Brash Page 4

  “I ordered,” he muttered to himself.

  But she heard it. She turned and gave him a curious look, her green eyes touched with momentary humor. He didn’t like it. Tension and anger, and maybe even a thread of unease, were much easier to deal with around her. “I was at the Bull’s Eye with my family,” he explained. “Ordered a burger. Didn’t get the chance to eat it.”

  “Should I ask why?”

  “Nope,” he said, following her down the hallway.

  “Okay . . .” She laughed softly. “Well, I don’t have any meat in the house at the moment. In fact, the cupboards are pretty bare.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Last thing he needed was her fixing him food. Or maybe the last thing he needed was her giving a shit if he ate at all. He didn’t like it. Ex-Sheriff Hunter’s daughter all thoughtful, soft . . .

  “I’ll make grilled cheese!” she announced brightly once they came to the front door. “Wait.” She turned around. “Do you like grilled cheese?”

  Christ. Who didn’t like grilled cheese? “It’s fine, but there’s really no need.”

  “Actually, there is,” she said. “I’m starving too.”

  “Didn’t say I was starving—”

  She moved past him, away from the front door, and the garage, no doubt. “Two grilled cheeses and some tomato soup coming up.” She motioned for him to follow. “If we’re pulling an all-nighter, we’ll need our strength . . .”

  Her words trailed off as they headed into the kitchen, but the phrase all-nighter, and the way her perfect ass was swinging from side to side as she walked, was trying to chip away at Cole’s prefight abstinence brick wall.

  He turned away and cursed as Belle trotted along happily beside him.

  * * *

  He loved this land. Loved it like a father loves a child. Not that he’d know what that felt like. But he could imagine.

  Spying the moonlit house spread out in the distance, Blue urged Barbarella into a canter. The spirited red roan tossed her head, but irritatingly obliged. She was still pissed at him for taking off, staying at the motel out on Route 12 and leaving her unexercised for weeks.

  “Had to clear my mind, Rella,” he’d told her during tack-up.

  She’d snorted at him, then refused the bit. The human equivalent of being flipped off.

  “And talk with Cowgirl,” he’d added.

  The horse wasn’t having any of his excuses. And maybe she didn’t like the idea that he had been spilling his guts to another female. To a woman he’d never met—and probably never would. A woman he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for months now. A woman who got him, made him feel understood. Someone he could trust in a time when he couldn’t trust anyone.

  Passing by the house, Blue noticed the light from the kitchen blazed warmly. He should be talking to her. His mom. Needed to have it out with her. Know the truth about her affair with Everett Cavanaugh. His gut tightened at the idea. Was he ready to hear the truth? And after keeping it a secret, all these years, that Everett—his mentor, friend, and fellow cowboy—was his father, could she be counted on to give it to him?

  “How long you been out there?” Frank called to him as he came to a halt at the barn door.

  The young cowboy was barely out of high school, but he was one of the best hands Blue had ever seen. Whoever took this place on had better recognize that.

  “Since ’bout noon,” Blue answered, dismounting. “Was out fixing fences near the oaks.”

  The cowboy whistled through his teeth. “Damn. How’d you find your way back in the dark?”

  Blue chuckled. “Could do it with my eyes closed. So could Barbarella here. We know every inch of this ranch like it’s the back of my hand. Like it’s . . .” Mine. My home.

  When Blue didn’t finish the thought aloud, Frank pressed, “Like what?”

  “Nothing.” He led Rella into the barn and into her stall. Sure, he was back at the Triple C, doing what he’d been doing since he and his mom came to live there. But it didn’t mean anything was decided or settled. Not with his mom, not with his three newly discovered brothers, and not with the fate of the Triple C.

  “None of the Cavanaughs are around, if you’re looking for ’em,” Frank called before heading into the barn’s small office.

  Blue knew exactly where they were. And he wasn’t looking for them. They’d gone to the Bull’s Eye with their women. No doubt they were having a few beers as they discussed his future. The ranch’s future. Well, they could talk all they wanted. But the only one deciding Blue Cavanaugh’s future would be himself.

  Yeah, that’s right. I said it.

  Blue. Cavanaugh.

  Four

  They’d set up camp in Grace’s well-lit and very organized garage. A medium-sized card table held their grilled cheeses and steaming soup. Cole was sitting on one of the chairs tucked into the table, laptop resting on his denim-clad thighs. Not surprisingly, Belle was fixed to his side. As Grace watched from her perch atop three massive boxes belonging to her father, Cole broke off a piece of his grilled cheese and fed it to the smitten basset.

  “You’re going to spoil her,” she called down.

  Cole’s focus remained on the screen before him. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Doc.”

  A smile touched her lips—quite without her permission—and she reminded him of their conversation a few weeks earlier. “Remember, you don’t have space for her.”

  “Shhh . . .” This time he looked up, his eyes heavy with concern. “She doesn’t need to hear that.”

  “Listen, Champ—”

  “You know I don’t like you calling me that.”

  Grace continued without stopping for breath. “It’s important she hear the truth. Not get her hopes up with all your charms and sweet gestures.”

  His brows drew up. “I have charms?”

  Oh, he was such a pain. “You know how charming you can be, Cole Cavanaugh. And rejection can be very devastating to a girl.”

  Predatory black eyes surrounded by long, pale lashes seized her gaze. The look sent a strange shiver up her spine. She wondered if he stared at his opponents that way. Or the women in his life. Or both.

  “I’m not rejecting her, Grace,” he said coolly. “My life doesn’t allow for her. That’s a very different thing.”

  “Not really.” Not to a girl.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Clearly you don’t know the female species.”

  Those dark eyes flashed with wicked intent and a smile curved his mouth. “Oh, make no mistake, Doc. I know the female species.”

  Grace swallowed. Good Lord. Along with the shiver making its way up her spine, a blast of heat and unwanted awareness snaked through her belly. Charming—and dangerous. She’d have to watch that as they worked together. There was no way she was going to let herself fall for another player. Especially one who wanted to get to her father—not get into her pants.

  Heat rushed up her neck and into her face. Thankfully, Cole was already back looking at his computer, or she was pretty damn sure he would be remarking on her lobster-colored cheeks.

  She studied him for a moment. Brow furrowed, thick fingers stabbing away at the keyboard, intense gaze. Besides being a fine-looking man who wore ink as well as he wore denim and T-shirts rolled up at the sleeves, he fairly oozed masculinity and strength. Her eyes moved up, watching as the cords of muscles in his forearms strained and flexed. Completely unwanted, an image of him lifting her up and placing her over his shoulder before walking off somewhere private flashed into her mind.

  “You going to stare at me, Doc?” he asked, his eyes trained on the screen. “Or get to work?”

  Lobster cheeks were on fire now.

  “I am not staring,” she lied, clearing her throat and returning to the box in front of her. “I was wondering if you’d found some
thing. You looked transfixed.”

  “No.” His reply was more of a grumble.

  “Okay, what’s wrong, then?” she asked, searching through files for the months surrounding Cass’s abduction. “And don’t say you’re still hungry. I’m not making another grilled cheese just so you can feed it to Belle. She’s getting a little full around the middle as it is.”

  “I’m not hungry,” he said tightly. “And Belle is fine. You shouldn’t say shit like that around her. Don’t want to give her any body image issues.”

  Grace looked up in surprise and interest.

  He still stared at the screen, but his lip was curled. “Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know females, Dr. Hunter.”

  Granted, she loved that he was championing the basset the way he was, but she had a sneaking suspicion his irritation stemmed from more than her comment regarding Belle’s weight. “Care to share?” she asked.

  “Share what?” he replied, gaze still fixed intently on the screen.

  “What’s got a bug up your ass? From the moment you walked in here, you’ve been angry with me.” She released a breath. “Look, I’m sorry about the restraining order. But you should be sorry too. What you did was wrong. Now, I’m all for putting that behind us and working together without anger and frustration. Are you?”

  He snapped the laptop closed. “I don’t know what I am. But I do know I’m not finding anything. No articles about the case I haven’t seen or read a hundred times.” He growled softly. “Not sure why I thought there might be something. Everyone looked for this Sweet asshole, and they came up with nothing.” He set the laptop on the table beside the not-so-steaming-anymore soup and looked up at her. “What are we doing?”

  Behind his eyes she saw worry, and maybe just a hint of fear. Did he want to know the truth? Or, like her, was he scared to know it?

  “We’ve only been at it an hour, Champ.”

  His jaw tightened. “I asked you not to call me that.”

  “Okay, I won’t. But can I ask . . . is it bad luck or something?”

  “No. Just don’t like you saying it.”

  “Me or anyone?”

  “You ask too many questions.”

  She shrugged. “I think that’s another female thing.”

  He pushed away from the table and stood up. He looked twitchy, on edge. “I need some air. I need . . . to do something.”

  Grace watched him. She’d seen enough animals in her life to know when they felt caged.

  “When I’m in training mode, I’m restless,” he explained. “I need to use up excess energy constantly. Emotions are running high, that sort of thing. And with what we’re doing here . . . what’s been happening since my dad died . . .”

  “I get it,” she said quickly. And she did. She’d lost someone so close to her that at times it had felt like a limb was missing. What she couldn’t imagine was how it would feel to not know what had happened to that person . . . “You want to take off? Pick this up later—?”

  “No.”

  She watched him, watched as he paced the floor of the garage, the basset following along behind him. “Belle could use a walk,” she suggested finally. “We haven’t been out today. Her leash is right there on the peg by the door.”

  He stopped, caught her gaze, and stared at her hard, as if trying to read her, figure her out.

  “What?” she asked.

  He explored her face, cheeks, mouth . . . then came to rest once again on her eyes. He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just . . .” After a second, he seemed to think better of it. “Nothing. The grilled cheese was good. Soup too. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” Confusion spilled through her as well. What was that look about? What had he been about to say?

  He went to the door, grabbed the leash. Belle trotted after him eagerly and sat very still as he snapped her in. Grace imagined a good percentage of the female species reacted like that to Cole Cavanaugh.

  Before walking out the door, he glanced back at Grace. “You gonna stay here?”

  “Yeah. There may be nothing to find on the web, but we have a lot of boxes to go through.”

  His gaze shifted to the stack. “I’ll be back in thirty.”

  “Take your time.”

  His eyes found hers once again, and in them she saw conflict stirring. No doubt he was wondering why she was being so accommodating, kind, forgiving. Why she didn’t think he was weird for needing to rush outside and work off some pent-up energy. Or maybe he believed this—her, everything—was all a ploy to keep him close so that when information did come their way, she’d have a chance to vet it first.

  He wouldn’t be wrong on that last bit. But there was something about Cole Cavanaugh that tugged at her. Something that had nothing to do with his looks, brawn, or sharp attitude.

  A shared past of loss, perhaps. A confused and shaky present?

  “Clouds are full of water tonight,” she said. “Go easy.”

  One side of his mouth quirked up. As if I ever go easy, Doc, he seemed to be saying. Then he gave her a nod, turned, and headed out into the night.

  * * *

  Cass was running beside him, moonlight bouncing off the trees, making her long blond hair glow. She was seven. They were seven, and Cole had blown off Deacon and James and given up his last summer night before school started to be with his twin. He’d never admit it to her—that would make him look all soft—but sometimes there was just nowhere he’d rather be than by her side. When they were together he felt whole, his missing puzzle piece set nicely in place.

  Stars flickered in the sky overhead, and they joked and laughed their heads off as they followed the path of the stream. Their parents didn’t like them out past eight, thought they’d get lost running around on Triple C land. But it just wasn’t so. They knew every inch, every tree, every rock. Knew it like they knew each other.

  “Watch it!” Cole called out, grabbing Cass and yanking her sideways just as she was about to face-plant into a massive rock.

  She didn’t even miss a step. “You’re the best brother ever, Cole,” she called out before turning around again and kicking up water with the tip of her boot. “But don’t tell Deac and James I said so.”

  He’d granted her a deep grin. “I won’t. Now watch where you’re going.”

  “And my best friend,” she kept on.

  “But don’t tell Mac, right?”

  She laughed. “Right.” Dancing her way up the small incline, she called back, “Hey, Cole?”

  “Yup?”

  “You think we’ll be friends when we’re all grown up?”

  “Heck, no,” he tossed out as a couple of squirrels gave chase up a tree to his right.

  Cass stopped and stared at him, hands on her hips. Under the bright September moonlight, her black eyes glowed with mock fury. Or at least he thought it was mock. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Cass.

  Cole laughed. “Come on. You know I’m kidding. We’re family, girl.”

  For a second, she looked unconvinced, narrowed her eyes at him in a real show of vehemence. But after a moment she deflated, shook her head, and took off downstream at a bit of a gallop.

  Cole followed her with a grin. He loved messing with his twin. Maybe it was because he was a gigantic jerk. Or maybe it was because he needed to be assured that she loved him, relied on him, needed him.

  But when I did need you, you weren’t there for me.

  “Cass!” he shouted.

  Lightning erupted in the sky, answering him, stealing his thoughts and memories—and torment. Chest tight, he stood stock-still in the center of the open field at the very edge of Grace’s property. Clouds now blocked out the moon entirely, gunmetal and threatening. How long had he been out here? He glanced down at Belle. She was sitting on her butt staring up at him, eyes wide as if to say, What’s your problem,
buddy?

  He swallowed thickly and inhaled. “Just losing my mind, is all.”

  She cocked her head to the side.

  “Cass has always been with me. In high school, after I left River Black, in the ring. Outside the ring, watching me as I took out her murderer over and over again. But lately . . .” Since all this had gotten dredged up again, when she was with him, in his mind, she wasn’t soft and playful. She was accusatory and frightened.

  He turned around and headed in the direction of the house at a light jog. “I don’t know if I want to hear the truth,” he muttered aloud. “Shit, that’s not exactly right. I want to know the truth, but . . . I’m fucking scared to know it. Scared of what I’m going to do to anyone who was involved.” Palmer, Sheriff Hunter . . .

  Entering the dark woods, Belle barked up at him, a low, funny howling sound that made him smile. Sadly. Bitterly. “You think I’m nuts too, don’t you, girl?”

  The basset never answered him. Or if she did, Cole didn’t hear it. Midstride, his foot caught on something—a felled log, maybe—and he went flying forward like goddamned Superman. Without the superpowers. Arms outstretched, he braced for impact, but saw Belle dart out in front of him. At the last second he twisted to avoid hitting her and slammed against a large rock. Knowing his body the way he did, he knew the second he hit dirt that his face was cut and bleeding. But worse, his left ankle was royally fucked up.

  Five

  Grace wasn’t normally a clock-watcher. Even at work, she found herself ignoring the time when she was engrossed in a patient. But in the past fifteen minutes, as she dug through box after box, she’d glanced up at the garage wall seven times. Granted, Cole Cavanaugh was a big boy—bigger than most, going by muscle mass—and he could take care of himself on her twelve acres. But he had said he’d be back in a half hour.

  A rumble of thunder sounded.

  And rain was coming. Crap. Belle hated storms. In the weeks since the basset had been living at her place, Grace had witnessed her slip under the bed and howl softly when there was even a hint of a storm in the sky. Maybe Belle was the problem. Maybe she had heard the thunder, stopped right where she was—or climbed into a hollow log or under a bush—and refused to move. Cole probably wouldn’t know how to coax her out. But Grace did believe that if the dog was scared, the man who pretended he wasn’t completely taken by her wouldn’t leave her.