The Rebel of Copper Creek (19 page)

“Then why are you staying?”

“Because Jackie Turner left to spend the weekend with his daughter and her kids. Because Mitch Cord has been leaving threatening messages on Juliet's phone. And after checking with Ira Pettigrew, I learned he's no closer to finding this creep.”

“And that means that Juliet and the boys are in danger.”

“Right.” Griff's tone was bleak.

“Why not bring Juliet and her boys here?”

“I tried that. She's adamant about staying home. She's dug in her heels this time.”

“All right, laddie. You do what you think's best.”

“I'm staying the weekend. And in case you're wondering, I'll be sleeping in the barn.”

He could hear the old man chuckling as he disconnected.

It didn't do anything to improve his mood.

G
riff turned the other horses out into a pasture before mucking the stalls, spreading fresh straw, and filling the troughs with feed and water. Only Princess, who had spent the day working, was allowed to remain. While she happily chomped her oats, he hosed down the cement floor of the barn.

As the last of the sunlight faded, he sat on a bench outside the barn and oiled his tools. He wiped his forehead, wishing for a cold beer, and wondered, for the hundredth time, why he was doing all this.

He could be back at his ranch now, enjoying a longneck and a good meal while laughing at Whit's jokes and teasing the lovesick newlyweds.

Lovesick.

An apt description, he thought. There were Ash and Brenna, joined at the hip, unable to start a single sentence without the other one finishing it. Looking at one another like wolves about to devour prey. It was blindingly clear to anyone who saw them that they were wildly in love.

And then there was this strange situation between him and Juliet. How could it possibly be anything even remotely like love? She could barely stand the sight of him. And he was feeling so miserable, he wasn't even sure why he was staying, except that he needed to keep her and her boys safe.

That didn't make it love.

Worrying about someone's safety wasn't the same thing as loving them. It was just his marine training kicking in. He had a sense that there was danger somewhere out there, and he needed to do whatever he could to minimize it.

Once Mitch Cord was caught, he could get back to his life.

He swore as he began storing the cleaned, oiled tools and his tool belt in the back of his truck. He looked up to see Casey standing on the porch, calling his name. When he drew close enough he could see the little boy, dressed in clean pajamas, his slicked-back blond hair still wet from his bath.

“Mama says you should come in for supper.”

“Thanks, Casey.” He climbed the steps and rolled his sleeves before washing up.

When he walked into the kitchen, Juliet had her back to him as she stirred something on the stove. The wonderful aroma coming from the oven had his mouth watering.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Without turning she motioned with the spoon. “Everything's ready. If you'd like something cold, it's in the fridge.”

He opened the refrigerator and couldn't believe the sight that greeted him. A gallon of milk, a pitcher of lemonade, and a six-pack of long necks.

He whispered a prayer of thanks before twisting off the cap and taking a long, deep drink of ice-cold beer before turning to the boys. “Lemonade or milk?”

“The lemonade's for Mama. She said we have to drink milk.”

“Smart move.” He filled two glasses with milk and deposited them in front of Casey and Ethan. He filled a tall glass with lemonade and set it beside Juliet's plate before picking up the longneck and leaning against the counter as he drank his fill.

Juliet lifted a roasting pan from the oven. While she placed a roasted chicken on a platter, along with potatoes, carrots, and snap peas from the garden, she called, “If you'd like, you can carve this up while I get the rolls.”

Griff picked up a sharp knife and soon had their plates heaped with slabs of roast chicken and all the trimmings.

Juliet passed around the rolls, hot from the oven, before taking her seat. Griff sat at the opposite end of the table and helped Casey cut up his food before giving a taste.

“Now this was worth waiting for.” He winked at the boys. “Your mama sure can cook.”

“And you sure do like to eat, don't you, Griff?”

“I sure do.” He grinned at Casey before taking another bite. Then he turned to Juliet. “I thought you were going to send my supper out to the barn.”

“Too much work.” She buttered a roll and looked everywhere but directly at him. “And I'm fresh out of energy.”

“I can see why. You're a mom, a rancher, a therapist. It would be nice if you could get some help with those Romeos.”

She nodded while she nibbled her roll. “They're a handful.”

Casey tugged on Griff's hand. “Is our play table done?”

“It is. I added whatever trucks and farm animals you had in the barn. You can bring the rest out tomorrow.”

“Oh, boy.” Casey turned to his brother. “Did you hear that, Efan? It'll be just like our ranch.”

Ethan's smile was enough to light up the room.

Casey shot a pleading look at his mother. “Can we go see it after supper?”

Juliet shook her head. “You'll see it in the morning.”

“But I want to see it now. Please.”

Sensing her weariness, Griff lay a hand over Casey's. “If you two went out to the barn now, you'd get your nice, clean PJs all dirty. Not to mention your feet. The play table and all your trucks will still be there in the morning, just waiting for the two of you.”

Casey stabbed at a carrot. “Okay. Besides, Mama said she was going to read to us before we sleep.”

Pleased that he'd managed to direct Casey's attention away from the barn, Griff grinned. “What's your favorite story?”

“The one Myrna read to us. About a little cub that gets lost in the woods.”

“Why is that your favorite?”

“'Cause he's scared, but he's so brave.” Casey studied Griff. “Were you ever scared when you were a marine?”

“Plenty of times.”

“But you're big.” The boy stared in consternation at his mother. “You said the little cub was scared 'cause he's little and lost. Can big people be scared and lost, too?”

“It can happen to anybody,” she explained patiently.

“I thought…” He paused and tried again. “I thought when I got big I'd never have to be scared again.” He turned to Griff. “So, when you're scared, do you hide in a tree and wait for somebody to find you?”

“I haven't tried that. What would I do if nobody ever came looking for me?”

Casey's eyes got big as he mulled that over. “What do you do when you're scared, Griff?”

“I think about all the people depending on me, and then I face down my fears and do whatever I have to.”

“Even if you'll get hurt?”

Griff nodded. “Getting hurt is part of life. We fall down, and we hurt, and then we get up and try again. And again. And again.”

“Even if you're hurting?”

“Even then.”

The little boy pointed to the thin white scar below Griff's ear. “Did that hurt you a lot?”

Juliet was quick to say, “Casey, it isn't polite to ask about someone's wounds.”

“It's all right.” Griff turned to Casey. “It hurt. A lot. But I got up and fought back.”

“Did a bad man hurt you?”

Griff nodded. “A very bad man, who wanted to hurt my friends, too.”

“But you stopped him?”

Griff gave him a gentle smile. “I stopped him.”

“Good.” Casey made a little fist pump before glancing down at his empty plate. “Thanks, Mama. Can me and Efan go play in the other room?”

She was too tired to correct his grammar. “Yes, you may.”

When the two boys were gone Griff carried the dishes to the sink and began to wash them while Juliet sat sipping her lemonade.

In a low voice so her boys wouldn't overhear, she said, “Jimmy Gable told the Romeos about your wound and said it almost cost you your life. He told us you saved your entire company. He's so proud to know you.”

Griff flushed. “Jimmy's a good guy. But our war experiences are old news.”

Juliet fell silent, lost in thought.

When she finally pushed away from the table and picked up a towel, Griff took it from her hands. “You've done enough for one day. Go read to your boys. I'll clean up here and then head to the barn.”

Too tired to argue, she merely nodded. “Thanks. Good night.”

“'Night.”

Half an hour later he let himself out the back door and walked to the barn. The evening had grown dark as midnight. He looked up to see storm clouds roiling across the sky, completely obliterating the moon and stars.

From the sting of the wind, it promised to be a full-blown thunderstorm.

As if on cue a clap of thunder echoed across the heavens, followed by a blinding flash of lightning.

While he spread a saddle blanket over a fresh mound of hay in an empty stall, he heard the first patter of raindrops on the tin roof. Minutes later it had turned to a drenching downpour, drumming an ear-splitting tattoo above him.

Griff kicked off his boots and slipped off his shirt before settling himself in his makeshift bed. As he leaned back on his elbows, he found himself wishing he'd thought to bring along a second longneck. Or maybe a fresh pot of coffee.

It was going to be a long night. He only hoped the steady beat of rain on the roof would soon lull him into sleep.

Griff awoke with a start to find the hay beneath him, and the saddle blanket, soaked. He looked up to see a steady river of rainwater falling from a hole in the roof to the railing of the stall. From there it was snaking its way across the rail to fall in puddles beneath him.

With a few well-chosen curses, he snatched up his wet shirt and boots and beat a hasty retreat from the stall.

He turned in time to see a dark-clad figure looming up in the doorway of the barn.

Juliet, sheltered by a tattered old rain slicker held over her head, looked like a ghostly apparition. When she caught sight of him facing her, she let out a gasp.

“Oh, Griff. I'm so sorry.”

He dropped his boots to grab hold of her arm. “What in hell are you doing out here in this?”

“I…couldn't sleep. All I could think was that you were out here under this leaky old roof, while the boys and I are snug and dry in the house.”

“You're a little late.” He pointed to the river of water running from the stall across the barn floor before disappearing down the drain in the floor.

She studied the rainwater glistening in his dark hair. “Come on inside. I'll get you a towel and some dry things.”

“Thanks. I'll take you up on it.”

He picked up his boots and took hold of one side of the slicker. Keeping his strides short enough for her to match, they raced through the downpour to the house.

Inside he tossed aside his wet things in the sink while she hung the slicker on a hook by the door.

They turned, and nearly collided before stepping quickly apart.

Juliet hurried away and returned with a fluffy bath towel and moth-eaten terry robe that had seen better days.

“This was in one of the storage bins. Probably belonged to Buddy's father. I doubt it will fit, but it'll give you some cover while I toss your things in the dryer.”

“Thanks.” He slipped on the robe. “No need for you to dry my stuff. I can handle it.”

She pointed. “The dryer's in that corner. I'll make some coffee.”

As soon as she walked away he shucked his jeans and toweled his hair dry before tossing everything in the dryer.

Barefoot, wearing a robe that barely covered his thighs, he stepped into the kitchen.

She turned and couldn't help laughing. “Sorry. But you look like one of those cartoon characters whose clothes have shrunk.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at himself and grinned. “Just how tall was Buddy's father?”

“Judging by the way that robe fits you, I'd say he was about half your size. And now, to add insult to injury, you have to sleep on that lumpy sofa in the other room.”

He chuckled. “Not that it matters. I'll take the sofa over that lake in the barn.” He studied the way she looked in a pair of boxer shorts and cami. “Of course, I could always bunk upstairs.”

She turned and caught the gleam of humor in his eyes. And something else.

“Sorry. The boys have no room left in their bed.”

“Darn. Well, I suppose I could make the supreme sacrifice and bunk with their mother.”

“Nice try, cowboy. Their mother sleeps alone.”

“What a waste.”

She filled two cups with steaming coffee and carried them to the table.

As she bent to set his in front of him he leaned close. “You smell good.”

She nearly bobbled the cup. “I'm sure, after a few hours in the barn, anything would smell good.”

She quickly moved to sit at the opposite end of the table. Keeping herself as straight and tall as possible she fixed him with a look. “I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you do for us. The play table. Spending the night in the worst possible conditions when you could be asleep in that beautiful MacKenzie Ranch house.”

“I don't mind. Really.”

“I know you don't, and that only complicates matters.” She looked away. “Having you here is a problem, Griff.”

“Sorry. The last thing I want to do is add to your problems.”

She shook her head. “I've told you how I feel.”

He nodded. “You're still in love with your husband.”

“Exactly. And I need to feel that I'm remaining…loyal to him.”

“I understand guilt. I've been dealing with my own.”

“You?”

“You may not have noticed, but Mad feels very protective of you and your boys. He gave me a lecture about how the mother of two boys deserves better than a tumble in the hay.”

Her eyes widened. “He did?”

“Yeah. And ever since his blistering comments, I've been doing my best to keep my distance.”

“I see.”

The storm raging outside seemed to have stalled directly over the house. There was a giant clap of thunder that had them both jolting. Lightning strikes set off a display of fireworks outside the window.

Juliet was up and pacing. “That sounded like it hit something.”

Griff strode to the window and glanced toward the barns. “I don't see any flames. I think maybe we got lucky.”