Been a long couple of days.” He hoped his brother didn’t notice the heat he could feel crawling over his features.
Ridge gave him a long look and Taft sighed, waiting for the inevitable words of advice from his brother.
As the oldest Bowman sibling left after their parents died, Ridge had taken custody of Caidy, who had been a teenager at the time. Even though Taft and Trace had both been in their early twenties, Ridge still tried to take over the role of father figure to them, too, whether they liked it or not—which they usually didn’t.
Instead of a lecture, Ridge only sipped at his drink. “I was thinking about taking the girls for a ride up to check the fence line on the high pasture. Want to come along? A little mountain air might help clear your head.”
He did love being on the back of a horse amid the pine and sage of the mountains overlooking the ranch, but he wasn’t in the mood for more questions or sympathy from his family about Laura.
“To tell you the truth, I’m itching to get my hands dirty. I think I’ll head over to the house and put in a window frame or something.”
Ridge nodded. “I know you’ve got plenty to do on your own place, but I figured this was worth mentioning, too. I heard the other day at the hardware store that Jan Pendleton is looking to hire somebody to help her with some renovations to the inn.”
He snorted. As if Laura would ever let her mother hire him. He figured Ridge was joking but he didn’t see any hint of humor in his brother’s expression.
“Just saying. I thought you might be interested in helping Laura and her mother out a little.”
Ah. Without actually offering a lecture, this must be Ridge’s way of reminding Taft he owed Laura something. None of the rest of the family knew what had happened all those years ago, but he was pretty sure all of them blamed him.
And they were right.
Without answering, he shoved away from the table and grabbed his plate to carry it into the kitchen. First, do no harm. But once the harm had been done, a stand-up guy found some way to make it right. No matter how difficult.
Chapter Three
Laura stared at her mother, shock buzzing through her as if she had just bent down and licked an electrical outlet.
“Sorry, say that again. You did what?”
“I didn’t think you’d mind, darling,” her mother said, with a vague sort of smile as she continued stirring the chicken she was cooking for their dinner.
Are you completely mental? she wanted to yell. How could you possibly think I wouldn’t mind?
She drew a deep, cleansing breath, clamping down on the words she wanted to blurt out. The children were, for once, staying out of trouble, driving cars around the floor of the living room and she watched them interact for a moment to calm herself.
Her mother was under a great deal of strain right now, financially and otherwise. She had to keep that in mind—not that stress alone could explain her mother making such an incomprehensible decision.
“Really, it was all your idea,” Jan said calmly.
“My idea?” Impossible. Even in her most tangled nightmare, she never would have come up with this possible scenario.
“Yes. Weren’t you just saying the other day how much it would help to have a carpenter on the staff to help with the repairs, especially now that we totally have to start from the ground up in the fire-damaged room?”
“I say a lot of things, Mom.” That doesn’t mean I want you to rush out and enter into a deal with a particular devil named Taft Bowman.
“I just thought you would appreciate the help, that’s all. I know how much the fire has complicated your timeline for the renovation.”
“Not really. Only one room was damaged and it was already on my schedule for renovations.”
“Well, when Chief Bowman stopped by this morning to check on things after the excitement we had the other day—which I thought was a perfectly lovely gesture, by the way—he mentioned he could lend us a hand with any repairs in his free time. Honestly, darling, it seemed like the perfect solution.”
Really? Having her daughter’s ex-fiancé take an empty room at the inn for the next two weeks in exchange for a little skill with a miter saw was perfect in what possible alternative universe?
Her mother was as sharp as the proverbial tack. Jan Pendleton had been running the inn on her own since Laura’s father died five years ago. While she didn’t always agree with her mother’s methods and might have run things differently if she had been home, Laura knew Jan had tried hard to keep the inn functioning all those years she had been living in Madrid.
But she still couldn’t wrap her head around this one. “In theory, it is a good idea. A resident carpenter would come in very handy. But not Taft, for heaven’s sake, Mom!”
Jan frowned in what appeared to be genuine confusion. “You mean because of your history together?”
“For a start. Seeing him again after all these years is more than a little awkward,” she admitted.
Her mother continued to frown. “I’m sorry but I don’t understand. What am I missing? You always insisted your breakup was a mutual decision. I distinctly remember you telling me over and over again you had both decided you were better off as friends.”
Had she said that? She didn’t remember much about that dark time other than her deep despair.
“You were so cool and calm after your engagement ended, making all those terrible phone calls, returning all those wedding presents. You acted like you didn’t care at all. Honey, I honestly thought you wouldn’t mind having Taft here now or I never would have taken him up on his suggestion.”
Ah. Her lying little chickens were now coming home to roost. Laura fought the urge to bang her head on the old pine kitchen table a few dozen times.
Ten years ago, she had worked so hard to convince everyone involved that nobody’s heart had been shattered by the implosion of their engagement. To her parents, she had put on a bright, happy face and pretended to be excited about the adventures awaiting her, knowing how crushed they would have been if they caught even a tiny glimmer of the truth—that inside her heart felt like a vast, empty wasteland.
How could she blame her mother for not seeing through her carefully constructed act to the stark and painful reality, especially when only a few years later, Laura was married to someone else and expecting Jan’s first grandchild? It was unfair to be hurt, to wish Jan had somehow glimpsed the depth of her hidden heartache.
This, then, was her own fault. Well, hers and a certain opportunistic male who had always been very good at charming her mother—and every other female within a dozen miles of Pine Gulch.
“Okay, the carpentry work. I get that. Yes, we certainly need the help and Taft is very good with his hands.” She refused to remember just how good those hands could be. “But did you have to offer him a room?”
Jan
