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Color crept up his neck. His mother looked disappointed. Boy, sometimes he wished he had one of those parents who didn’t want to talk about every single thing. “No, Mom, she didn’t.”
Colleen smiled. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to encourage her a little. She’s a nice girl. Smart. Pretty. Sweet. And she has a kind spirit. I think she’d be a good match for you.”
Brant sighed. “Are we really going to do this every Saturday?”
She grinned. “Every Saturday? I don’t think I mentioned it last weekend.”
“Oh, yeah, you did.” Brant sugared his coffee and sat at the table. “I’m not in the market for a relationship right now,” he said for the umpteenth time. “I need time to—”
“I know that’s what you think,” she said gently, cutting him off. “But I’m concerned about you.”
“I know you’re worried about me, Mom, but I’m okay,” he assured her.
“You went through a lot over there,” she said, her eyes glittering. “More than any of us will probably ever know. You’re my son and I’m always going to be looking out for you, regardless of how old you are. When you have a child of your own you will understand what I mean.”
“She’s right, you know.”
They both looked toward the doorway. His brother, Grady, stood on the threshold.
Brant frowned as his brother came into the room and sat. “You said you wouldn’t encourage her,” Brant reminded him.
Grady shrugged. “When she’s right, she’s right. I don’t think it would matter how old my girls are, I’ll always be on hand to make sure they’re all right.”
“See,” Colleen said and smiled. “At least one of my sons had the good sense to listen to me.”
Brant groaned. “Just because you meddled in his life and got him on the way to the altar, don’t think you are going to do that with me. I have no intention of getting married anytime soon.”
“You’re thirty years old,” his mom reminded him quietly. “And a civilian. You can have a normal life now, Brant.”
No, he couldn’t...
But he wasn’t about to go down that road with his mother and brother. They didn’t know much about what had happened before he’d left Afghanistan for good. He hardly dared think about it, let alone consider sharing it with his family. If they knew, they’d close ranks, smother him, give him sympathy and understanding when he deserved neither. In his mind, despite how hard he tried to get the thought out of his head, he was still a soldier. Still standing on the ridge. Still hearing the gunfire and the screams of the men in his unit who’d lost their lives that day.
“So where are the girls this morning?” he asked his brother, shifting the subject.
“With Marissa, getting their hair done.” Grady grinned. “It’s a practice run for their wedding-day hair.”
Brant admired his brother. He’d raised his three young daughters alone since his wife, Liz, had died a couple of years earlier. Brant admired Marissa, too. His soon-to-be sister-in-law adored his nieces and had effortlessly stepped into her role as stepmother to the girls since she’d accepted his brother’s proposal. Grady was a good man. The best he knew. And Brant was pleased his brother had found happiness again.
“O’Sullivan increased the offer,” Brant said and drank some coffee.
Grady tapped his fist on the table. “Son of a bitch!”
“I didn’t accept,” he said when he saw his brother’s swiftly gathering rage. “And I won’t.”
“Liam O’Sullivan believes he can have and do whatever he wants, just like his old man,” Grady said and scowled. “The whole bunch of them think they’re so damned entitled. No wonder Liz couldn’t wait to get away from them. He only wants the Loose Moose because he doesn’t want the competition. I heard he’s been sniffing around Rusty’s again, too. When Ted Graham finally does decide he wants to retire, O’Sullivan will be circling like a hyena.”
“I told Ted I’d be interested in Rusty’s if it comes on the market. He’s not foolish enough to let the O’Sullivans get hold of the place. He hates them as much as you do.”
Grady grunted. “You want two pubs? That’s ambitious.”
Brant shrugged. “Gotta make a living doing something.”
“I thought you might want to come back to the ranch where you belong.”
“I’m not much of a cowboy these days,” he said, grinning.
“You’re good with horses,” Grady said generously. “Would be a shame to waste that skill entirely.”
“You know I’ll always give you a hand if you need it. But not full-time.”
Grady nodded. “What about school?” his brother queried. “You said you were thinking of studying business at the community college.”
“I still might.”
“You could teach French at the night school, too,” Grady suggested.
“I could,” Brant replied, thinking about his options. “If I wasn’t so busy with the Loose Moose.”
“How are the renovations coming?”
“Slow,” he said. “But I knew it would take a while. Doing the majority of it myself saves dollars but takes more time.”
“If you need money to—”
“It’s fine.” Brant waved a hand. “I don’t need your money.”
“It’s family money,” Grady corrected. “The ranch is just as much yours as mine. And I would consider the tavern an investment. Dad and Uncle Joe and Granddad used to love the old place, remember?”
He did remember. It was one of the reasons why he’d been so keen to buy the tavern. “I’ll let you know,” he said, trying to fob his brother off as gently as he could.
Grady had a good heart but still acted as though he had to shoulder the brunt of all family issues. It was an “older brother thing,” he was certain. When Grady had taken over the ranch he’d made it into one of the most successful in the county. Brant admired Grady’s determination and commitment to the family, but he needed to do this alone. He needed to forge a life for himself that was of his own making.
“So, about this thing with Lucy Monero?” Grady asked.
“There’s nothing going on between us,” he assured his brother and looked toward their mother, who was cracking eggs into a bowl at the counter and pretending not to listen. “So, drop it. That means both of you.”
“Can’t,” Colleen said and grinned. “Not when one of my kids is troubled.”
Brant looked toward his brother for a little support, but Grady was nodding. Great. Suddenly, Saturday lunch had turned into some kind of intervention. Next, his mom would be suggesting he visit the shrink at the local veterans home.
“I was just talking to Dr. Allenby the other day about...”
Yep, right on schedule, he thought, and pushed his mother’s words out of his head as she rattled on. He didn’t need a shrink. He’d seen too many of them after Operation Oscar had gone down so badly. Three of his team had lost their lives. It had been two days of hell he wanted to forget. And he would, over time. If only his mom and brother would let up.
“I don’t need a shrink.”
His mother continued to whisk the eggs. “Then what about talking to someone else. Like me? Or your brother? Or even Lucy?” she suggested. “She’s a doctor...and a good one.”
Brant expelled an exasperated breath. “Mom, I’m fine. You gotta let this go, okay? I am happy,” he lied. “I have you guys and the Loose Moose... For the moment, that’s all I have room for. Working on restoring the tavern keeps my head clear, if that makes sense. And it’s all the therapy I need.”
That was the truth, at least. Sure, he was lonely, but better to be lonely than to bog someone else down with the train wreck his life had become. He probably just needed to get laid. It had been a while. He did the calculation in his head and inwardly grimaced. Man, he seriously needed to get out more. He still had friends in town, but going out with his old high school buddies, drinking beer, playing pool and talking smack didn’t really cut it anymore. He wasn’t twenty years old. He wasn’t blinded by youth or ignorance. He’d seen the world and life at its darkest and would never be able to escape who he had become. Finding someone to share that with seemed impossible. The occasional one-night stand was all he allowed himself. And since Lucy Monero was not a one-night-stand kind of woman, he knew he had to keep avoiding her.
By the time he left his mother’s it was nearly two. He headed to the hardware store to pick up a few things and spent the remainder of the afternoon working on the walls in the front part of the tavern. Turning in to bed around ten, he woke up at six on Sunday morning to get an early start, planning to spend the day sanding back the long cedar bar. But at one o’clock he got a call from Grady to say Uncle Joe had been taken to the hospital and was in the emergency room. It took him five minutes to change and head out and another fifteen to get to the hospital. He called Grady again once he was out of the truck and headed for the ER.
By the time he reached Reception he felt as though his chest might explode. The woman behind the counter said she’d inquire after his uncle and told him to wait.
Great. Exactly what he didn’t want to do.
He knew Grady was on his way to the hospital, so he paced the room for a few minutes and then finally sat. The hospital sounds reverberated in his eardrums. Phones, beepers, gurneys, heels clicking over tiles. Each sound seemed louder than the last.
He sat for five minutes, swamped by a building helplessness that was suffocating.
When he could stand it no more he got up and headed back to the counter. “Is there any news about my uncle?”
The fifty-something woman scowled a little and flicked through some charts on the desk. “No, nothing yet.”
“Then can you find someone who might know something?”
She scowled again and Brant’s impatience rose. He wasn’t usually a hothead. Most of the time he was calm and in complete control. Twelve years of military training had ingrained those traits into him. But he didn’t feel calm now. He felt as though he could barely stand to be in his own skin.
“Brant?”
He knew that voice.
Turning his head, he saw Lucy and relief flooded through him. In some part of his mind he wondered how she had the power to do that, to soothe his turbulent emotions. Just knowing she was there somehow made things easier. Better. He swiveled on his heels and watched as she walked toward him, wearing scrubs and a white coat. Brant met her gaze and swallowed hard.
“You’re here.”
“I’m here,” she said and smiled fractionally. “What do you know?”
“Not much,” he said and shook his head. “What happened?”
Her eyes gave it away. It was serious. “He had a heart attack.”
A heart attack? Fear coursed through his blood. “Is he...is he dead?”
The second it took for her to answer seemed like an hour. “No.”
Brant fought back the emotion clogging his throat. “Is he going to make it?”
She nodded slowly. “I think so.”
“Thank God,” Brant breathed and, without thinking, reached out and hauled her into his arms.
Chapter Three (#u4f77e72b-8abb-519b-8efc-f5c1ccbb05f3)
Lucy melted.
She’d never pegged Brant as a hugger. Nor did she want to think about what was going on in the minds of the two nurses at the reception desk. Cedar River was a small town. She was a doctor on staff and the most gorgeous man on the planet was holding her so tightly she didn’t dare breathe.
There might be talk. Innuendo. But she didn’t care. In that moment he needed her. Wanted her. It might be fleeting. It might be the only time she would ever get to feel what it was like to be in his arms. She heard his heart beating and felt the steady thud against her ear. His chest was broad, hard, the perfect place to rest her head, and all her plans to get him out of her mind quickly disappeared.
When he released her she was breathing deeply, conscious of the sudden intimacy between them. He pulled away and dropped his arms, watching her, his gaze so intense it weakened her knees. There was something in his eyes, a kind of wary vulnerability that tugged at her heartstrings.
“Sorry,” he said quietly, clearly aware they were being observed by the two women at the desk. “That wasn’t appropriate.”
Maybe not, she thought, but it sure felt good. It wasn’t the first time she been embraced in the waiting room. Relatives of patients had done it before when they had received news, good and bad. But this was different. This was Brant. Lucy forced some movement into her limbs and gathered her composure. She was a doctor and needed to act like one.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I can take you to see your uncle now.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
“We’ve done a few preliminary tests and it looks as though he has an arterial blockage. So he may need surgery,” she explained as she used her key card to open the doors that led to the small emergency room. “We’ll keep him here under observation tonight and then he’ll be transported to the hospital in Rapid City tomorrow. They have excellent cardiology and surgical departments there and he’ll be in really good hands.”
He walked beside her through Triage, his expression impassive and unreadable. Lucy linked her hands together and headed for the cubicle at the far end of the room. She eased the curtain back. Joe Parker was resting and she leaned a little closer toward Brant to speak.
“He’s asleep. I know his pallor looks a little gray, but that’s not unusual after an episode like he’s had. We’ll let him rest for a while and do his OBS again in half an hour. You can sit with him if you like.”
Brant nodded and sat. “Thank you.”
Lucy lingered for a moment. “We’ll do our very best for him. He’s a special man and, despite his age, he’s quite strong.”
“Yeah, he is.”
She knew how much the older man meant to Brant. She’d witnessed his affection for Joe Parker many times when he’d come to visit him at the veterans home. And Colleen had told her about the special bond they shared. They were both soldiers. They’d both fought for their country and had seen war and destruction and death. It was easy to understand why Brant cared so much for his uncle and had such a strong connection to him.
“I’ll come back in a little while,” she said and lightly touched Brant’s shoulder. He tensed immediately and she quickly pulled her hand away.
She left the cubicle and pulled the curtains together. There were three other patients in the ER. A woman with a nasty burn on her arm, a toddler with a fever and a teenage boy with a fishing hook through his thumb. She checked on the baby and was pleased that his fever had gone down fractionally, and then instructed one of the triage nurses to get the teenager prepared so she could remove the hook. By the time she was done a little over half an hour had passed and she headed back to Joe Parker’s cubicle.
Grady and Colleen were both there, bending the rules since regulation stated only two visitors were allowed at a time. But Colleen was well-known at the hospital and sometimes rules needed to be broken. Colleen was sitting in the chair and her sons flanked either side of the bed. Joe was awake and smiled broadly when she pulled back the curtain.
“Here she is,” he said. “My guardian angel. She’s been looking after me since I got here.”
Lucy grinned. “Well, you’re a model patient, so it’s been easy.”
“Never a more beautiful girl have I ever seen,” Joe said and chuckled. “Makes me wish I was forty years younger.”
Lucy smiled at his outrageous flirting and glanced toward Brant. He was watching her with blistering intensity and she quickly shifted her gaze. “How are you feeling?” she asked, grabbing the chart from the foot of the bed.
“Better for seein’ you, Doc,” he said and winked.
“Joe,” Colleen chastised her much older brother-in-law gently. “Behave yourself.”
Joe Parker smiled again, wrinkling his cheeks. “Ha! There’s no fool like an old fool, right, Doc?”
He made a breathless sound and Lucy stepped toward the bed and grasped his wrist. He was overdoing it. She urged him to lay back and rest. She checked him over and scribbled notes in his chart. When she was done she asked Grady to walk with her outside the cubicle. The eldest Parker son had his uncle’s medical power of attorney and she wanted to keep the family updated on his condition.
