Читать книгу Jenna's Cowboy Hero - Brenda Minton - Страница 9

Adam slid into the old truck and slammed the door twice before it latched. He glanced sideways and Jenna Cameron smiled at him, her dimples splitting her cheeks and adding to her country-girl charm. He knew a dozen guys that would fall for a smile like that.

He knew he’d almost fallen when he looked up as she dabbed salve on his face and caught her staring with brown eyes as warm as a summer day. She’d bitten down on her lower lip and pretended she wasn’t staring.

The boys were buckled in the backseat of the extended-cab truck. They were fighting over a toy they’d found on the floorboard. He wondered where their dad was, or if they had one. Jenna Cameron: her maiden name, so she wasn’t married. Not that he planned on calling her. He had long passed the age of summer romances.

The truck, the farm, a country girl and two little boys. This life was as far removed from Adam’s life as fast food was from the restaurants he normally patronized. He kicked aside those same fast-food wrappers in the floor of the truck to make room for his feet. A toy rattled out of one of the bags and he reached to pick it up.

“This should stop the fighting.” He reached into the back and the boys stared, eyes wide, both afraid to take the plastic toy. “I’m not going to bite you.”

They didn’t look convinced. Jenna smiled back at them. He would have behaved, too, if that smile had been aimed at him. The smaller twin took the toy from his hand. Another look from Jenna and the boy whispered a frightened, “Thank you.”

The truck rattled down the drive and the dog ran alongside. When they stopped at the end of the drive, the dog jumped in the back. What would his friends think of this? And Morgan—the woman he’d dated last, with her inch-long nails and hair so stiff a guy couldn’t run his fingers through it—what would she say?

Not that he really cared. They’d only had three dates, and then he’d lost her phone number. How serious could he have been?

“You grew up not far from here, right?” Jenna shifted and the truck slowed for the drive to his camp. He couldn’t help but think the word with a touch of sarcasm. It was the same sarcasm he typically used when he spoke of home.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Are you staying with family?”

“Nope.” He rolled his window down a little farther. He wasn’t staying with family, and he didn’t plan on talking about them.

He’d taken his father into the spotlight he craved, and now it was over. Retirement at thirty-three, and his father no longer had the tail of a star to grasp hold of. They hadn’t talked since Adam announced his retirement.

Over the years his relationship with his family had crumbled, because they’d made it all about his career. His sister had faded away a long time ago, probably before high school ended. She’d yelled at him about being a star, and she wasn’t revolving around his world anymore. And she hadn’t.

The truck bounced over the rutted trail of a drive that had once been covered with gravel. Now the rain had washed away the gravel and left deep veins that were nearly ditches. The truck bumped and jarred. Overgrown weeds and brush hit the side panel and a coyote, startled by their presence, ran off into the field. The dog in the back of the truck barked.

“This can’t be the place.”

“Sorry, it is.” Jenna flashed him a sweet smile that didn’t help him to feel better about the property, but he smiled back.

She reminded him of girls who’d wanted to wear his letter jacket back in high school. The kind that slipped a finger through a guy’s belt loop as they walked down the hall and kissed him silly on a Saturday night.

“If it makes you feel better, there are plenty of people around here looking for work.” She broke into the silence, speaking over the wind rushing through the cab of the truck and country music on the radio. “Take a drive into town and there are half a dozen guys who will mow this with a Brush Hog.”

“That’s good to know.” Not really.

He sighed as they continued on. Ahead he could see a two-story building with rows of windows. Probably the dorm. To the left of the dorm was a stable, and to the right of the dorm, a large metal-sided building. Jenna parked in front of a long, single-wide mobile home.

“Home sweet home.” She pushed the door open and jumped out. “It really is a good quality mobile home. And there’s a tornado shelter.”

She pointed to a concrete-and-metal fixture sticking up from the ground. A tornado shelter. So, the manager would duck into safety while fifty kids huddled in a dorm. He didn’t like that idea at all. Billy probably hadn’t given it a second thought.

Billy had lived a pretty sketchy life for the most part. A few years ago he’d found religion and then a desire to do something for troubled kids. Adam had thought Billy’s plan for the camp was legit. Maybe it had started out that way.

Adam walked toward the mobile home, wading through grass that was knee-high. The boys were out of the truck and running around, not fazed by grass or the thought of snakes and ticks.

He would have done the same thing at their age. Now, he was a long way from his childhood, not far from home, and the distance had never been greater.

“Do you know a Realtor?” He looked down, and Jenna Cameron shook her head.

“Drive into Grove and pick one. I couldn’t tell you the best one for the job, but there are several.”

His cell phone rang. He smiled an apology and walked away from her, leaving her looking toward the stable with a gleam that was undeniable. Most women loved diamonds, not barns.

“Are you there?” Will’s voice, always calm. That’s what he got paid for. Will was the voice of reason. Will prayed for him.

Adam had bristled when Will first told him that a few months back. Now the knowledge had settled and he sometimes thought about why his manager would think he needed prayer.

“If this is it, I’m here. And I’m…”

“Watch it, Adam.” Will’s endless warning.

“Fine, I’m here. It’s paradise. Two hundred acres of overgrown brush, a drive with more ruts and ditches than you can imagine and my living quarters are a trailer.”

“It could be worse.”

“So you always say. Is that a verse in the Bible? I can’t remember.”

Will laughed. “Close. The verse says more about not worrying about today’s troubles, tomorrow’s are sufficient in themselves.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Can’t you think of something more optimistic?”

“Has it been so long since you’ve been to church?”

“Your kid’s dedication when she was born.”

“She has a name.”

“Yeah, she does. Kate, right?”

“You’re close. It’s Kaitlin.”

“See, I’m not so shallow and self-centered.”

“I never thought you were. So, about the camp…”

“I’m going to contact a Realtor.”

“No, you’re not. Adam, you can’t ditch that place.”

Adam glanced in the direction of the cowgirl and her two kids. They were tossing a stick for the dog and she was pretending not to listen. He could tell she was.

“Why am I not selling?” He lowered his voice and turned away.

“Because you need this patch on your reputation. You need to stay and see this through. You need to be the good guy.”

“My reputation isn’t bad enough for this to be the punishment.”

“Look, Adam, let’s not beat around the bush. You have money in your account, a nice house in Atlanta and a shot at being a national anchor for one of the biggest sports networks in the world. Don’t mess it up.”

Adam walked up the steps to the covered porch on the front of the mobile home. He peeked in the front door, impressed by the interior and the leather furniture his cousin had bought with his money.

“Adam?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Is this compliance?” Will sounded far too amused and then he chuckled, as if to prove it. “Stay there. Clean the place up and make it a camp for underprivileged kids. Show the world what a good guy you are.”

“I’m not a good guy, I’m self-centered and macho. I’m a ladies’ man. I worked hard on that reputation and now you want me to change it?”

“I didn’t ask for the other reputation, it’s the one you showed up with. This is what I’m asking for. That you stay for the summer, show the world the real you, and be nice to the neighbor.”

Adam glanced in her direction, blue jeans and a T-shirt, two little boys. “How do you know about her?”

“Billy told me she’s a sweet girl.”

“You talked to Billy?”

“He called to ask a few questions, just advice on the property.”

“I don’t like this. You do realize, don’t you, that I’ll have to live in this trailer and eat at a diner in Dawson called The Mad Cow?”

Will laughed and Adam smiled, but he had no intentions of staying here. He’d find a way to get out of it. He pushed his hat down on his head and walked off the porch, still holding the phone.

“Billy said the chicken-fried steak was to die for.” Will the optimist.

“Billy died of a heart attack. Talk to you later.”

Jenna picked her way across the overgrown lawn. Adam Mackenzie stood next to the porch, staring at the barn and the dorm. He looked a little lost and kind of angry. Angry didn’t bother her. Neither did tantrums—she had the twins.

“Bad news?” She stopped next to him and looked up, studying his face.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He tore off a piece of fescue grass and stuck it between his teeth. “My agent thinks I should stay. This sure wasn’t where I wanted to spend my summer.”

“Really?” She looked out at land that, with a little care, could be a premium piece of property. And she thought of the kids, the ones who were so much like herself, who could come here for a week or two and forget the abuse or poverty at home. Couldn’t he see that? “It looks like a great place to me.”

“What do you see that I don’t?”

“Promise. I see kids finding a little hope and maybe the promise of a better future. I see kids escaping for a week and just being kids.”

He groaned and tossed the grass aside. “Another optimist.”

“I call it faith.”

“So does Will.” Adam had turned back to the steps that led up the porch. “But how does faith help me solve this problem? Does faith clean this place up, or finish it so that it can be used?”

“Prayer might be the place to start.”

“Right.”

She followed him up the steps, right leg always first. It was getting easier every day. Ten months ago she had wondered if anything would ever be easy again. Adam turned when he reached the top and gave her a questioning look she ignored.

“I’m sorry, it really isn’t my business.” She answered his question, pretending the look was about that, about him wanting an answer. “I just happen to believe that God can get us out of some amazingly bad situations.”

“Well let’s see if God can help us get into this trailer.”

She watched as he shoved a credit card into the door. The boys were in the yard playing with the dog. “Guys, stay right here in front of the trailer. Snakes are probably thick right now.”

“That’s another positive.” He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Jenna followed.

He looked around, focusing on the phone and answering machine. Jenna waited by the front door, not sure what she should do. Maybe she should go home? Maybe now was the time to remove herself from his presence and this situation.

While she considered her options, he pressed the button on the answering machine. Messages played, mostly personal and a little embarrassing to overhear knowing that Billy was gone and this was his legacy. There were messages from a distraught girlfriend, creditors asking for money, and his mom wondering why he didn’t call.

Adam replayed the last message.

“Billy, this is John at the Christian Mission. I wanted to confirm that we have the third week of June reserved for fifty kids. Can you give me a call back?” The caller left a number.

Adam turned. “What’s today?”

“The sixth of June.”

He groaned and tossed his hat on a nearby table. “I can’t believe this.”

The message replayed and he scribbled the number on a piece of paper.

“What are you going to do?” Jenna sat down on a bar stool at the kitchen counter.

“Cancel this camp.”

“And let those kids down?”

“I didn’t let them down, Billy did. I can’t have someone bring fifty kids to this place.”

“But…” She bit down on her bottom lip and told herself it wasn’t her business. Not the camp, not his life, none of it. She was just the mom of the kids who ran him off the road.

“Fifty kids,” he repeated, like she didn’t get it. “I don’t even know if the buildings are finished.”

He sat down on the stool next to hers and it creaked. “Obviously the bar stools aren’t one size fits all. Look, I’m not a bad guy, but this isn’t my thing. Summer camps, Oklahoma, none of this is me.”

“I know you’re not a bad guy. And you’re right, this isn’t my business. You have to make the decision that’s right for you.”

He smiled, and she liked that smile, the one that crinkled at the corners of his eyes. “You’re slick, but you’re not going to work me this way.”

“I wasn’t trying.”

“Of course not.” And his smile disappeared.

“I would help you.” She hesitated, at once sorry, but not. “I mean, it wouldn’t take much to get the camp ready.”

“Don’t you work?”

“I have two boys and ten horses. That’s my work. But with the help of the community…”

She hopped down from the stool, momentarily forgetting, and she stumbled. A strong arm caught her, holding her firm until she gathered herself. Her back to him, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” He stood next to her, his hand still on her arm. Looking up, she realized that his face was close to hers, his mouth a gentle line.

“Of course I am.”

He laughed, the deep baritone filling the emptiness of the dark and shadowy trailer. “Of course you are. You waited a whole five minutes after meeting me to involve yourself in every area of my life, and I can’t get a straight answer on if you’re okay. I know a knee injury when I see one. Remember, I’ve spent a lot of years getting plowed over and pushed down.”

“It’s an old injury.” She smiled but it wasn’t easy in the face of his unexpected tenderness, the baritone of his voice soft, matching the look in his eyes. “I need to check on the boys.”

He released her. “And I need to check on the barn and the dorms to see how much more money I’m going to have to spend to make this place usable.”

“But I thought you weren’t going to run the camp.”

“I’m not running it. I’m going to get it ready for someone else to run. I’ll let you and my noble agent, Will, run it. Or I’ll put it up for sale.”

Jenna grabbed a tablet off the counter and the pen he had tossed down. “We’ll drive down there. I can help you make a list for what you might need.”

Because she didn’t feel like making the long walk through the brush on the overgrown trail that used to be a road. The boys were sitting on the porch steps, holding a turtle they’d found.

“Can we keep it?” Timmy poked at the turtle’s head.

“No,” she answered as she walked down the steps of the porch.

“Why not?” all three guys asked.

“Because it wouldn’t be happy in a box. It belongs here, where it can travel and find the food it likes, not the food we toss to it every day.”

The boys frowned at the turtle and then at Jenna. “We just want to keep it for a little while.”

David touched the back of the box turtle, fingers rubbing the rough shell. “I like him.”

Adam sighed and walked back into the house. He came back with a permanent marker. “Guys, there is a way you can keep an eye on this bad boy. We’ll write your names and today’s date on the bottom of his shell. When you’re out here, you can find him and see how he’s doing.”

And that’s how he became a hero to her boys. Jenna watched, a little happy and a lot threatened. She couldn’t let Adam into their lives this way.

Herself in his life, that was different. Making sure this place became a camp was important to her. It was important to kids who were living the same nightmare childhood she had lived.

It was about the camp, not about Adam “Big Mac” Mackenzie. She honestly didn’t need to understand his smile, or the way his eyes lit up. It had been easy, imagining his story when he’d been a football player she and the guys cheered for. Now, with him so close and his story unfolding, she didn’t want to know more.

Adam climbed back into the truck. The boys piled in with them this time because it was a short ride across a bumpy drive to the barn. He glanced sideways, catching a glimpse of Jenna Cameron with her sun-streaked brown hair windblown and soft.

He wasn’t staying. He wouldn’t be pushed into this by her, or by Will. They’d have to understand that he was the last person in the world who ought to be running a camp, dealing with children, especially in Oklahoma.

As soon as he could figure out what to do with this place, who to turn it over to, he’d head back to Atlanta, back to his life. Back to what?

He sighed and she flicked her gaze from the road to him. That look took him back more than a dozen years, to pickup trucks and fishing holes, summer sun beating down on a group of kids just having a good time.

There hadn’t been many times like that in his childhood. His dad had always been pushing, always forcing him onto the practice field. He had sneaked a few moments for himself, enough to make a handful of memories that didn’t include football.

And she brought back those memories, most of which he had forgotten.

The truck stopped in front of the barn. She shot him a questioning look. “It needs a corral.”

He nodded, like he knew. A long time ago he would have noticed. The barn sat on an open lot, no fences, no arena, no corral.

“It’s probably going to need more than that.”

“Horses wouldn’t hurt.” She smiled and then reached for the door handle to get out of the truck.

He followed her, walking behind her into the shadowy interior of the barn. One side was a stable. The other side was for hay, equipment and a room for tack. It creaked in the Oklahoma wind.

She looked up, questions in her brown eyes. The boys shrieked and she glanced in their direction. They were outside, the dog next to them barking.

“Timmy, David, what are you doing?”

“Snake!” the two shrieked at the same time. And Adam noticed that they didn’t scream in fear, but in obvious boyhood delight.

“Get them.” She looked up at him, expecting him to be the one to run to the rescue of her offspring. And he didn’t think they wanted to be rescued. “Please, Adam.”

She couldn’t run to them, and she wanted to. He could see it in the tight line of pain around her mouth. Ignoring the fact that the running he wanted to do was in the direction of Atlanta, he ran to the end of the stable and gathered the boys in his arms, pulling them back from the coiled snake. A garter snake, nonpoisonous and no threat to the boys or the dog.

“It’s a garter.”

The boys wiggled to get free. He set them down, knowing that they’d go back to the snake. The reptile slithered along the side of the barn now, in search of a warm place to rest. The dog had lost interest and was sniffing a new trail.

Jenna was leaning against the barn, watching them, a soft and maternal smile turning her lips.

“Come on, guys. I think you’ve caused enough commotion for one day.” She motioned them to her side. “Mr. Mackenzie, don’t give up on the camp. I know someone would buy it, live here, raise some cows. But a camp. Not just everyone can do that.”

“Probably true, but I’m not the person who can.”

“But you have to.” She turned a little pink. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to.”

He wanted to smile. He wanted to ask how a person became so passionate about something, so willing to fight for it.

“Why does it mean so much to you?” As the words slipped out, he thought he probably didn’t want the answer.

“It isn’t about me. Not really. I think you shouldn’t give up on something that could mean so much to so many people. Including you. And, believe it or not, I think it meant a lot to Billy.”

“But it doesn’t mean that much to me. I’m not looking for good deeds to do. This was about my cousin, something he wanted to do, and something that I had the money to help him with.”

“If you didn’t believe in this when Billy proposed it to you, why did you give him the money?”

“I don’t know.” And he didn’t. He looked out the open doors of the barn and fought the truth. Maybe he did know why. Maybe he hadn’t run as far from his roots as he’d thought.

“It’s too bad that it won’t be a camp. Come on, boys, we’re going home. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Mackenzie.” She said it like she was disappointed in him, as if she had expected better from him. But she didn’t know him.

Before he could say anything, she was walking away, the boys running a little ahead of her. The dog went in another direction, chasing a scent that interested him more than the direction his family was going.

As she climbed into her truck, not looking in his direction, he felt strangely let down. A thought that took him by surprise. She wanted this camp, not for herself but for the kids it could help.

At least it meant something to her. To him, it was just another way he’d been used.

He headed back down the driveway, toward the road, because the tow truck would arrive soon and the rental car he had ordered would be delivered in an hour.

The Mad Cow Diner was starting to sound pretty good, another sign that he was nearing the end of his rope. The lifeline he had to hold on to was the reality that he could take care of what needed to be done, hand it off to someone else, and leave.

Jenna Cameron’s truck rattled down the rutted driveway, slowing as she reached the road, and then pulling onto the paved road in the direction of her house.