Home to Hope Mountain (Harlequin Superromance) (3 page)

“Summer, come and say hello, please. This is Hayley Sorensen and Molly Sorensen.”

The girl reluctantly left the corral and walked over, kicking up dirt with the toes of her black Mary Jane shoes. Her gaze flicked to Molly and she stopped short. She looked to her father. “I already apologized—”

“It’s just a coincidence,” Adam said.

“Don’t worry, dear,” Molly assured her. “As far as I’m concerned, that episode is in the past.” She turned to Hayley. “I see Rolf’s waiting for me in the truck. Think about what I said regarding the job, okay?” She gave Hayley a hug, nodded to Adam and Summer, then hurried off to the dusty red utility truck idling next to the garage.

Adam touched his daughter’s arm. “Hayley is the horse whisperer your principal was telling us about.”

“Hey.” Summer’s glance flicked briefly at Hayley, then returned to Asha. “She’s beautiful.”

“Summer’s horse, Bailey, died in the fires,” Adam said.

The sadness in Summer’s hazel eyes as she gazed hungrily at the mare told a story Hayley knew all too well. Over a hundred local horses had perished in the fires. “I’m so sorry. Did he get scared and jump the fence?” As far as she knew, Timbertop hadn’t been touched by the fires.

Summer shrugged and hunched deeper into her shoulders.

“We were referred to you by Tom Dorian from the high school,” Adam said. “I understand you work with troubled teens.”

Summer threw him a dirty look. “I’m not troubled.”

Hayley ignored that and spoke to Adam. “I work with anyone who’s been traumatized, not just teens.”

“I’d like to enroll Summer in your program. When’s the soonest she could start?”

“I’m afraid my client list is full. I suggest you ask your local doctor for a referral to a counselor. There are several practicing psychologists in the area.”

“You were recommended very highly. Could we put Summer on a waiting list? Someone might drop out.”

“It’s unlikely. Horse therapy can be a long process, sometimes lasting months.”

“Dad, forget it. She can’t take me. Sorry to bother you,” Summer said to Hayley and tugged on her father’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

“If you find you have an opening...” Adam wrote his home and cell phone numbers on the back of a business card and gave it to her. “I believe we’re neighbors.”

“Don’t you live in the city? That’s what Diane told me.” Not that Hayley spoke to her a lot. Leif had usually taken her and her city friends trail riding.

“Diane’s temporarily in Sydney caring for her mother, so I’m staying at Timbertop for the foreseeable future.”

“So you’re commuting? That’s a long drive.”

“I might be taking a leave of absence.” Adam shrugged. “It could be worse. Spring is a nice time to be out here with everything in bloom—” He broke off, his gaze flickering around the charred clearing.

“I guess it’s spring over at Timbertop.” The simmering resentment in her aching chest got the better of her and she added, “My husband was a volunteer with the Country Fire Authority. He died while fighting the fires on your property.”

Just in case Adam didn’t know.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” His dark eyes met hers. “Thank you, I guess, although that hardly seems appropriate.”

She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want his gratitude. And she didn’t want him on her property. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Again Adam glanced around at the razed clearing, this time taking in the garage with the curtain in the window and her spare boots outside the door. “Would you consider taking Summer as a private client?”

He’d obviously summed up her situation as desperate. He wasn’t far off. But she wasn’t
that
desperate.

“My time is fully committed.” She felt sorry for the girl, but Adam Banks was a rich dude trying to offload his problem onto someone else. Sure, he was well-spoken, handsome and polite. It was easy to be polite when people kowtowed to you all the time.

“I’ll pay you double what you get from the government for your other clients.”

She almost caved. God knew she needed the money. And she would have liked to help Summer. A girl who’d lost her horse—how sad was that? But she was telling the truth when she’d said she was fully committed.

Soon the trail-riding season would be here and she would be even busier. Plus she wouldn’t be a good therapist if her anger and resentment toward Summer’s father spilled over into sessions with her. Hayley couldn’t tell Adam that, of course. He’d simply have to accept no for an answer.

“It’s not possible.” She turned and headed for the garage, Shane at her heels.

Shutting the door behind her, she went to the window over the sink and peered out. Adam took a step toward the garage but Summer grabbed his arm and pulled in the opposite direction. Only when they got into the Mercedes and started the engine did Hayley let out her breath. She didn’t know why her heart was beating so fast. All she knew was that she was relieved when his car disappeared over the rise.

CHAPTER TWO

“W
HERE
DOES
YOUR
mother keep the brown sugar?” Adam asked as he rummaged through the pantry. A barbecue sauce simmered on the stove.

No response from Summer. He glanced over at his daughter, sprawled on the couch in the great room across from the kitchen, her eyes closed. She was plugged into her iPod again.

The past two days had been stressful. Yesterday there’d been his aborted meeting with the Chinese followed by Summer shoplifting and encounters with the school principal, the café owner and the police. Then this afternoon he’d been unsuccessful with Hayley Sorensen. Diane’s frozen diet meals weren’t going to cut it tonight—he needed wine and red meat, stat.

The exchange with Hayley had especially bothered him for some reason. He didn’t usually have a problem relating to women, but she’d been distinctly cool. Her refusal to treat Summer had felt personal, which didn’t seem fair. Her husband’s death was tragic and he felt for her, but surely she didn’t hold him responsible for her loss. He hadn’t even been in Hope Mountain the day of the bushfires.

Adam walked over and plucked the bud from one ear. “I’m seriously considering dismantling this thing one night while you sleep.”

Summer yelped and sat up. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t test me.”

“Give it back.” She made a swipe for the earbud.

He held it out of reach. “Turn this off and give me a hand with dinner, please.”

She looked as though she was going to protest, then gave in. “Fine.”

Back in the kitchen Adam passed her a head of broccoli. “Chop.”

Summer picked up the chef’s knife and whacked off the base of the stem. “I don’t like broccoli.”

“I’m not crazy about it, either, but it’s nutritious and it’s the only fresh vegetable in the fridge.” He watched her shuttered face as she hacked inexpertly at the broccoli. He needed to talk to her, but it was hard to begin, to find the right tone.

“What’s going on with you, Summer?” As soon as he spoke, he knew he’d gotten it wrong.

“Nothing.”

Doggedly, he persisted. “I called a couple of therapists this afternoon. Everyone in the area is booked.”

“I don’t need therapy.”

He realized he couldn’t strike the right note because he was furious. And worried to death, and afraid for Summer’s immediate future, and deeply disappointed—yes, all that. But also very, very angry. At himself and Diane for dropping the ball, at the bushfires for causing his family and the community grief, but right this minute, mostly at Summer for her sullen attitude.

“So, lying and stealing are perfectly normal for you?”

She tossed the chopped vegetable in the pot, not deigning to answer.

He reigned in his temper best he could. “Here’s what I think should happen. Until your mother gets back—”

“When will that be?”

“A month, maybe longer. Till then we stay at my apartment, enroll you in a city school and get you a counselor. I could continue to work—”

“I thought you were taking a leave of absence.”

“I called Lorraine this afternoon and she agreed I could take time off, but she’s not happy. I’d really prefer to finish the project I started, but I’d still cut back my hours. It makes sense rather than stay here.”

“Not to me! The school year’s almost over. Plus the bushfire memorial service and dance is in a few weeks. I don’t want to leave Zoe and my other friends. I don’t know anyone in the city.” She slashed the knife down hard on the cutting board. “I’m not going.”

“Summer,” he warned, “careful with that knife.”

“Why, are you afraid of what I might do?” With a smile that chilled him she deliberately stuck the point of the knife on her wrist and pressed.

She was bluffing, she had to be.... He watched the flesh dip beneath the cold steel. Another fraction of an inch and it would pierce the skin. Adam snatched the knife from her. All his anger drained away. “You’re scaring me.”

Her smile faded and she dropped her gaze. “Sorry,” she whispered. “That was stupid.”

Adam went around the kitchen block and took her in his arms. “Don’t ever do anything like that again.” With her face pressed against his chest she shook her head. “Promise?”

“I promise.” She looked up at him, tear tracks on her cheeks. “Don’t make me leave Hope Mountain.”

“This isn’t a safe environment, sweetheart. Living in the forest is like living inside a giant stack of kindling laid for a campfire. All that’s needed is a lightning strike, and these tinder-dry woods would go up in flames.”

“It’s been raining for weeks. The woods are hardly tinder-dry.”

“They’ll get that way come summer.” He brushed strands of flaming hair off her forehead. “What do you call a ninja with red hair?”

“A ginga. That’s so lame and you’ve told it a million times. Come on, Dad, promise not to make me leave here. Please?”

It would probably be a mistake to pull her out of school and add to whatever trauma she was going through. There
were
only three months till the end of the school year.

“I can’t promise you’ll stay here forever. But, okay, at least until school’s out.” Before she could continue the argument he patted her on the shoulder. “We have no sugar for the sauce, so it looks like we’re eating our lamb chops plain.”

“Ugh. I hate plain chops. Is there at least ketchup?”

“I didn’t see any. I could go to the grocery store.” He was so relieved at hearing normal, kid-type complaining he was willing to make the trip for one item.

“It closes at five on Monday.”

He glanced at the clock—ten to five. Living out in the boonies was nuts. If he was at his Melbourne apartment an elevator ride would take him to street level and a twenty-four-hour convenience store ten yards away.

“In that case, it looks like another night of Diet Turkey Delight....”

Summer made a face, and he had to agree: the thought was unappetizing.

Unless he became a terrible cliché and borrowed a cup of sugar from their neighbor. Ordinarily he wouldn’t hesitate, but Hayley hadn’t exactly put out the welcome mat. She wasn’t bad-looking with all that honey-blond hair and those big blue eyes. Her long legs were shapely even in dusty blue jeans. But she was extremely prickly.

Mind you, she had serious problems, like the fact that she was living in her garage. Maybe he’d simply caught her at a bad time. Yes, that could be it. If he gave her another opportunity to treat Summer, she might accept. He’d learned in his long career of negotiating not to give up—if at first you don’t get the outcome you want, give your opponent another chance to say yes.

Not that Hayley was his opponent. But she did have something he needed—the ability to heal his daughter. If she got to know him and saw he wasn’t the bad guy, she might relent.

He looked through the kitchen window, past the manicured lawn and the gum trees ringing the gravel parking area to the horse paddock. He had something Hayley needed, too. The grass hadn’t been grazed for nearly twelve months and was knee-high. Sure, she’d said her program was full, but she could no doubt find another hour in her week—if she wanted to.

Hayley didn’t seem like the kind of woman he could charm into acceding to his wishes, which suited him fine. This was business. He prefered straight dealing. He had the sense that she did, too. Even though he’d been disappointed and frustrated by her refusal to take Summer as a client, he liked that she’d told him no straight up, without apology.

The rain had stopped, and there was still an hour of daylight. On the way home Summer had pointed out a track through the woods from their driveway to the Sorensen property. It should take only five or ten minutes by bicycle, assuming Summer’s mountain bike could handle the muddy terrain. He missed his weekly thirty-mile cycle along the beach road in Melbourne. So rather than drive the short distance to Hayley’s, he might as well get some fresh air and exercise.

He turned off the heat under the pot and covered the lamb chops. “I’m going next door for a cup of sugar. How good is that track you showed me? Will I be okay on your bike?”

“I’ve never been down there. Mom told me about it.”

“I’m going to try.” He turned to go, then paused. “Maybe you should come with me.”

“I have homework.”

Now
she had homework. Half an hour ago she was just laying around listening to music. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Her cheeks tinged with pink. “I’m not gonna do anything dumb. I was just getting at you before.”

“Well, stop it. I worry about you.”

She met his gaze, her normal self. “I’ll be fine, honest.”

Satisfied she was telling the truth, he went through the door into the garage and wheeled Summer’s mountain bike outside. He raised the seat as high as it could go, took an experimental lap around the parking area then pedaled down the gravel driveway. When he saw the old fence post and the parallel dirt ruts, he turned and headed into the woods.

* * *

H
AYLEY
RESTED
HER
hand on Bo’s withers, reins slack, as the big horse plodded quietly along a wildlife trail. The woods here were untouched by fire, full of the resinous scent of gum trees. Late afternoon was her time for riding, and she loved going bareback, her legs dangling and her thoughts drifting. Working with trauma victims was rewarding but it was also emotionally taxing. She needed this time to de-stress.

Today, though, her thoughts refused to drift. Should she take the job with Molly? She was barely skimping by on her income from the Horses for Hope program. What would Leif have wanted? Working in town felt like selling out on their dream, but on the other hand, she had the horses to consider. Blaze was due to foal in a few weeks. There might be vet bills. And all the horses needed to eat. Hay wasn’t cheap.

Maybe she shouldn’t have refused Adam’s request to treat his daughter as a private patient. But he unsettled her. Partly because of his association with the bushfires and Leif’s death. Partly because he was a stranger. Every man in Hope Mountain was as familiar to her as her Akubra hat. Adam was attractive and sophisticated. Rich. She didn’t know how to act around him.

A muffled curse on the vehicle track to her right broke into her thoughts. She reined in Bo and peered around a bush. Speak of the devil. Adam Banks had his knees up around his ears as he made wobbly progress on the muddy track. He didn’t look quite so intimidating now.

He lost his balance and thrust out a leg to brace himself only to end up ankle-deep in mud. Hayley stifled a smile. Bo shifted one of his enormous hooves and a twig broke.

Adam glanced around. “Hello? Is somebody there?”

“You need a horse, not a bike,” Hayley called out. She squeezed her thighs around Bo’s barrel-shaped stomach and the horse picked his way through the undergrowth. “Where do you think you’re going, anyway?”

He was heading in the direction of her property. She didn’t care if people strayed over property lines while hiking or riding. But she didn’t want Adam Banks becoming free with the track between their places. Didn’t want him popping over anytime he felt like it.

He reached into the saddlebag behind his seat and pulled out an empty plastic container. “I’m coming to beg a cup of sugar off you. Demerara would be ideal, but I’ll settle for plain brown. Or even white, in a pinch.”

“Sugar.” She looked him over, at the designer jeans, black polo shirt and expensive white running shoes splattered with mud. “Are you making cookies?”

Was this sugar quest a ploy to talk to her again? He seemed a determined type, used to getting his own way. She wouldn’t put it past him to have another go at convincing her to work with his daughter.

“Barbecue sauce. So, do you have any sugar? It would be nice to know now before I destroy my clothes and Summer’s bike. I promise to repay it tomorrow.”

Was that a subtle dig at her obviously straitened circumstances? The other day when she’d turned down a free movie ticket Molly had told her she was too defensive and too proud. It was hard to know anymore where to draw the line.

“I’ve got sugar. But you’re not going to be able to ride much farther. There’s a creek up ahead and the banks are a quagmire. What on earth possessed you to try to come through here on a bike?”

“I do a lot of cycling at home.” Hands on hips, he surveyed the dense forest and muddy track as if wondering how he’d come to be there. “Admittedly this wasn’t the brightest move.”

“Are you one of those MAMILs we get up here on the weekend?” She smirked. “They come through town in packs of twenty to thirty.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Middle-Aged Men In Lycra.”

“I confess to Lycra, but thirty-six is hardly middle-aged.”

She’d been joking, of course, calling him a MAMIL. He was nothing like the pot-bellied weekend warriors who puffed up the mountain, red-faced and sweaty, to collapse in the café with a piece of cake. And now that she knew he was a cyclist, she could see how he came by his lean, muscled physique. An image flashed through her mind of him in a tight-fitting jersey stretched across a hard chest, and shorts that clung like a second skin to a taut butt and sharply defined quads. No, not middle-aged. More like prime of his life.

Adam propped the bike against a tree. “I’ll walk.”

She doubted he would want to do that for long, either. Well, he would find out. With a nudge of her heels she turned Bo toward home.

Adam kept pace, making sure there were a couple of yards between himself and Bo. “That’s a big horse.”

“He’s half Clydesdale. Eighteen hands and as comfy as a couch.” She patted the smooth golden coat below the white mane. “You’re a good old boy, aren’t you, Bo.” Poor beast had been a mess when Ian, the Horses for Hope coordinator, had sent him to her. Bo’s coat had been falling out from mange, and he’d been so skinny his ribs had showed. With a lot of TLC, he’d recovered.

They ambled along in silence for a few moments. Hayley tilted her head, listening to the clear, ringing call of a bellbird. Leif’s favorite. Adam, struggling to watch where he put his feet, didn’t even seem to notice. “Have you found a therapist for Summer?” she asked.