Authors: Patricia Thayer
Tears welled in her eyes as Brooke thought back to the years of struggle while Coralee tried to make it as a singer. She could even remember all her mother’s promises.
“All I need, sweetie, is that one big break, then we’ll have a nice home, and you can have all the toys and party dresses a little girl could want.”
There was never a big break, only more jobs in sleazy clubs, more drinking and men moving into their apartment to cover Coralee’s disappointment. Brooke shivered. Some of the men were frightening and others were abusive. And then there were the ones who’d stolen everything from them.
Years of overindulgence with alcohol and cigarettes, until Coralee’s voice and looks were gone. She could only find work as a waitress in a diner.
That job had ended last year when her fifty-two-year-old mother was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. Then six months ago in January, Brooke found she couldn’t leave her alone any longer. Not when she began to wander off from the apartment, left water running in the bathtub, and took things from the store without paying.
She had no choice but to move Coralee into assisted-care living. She found a small group home that would take Alzheimer’s patients. Brooke was also lucky that she could work there to offset some of the cost of the care.
Brooke wiped the tears from her cheeks. She didn’t have the money for live-in help. The only chance she had to make their lives better had been to finish college. Even with the possibility of her new job, it was still going to be rough going.
So the trip here had taken a lot of her meager savings, and every minute Brooke stayed in Colorado meant she wasn’t working. The family living here didn’t have that problem. Laurel Quinn had no idea what it was like to be Coralee’s daughter.
Chapter Three
At 4:00 a.m. the next morning, Trent swung his legs over the side of the single cot. He’d gotten soft the past two years. In the army, he’d been able to sleep anywhere. Now, sleep eluded him.
Rubbing a hand over his face, he stood and walked to the window. He might as well get up.
The night was cool, but he welcomed the chill against his skin. A certain blonde had caused him more than an inconvenience since her arrival not even twenty-four hours ago.
Brooke Harper made a man take notice, and he noticed all right. Enough that he’d tossed and turned most of the night. She had him trying to recall how long it had been since he’d spent time with a woman, a woman to share a long night with.
He released a long breath, trying to ease the tension in his body. Not that he’d do anything about it with Brooke. She had a connection to Laurel, and there was a strong possibility that they were sisters. Besides, Brooke Harper was the kind who needed a steady guy, who gave her promises—a home and kids.
Sadness washed over him. He’d never be that guy. He was better off alone. Dreams of family had disappeared long ago.
He shook off the memories, and looked out the window. The sky was still dark, but the moon was still aglow and he could see the occupied cabin about fifty yards away. He could also see a light on.
Couldn’t Brooke sleep, either, or was she afraid? His protective instincts kicked in. They were in an isolated area and she didn’t know him from Adam.
He shook his head, thinking about the crazy events of the day: the groom running off, a canceled wedding, then a long-lost sister showing up. And Brooke Harper was determined to meet her sister. Why, after all these years, hadn’t Rory and Diane told Laurel the truth about her birth?
So many questions that needed answers. Something told him that the pretty Miss Harper knew more than she was saying. “You need to call me, Rory. I can’t do anything until you give me some answers. If not for me, then to Laurel.”
Trent walked to the lone chair in the room, grabbed his jeans and pulled them on. Since he was wide awake, he might as well get some work done. Back at his place he could feed the stock. Not that he didn’t have capable men to do chores; he just needed to burn off this energy. He put on his shirt and buttoned it, then pulled on boots. He grabbed his hat off the table and headed toward the door.
Once he finished his work, he’d come back in time to make breakfast for Brooke and maybe learn some more about their pretty visitor. And with any luck Rory would call him.
* * *
A
LWAYS AN EARLY RISER
, Brooke was up and dressed by 7:00 a.m. in a pair of jeans, a white blouse and a navy pullover sweater. After finding Trent’s note from under her door, telling her to come to the Quinns’ kitchen for breakfast, she realized she was anxious to see him again. Of course, it was only to find out if he’d heard from Rory. Maybe the family was coming home today. Maybe she’d be meeting them in a few hours.
Right now, she would do anything for a cup of coffee. She drove the short distance up the driveway to the house and parked her car. She got out, walked up and knocked on the back door. She hated imposing on Trent Landry again, but he was her only connection to the Quinns.
“Come in,” the familiar voice called.
Once inside, she immediately smelled bacon cooking and her stomach growled in anticipation.
Standing at the stove, Trent was dressed in faded jeans and a fitted Western shirt. Oh, boy. The man was handsome, maybe not in a traditional way, but definitely in a rugged-cowboy way. If you liked the cowboy type.
He tossed her a half smile. “Good morning.”
Her insides fluttered. “Morning.”
“Coffee’s on the counter.” He nodded toward the large coffeemaker.
She walked over. “Thank you.” Maybe the caffeine-laced drink would bring her to her senses.
“What’s your pleasure?” He pointed to the open carton of eggs. “Scrambled, sunny-side up or over easy?”
She filled the mug. “Don’t feel you need to feed me.”
“I’m eating, so you might as well. It could be a long day...waiting for that phone call. After seeing you in action yesterday, I might decide to put you to work.”
She cupped the mug in her hands and inhaled the wonderful aroma. “Okay, I’ll have scrambled, but only one.”
“Good choice. Will you put some bread in the toaster?”
“Of course.” She took a sip, then reached for the loaf of whole wheat on the counter and put in four slices. Then she picked up her mug again and took a sip. “Oh, this tastes so good,” she purred.
Trent looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “Good coffee is important.”
“I agree, and I probably drink far too much. Between work and school, I needed the extra boost.”
She leaned against the counter and watched the large man’s fluid movements as he worked at his tasks. Her gaze went to the worn denim that molded his delicious backside and muscular thighs. A shot of awareness hit her like the caffeine she was drinking. Her attention moved up to his clean-shaven face and strong jaw. His dark hair was trimmed short around the ears and slightly wavy on top.
He glanced at her. “So you’re one of those who hang out in those specialty coffee places.”
She shook her head. “I wish, but my budget can’t afford their prices. I make my own coffee at home, or at work.”
He gave her another odd look.
“What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?”
“No, just hoping your new job pays enough for you to splurge on an occasional fancy mocha latte.”
She went on to explain. “The job isn’t a sure thing yet. I’m one of four people they’re looking at, but I interned for them last year, and I’m hoping that works in my favor.”
He poured the egg mixture into the sizzling skillet. “What’s the job?”
“The position is for second-shift front desk manager.”
The toast popped up. “Eventually, I want to get into sales and marketing. The Dream Chaser Hotel chain is a good place to get experience.”
Trent dished out the cooked eggs and brought them to the table, then filled two glasses of orange juice while Brooke buttered the toast and stacked the slices on a plate.
He waited until she took a seat then sat down across from her. Not used to eating with someone, let alone a man who showed such manners, she decided she liked it.
Nibbling on a piece of toast, Brooke sat back as Trent dug eagerly into his pile of eggs.
He motioned to her food. “My dad used to say you’ll never grow if you don’t eat.”
“Seems you took him up on that,” she said without thinking. “I...just meant you’re a large man.”
* * *
T
RENT MANAGED TO
choke down his food as Brooke’s wide-eyed gaze assessed him. Damn, if he didn’t feel the heat rising between them. He swallowed again. “You need muscle for ranching.”
Brooke’s gaze moved to his chest. “I can see how that would help.”
The warmth spread to his groin. “For a lot of years the army kept me on a strict workout regimen. Old habits die hard.”
“So you lift weights.”
“Mainly I lift hay bales and wrestle a few steers.”
“You really do all that work?”
Was Brooke that innocent, or was she playing a game? Either way, she was making it impossible to concentrate...on his meal. “You do if you want to run a successful operation.”
She took a bite of eggs, and his attention went to her mouth. “I thought you were renting out fishing and hunting cabins.”
He picked up a strip of bacon and ate half in one bite. “You can do both. Rory and I raise cattle first, a mama-and-calf operation, but it’s a good idea to have another source of income, especially during the lean years. Besides, I like to hunt and fish.”
“Is this a lean year?”
“It’s not too bad. There’s been enough water and grass for the herd. Why are you so interested?”
With her fair skin he could easily see her blush. “Just curious about my sister growing up here.” She shrugged. “And I’ve lived in Las Vegas all my life. The desert is beautiful, but so different from Colorado.”
“I’m not a fan of the desert. Over the years, I saw far too much of it.” He fought to keep those memories at bay. He pointed to the window. “I prefer the Rocky Mountains in my backyard.”
“So you were born and raised here?”
More questions, he thought. “Until I was fourteen when my parents divorced. I moved to Denver with my mom.”
“I’m sorry.” She offered him a hesitant smile. “At least you got to come back to live here.”
For far too many years he’d lost touch with his dad. He’d regret that forever and that he’d never gotten to see his little brother grow up... “Yeah, I got to come back here.”
Before Brooke could speak again, his cell phone rang. Trent took it out of his pocket. “It’s Rory. I’ll be right back.” He got up from the table as he pressed the talk button and walked out to the mudroom. He needed privacy for what he had to say.
“Rory. What the hell is going on?” he asked.
“Good morning to you, too,” the older man answered.
Trent ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry, I’ve been worried. Another hour and I’d be in my truck and headed for Denver. Is everyone okay?”
“Yes, we’re fine. And no, we haven’t found Jack. Every place that Laurel knew about turned out to be a dead end.”
“How about letting your friends know you’re all right?”
“I was hoping to have some news to tell you before I called, but no such luck.”
Trent turned around to see Brooke watching him from the other room. “How about that I have some important news for you.”
“Has that creep come back to Hidden Springs?”
“No, Aldrich hasn’t shown up. That would be too easy for us.”
“Yeah, and if you’d gotten ahold of him...all that would be left would be to dispose of the body.” A laugh came over the line. “I know you Special Forces types. Get in and get out before anyone knows what happened.”
“Believe me, I wish I had a chance with this guy, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Trent paused, trying to figure out how to phrase his words. “This is a different matter altogether.”
There was a pause, then Rory said, “Just tell me straight out, son.”
“You had a visitor show up yesterday right after you left. A woman named Brooke Harper. She says she’s Laurel’s half sister.”
“The hell you say?”
“Strange, but true. Rory, have you ever known a woman by the name of Coralee Harper?”
There was more silence, then Rory finally spoke. “Coralee Harper came to the ranch?”
“No, but her daughter, Brooke Harper, arrived yesterday just hours after you all left.”
Rory cursed.
“So Laurel’s adopted?” Trent already knew the answer, but needed Rory to confirm it.
“Since I’m Laurel’s biological father there was no adoption, I got full custody. It cost me enough money to get Coralee to sign my daughter over to me. And she was never supposed to contact me or Laurel again.”
“Well, Coralee’s other daughter is sitting in your kitchen, waiting to see Laurel.”
“Get her the hell out of there.”
“Hear me out first, Rory,” he said, wondering why he was playing Miss Harper’s advocate. Yet, he found himself calming Rory down and telling him the story about Coralee’s Alzheimer’s and her wanting to see Laurel one last time.
“No way. That woman has caused me enough problems. I’m not sure I even believe this story. It’s more than likely Coralee just wants more money.”
“That’s why you need to tell Laurel, and let her decide if she wants to come home and meet her sister.”
He heard the long sigh, then the curse. “We always meant to tell Laurel, but we kept putting it off. Damn, I knew this would happen...” Rory’s voice wandered off.
“Well, it looks like you don’t have a choice now.”
“Okay, then you tell me just how in the hell do I do it?”
“Like you always tell me, straight-out.”
“I guess you’re right.” Rory released a long breath. “I need to ask you another favor. Trent, could you have that friend of yours, the PI, investigate Coralee? And have him look into Aldrich, too. The police here haven’t been able to help us.”
“Consider it done. I’ll contact Cody Marsh today. So when should I expect you back here?”
“Give us a few days,” Rory said. “You’re right, Diane and I need to explain all this to Laurel. This news—and she’s still dealing with the aftershocks of Aldrich’s betrayal—is going to take some time.”