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True Love at Silver Creek Ranch(34)

By:Emma Cane


Softhearted Emily looked at him with so much compassion that Brooke almost nudged her under the table. A guy like Adam didn’t want that from a woman—surely it felt too much like pity.

“It’s hard to explain,” he said slowly, his voice deep and impassive. “I just didn’t feel a part of the Corps anymore.”

Brooke looked at the last bit of her donut and found she couldn’t eat it. She didn’t want to think about the things he’d had to do, what he’d seen. And though he tried to keep every emotion from his voice, she thought he seemed . . . sad. Didn’t Marines always consider themselves brothers for life?

Before anyone could make it worse, Brooke gave a determined smile. “So when did you become the silent type, keeping everything inside?”

The edge of his lip curled up in that little way that she found so attractive.

“I finally learned not to talk when I had nothing to say.”

“About time,” she answered.

He met her gaze in almost a challenging way as if they were taunting each other. She swallowed and lifted her chin a bit, accepting the challenge.

He got to his feet. “Time to go, boss.” He tossed some bills on the table, and kept them there even when Emily protested.

As Brooke rose, Monica smirked. “Boss. Now that’s funny about our dear Brooke.”

“I am his boss,” Brooke pointed out, “and so are my brothers and my dad—poor Adam has lots of bosses.”

As they reached the door, Monica called, “Oh, wait, Brooke, there’s something I forgot to tell you.” Then she noticeably paused.

Brooke tossed the keys back to Adam. “I’ll be right there.”

When he’d gone outside, Brooke turned back to her in curiosity. “What didn’t you want to say in front of Adam?”

Emily laughed as she cleared the table. “You know her too well.”

“Well,” Monica said, “I wasn’t certain you wanted your ‘employee’ ”—she air-quoted the word—“here for this discussion. I thought I sensed enough sparks that I wondered if you’d changed your mind about dating right now.”

“No sparks, no flame,” Brooke said firmly. “I work with him, that’s all. You’re welcome to ask him out yourself.”

“Oh, no, I don’t relive the past, trust me.”

“Whatever you’d like,” Brooke said, her hand on the doorknob.

“I still think you should change your mind about dating. My brother knows this great guy—”

“Monica, you are a wonderful friend, but now’s not the right time. Dating might be fun, but it could lead to a relationship, and that’s just too much for me right now with my mom home from the hospital, the holidays, then calving season. Let’s talk again in . . . March. Thanks for the donut, Em.”

Monica lowered her eyebrows with speculation, but she didn’t call Brooke back as she left the bakery.

As she walked across the snowy sidewalk, she winced inside. Were her thoughts about Adam that transparent? How embarrassing! She didn’t even want to admit to herself—let alone her best friends—that she couldn’t stop thinking about the man.

When she climbed up into the cab, she was relieved when Adam didn’t ask what Monica had wanted.

But as they drove down Main Street, he said, “My grandma says I’m supposed to ask you about Leather and Lace.”

She gave a little cough. “Pardon me?”

“The store?” Once again, he had the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. “She said it’s a lingerie store trying to open here. And there’s some backlash against it.”

She frowned. “Really? I hadn’t heard that.”

He told her about Sylvester Galimi’s visit to the Widows’ Boardinghouse.

“Wow, a threat,” Brooke mused, as she turned onto First and headed toward the bridge. “Not a physical threat. That wouldn’t be Sylvester’s style.”

He gave that faint smile that she found so captivating, the one that seemed boyish and controlled and secretive all at the same time.

“He knew he couldn’t push my grandma too far—or any of the widows.”

“We all know how they respond to threats,” she mused.

“That’s what I’m afraid of. I thought I’d let you know in case your grandma displays unusual . . . symptoms.”

“Hmm.” She gripped the steering wheel, trying to consider what that might be.

“The widows probably don’t know what the store’s really about,” he said.

“Are you kidding? They know exactly what it’s about. I was there when they went through every screen of the catalogue online. I covered my eyes when both our grandmas exclaimed with delight over a bustier. I could swear I saw Mrs. Ludlow put a teddy in her cart, but I didn’t look too closely.”