скачать книгу бесплатно
“Come on, he’s not so bad.” Neither am I, even if we are like two peas in a pod. And why did she feel the sudden desire to state her case to Savannah? Getting more comfortable around her was one thing. Getting close enough to spill sisterly secrets wasn’t gonna happen. “Talk to you later,” she said, heading toward the main room of the farm store.
“Carly?”
She turned back.
“I forgive you for your smart remark about exercise, but...speaking of Travis—”
“Were we speaking of Travis? I didn’t hear anyone mention the name.”
“Stop.” Smiling, Savannah swatted her arm. Then her expression turned serious. “You haven’t asked about his progress.”
“No,” she said, just as seriously, her heart missing a beat.
Twenty years earlier, their mother had left the ranch, abandoning them all. Just this spring, Savannah had hired Travis, an old school friend and now her husband, who worked as a private detective, to track down Delia Baron. Not an easy job, as it turned out. They’d now reached the beginning of July with still no substantial developments. Or...
“Did he have luck with that connection to Albuquerque?” She hid her clenched fists at her sides and stared, waiting.
“No, it turned out to be another dead end.” Savannah sighed. “I know you’re trying not to breathe down my neck about Travis’s search, the way I’m trying not to hover over his shoulder.”
But Carly would like to hover over his shoulder. Heck, she wanted to help with the search and hurry things up any way she could.
Yes, when it came to comparing her to their dad, the apple—or maybe the peach—didn’t fall far from the tree. “Well, don’t give up,” she said, attempting to sound reassuring. “I’m sure if he just keeps digging, Travis will catch a break soon.”
Outside, sunlight dazzled her eyes before she could slip on her sunglasses, and heat seemed to haze the peach-scented air. Even with the high temperature, the short ride to the main house didn’t warrant turning on the ranch truck’s air conditioner. It would barely cool the interior before she arrived.
She left the windows open and drove slowly, appreciating the time alone. The time to breathe.
That last thought reminded her of her sister’s comments about breathing and hovering.
Savannah had assumed she’d hung back from asking questions about the search to keep from pressuring Travis. Partly true. But, for the most part, she walked around nearly biting her tongue in half to keep the two of them from guessing how eagerly she wanted results. She had her own need to find their mom and, like her reasons for staying away from the ranch, it was one her sisters and brothers didn’t know. If she had her way, they would never know.
* * *
A FEW MINUTES LATER, Carly nosed the truck into the long drive to the ranch house. The open windows caught a cross breeze, mild but welcome.
Several yards from the house, she glanced toward the barn and saw a sight she didn’t welcome at all.
Everything about her tightened—her hands on the wheel, her shoulders, her throat, her breath.
The cowboy standing in the barn doorway started toward the truck, his long legs in worn jeans eating up the space rapidly. He wore a battered Stetson, the wide brim shading most of his face, but no matter how much she tried to convince herself this was just any old cowhand striding toward her, she couldn’t believe the lie.
There was no mistaking those mile-wide shoulders or that sandy-blond hair. No mistaking the way her heart pounded.
The last time she’d seen Luke Nobel, he had turned and stalked away from her in anger, leaving her teenage heart crushed in the dust beneath his boots. To this day, she hadn’t healed right and probably never would.
She wasn’t ready for this meeting.
He wasn’t giving her a choice.
Seconds later, he halted within arm’s reach of her driver’s door, his eyes seeming to hold the power to pin her into her seat.
All these weeks of worrying, and here was the one situation she had wanted to avoid. All the years of running, and here stood the one man she’d tried so hard to leave behind.
“Carly Baron,” he said. “At last.”
His voice rumbled deeper than it had years before, coming from a chest broader and more solid than the boy’s she remembered.
“Luke.” She forced a grin. “Isn’t this flattering. Sounds like you were just waiting for the chance to run into me.”
“I figured it was bound to happen, once Brock said you’d come home again. But when I never caught sight of you, I started to wonder if he’d been hitting the pain pills too hard.”
“No pills. And, to Daddy’s dismay, we take great care in measuring out the bourbon. Also, I’m not home again. I’m just visiting.”
“The helpful daughter.”
“That’s me all over.” Her body tingled when he continued to stare. Gripping the steering wheel, she fought back a wave of disgust at herself. If she let a mere look from this man bring that reaction on, she would soon find herself in a world of hurt from him. Again.
She had parked at the wrong angle to allow for a quick exit to the house, and the truck sat too far from the road to reverse all the way down the drive. Maybe she could just back up a bit and then run over his danged toes.
The thought brought on a smile.
“Excuse me.” She shoved open the door and he jumped back.
A double dose of attitude made her stand straight in front of him. He stared back without saying a word. Let him look all he wanted. One touch, though, and she’d deck him.
The silence stretched on, till her nerves began to feel stretched thin, too. Never let ’em see you sweat, an old rodeo clown had once told her. She’d go that one better. Never let Luke see you care. She waved her hand in front of him. “Hel-loo. I’m still here. No sense trying to act like I’ve disappeared in a puff of smoke.”
“Not yet, anyhow. I was just thinking. It’s been a long time.”
“And you’ve come a long way.” If he picked up on the added meaning behind her words, he didn’t show it. Anger at his reminder of their past couldn’t quite overcome the hurt. Still, she managed to keep her voice even. “I hear you’re manager now. Daddy’s right-hand man. You finally made the connection and landed a job on the Roughneck, the way you’d always wanted.”
He got that message, all right. His jaw hardened, and his chest rose with a deep breath, as if he’d had to summon his patience.
What did he expect—that she would have forgotten the way he’d tried to use her to get a job on her dad’s ranch?
“Maybe I had other reasons for showing up that day, besides the job.”
“What reasons? Trying to win me over?” She laughed without humor. “Why bother, when you already had me where you wanted me?”
“You think that’s what it was all about? I wanted to get to your daddy through you?”
“I said that to you then, and you didn’t argue. But it looks like you found a way without me, after all.”
He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “Funny. By now, I would have thought you’d grown up some.”
The pity in his tone rubbed her nerves raw. “I expected you’d have grown beyond working for my daddy.”
“A man’s gotta have a job,” he said mildly. “And I guess none of us knows what the future has in store.”
“I’m not concerned about the future, only in what’s happening today. And in making sure not to repeat the past.”
“Yeah. Well, what’s happening in my world today includes managing this ranch. I’d better get back to it.”
“That’s what Daddy pays you for,” she said, forcing a lightness that vied with the heaviness in her heart.
He touched the brim of his Stetson. “See you around.”
Not if I can help it.
He turned and walked away with enough of a tight-jeaned swagger to make her breath catch.
She leaned back against the sun-warmed truck, bombarded by memories she’d tried for so long to forget. Memories of that innocent, insecure high-school girl who always blended into the woodwork. Who had felt lost in the crowd of her own family. And who could never push away the vision of herself as a little girl her own mother couldn’t love.
At least, not enough to make her stay.
Not even being the apple of her daddy’s eye could make up for all that.
Just once, she’d wanted someone to single her out, to notice her differences, to see her as an individual, not as simply one of the Baron brood.
She had thought she’d found that someone in Luke Nobel.
She couldn’t have been more wrong. Or been so betrayed.
Pushing herself away from the truck, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him as he made his retreat. Their first meeting in seven years had gone no better than she’d expected, no worse than she’d feared.
Regardless of what he thought, she had grown up since the days they were together. Toughened up, too. And yet she wished this could be the last time she would ever see him.
All the needs and secrets and sorrows she kept from her family had to be kept from Luke, as well.
Especially from Luke.
He was a big part of the reason she had so much to hide.
Chapter Two (#ulink_bc278725-610d-59fa-9a3d-6452eb5accce)
In the foyer of the main house, Carly paused to take inventory. Her breathing had returned to its usual even rhythm. The flush of anger warming her cheeks could be attributed to the heat outside. Only her hands might give her away. They continued to shake in irritation over the meeting with Luke. Whether or not the tremble would be visible to anyone else’s eye, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t about to get caught out here, checking her reactions in the hall mirror.
After plastering a smile on her face, she crossed to the living room. Brock sat in the wheelchair with his leg extended, a file folder in his hands and papers spread across the cushions of the couch beside him.
Before she could say a word, he grumbled, “This is no way to conduct business. I ought to bring the damned desk from the den in here.”
“The boys told you they’d happily move it for you.” Her brothers would do anything to help cut down on Brock’s crankiness. Deliberately, she had just now done the opposite, giving him a chance to be contrary. Letting off some steam with her might make him ease up on the rest of the family.
Sure enough, he snapped, “Moving furniture still wouldn’t get things done properly.”
“And you probably wouldn’t be happy, anyway, unless you could spread everything across that ginormous conference table you’ve got downtown. But that’s out for now. If you’ve been listening to your doctor, you know that won’t happen for a while yet.” Lord only knew much longer she’d be needed here. How much longer she could force herself to stick around.
She picked up the edge of the afghan trailing on the floor and fluffed the pillow behind his back.
“Stop messing. This isn’t a sick room.”
“Yessir.” Biting her lip to hold back a smile, she studied him. Tall and slim, he had a vigorous head of hair, pure silver now. His eyes, bright blue against his slightly weatherworn skin, didn’t miss much. They never had.
She moved to perch on the arm of the couch. The paperwork spread below her might have started out in neat piles but now lay haphazardly across the cushions, threatening to slip to the floor. “Anything I can help you with?”
“Not unless you’ve learned how to take dictation.”
“Why, Daddy—” she batted her lashes “—I’m an expert at it. Thanks to you, I’m now dictated to on a daily basis.”
“Don’t be fresh.”
She laughed, knowing she was the only one of his kids who could get away with smart-mouthing him.
Or, usually get away with it.
Leaning forward, she kissed his temple. “You should be more grateful to have me here. Admit it. Sparring with me gives you another reason to get up in the morning.”
He grunted and turned a page in the file, but she saw the tic in his cheek and knew he had fought back a smile.
“Come on, let’s get some of your paperwork taken care of. My handwriting has to be better than your chicken scratches.” With a notepad and pencil from the desk held ready, she prepared to take notes. “Go slowly, and I’ll write in longhand.”
They went through one batch of paper after another. Carly jotted memos to be typed up by his secretary and directions to be passed along to various members of his staff, including her oldest sister, Lizzie, who had temporarily taken over as acting president of Baron Energies.
With the flood of papers finally corralled and roped into neat piles, Brock sat back and eyed her as if seeing her for the first time that day. “What are you doing around here, anyhow? Aren’t you planning to do some traveling soon?”
“Home to Houston, you mean?” she said, deliberately misunderstanding. “Are you already tired of me hanging around?”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m talking about competing. You’re keeping up with your skills, aren’t you?”
“Of course. But you know what they say about all work and no play. I’m not competing this weekend.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want to sign up anywhere. Not for barrel racing, anyhow. I’m ready to give it up.”
“Don’t be absurd. You’ve barely gotten your saddle broken in.”
“You can hardly say that when I’ve been competing since the age of four.”
“Yes, and you haven’t done badly,” he said grudgingly. “You’ve got what it takes to go all the way to the top, if you’ll just settle down and focus. But you won’t get far competing only part-time.” His eyes narrowed. “And backing off isn’t going to help. You need to put everything into it if you want to be the best.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I don’t care about being the best. Maybe I’m bored.”
“Bored, hell. You can’t walk away from this—rodeo’s in your blood. In your genes.”
“I know. I didn’t say I’d give up rodeo, just barrel racing. My heart’s not in it anymore.” She made a mental bet on how long it would take him to go ballistic once he heard her next statement—probably about half a second. But it would be guaranteed to get him off her back about not competing lately. “I’m going to try bull riding.”
He barely allowed her to finish her sentence. “And do what?” he demanded, gesturing at his elevated leg. “Crack yourself up, like I did? Don’t be foolish. You leave that event to the boys and stick to your barrels.” Raising his chin, he glared at her.
