Love Inspired September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Montana Twins\Small-Town Billionaire\Stranded with the Rancher (27 page)

For a moment she thought he'd declare defeat, and she released the edges of the blanket and prepared to go. But then he pointed toward her and said, “Brooks International donates to several charities on a regular basis. And I've even spoken at a few of their fund-raising dinners and presented substantial checks every time. We're all about giving back.”

“Tell me about one of them,” she said.

“About one of the dinners?” he asked, but she suspected he knew that wasn't what she wanted to know.

“No, about one of the charities. What it stands for, why it means so much to you and why you donated toward the fund-raising.”

The look of discomfort lasted less than a second, but she saw it. She had him now.

Another set of headlights shone from the driveway, and she knew John and Dana would be here soon. “You don't have to tell me about all of them,” she said. “Just pick one.”

He glanced at the headlights. “I have someone, actually an entire committee, that decides where the money goes.”

“That's nice,” she said. “That way you can give to something, even get a tax write-off, without getting emotionally involved. That's not the kind of business I'd want to run,” she said, standing and dropping the blanket to the rocker. “And it isn't the kind of business I'd want to work with. So, thanks for the offer, but I'm happy with the way things are.”

Dana and John got out of their car and dashed toward the porch in the rain. “Hey,” Dana said. “How was your—oh, wow, what happened?” She pointed to Ryan. “You're all muddy.”

“You look like you got bucked again,” John said, grinning. “And for that matter, Maribeth, so do you.”

She scanned her clothes, which weren't as wet as they had been, but she'd accumulated quite a bit of the mud from Ryan when she'd helped him to the porch. She also had mud caked along the bottom third of her jeans from where she'd hit those puddles.

“I didn't get bucked,” Ryan said. “But I did get thrown from my crutches. Or one of them.”

“He came out to the barn for the Bible study,” Maribeth explained, “and then he slid on a patch of mud on his way back to the house and one of his crutches broke.”

“You went to the barn for the Bible study?” Dana's smile stretched wide. “How did you like it?”

“It was good,” he said, seeming to analyze Maribeth as he spoke.

The fact that he didn't reveal his real motive for going to the barn, which she now knew had been to talk her into letting him in on her business, exasperated her, and she decided that if he was going to play that game, then so could she. “Yeah,” she said, “he really liked it. And I was thinking that if he liked the Bible study so much, he'd probably enjoy church on Sunday, too.”

Dana beamed. “Oh, Maribeth, that's a great idea! Ryan, that'd be wonderful.” Then she hugged John, kissed his cheek and led him into the cabin.

A moment passed after the door closed, and Maribeth felt the heat of his glare before she looked at him to verify the fact. “I've gotta go,” she said.

“I never said anything about going to church.” His words were clipped with barely contained frustration.

“Oh, I know,” she said, “but do you know what I realized when you were comparing Autumn's story—her storm—to yours?”

“No, what?”

“That it wasn't just your father not dating or marrying that was different than Autumn's situation. She said her family started praying and going to church again. In other words, they found God, and
that
was when her storm passed.” The rain let up for a moment, and Maribeth took advantage of the brief reprieve to leave the porch and start toward her car. “Good night, Ryan,” she called, ready to end this emotional day.

“My storm
has
passed,” he said, loud enough for her to hear before she closed the car door.

She glanced in her rearview mirror as she drove away. Another bright flash of lightning lit the sky and she saw him, the man who claimed everyone's goal had to do with money, sitting rigid on the porch, the rocker unmoving.

“Your storm hasn't passed,” she said.

It didn't matter that he couldn't hear her words. She knew he wouldn't listen if he could.

Chapter Five

R
yan entertained the thought of going to church with John and Dana for a second or two when he woke Sunday morning. Then he smelled the coffee. Literally and figuratively. Pouring a cup and sipping the strong liquid—black, of course, because sugar and cream weakened the impact, and Brooks men did not like anything weak (a famous and often-repeated Lawrence Brooks quote)—Ryan focused on what he'd learned from Maribeth Walton. And it wasn't that he needed to go to church this morning.

What he needed was to make a difference in the world via Brooks International. That was the key to everything Maribeth had said Friday. Even in the charities that his company supported, Ryan had fallen into step with his father's previous contributions. It had stunned him, when Maribeth asked him to name one, that he couldn't think of any. He'd thought about the American Cancer Society shortly after she left, but he only knew that one because he'd spoken at their national fund-raiser two months ago. Since his father had been such a prominent business figure and died of the disease, the charity thought they should honor Lawrence Brooks and draw attention to their cause by having his son speak.

Ryan had enjoyed the opportunity, but even that charity was one his father had selected years ago, well before he had been diagnosed. Ryan hadn't done a thing personally to show Brooks International as a philanthropic organization, and nowadays that was an important marketing tool. People wanted to know that a company cared, and Ryan wanted it to be known that he cared, and not just about what his father had supported.

Dana entered the kitchen ready for church in the yellow dress she'd purchased from Consigning Women and holding a half-empty sleeve of saltine crackers. “Hey,” she said, popping a cracker in her mouth and forcing a smile.

“Morning sickness again?” he asked.

She chewed then placed her hand against her throat as she swallowed. “They should call it all-day sickness.”

He grinned. She was enjoying the pregnancy, even if the baby got the best of her most days. And she looked very pretty pregnant. She still wasn't showing, but there was something different about her; he supposed that was what they called a pregnancy glow, a happiness and excited aspect that hovered beneath the surface. “Coffee?” he asked, reaching for another mug.

Her face squished into an
ew
expression. “The thought of coffee...” She shook her head and moved her hand to her mouth.

“Okay. Think of something else. Something bland. Crackers.”

She lowered her hand and laughed. “You're hysterical.”

He took another sip of coffee. “Not something I hear very often, but okay.”

She sat at the table and pulled another cracker from the sleeve. “I imagine you were pretty funny Friday when your crutches went sliding out from underneath you. Maribeth probably got a good laugh out of that.”

He remembered Maribeth running from her car in the rain and kneeling beside him, and he also vaguely recalled that apple-and-cinnamon scent when she'd been so near. He'd liked being that close to Maribeth, even if she had taken a stubborn turn when he'd started talking business. “She didn't laugh at all. She seemed more concerned that I was okay.” He smirked. “But I'm guessing that means if you'd have been the one who saw me, we'd still be out there, because you'd still be laughing.”

She giggled. “You're right. But I would have made sure you were okay first, like she did, and then I would have laughed.”

“Thanks.” He really was enjoying this time with Dana. It'd been years since they'd had conversations that didn't involve their father or the business.

“You're welcome.” She saluted him with a cracker, then popped it in her mouth.

“I talked to her about her business before she left.” He didn't add that they had also talked about his mother's death, about his father's reason for staying single and about the fact that Ryan, thus far, hadn't used his resources to make a difference in the world.

Dana heaved a sigh then looked pointedly at him. “Maribeth would be good for you, Ryan.”

He poured another cup of coffee. “I'm looking for a solid investment,” he said. “I'm not looking for anyone to be good for me.”

“Maybe you should be,” she said as John came in the back door with a crutch in one hand.

“I found it over at Landon's place,” he said, holding up the crutch like a prize trophy. “Broke my leg once and kept the crutches.” He grinned. “I was thrown off Red, believe it or not, when he and I were a lot younger. He's not as feisty anymore, but then again, neither am I.”

“I don't know about that,” Dana said, and earned a wink from her husband.

“Anyway, this one may suffice, or at least hold you over until you go to rehab tomorrow and get a new one,” John said. “I wanted to make sure you had it this morning since Dana said you were coming to church with us. That's great, by the way.”

Ryan drank from the new cup of coffee. Hot. Strong. Perfect. “I'm not going to church,” he said, “but I appreciate you going to all of the trouble. I can still use the crutch.” He'd had a difficult time maneuvering around the house with just one. It was possible, but it sure wasn't easy.

John looked from Dana, now scowling at the table, to Ryan and said, “Okay. I'm gonna get a shower before we leave.” He disappeared up the stairs while Ryan waited for his sister's disapproval.

She didn't keep him waiting long. “I thought you were going to church. Isn't that what you said the other night?”

“No, it was what Maribeth said,” he reminded her.

“You enjoyed the Bible study. You said so.”

“I did enjoy it, but I've scheduled a conference call this morning with Oliver James and expect it to take a while.”

“You were on the computer and involved with conference calls all day yesterday,” Dana said.

Ryan nodded. It was the truth. With the help of his public responsibilities committee, he'd meticulously studied each of the charities Brooks International supported and could now, if ever asked again, give an informed decision about how his company was making a difference. More than that, he'd realized that, given their resources, Brooks International wasn't doing nearly enough philanthropy. He planned to change that, and in doing so, put his own stamp on something that made a difference.

“We made a lot of progress yesterday in what I'm currently working on, but Oliver and I still need to discuss details for how we're moving forward.” He sat across the table from his sister. “You'll be happy to know I'm working on increasing the charities the company supports. And as head of the Public Responsibilities committee, Oliver needs to be on board and support my decisions.”

“I think giving more charitable donations is a great idea,” she said, “but it was bad enough to make them all work on a Saturday. Now you're making Oliver work on a Sunday. He's got a new baby, if I remember right, and I'm sure he counts on his weekends for family time. Or church time, for that matter.”

“If there's work to be done, you do it,” Ryan said.

She gritted her teeth. “I wish you could forget all of those things Daddy used to say. And I don't care if you are working on something as positive as charities. I know that work can keep until tomorrow.”

Ryan drank his coffee. Yeah, it could keep until tomorrow, but he'd been perturbed when Maribeth doled out a question about his business and he didn't have an answer. And he'd made up his mind that when he saw the feisty woman again, he would. If that meant that he and his committee worked through the weekend, so be it.

It'd also meant that he hadn't made any effort to see Maribeth yesterday. On the contrary, he'd stayed on the phone or computer and hadn't even acknowledged the camp going on except when Nathan Martin came to the cabin wanting to try out his crutches.

Remembering the boy, Ryan said, “If you see Nathan at church this morning, let him know I have two crutches now. I told him he could practice on them yesterday but he couldn't with one of them broken. Tell him he can come today if he wants, since John got that other crutch.”

“You could tell him yourself if you went to church,” Dana said, as John came downstairs in a button-down dress shirt and khakis.

“But I'm not, so I'm asking you to tell him for me,” Ryan said.

Dana stood, grabbing her Bible and purse off the counter. “Fine. I'll tell him, but I wish you'd consider going to church with us while you're here.” She blinked a couple of times, then rubbed her hand across her forehead. “And I wish you wouldn't make Oliver—or anyone—work on Sunday.”

“Oliver understood the responsibilities when he took the job,” Ryan said. “A willingness to put forth the extra effort is what makes Brooks International stand out from other organizations. Our
Fortune
500 status is largely due to the fact that we never stop working.”

John took his Bible from the counter and wrapped an arm around Dana. “Come on, Dana. We don't want to be late,” he said, steering her toward the door.

“It's the reason we're so well-known, Dana,” Ryan said, wanting her to understand. She was a Brooks, too, after all. “I learned yesterday that I was named one of
Forbes
magazine's top thirty in real estate. That doesn't come to someone who isn't willing to work weekends.”

She frowned. “Congratulations, Ryan. But there's no reason you need to work this morning. I'm just afraid that you've got your priorities out of order.” She shrugged. “But I still love you.”

He gave her a smile. “I appreciate that. I still love you, too.”

She and John left, and Ryan returned to his notes to prepare for his discussion with Oliver James. His priorities were fine. He was increasing his company's charitable contributions. What could be wrong with that?

* * *

Maribeth was so busy with the camp on Monday that she hardly had time to think about the fact that Ryan hadn't emerged from the house during last week's camp finale on Saturday, that he hadn't made an appearance at church yesterday or that he hadn't been at the window or on the porch today.

Yeah, right.

She hadn't stopped thinking about him since their conversation Friday night when, based on his disappearance ever since, it seemed he'd decided he'd had enough of Maribeth. She should be ecstatic, thrilled that he'd decided to leave her alone. And she was mad at herself that she felt anything but. Even now, standing outside of the barn as she waited for all of the parents to pick their kids up from the first camp day, she continually glanced toward John and Dana's cabin for a glimpse of the man.

But when the cabin door opened, it was Dana, not Ryan, who stepped out and started walking toward the barn.

“Maribeth, is Nadia still here? I didn't see her car,” she said as she neared.

“She rode with Jasmine Waddell. That's Jasmine's car near the fence. I think they're in the tack room.”

“Great. Thanks.” She disappeared into the barn and emerged a few minutes later with Nadia at her side. They walked toward the cabin chatting while Maribeth answered a parent's question about her son missing a day of camp.

“Can you believe it?” Jasmine said breathlessly as she exited the barn. “Ryan Brooks wants to talk to Nadia about something. Do you think he's, like, crushing on her maybe?” She frowned. “I'd really hoped I'd get to talk to him this week and, well, maybe...”

“I don't think that's it,” Maribeth said.

“I don't know. She's beautiful, with that dark hair and her unique features and everything. Maybe that's the type of look he likes.”

Maribeth turned toward the girl and contemplated whether it'd control her infatuation if she told her about her past. But she suspected telling Jasmine would lead to Jasmine confiding in a few friends, and then those friends telling a few friends...

She changed tactics. “I would hope that he wouldn't like someone merely based on appearance,” Maribeth said. Truthfully, Jasmine had the look that Maribeth thought most men preferred. A lean but curvy Barbie-doll type, with long silky blond hair, big blue eyes, a full mouth. Growing up, Maribeth had wanted to look like that, but she'd learned that she didn't need to look or act a certain way to be content.

“Why do
you
think he wanted to talk to Nadia?” Jasmine asked.

“I don't know,” Maribeth said, waving to the last two little girls leaving with their mom in a white minivan and then noticing that Nadia had left the cabin and was hurrying toward them.

“Hey, there she is,” Jasmine said. “Nadia! What did he want?”

Tears dripped down Nadia's cheeks, but there was no doubt that they were happy tears, because she couldn't stop smiling.

“I can't believe it,” she said, looking back toward the cabin as though she expected everything to disappear in a dream.

“What? Tell us!” Jasmine demanded.

Nadia swiped at her cheeks and said, “Mr. Brooks. He told me that he knew about my ministry and how I'm trying to raise money for the women in Thailand with my jewelry sales. He said you told him about it,” she said to Maribeth.