Jenna's Cowboy Hero (10 page)

Or how it had hurt him to hear that from her, to know how much she resented him. He had envied her, she had resented him. What a crazy way to grow up.

“I was eighteen, going away to college and Dad wasn't going to drive me to Oklahoma City because you had a game.” She turned to look at him, and the pain was still there in her eyes.

“I know. But I didn't ask him to be that way. I didn't want it to be that way.”

“We let this happen, didn't we?” She started walking toward the barn. Adam walked next to her, not sure what to say.

They crossed the road and she walked up to the metal pole fence that held Willow's bulls. She stood close, finding a shady spot beneath an oak tree. He stopped next to her.

“We're brother and sister. That should mean something. We should spend holidays together. You should call me when you're in town. Those are the things families normally do.”

He had to agree because he knew from watching other people, from watching Clint and Jenna, that families should share their lives. They hadn't learned to do
that in their family. His family had been about football. Elizabeth had stayed at home, reading.

“You're right.” He really didn't know her. She sent pictures each year of the kids, and of their Christmas. They had an occasional holiday together. But he didn't know her, or her family.

“Of course I'm right.” She touched his arm. “I'm also sorry. Really sorry.”

“I'm sorry, too.”

“Whose place is this?” Elizabeth looked from the barn to the house.

“Clint Cameron's.” He glanced back at the house. Jenna had gone inside. “I was jealous of you, too.”

“Why?”

“You had freedom.” Adam felt childish making that statement. The thoughts of a teenager weren't easy on the lips of a man.

“I wasn't the star of the family.”

“I would have given you that place. I didn't ask to be the star of the show.”

She closed her eyes. “You know, I played the flute in band. Dad never came to a parade, a concert, not once did he acknowledge my achievements from the pulpit like he did yours. He was all about you.”

“I guess I didn't see all of that.” He slid an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I didn't have time to really look at what was going on in our family. I slept, ate and played football. If I wasn't playing, I was practicing. Winning wasn't enough for him.”

“He wanted to be you. He wanted to be the champion. You were the way for him to be that person.”

“But I didn't want it as much as he wanted it. He could taste it.”

“Why did you keep playing?”

“I didn't know how to stop. I didn't want to disappoint him.”

Adam Mackenzie hated football. Not the game, but what it had been in his home, his life. There were times that he loved to play. He loved victory. He loved that it had gotten him out of Oklahoma.

And now he was back. His sister was standing next to him, and the past had become the present.

Adam stared out at the bulls grazing in the pen, trying to decide if he was happy with the change of events. His sister in his life, not wanting something, just wanting his niece and nephews to know him. She shouldn't have to ask him for that.

“It shouldn't be a difficult thing for you, having a family,” she half teased, but the expression on her face questioned him.

“It isn't difficult, just new territory.” He turned his back on the fence, and they started back toward the house, crossing the gravel drive and being greeted by a blue heeler. “You should bring your family to the camp while I'm here.”

“This camp, is this what Billy was doing?”

“It is.”

“Now you're doing it?” She walked next to him.

“Not really. I'm taking care of what was already started. This isn't my thing, or where I want to be.”

They were almost at the house, a long, ranch-style home, the covered porch running its entire length. The front door opened and Jenna walked out. She had stars in her eyes, but she didn't know him. Not really.

He wondered if he even knew himself.

 

“Clint has burgers on the grill.” Jenna focused on the woman standing next to Adam. She could see the resem
blance between the two and knew that it was the sister she had spoken to. “You can eat with us, if you like.”

“I should go.”

“There's plenty.” Jenna ignored the warning look in Adam's eyes, telling her to stay out of his business.

“No, really, I have a family waiting for me.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed Adam's cheek. “Call me. I know you have my number in your phone.”

“I do.” He hugged her. “We'll talk soon.”

“For real this time.” Elizabeth walked away.

Jenna walked down the steps and stood next to Adam. He needed a friend. She could be that for him. She wondered if he even knew what it was, to have a real friend.

“The boys found a football in the garage. They want to know if you'll play with them.”

“There are better things to do with their time.” He turned and walked into the house, leaving her on the steps, watching his sister drive away.

“Okay, maybe we won't play football,” she muttered to herself as she followed him into the house. He didn't even know where he was going.

He was waiting in the kitchen.

“Through the dining room and out the French doors.” She pointed. “I'll be out in a minute.”

“What are you doing?” He didn't leave.

She sat down at the kitchen table, not knowing what to say. And this was why she hadn't wanted him here. “I have to rest.”

“You can't do that outside?”

Of course he wasn't making this easy for her. She looked down, avoiding his deep blue eyes.

“I have to take the prosthesis off. I'm still gaining
strength in my muscles, but some days are difficult.” She said it with as matter-of-fact a tone as she could master, keeping emotion out of it, making it easier to look up, meeting his steady gaze. And then she saw tenderness in his eyes.

She felt heat work its way up her neck into her cheeks. This was not the way to feel beautiful, like someone a man would want to hold. She wasn't whole. She would never be whole.

Adam was still standing in front of her.

“What can I do?” He kneeled in front of her, a big giant, suddenly at her level. She wanted to touch his cheek.

Worse, she wanted someone to hold her.

Man, she really thought she was past that. She had worked hard at convincing herself that she was good at being alone. She had the boys. She had her career. And now this guy had blown into her life to upset her plans about making it on her own.

It was something that would pass. Of course it would. At this point, any man probably would have caused this weak moment.

“Jenna?”

“Tell me what your sister wanted. You can take my mind off what must be pretty red cheeks and a lot of insecurity by sharing your family drama.” It was easier to laugh than to cry. It gave her a moment to remind herself that she was a whole person. “I'm really nosy, if you hadn't noticed.”

“She wants to fix our relationship.” He shrugged. “It's probably about time.”

“Oh.” Jenna hadn't expected an answer, just a momentary distraction, maybe an argument or a “none of your business.”

“And she told me to visit my dad.”

“Why?”

“None of your business.” That was more like it, and it made her smile. “Come on, let's get you back to the party, Cinderella.”

“What?”

“Do what you need to do, and I'll carry you outside.”

“You can't carry me around.” The heat that had vanished returned to her cheeks. “I have crutches, in the hall closet.”

“I really can carry you.” He stood and flexed his biceps.

“So, you'll carry me outside and leave me?”

“No, I won't do that.”

But he would. She knew that he wasn't even with her at that moment. She could see in his eyes that he'd detached. Maybe to deal with her, maybe to deal with his own pain.

She pulled up her pant leg and removed the prosthesis. Adam watched. She pointed to the hall, distracting him, taking his careful gaze off her. “Closet, crutches.”

He nodded and obeyed. When he returned, he held them out to her and reached for her hand. She pulled up, situating herself and getting her balance.

“This is embarrassing,” she whispered as heat crawled up her neck into her cheeks.

“Don't. You really don't have to worry about me.”

“I'm sure it isn't the relationship you thought we'd have when you crashed into my ditch.”

“It isn't. I thought I'd drive into town, square the camp away and be gone.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and it rested there. “I hadn't expected to find a friend.”

“We should go outside.” She moved, turning to head
out the back door. Adam whispered something about her being a chicken. She walked through the door pretending she hadn't heard. She knew what she was. She also knew how to protect herself.

A
dam watched as she settled herself in a lawn chair under an umbrella. Jenna Cameron, Clint's little sister. He was glad when she seemed ready to be on her own, meaning conversation with him wasn't necessary. That was fine, he would rather it be that way. He didn't want to be the person that hurt Clint's little sister.

Adam walked to the grill and Clint. Willow was watching the grill, a spray bottle of water in hand.

“Is that in case he starts a fire?” Adam smiled as he said the words and Willow nodded.

“He's not a good grill man.”

“Could I help?”

Willow glanced past him. “No, that's okay. You can relax. We've got it handled. Lunch will be ready in five minutes.”

“Are we going to eat out here?”

“We'll eat on the deck. The fan keeps it a little cooler.” Clint turned, nodding to a covered area with a table.

Willow touched his arm when he glanced Jenna's way again. “She's fine.”

“Oh, I know she is.” But he wasn't convinced.

“Adam, play with us.” Timmy ran across the yard, a football in his little hands. Adam shook his head. “Let's play something else, guys. How about tag? I'll be it.”

“No, football.” David had joined them. David, who never pushed.

“What if…”

“Guys, leave Adam alone. He's on vacation from football.” Jenna gave the twins a warning look. They nodded and ran off, still carrying the football.

And dreaming of being him. He knew that's what boys did. They wanted to be in the big leagues. He hadn't known what else to be. He hadn't been allowed to dream of anything else.

The boys tossed the football to one another, fumbling it, not getting it across the lawn. They didn't have a dad to teach them the right way to pass. He looked back at Clint.

They had an uncle who could do that for them.

A scream stopped Adam from walking away. He turned and David was standing in the middle of the lawn, a hand on his cheek and the football bouncing across the ground in front of him.

Jenna scrambled to get up. “What happened?”

“Timmy threw it hard.” David rubbed at his face, the way a boy did when it hurt and he didn't want to cry. Adam knew that trick.

He also knew that sinking feeling of needing to do something. Jenna started to get up. He raised his hand to stop her. And this wasn't what he had planned, this much involvement in their lives.

“Here, buddy, let me see.” Adam crossed the yard and David met him halfway. Adam kneeled down, putting himself at the child's level. “Take your hand down.”

David rubbed again and then moved his hand. He shot a gaze past Adam, to Jenna. He wanted his mom.
Adam could imagine that he was a poor second to Jenna. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her perched on the edge of the chair.

“You're going to have a shiner. That makes you a man. A real football player.” Adam touched the skin that was already starting to bruise. “You sit by your mom and I'll get something to put on this.”

“Steak?” Timmy was standing behind Adam, looking over his shoulder at the brother he'd injured. And he was jealous, Adam could hear it in his tone, as if steak on a black eye was the best thing in the world.

“No, not steak.” Adam put a hand on David's slim shoulder. “A bag of frozen peas.”

“They use steak in the movies,” Timmy offered.

“I know, but frozen peas work and they're less messy.” Adam stood. “Come on, let's go see your mom and I'll see if Willow has a bag of frozen peas.”

David stuck a hand in his. The gesture shouldn't have been more than a guy could take, like that hand in his meant something. He'd never felt stronger in his life.

Jenna looked at them, at their hands joined, and then her face tilted, and her eyes met his, questioning him. Or maybe warning him. Yes, definitely a warning. Because he would be leaving soon, and the boys wouldn't understand. He led David to her and when her arms opened, the child flew into them, no longer the tough guy that rubbed away his tears.

Toughen up, be a man
. Adam remembered his dad's words when he'd gotten hurt on the football field. His mom had never been the soft touch. She had wanted the dream almost as much as his dad. She had cheered from the sidelines, yelling when she thought the ref was wrong about a play, yelling at him to do better.

His success had taken them places.

Toughen up
. He shook off pain that hadn't left a scar or a bruise on his body.

“Adam?”

He shook it off and smiled at the woman waiting for him to respond.

“I'll get that bag of peas.” He touched David's head, and the little boy looked up, his eye squinting. A little hand quickly rubbed away the tears. “Let me take a closer look. You know, David, it's okay to cry.”

David nodded and a tear slid down his cheek. He brushed it away. “I know.”

“I'll be right back.”

Or maybe he should get in his truck and start driving, as far from this family as he could get. It might be safer to be with his parents than to be here with Jenna and her boys.

It would feel a lot safer back in Atlanta, in his world, his life. He knew what to expect from the people in that life and what to expect from himself when he was around them.

 

Jenna held David against her, his tiny arms wrapped around her neck. “You stink,” she whispered.

She snuggled against him and he snuggled back, a sweaty little boy who needed a bath. He climbed onto her lap, keeping his arms around her. Timmy climbed up next to her, not wanting to be left out, and biting his lip the way he did when he felt guilty.

“Be more careful next time, guys.” She slipped an arm around Timmy and pulled him to her side.

“Are you okay, David?” Willow squatted in front of them. She had the bag of peas that Adam had recommended and she placed them on David's eye and cheek. “That's quite a bruise.”

He smiled big. “I know. That's pretty neat, huh?”

“Yeah, pretty neat.” Willow kissed the top of his head. “And you are really sweaty. Do you want them to wash their hands before we eat lunch?”

Jenna nodded. “And I need to get up and help you get the table set.”

“No, you don't. Come on, Jenna, take a break. It really is okay. I bet Timmy can help me.” Willow stood and reached a hand for Timmy to take.

“I like to help,” Timmy assured Jenna, kissing her on the cheek. “Adam can take care of you and David. He's pretty good at that.”

Jenna felt that heat again, and she realized it was becoming a pretty common event. And then another thought hit her, dispelling the warmth in her cheeks and leaving her cold. Was Timmy feeling the burden of taking care of his mom? The thought sunk to the pit of her stomach and rested there.

She watched Timmy and Willow walk away and then a shadow loomed, blocking the sun. She glanced up, into the darkened profile of Adam Mackenzie. She didn't want to face him, especially if he'd heard her son's proclamation that Adam was good at taking care of her.

Poor guy, he'd gotten more than he'd bargained for when he showed up in Dawson.

“Ready to eat?”

“I'm ready.” She pushed herself up and maneuvered across the yard to the table. One hop up and then she could sit. Adam stood nearby, watching. “You can relax, I'm not going to fall or break.”

“I know that.”

She sat down and David took the seat next to hers. The fan pushed the air, cooling it to bearable. At least there were clouds floating over, sometimes blocking the sun. And maybe later there would be rain. At times
she thought she could smell it in the air, a promise of moisture and cooler air.

Clint walked across the yard with the plate of burgers and set them on the table. They were barely burned. She smiled up at him and his eyes narrowed.

“Don't even say it.” He handed her two plates.

“I only wanted to say thank you, nothing else. Don't be so touchy.”

He laughed, her cowboy brother, dressed for church. Willow had taught him how to match his clothes. “Right, you were going to say thank you.”

“I was.” She smiled up at him, loving him. He had always been there for her. “And I was going to follow that by saying you're doing so much better. Remember when you asked me if cookies were a breakfast food?”

“I do remember, and for some reason you didn't approve.”

“I thought there were better things for the boys. But you were there for them.”

“See, I did something right.”

She reached for his hand. “You did a lot of things right.”

The door slid open. Adam walked out carrying the salad bowl. Jenna released her brother's hand and took the bowl from Adam. He didn't look at her, didn't seem to notice that their fingers touched, and the connection made breathing difficult. For her, not him. Okay, that was fine, she could play that game. When he walked back into the house, Clint sat down in the seat at the end of the table.

“Don't take it personally.” He shrugged. “I don't think he's good at relationships.”

“Stop reading tabloids.” Jenna poured tea in her glass. “And his ability to handle relationships isn't any of my business. But I do like it when people make eye
contact with me, rather than acting like avoiding me will make it easier to avoid what happened.”

“Okay, you win.” Clint stood up. “I'm going to see if Willow needs anything, and then I'm going to get my baby girl.”

“She's beautiful.”

“Yeah, she is.”

The door opened again. Willow handed Clint the ketchup and mustard. He took them. “Do you want me to get Lindsey?”

She shook her head. “She's still sleeping. I have the monitor on.”

Disappointment flashed across Clint's features and Willow smiled. “Clint, she needs to sleep. You can't keep waking her up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He signed something and Willow turned pink.

“Not fair.” Jenna laughed, because she had started learning sign language, but Clint and Willow were speed talkers compared to Jenna's weak attempts.

“Private conversation.” Clint winked and kissed his wife before walking back into the house, making room at the door for Adam.

“Adam, sit down.” Willow pointed to the seat that Clint had vacated. The one next to Jenna. He sat down and then he looked at Jenna.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, his attention focused past her, to David. Still no eye contact.

I need for you to look at me.
She didn't say it. She wouldn't. He was being kind. He wanted to be helpful. “No, I don't need anything. Do you?”

He grinned, that half smile touched with a boyish charm, and this time their eyes connected. “No, I think I'm fine.”

“Good, because you were starting to get on my nerves.”

“What?”

“Acting all sorry, and like I'm something breakable that needs to be kept on a shelf. Adam, I train horses for a living. I live on a farm. I'm having a rough couple of days, a setback, but I'm not broken.”

“I know.” His eyes met hers and held her gaze. “I do know that you're strong. I'm sorry.”

“Good, as long as we have that settled, let's get the two love birds out here so we can eat. I'm starving.”

The door opened and Timmy walked out of the house, shaking his head. He grinned. “Uncle Clint is kissing Aunt Willow. That's gross.”

Jenna gave a fake shudder. “Ewww, gross.”

But she remembered what it felt like to be held in Adam Mackenzie's arms. She remembered what it felt like to want to linger there, in a kiss.

She remembered feeling beautiful.

 

Adam left after lunch. He'd offered Jenna a ride home, but she had insisted that the afternoon rest would have her back on her feet by tomorrow and he didn't have to stay. Willow had even refused his help with the dishes.

So he got into his truck and drove away, away from the farm, away from a ton of conflicting emotions. Because he hadn't been ready to leave a Sunday afternoon with people he liked, and he had known it was time to go.

He drove past the entrance to Camp Hope, the sign now up and the driveway widened and the weeds mowed so it could be seen. Camp would start tomorrow. And then what?

He didn't know, because this hadn't been a part of his plan. He hadn't expected to stay here. He sure
couldn't have guessed that Will would discover that the accounts had been cleaned out.

If he left, what would people say? Probably not much. Staying was more of a surprise to people than his leaving would be. The world probably expected him to bail on the camp, on the kids. He was Adam Mackenzie, he didn't think about other people.