Читать книгу Montana Homecoming - Jillian Hart - Страница 10

Chapter Three

“How are you holding up?” Her big brother Luke leaned in to ask, his voice so low it was difficult to hear him in the bustling sandwich shop.

“Fine.” All morning she’d endured sympathetic looks and comforting hugs and encouraging smiles from her family, but no one had said the words aloud. Pain clamped around her ribs. Her hands shook as she dug in her purse for a couple of twenties to help pay for the family meal.

“I’ve got it,” her oldest brother, Hunter, grumbled, standing in front of her in line. He fished a credit card from his wallet. “Put your money away, Brookie.”

“I should at least pay for my own sandwich.”

“Not going to happen.” Hunter was used to being in charge. As the oldest son, he’d borne the brunt of their father’s failures. Their youngest brother’s death had been the last straw. Hunter had grown harder through the years until it was almost impossible to remember the laughing, good-humored boy he’d been. They had been The Three Musketeers, she and Luke and Hunter roaming the hills and fields on their family’s land. Those long-ago happier times felt far away.

“You don’t look fine.” Luke’s voice turned gruff, another strong man uncomfortable showing his caring side. “You haven’t looked fine since you stepped foot inside the courtroom door this morning.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She’d meant to sound firm, but her voice came out strangled. The memories were a noose tightening around her throat, one she could not loosen.

“Leave her be, Lucas,” Hunter grumbled as he handed his card across the narrow counter to a smiling clerk in a green apron. “We all know life isn’t fair. No sense in dragging all that up again.”

Relief filtered through her, loosening the imaginary noose enough so she could breathe. All her life Hunter looked out for her, taking care of her, both he and Luke.

“I didn’t mean to drag up any bad stuff.” Luke’s brawny arm slid around her shoulders, hooked her by the neck and gave her a brief brotherly one-armed hug. “Just trying to help.”

“Stop helping.” Hunter shook his head and dug cash out of his pocket for the tip jar. A hint of a grin hooked the corners of his stern mouth. Growly on the outside, soft on the inside. “Go fill the cups, would you, Brookie?”

“Some things never change no matter how long you are away.” She shook her head, also fighting to hide a smile. “Bossy, bossy, bossy.”

“Someone has to be in charge. Why not me?” Hunter quipped as she grabbed the stack of cups on the counter.

“Why does it always have to be you?” Luke good-naturedly argued, his voice trailing after her as she headed for the soda machines.

Her brothers’ banter faded into indistinct rumbles blending with the other conversations in the busy shop. In their way, her brothers were trying to help and she loved them for it. She extracted one cup from the stack and stabbed it beneath the ice dispenser, and the anxious knot in her middle eased a notch. She had been away from home too long. She missed them all so much.

“Looks like you could use some help.” Colbie sidled in to steal two cups from the stack. “Brianna seems to be holding up well. It can’t be easy to have to relive what happened to her that night.”

“No, I’m sure it’s not.” She feared her sharp-eyed half sister’s comment had a double meaning, that Colbie was also gently wondering the same about Brooke. She closed the door on her memories, leaving them buried. She filled the cup with root beer, glancing over her shoulder. Bree and her identical twin, Brandi, sat at a table near Lil. Bree’s handsome fiancé towered at her side, his strong arm around her as if determined to protect her from the world.

Nice. She was so grateful her sister had found someone to love her, someone honest and good. Brianna deserved a happy future.

Her phone erupted into an electronic tune, surprising her. Who could it be? Root beer sloshed over the rim and onto her knuckles as she clapped on a plastic lid. Most people who would call her were in this restaurant. She thought of the applications she’d sent out before boarding the bus in Seattle. Oh, what if it was someone about a job?

“I’d better get this.” She opened her bag, heart pounding, fingers fumbling. Please, let it be a good job, she prayed.

“You go ahead. I’ll finish up.” Colbie shooed her away with an encouraging grin.

A little swish of hope beat through her as she stepped away. All she needed was a job to get back on her feet—that was all. Just one job. Any job. Her former position hadn’t paid well, but it had included her room and she didn’t need much to get by. She found her phone by feel in the bottom of her bag and checked the number.

Not an out-of-area phone call, she saw from her phone’s screen, but Liam Knightly’s name. He’d sent her a picture. Odd. She hit a button and a vivid image of a living room popped onto the display. Her jaw dropped at the image in full Technicolor. She stared unblinking at a living room in complete disarray. The couch had no cushions, lamps were toppled and DVDs were scattered all over the floor. Had he been robbed?

Wait a minute. She remembered a certain yellow Lab and the ham incident. Had Oscar done this? A grin stretched across her face. She couldn’t help it. That dog could sure destroy a room. Clearly a natural talent, poor boy.

Another chime, another picture. This one appeared to be of a spare bedroom made into an office. A desk’s empty surface shone beneath a sunny windowsill, a printer, a telephone and paper lay on the floor surrounding it. One closet door hung lopsided off its frame. In the corner of the room sat a yellow dog on an overstuffed chair, front paws propped on one chewed-up arm, a deliriously happy grin on his canine face.

“That’s a cute dog.” Colbie glanced over her shoulder. “Why did he do that to the room?”

“Separation anxiety. How did Liam get my number?”

“It’s a mystery.” Eyes sparkling, Colbie sashayed away loaded down with soda cups.

It was no mystery at all. Brooke rolled her eyes. A text message filled her screen.

I need professional help, Liam wrote.

That’s a private matter between you and your therapist. Her thumbs flew across the keys.

Funny. Just what I need. A comedic dog trainer.

She huffed out a breath. I’m not a dog trainer.

Colbie said U were.

She sighed. Colbie is a meddler.

That doesn’t change the fact I need a dog trainer. U interested?

The image of his face, of the amused, easygoing gleam in his striking blue eyes, came to her as easily as if he stood in front of her. Definitely a bad sign and a hint that maybe she should turn down his job offer.

But, come to think of it, she could use the work. Clearly Oscar could use some help adjusting to his new home. Her thumbs tapped out an answer. Maybe.

I’ll pay whatever U want. His words seemed frantic. Just help me.

I’m not sure U can be trained, but I can try.

Me? What about Oscar?

For his sake, I’ll do it. She hit Send, shaking her head. So, she had a job of sorts after all.

Her phone chimed with Liam’s next text. Great. Whew. I need your help desperately.

With a little training up, I think you will make a fine dog owner, she typed and hit Send.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a decade.” Hunter ambled up, carrying two loaded trays of sandwiches. “Got a boyfriend we don’t know about?”

“He’s not even a friend and that’s the way it will stay, so don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you know something I don’t.” Brothers. She grabbed the rest of the sodas and joined her brother at the two tables the family had claimed. After she handed out the drinks, her cell chimed again.

Me? I don’t need training. I already know how to sit. How to fetch.

She could imagine the manly crinkles in the corners of Liam’s eyes as he grinned, typing those words. She eased into a chair, tapping out an answer on the keys. It’s a start. Text me your address and I’ll swing by after court.

“Brooke, we’re waiting on you to say grace.” Hunter frowned as if annoyed as he stacked the emptied trays. His annoyance was pure show. His dark gaze shone with gentleness.

“Oops.” She stuffed her phone into her bag and bowed her head as Hunter began the prayer. She added silent thanks for her blessings of family and a plea for poor Oscar. If things didn’t work out, she would hate for him to go back to living behind barred doors. She shivered, breaking a little inside at the memory. She knew exactly how heartbreaking that existence could be.

* * *

Squinting against the late afternoon sun shining in her eyes, she pulled to a stop at the curb. The small pickup she’d borrowed from Brianna idled roughly as she put it in Park.

This was Liam’s house? She studied the bungalow shaded by two broadleaf maples. The front porch framed two spacious windows and a front door, giving the home a smiling look.

A bark erupted the moment she opened the truck’s door. A golden blur streaked across the tidy lawn as she rose to her feet.

“No, Oscar! No!” Liam’s laughter held no sting as his command echoed in the front yard. He raced into sight but not fast enough to stop the golden blur from springing over a row of low shrubbery.

She caught sight of ears up, tongue lolling and bright canine eyes gleaming. She braced for impact, just in case. “Oscar, sit.”

Did it work? Not a chance. Paws hit her shoulders, a tongue swiped from her chin to her forehead and she sat down hard on the sidewalk, eighty pounds of dog in her lap.

“Brooke, are you all right?” Liam’s concern, Liam’s hand on her arm, his caring blue eyes meeting hers.

“I’m fine.” A dog’s happy kiss swiped across her face again and she laughed. Really laughed. After a hard day dealing with ghosts of her past and worries of how the trial was affecting Brianna, Oscar’s exuberance felt like a gift, a true blessing that was as welcome as the warm May sun and the song of the breeze through the maple leaves. “Oscar, you are a great boy. Do you know that?”

Chocolate eyes twinkled a happy answer. The big dog leaped and danced on the sidewalk, caught a whiff of her purse and tried to stick his nose beneath the leather flap.

“Oscar?” Liam caught his collar. “No more destruction. You’ve maxed out your daily limit, buddy.”

“I think he’s going for the dog biscuits I picked up on the way over. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Careful. Leather is edible, at least to him. So are most materials known to man.” He held out his free hand to help her from the ground. She reached without thought, her palm sliding against his. A jolt of awareness whispered through her, the oddest of sensations, a charged sweetness. What on earth? She’d never experienced anything like that before.

Did he feel this, too? She couldn’t tell. His face remained unchanged as his hand fell away from hers, leaving her palm tingly. Somehow she made her feet work, falling into stride beside him. Oscar bounded between them on the walkway, sniffing her purse.

“How is Brianna holding up?” Kindness layered Liam’s question. “This had to be a hard day of remembering.”

“Yes, but she’s awesome. She’s been through a lot of trauma but she’s handling this better than I could in her shoes.”

“Have she and Max set a wedding date yet?”

“Word is they want a Christmas wedding, although nothing official yet.” She tapped up the front steps and onto the cozy porch, keeping a good hold on her bag. Oscar had begun to drool. “They are going to wait until all this court stuff is over.”

“Smart. Finish one chapter, then start another.” He pulled open the front door, giving her a new view of the destruction. “I haven’t been home long enough to tackle this.”

“Oh, Oscar.” She gaped at the scene. The pictures Liam sent hadn’t begun to tell the whole story. Amazed, she walked into the ruin, stepping over DVD cases and fluffs of stuffing from the couch pillows, shocked at Oscar’s thoroughness.

The Lab whined, worry furrowing his doggy brow.

“You know that was wrong, don’t you?” She kept her voice gentle but didn’t hide her disappointment in him.

Oscar’s head sank. His haunches went down. No whine had ever sounded as sorry.

“See? This is my problem.” Liam’s gaze speared hers, full of sympathy for his canine friend. “He loses his head and then regrets it later. He’s not a bad dog.”

“Not even close.” She liked Liam more for understanding that. With the slant of the light through the windows falling across him he appeared gilded, like a dream. Why did her heart skip three beats? Why couldn’t she pull away to put more physical distance between them?

All good questions. The fact that she actually felt a little comfortable with him surprised her more. Maybe it was how he’d protected her earlier in the courtroom corridor, hauling her purposefully away from the nosy reporter. She wasn’t good at letting anyone do something for her, even family. She’d become very self-reliant. Maybe too self-reliant. His help had felt nice.

Liam gave the front door a push, closing it with a final click. He squared his shoulders as he surveyed the room. “I’ve been wanting to redecorate anyway.”

Funny. She liked that about him, too. The left side of his mouth crooked upward into a grin and a dimple dug into his lean cheek. Totally a likeable guy.

“Do you know what you need?” She did her best to drag her gaze away from his riveting dimple.

“A swift kick for my brilliant idea to get a dog?”

“No, because it was a brilliant idea. You saved him. You gave him a new life.” She tried to sound casual, keeping her approval tucked down deep. Did she succeed? Who knew? She suspected probably not. “What you need is someone to help you clean up this mess.”

“You would do that?” Liam’s gaze harpooned her and she could see into him, where his kindness lived.

“Why not?” She wasn’t affected by him. Really. And that was the story she was sticking with. “I like to help where I can, and let’s face it, you have a problem here. It’s hard to believe one dog could do so much damage.”

“Wait till you see the kitchen.” The dimple cutting into his cheek deepened and so did the gleam in his eyes. “That’s nice of you, Brooke. It’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”

“Probably the only offer you’ve had all day.”

“True.” His chuckle rumbled smooth and warm like butter melting, and a matching dimple bracketed the right corner of his mouth. For most women that would probably be irresistible.

Good thing she was immune.

“I may as well feed you since you’re here anyway.” A casual invitation as he knelt to gather up a bunch of DVD cases. Most of them only had a few teeth marks. “I’ve got some meat defrosting in the kitchen. All I can offer you is a hamburger.”

“I’ve never met a hamburger I haven’t liked.”

“Excellent. Another thing we have in common.”

“You’re counting?” She rescued a couch cushion from the floor.

“Just making conversation. Trying to figure out the puzzle that is Brooke McKaslin.”

“I’m a puzzle?”

“Only in that I don’t know anything about you.” He set the DVDs on a shelf. “I’ve known Colbie and Lil for years, ever since they moved in next door to my grandmother. We attend the same church.”

“Then why didn’t I see you at yesterday’s service?” She studied him with an analytical arch to her amazing blue eyes and it made his heart catch.

That lurch in his chest bothered him.

“Let me guess.” He rescued more DVDs from the floor. “You went to the early service.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Nope. I find it tough to get up early on Sunday.”

“Ah, another piece of the puzzle that is Liam Knightly.”

“I’m no puzzle. With me, what you see is what you get.”

“That’s too bad.”

He rolled his eyes, laughing along with her. He rescued a few stray DVDs that still might work once the dried slobber was cleaned off. He gave them a swipe with his sleeve. “So, what do you do besides coming to the rescue of desperate dog owners?”

“I’ll let you know. I’m currently unemployed.”

“Ouch. Been there.” He matched up DVDs with their mangled cases, but where were his eyes? Watching her. “It was long, long ago but I remember it clearly. Unemployment is not fun.”

“No, but I’m not dwelling on it. Something will work out.” She straightened the last cushion. Her movements, graceful and self-conscious, stole him. It was as if she’d reached right over and tried grabbing his heart.

“Well, something worked out for you today. Oscar is your next job.” He swallowed against the tightness in his throat, but nothing could dispel the odd sensation of almost being caught by her.

He didn’t want to be caught by anyone.

“I’m sure Oscar will be the best job I’ve ever had. He’s a sweetie.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He ambled around the coffee table, still on its side, and bent to right it. “Colbie might keep finding you work.”

“You never know. She’s certainly determined.” She dug in her purse and withdrew a packet of needles and different-colored thread bobbins. “I think she wants me to find something here so that I’ll stay in Montana.”

“Do you want to stay?” He heaved the oak coffee table onto all four legs, watching her through his lashes.

“I don’t know.” Her voice dipped. “I’ve gotten used to life in Seattle.”

“Oh, I get it. You have someone there. A boyfriend?” Why was he disappointed? He should not be bummed because Brooke had a significant other.

“No, no way. Just a life I’ve gotten comfortable with.” She held up a length of thread to one of the couch cushions, nodded and chose a needle.

No boyfriend? Why was he relieved? “Sometimes you have to step out of your comfort zone. Take a risk.”

“I’ve done that. Got burned.” She shrugged, oddly vulnerable and trying to hide it. “Lived to regret it. Hugely.”

“Who hasn’t?”

“True.” He didn’t know what it was about her that drew him. It was a mystery he had to figure out. Was it her honesty, like the quietest note of a hymn, that hooked him? Or the promise of an amazing spirit that went along with her breath-stealing beauty? He wished he knew. One thing he liked was a puzzle. It was the reporter in him. He had to know more, so he tried again. “What do you do for a living?”

“A little of this, a little of that.” She threaded the needle. “I think the couch cushion is totally salvageable, but what about that throw pillow?”

“Not a chance of saving it, and I’m the one asking the questions.” He swept up the pillow missing half its stuffing. He had more pressing matters, mainly the intrigue of Brooke McKaslin. “Where did you go to college?”

“I didn’t.”

Curious. He would have pegged her for an intellectual type with a degree in fine arts or maybe social work. She stayed away for most holidays or he would have spotted her at Gram’s long before this. “Why did you move so far from your family?”

“Uh…” She looked up from knotting her thread. Her long hair whipped as she glanced around the room. “Liam, where is Oscar?”

“Nice one, but you aren’t going to distract me. I’m on a mission—”

“No, really, where’s Oscar?” Concern tugged at her rosebud lips. “Where did he go?”

A crash rang from the kitchen, accompanied by the thud of something four-footed landing on the floor. A plate clattered to a ringing stop.

“Mystery solved,” Liam quipped. “He’s in the kitchen helping himself to our dinner.”