Coach grinned. “Okay, okay, ‘borrowed’ it. It was your grandma who came to me before your court appearance and encouraged me to attend.”
Adam tensed. “I didn’t put her up to that.”
Coach touched his elbow. “Of course you didn’t. You know Renee—she always believes she knows best, and she was determined to help you however she could.”
Adam had known his life changed forever because of Coach McKee—he could hardly be surprised that his grandma was behind it all. She could never do things up front to help him, knowing how his parents took it, but she was always there behind the scenes. She still was, he thought, swallowing to ease the tightness in his throat. She wanted him to come to Valentine Valley, and she’d found the perfect scheme to get him there. And he was glad for it.
“Thanks for telling me that, Coach.” Adam set down his cup. “I know Grandma wasn’t the only one supporting me in those days. I’ve never forgotten what you did for me. There aren’t many who get a second chance.”
Coach waved a hand, and said gruffly, “I just needed a team manager.”
Adam grinned. “Now tell me where to start. I haven’t done much home renovation, so I might need some instruction.”
“No problem. We’ll find plenty for you to do. How much can you work?”
“I never really know—depends on how the day goes at the ranch. I’m thinking a few times a week after work. Do you need to know in advance?”
“Nope, just wanted you to know that if you arrive here and we’re gone, we could be working at one of the other houses. I’ll write down the addresses for you. You’re hired!”
They shook hands, and Adam felt good about being a part of an important cause. The Thalbergs could donate a house, a Desantis could donate labor. It all evened out in the end. But it was a reminder how different he and Brooke really were, their backgrounds, their families.
As Brooke waited for Steph to arrive for her barrel-racing lesson, she noticed that Adam’s pickup was gone and wondered if he was visiting his grandma.
Or maybe he was going out with one of the women he’d met last night.
Stop it, she told herself. She admired the blue sky and reminded herself the weather was mild, and Steph would get a good workout. She didn’t need to think about Adam. Or the fact that it had taken everything in her not to go to the bunkhouse last night when she saw his lights. It would seem . . . awkward, when they’d both spent time socializing with other people. But it had taken her a long time to sleep, with her body feeling achy and restless and not her own.
When Steph arrived without her horse trailer, Brooke frowned as the girl jumped out of her rusted old pickup.
“I thought we had a lesson,” Brooke began.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Steph said, her blond ponytail bobbing where it was threaded through the hole in the back of her baseball cap. “I needed to talk to you. Guess I didn’t explain that . . .”
“It’s okay. Give me a chance to let Sugar out with the other horses.”
Steph accompanied her to the barn, saying little, her expression troubled. Brooke was concerned but could be patient, knowing it was best not to push a teenager in the middle of a crisis.
After putting away the tack, Brooke walked Sugar outside and sent her galloping into the horse pasture with a brisk pat to her haunches. Then she turned and studied Steph. “Is this a private talk? Maybe we want to avoid the house. My parents are home.”
“Is that little cabin yours?”
Brooke didn’t even have to look where the girl pointed. “That’s the bunkhouse. Adam’s living there right now.”
“Oh. Must be easy for him to be right here.”
Brooke barely caught herself before wincing. “It is, but that means we can’t talk there. Come on into the tack room. My saddle can use some cleaning.”
The room, situated in a corner of the barn, had two windows that let in lots of light. Halters and bridles hung from many hooks in the walls beneath long rows of shelves. Portable saddle racks were placed beneath each person’s tack. Brooke pulled her saddle rack into the center of the room, gathered rags, leather cleaner, and oil, and sank onto a stool. Steph sighed and picked at a ragged fingernail. Brooke gave her time, focusing on rubbing the dirt out of her saddle with a rag.
Steph let out a deep breath. “I have a favor to ask. Tyler Brissette needs a place to do community service. I don’t think he’d do well sweeping up someone’s store, with everyone watching him. I just think he needs someone who’s patient with him. Is there any chance he could work here for you after school on weekdays and Saturday mornings?”