“You don’t have to be.”
“We do. Let’s just leave it at: It’s nice to talk to someone new.” Nothing more complicated than that, she reminded herself. Something was going on inside her, a new question about her plans for her life, and she needed to focus on that, not a relationship.
The dining-room table was big and rough-hewn, a legacy from Brooke’s great-grandparents. It seated the eight of them comfortably, and she found herself sitting opposite Adam, her brothers next to her, the widows next to him.
As they ate strawberry and walnut salad, the conversation ranged from the burned barn, to Thanksgiving, to the harsh early-winter conditions that might complicate calving season come January. Her dad, a veteran of Vietnam, brought up the current war, and though Adam did say he had sometimes visited the NATO base at Kandahar, he added little else. In fact, though he looked politely around the table as people spoke, he didn’t contribute much. He made her quiet brother Josh look talkative. For a man who once boasted about his football receiving records, he had nothing to say about his service with the Marines. She found herself full of sympathy; she couldn’t image what he’d experienced, what he’d seen.
Her father chewed a slice of prime rib, swallowed, then glanced at Adam speculatively. Brooke found herself tensing, even though she knew her father wasn’t the sort to pry.
“So are you plannin’ to stick around for a while, Adam?” Doug asked.
“A while,” Adam responded.
Mrs. Palmer beamed. Brooke noticed that she hadn’t touched much of her food except to push it around on her plate. She was a hearty woman, full of passion for life and people—and food. Sandy met Brooke’s gaze curiously after noticing Mrs. Palmer’s lack of appetite, and all Brooke could do was give a tiny shrug. She didn’t know what was going on, but it certainly had something to do with Adam.
“You ride a horse, if I remember,” Doug continued.
“I used to, sir,” Adam answered.
Brooke looked between them, uncertainty making her frown. Where was her father going with this?
“If you’re going to be here through the holidays, I could offer you some work as a ranch hand. I’ve been thinkin’ about pullin’ back some, maybe even be what they call semiretired.” He grinned at Sandy, who looked surprised but not displeased.
Brooke shouldn’t be surprised that her dad was pulling back from his ranch duties to concentrate on her mom. Nate was in charge of the business side of the ranch and their investments, and she and Josh handled the day-to-day ranch operations. But semiretirement? She was bemused that he hadn’t brought it up before now.
Her brothers each had their work passions—Nate for the business, Josh for his leather tooling. Hell, he’d begun to sell his products in town. The ranch was her love. She was a cowgirl, a barrel-racing champion, a rancher—like her dad. But was that all she was?
Adam exchanged a glance with his hopeful grandma. His face was impassive, and Brooke wondered what emotion he was feeling as he next met her gaze. And then she realized she’d be his boss, and all of these hot and achy feelings of desire that she’d just begun to acknowledge would have to be ignored. How would it look to her family if she proved herself so unprofessional as to chase after an employee? Doug was all business about the ranch. Distractions got cattle killed. Every head lost was money out of their pockets. She’d grown up with these words constantly ringing in her ears. And yes, things were better financially since Nate had begun expanding their investments, but that didn’t mean the day-to-day job was any easier.
“Sir, I appreciate the offer,” Adam began at last, “but I can’t mislead you. I’ve never worked on a ranch.”
“But you ride a horse,” Doug said. “You visited when your father hired on occasionally with us. Brooke and Josh can teach you what you need to know.”
“Or,” Mrs. Palmer began, “I could always use an assistant in my tarot business.”
Brooke pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at her obvious ploy. She wondered what else was a ploy.
“Business?” Adam echoed dubiously.
“I didn’t tell you about my plans, my dear boy? But of course, if you’re workin’ for Doug here, I’d understand.”
“I don’t think you have much of a choice, Adam,” Josh said dryly. He glanced at Brooke. “Training a greenhorn. Think we can handle it?”
“We’ll work him hard,” Brooke said, finally looking at Adam and offering a polite smile. “But then, I’m sure he’s used to hard work after being in the Marines. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Grandma baked a cake that needs to be served.”