True Love at Silver Creek Ranch(95)

That evening, Brooke happily accepted her brothers’ teasing as they helped her load her boxes into her Jeep and their pickups.

“She’s trying not to be an old maid,” Nate told Josh.

She elbowed him in the side so that he let out a “woof” of air.

“She’s sick of fighting me for the cookies,” Josh answered.

“No,” Brooke said to Josh, “I just don’t want to be the last little kid at home.”

“I think that’s you,” Nate said to their brother. “The baby of the family.”

Josh shrugged good-naturedly. “Both my jobs are here. My new apartment is almost done. I’m happy.”

Both of her jobs were here, too, Brooke thought—and then she saw Adam walking toward them from the bunkhouse, his shadow long and lean in the fading light. Even her lover was here—but she thought of him spending the night in her arms, and couldn’t wait to be in town. She gave him a friendly wave and trudged back toward the house with her brothers.

Adam caught up. “Need help?”

Between the four of them, they quickly filled up the vehicles and headed into town. Adam offered to come along, too, and her brothers seemed grateful for anything that made the unloading go quicker. Brooke kept waiting for Josh to make some kind of accidental comment about Adam’s participation, but he’d always been good about keeping her secrets.

Emily came up from the bakery with a platter of cookies, and Monica brought a big poinsettia for the coffee table. Brooke knew she was grinning stupidly. Emily had left all the furniture since Nate’s cabin was already furnished, as well as the Christmas candles in the window, and the big Christmas tree. Brooke couldn’t help but stand still and admire it, so thankful that she was making her dreams come true—some of her dreams, she thought, glancing surreptitiously at Adam.

When the last of the boxes were piled along the hallway wall and in the spare bedroom, they all stood around and munched cookies.

Josh swallowed his, and said, “Did I tell you guys that Whitney Winslow from Leather and Lace tracked me down at the ranch to see my workshop?”

“Are you going to make stuff for her?” Monica asked.

Josh hesitated. “Not the stuff that you already sell. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” she insisted. “There’s plenty of your talent to go around.”

“I still feel kinda weird about this,” Josh said. “I asked to see her catalogue before I agreed to anything.”

“I happened to see the two of you talking,” Adam suddenly interrupted.

Everybody turned to look at him in surprise, and Brooke knew it was because he was usually so quiet around everyone but her.

Adam smiled at Josh. “She invited him back to her B&B to see her . . . laptop.”

To Brooke’s delighted surprise, Josh actually blushed. “Did you and she . . . ?” Brooke trailed off.

“None of your business,” Josh said. “But I might be making some leather uh, necklaces.”

“Don’t you mean collars?” Nate asked. He pulled Emily against his side. “Don’t give me any honeymoon presents, okay?”

“It’s for a good cause,” Josh insisted innocently. “With a local craftsman on board, maybe more people will let up on the town council. And all of the lingerie is really beautiful.”

“He’s so altruistic,” Brooke said to Adam.

For the next few minutes, they ate cookies and made lewd fun of Josh. Then, one by one, they all took their leave until Brooke was alone in her new apartment. She stood in the picture window and looked out on the beauty of Main Street only a few days before Christmas. Snow was still falling, and shoppers hurried from store to store. Across the street, every window in the Hotel Colorado was lit from within, as tourists and extended families took every available room.

It seemed so exciting to Brooke, who was used to the quiet views of the ranch—and the bunkhouse that had once held no interest for her.

She heard the chime of the back doorbell, and ran down the stairs, wondering who forgot what. Once she entered the little hall shared with the bakery, she could see Adam through the door window that faced the alley.

Smiling, she opened the door and leaned against the frame. “Well, well, are you my first visitor?”

And then he pushed her back up against the wall and kissed her, slow and deep.

When he moved to her throat, she bent her head for him, hearing his hat fall off onto the stairs, feeling the softness of his wavy hair.

She whispered, “You know the bakery is still open. Either of our grandmas might be working tonight.”