, especially when it came to dating. The only people bothered by her decisions were her parents. They were hoping a man would come along and put a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly. She was their only child and they didn’t hide the fact they wanted grandchildren.
Nor had they ever hidden the fact they weren’t happy with her career choice. They were both gifted neurosurgeons and they’d expected her to follow in their footsteps by entering the medical field. They hadn’t been pleased when she’d chosen not to do so. The thought of someone digging a hole in the ground instead of saving lives didn’t make sense to them. But she’d never felt the calling to be a doctor, and she knew history was important, too. Understanding the past kept people from repeating their mistakes.
“So, Layla, what’s the game plan for today?”
Layla smiled. She liked Ms. Melody’s attitude. When Layla had shown up on the Blakes’ doorstep over a week ago she hadn’t known what to expect. She definitely hadn’t been prepared for the older woman to believe her story about hidden treasure. She’d faced so much cynicism from colleagues regarding her research she’d come prepared to argue her points. Ms. Melody had listened and asked intelligent questions. Plenty of them. The older woman had also taken two days to review Layla’s research, which had resulted in more questions. It was only then that Ms. Melody had agreed, with a request for periodic updates.
Ms. Melody had told Layla that her grandson would most likely not support her decision, but she’d also promised she would deal with him when the time came. Besides, she didn’t expect him to return home for a few months, and it was highly likely the treasure would be found by then. Layla hoped that was true. Her creditability with the university was on the line. The possibility of tenure was riding on the success of this dig and publication of her findings and techniques.
She’d participated in several excavations, but this would be the first one she’d spearheaded. Funds from the university hadn’t been as much as she’d requested, due to budget cuts, but she was determined to make good use of what she’d been given and show results. The head of her department, Dr. Clayburn, hadn’t offered much support. He’d even tried shifting the funds to another project. Lucky for her, he’d been out of the country when the vote had been taken.
She’d worked all her life for this chance to prove she was an archaeologist of note. If her research was correct—and she knew it was—she’d be the first one to find any of Jesse James’s treasure, and she’d be the first to use some of the latest technology on a successful dig.
“Since all the permits are in order, I contacted the members of my team,” she said, smiling. “They will be arriving in a week.” Her excavation team consisted of students from the university, some from her classes and some from Dr. Clayburn’s. She had spoken with every one, and they were as anxious as she was to get started.
“You have to be excited about that.”
“Yes,” she answered, though she knew that’s when the pressure would begin. “The equipment will start arriving on Monday.” Layla took another bite into her cookie before adding, “Again, I really appreciate you letting us dig on your property, Ms. Melody.” It showed Layla that Ms. Melody believed in her work.
“There’s no need to thank me. Anyone who took the time to read your research with an open mind would reach the same conclusion. It’s historically documented that James and his gang robbed a bank in Tinsel and then headed to east Missouri before a sheriff posse drove them south. I think you’re right. Given how fast a horse can travel loaded down with a cache of gold bars, it makes perfect sense that the gang holed up somewhere in this area before taking a chance to continue east. And it makes even more sense that they got rid of some of their loot before heading toward the state line. Like I said, your research was thorough.”
An inner glow filled Layla. Although others had read the same documentation they couldn’t forget her age or inexperience. Because of that, they assumed Layla was on a wild-goose chase, wasting university funds that were needed to finance more important archaeological projects.
At that moment they heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up in the yard.
Ms. Melody glanced over at the clock on the wall. “It’s not even noon yet. I wonder who that could be.”
Getting up from the table, Ms. Melody went over to the window and glanced out. When she turned back around, a huge smile covered her entire face. Layla heard the love in the older woman’s voice when she said, “It’s Gavin. He’s home. The rancher returns.”
* * *
Gavin grabbed his duffel bag from the truck before closing the door. He tilted his Stetson back on his head and looked at the car parked in front of what his grandmother called the guest cottage and what he called the party house. It was where he and his teammates would hang out whenever they visited.
Gavin hoped that his grandmother hadn’t extended an invitation for the woman to stay on their property as well as dig on their land. If that was the case, he intended to send her packing quickly. He didn’t want anyone taking advantage of his family.
He thought about what he was missing in Mississippi. He’d looked forward to being in bed with that bartender about now. Calling to cancel had been hard. Promising to head her way as soon as he’d taken care of this unexpected family emergency had satisfied her somewhat.
Walking around his truck, he took a deep breath of the Missouri air. This was home and he’d always enjoyed returning after every covert operation. Silver Spurs meant a lot to him. To his family. It was his legacy. It was land that had been in his family for generations. Land that he loved. He enjoyed being a rancher almost as much as he enjoyed being a SEAL. Almost. He would admit that being a SEAL was his passion.
Gavin appreciated having a good man like Caldwell to keep things running in his absence. The older man had done the same thing during Gavin’s father’s time. And Caldwell’s father had been foreman to Gavin’s grandfather, so Caldwell and his family also had deep history with the ranch.
While he was home, Gavin intended to return to ranching. He couldn’t wait to get back in the saddle and ride Acer as well as help Caldwell and the men with the herd. And he needed to go over the books with Phil Vinson, the ranch’s accountant.
However, the first thing on his agenda was a discussion with his grandmother about her giving someone permission to dig on their land. Hopefully he’d have everything settled by next week and he would hightail it to Mississippi. All he needed was one night with a woman and then he’d be good for a while.
He had taken one step onto the porch when the front door swung open and his grandmother walked out. She was smiling, and when she opened her arms, he dropped his duffel bag and walked straight into the hug awaiting him. She was petite, but her grip was almost stronger than that of a man. He loved and admired her so damn much. This was the woman who’d been there for him when his own mother had left. The woman who’d been there for him when he’d laid his father to rest sixteen years ago. She had, and always would be, his rock. That’s why he refused to tolerate anyone trying to take advantage of her kindness.
“Welcome home, Gavin,” she said, finally releasing him so she could lean back and look at him from head to toe as she always did when he returned from one of his assignments. “I didn’t expect you for a few months yet. Did everything go okay?”
He smiled. She always asked him that knowing full well that because of the classified nature of his job, he couldn’t tell her anything. “Yes, Gramma Mel, everything went okay. I’m back because I understand you and I need to—”
He glanced over his grandmother’s shoulder and he blinked, not sure he was seeing straight. A woman stood in the doorway, but she wasn’t just some woman. She had to be the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. Hell, she looked like everything he’d fantasized a woman to be, even while fully clothed in jeans and a pullover sweater. He didn’t want to consider what his reaction would be if she was naked.
His grandmother sensed his attention had shifted. She turned around and smiled at the woman. “Layla, come out here. I want you to meet my grandson.”
Layla? Where had she come from? Was she the granddaughter of one of his grandmother’s fellow church members or something? He recalled Mrs. Cotton had a granddaughter who visited on occasion from Florida and her name was Layla...or was it Liza? Hell, he couldn’t remember. He wasn’t thinking straight. When this Layla began walking toward him, he ceased thinking at all. She was wearing stretch jeans and a long sweater and had an eye-catching figure with curves in all the right places.
Gavin fought for air as she neared. He studied her features, trying to figure out what about them had him spellbound. Was it the caramel-colored skin, dark chocolate eyes, dimpled cheeks, button nose or well-defined kissable lips? Maybe every single thing.
Wow! Was he that hard up for a woman or did this Layla actually look that good? When she stopped beside him, a smile on her lips, he knew she actually looked that good. He kept his gaze trained on her face—even when he really wanted his eyes to roam all over her.
Not waiting for his grandmother to make introductions, his mouth eased into a smile. He reached out his hand and said, “Hello, I’m Gavin.”
The moment their hands touched, a jolt of desire shot through his body. It’s a wonder he hadn’t lost his balance. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before and he touched women all the time. From the expression that had flashed in her eyes, he knew she had felt it, as well. Yes, there was definitely strong sexual chemistry between them.
“It’s nice meeting you, Gavin,” she said softly. He even liked the sound of her voice. “And I’m Layla. Layla Harris.”
Harris? His horny senses suddenly screeched to a stop. Did she say Harris? Was Layla related to this Professor Harris? The woman’s daughter perhaps? Was she part of the excavation team? She looked young, around twenty or twenty-one. Now he had even more questions and he was determined to get some answers when he had that little talk with his grandmother. “It’s nice meeting you, too, Layla.”
It was only when she eased her hand from his that he realized he still held it. She turned to his grandmother. “Thanks for the cookies and milk, Ms. Melody. I enjoyed them. I need to run into town to pick up a few items. Anything I can get for you while I’m there?”
“No. I’ve got everything I need.”
Layla nodded. “Okay. I should be back in a couple of hours.”
“Take your time.”
Giving Gavin one last smile, she quickly walked down the steps toward the parked car. He stood and watched her every move until she was inside the car with the door closed. It was then that he turned his attention back to his grandmother. Not surprisingly, she was staring at him.
“For a minute I thought you’d forgotten I was standing here, Gavin Timothy Blake III,” his grandmother said in an amused tone.
So he’d been caught ogling a woman. It hadn’t been the first time and he doubted it would be the last. “What can I say, Gramma Mel?” He grinned sheepishly. “She’s awfully pretty.”
He decided not to mention how he appreciated that sway to her hips when she walked, or how nice her breasts looked beneath her sweater.
“Yes, she is pretty. Come inside. Just so happens I baked some chocolate chip cookies this morning.”
That made Gavin smile even wider as he picked up his duffel bag. His mouth watered just thinking about the cookies. Now if he could only get that image of Layla Harris’s backside out of his mind...
“How are the rest of your teammates?” his grandmother asked, leading him through the front door. “You guys were together for over two months on this mission.”
He glanced around as he entered. Everything looked the same. However, instead of smelling like vanilla, his grandmother’s favorite scent, the house smelled of woman. Namely Layla Harris.
“Everyone is fine, just anxious to get home. Bane and his wife are renewing their vows in a few weeks and I plan to attend the ceremony,” he said, placing his duffel bag on the sofa for now. “This was Coop’s first covert operation after being rescued and he’s good as ever.”
The only reason Gavin shared that much info with his grandmother was because when he’d come home last year before the holidays everyone had believed Coop had been killed on assignment. The entire team had taken Coop’s death hard. Then right before Christmas, they’d found Coop was alive and being held hostage in the Syrian mountains. Gavin and his team had been sent in to get Coop, as well as other hostages, out alive.
“This was Bane’s first time back, too, right?” his grandmother asked.
Did his grandmother not forget anything? Bane, being master sniper, had been recruited to work in DC for six months teaching SEAL recruits. “Yes, we were glad to have him back as well. And before I forget, I plan to head for Mississippi next week. I’ve got important business to take care of there.” His grandmother didn’t need to know that the important business was getting laid.
As soon as he entered the kitchen, he went straight to the sink to wash his hands and then quickly headed for the coffeepot. After pouring a cup, he turned and watched Gramma Mel arrange a half-dozen cookies on a plate for him. He smiled. Anyone else would eat just one or two, but his grandmother knew him well. He needed at least a half dozen to get things started. “You need a fresh cup of coffee?” he asked her.
“Thanks. That would be nice, Gavin.”
After pouring another cup, he moved away from the counter to sit down and she sat across from him. He placed her coffee in front of her and grabbed for a cookie. She slapped away his hand. “Say grace first.”
He chuckled, recalling the protocol she expected of him. After quickly bowing his head in silence, he grabbed a cookie and almost swallowed it whole. He loved his grandmother’s chocolate chip cookies.
She shook her head as she took a sip of her coffee. Now was as good a time as any to bring up what had brought him rushing back to the Silver Spurs. “What’s this I hear about you giving some professor permission to dig on our land?”
Gramma Mel raised a brow over her cup of coffee. “And you know this how?”
He held his grandmother’s gaze. “Sherman Lott called. He thought I had a right to know.”
She frowned. “As far as I’m concerned, Sherman needs to mind his own business.”
Gavin stared at this grandmother as he bit into another cookie. “The way I figure it, Caldwell is the one who should have called me. He’s paid to keep me informed about what’s going on around here. But he wouldn’t call because he’d think doing so would be disloyal to you. And we both know what you mean to him.”
His grandmother didn’t say anything. She just stared into her cup of coffee. There really wasn’t anything to say. Gavin had known for years that his grandmother and Caldwell had a thing going on. He wasn’t stupid. Nor was he insensitive. He wanted the two people who meant the most to him to be happy. He figured that one day they would stop trying to be so damn discreet. In the meantime, what they did was their business. He’d only brought it up now to make a point.
“Caldwell would have told you had he thought it was important,” his grandmother finally said.
“Whatever.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So what about it? Did you give permission for a dig to take place on our property?”
She leaned back in her chair. “Yes, I gave my permission and I see nothing wrong with it.”
Gavin kept his cool. “Well, I do. Honestly, Gramma Mel. You actually bought into this professor’s tale about Jesse James’s buried treasure?”
“Yes, I read her research and found it thorough and convincing. I have a copy, if you want to read it for yourself.”
“I don’t need to read anything to know the research is false. There’s no buried treasure on our land, and I’m against the idea of anyone digging around for nothing.”
His grandmother leaned forward in her chair. “And I happen to disagree. But what you believe is a moot point since I’ve given Layla permission and from what she told me this morning, her equipment will arrive in a few days—”
“Hold up,” he said, giving the time-out sign with his hands. “Why did you give Layla Harris permission? It’s her mother who’s running things, right?”
His grandmother look confused. “Her mother? I never met the woman. Layla is in charge or should I say Dr. Layla Harris is in charge.”
Surprise made Gavin raise his eyebrows. “Layla is the professor?”
“Yes, and a very competent one.”
Gavin shook his head, not believing such a thing was possible. “She’s young.”
“She’s twenty-six. However, I admit she does look younger.”
Twenty-six? That was still young and yes, she definitely looked younger. He drew in a deep breath, trying to force back the memories of just how she’d looked...in her jeans and sweater. And then the thought that she’d deliberately oozed her way onto his grandmother’s good side made him mad.
“You might have given your permission, but I have not given mine. Something that major means we need to be in full agreement.”
“No, it doesn’t. If you recall, we agreed that any time you were away on military business, I could make decisions in the best interest of the Silver Spurs.”
“I don’t consider digging up our land to be in the best interest of anything.”
“I disagree. I’m excited about what Layla might find. And I also gave her permission to stay in the guesthouse.”
The line of Gavin’s jaw tightened. He’d figured as much. Melody Blake was stubborn, but then so was he. He ate the last of his cookies, drained his coffee and stood. “I’m tired and need a full day of sleep. But we will talk about this again, Gramma Mel. In the meantime, I suggest you tell Dr. Layla Harris to hold up on bringing any type of equipment to the Silver Spurs.”
And without saying anything else Gavin walked out of the kitchen.
