Duck (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 8) Read online

  She glanced back to find Reuben had straightened from where he had leaned against the countertop, a tension running through him that hadn’t been there before. Motionless, he stared at her for a long minute before he shook his head slowly, side to side. “I don’t know, Brenda.” He sighed as he asked, “Are you set on doing this right now, or can it wait until after I shower? I stink from the plane.”

  “It can wait,” she said instantly, her soft words latching onto the opportunity to delay, even for another few minutes. She didn’t know what his reaction would be, couldn’t predict how angry he would be at the news. She didn’t know him anymore, and wasn’t sure she would survive if he... “Of course it can.”

  An hour later, he had finished with his shower, but the conversation she planned would have to be postponed, as the ranch foreman and hands crowded into the house to meet Reuben and welcome him home.

  Caught off guard

  “What’s on the agenda for today, boss?” Brenda heard Gill ask the question, knowing without looking up it was directed at Reuben. After only three days, everyone except her seemed to have fallen into a comfortable routine of having him around the ranch. Even the men, like Gill, who hadn’t met or worked with him before. Last week this particular question would have been directed at her, and she and Gill would have been standing comfortably in the kitchen, having the conversation over mugs of hot coffee instead of hat in hand, stuck in the official office out in the barn.

  Her entire routine was askew and in the days since Reuben walked through the kitchen door, she hadn’t found a private opportunity to talk to him. Hadn’t talked to him at all except in passing. She tried in vain, every day.

  Beginning each morning in the bathroom, she stood staring into the mirror, giving herself a pep talk. With no idea how long he would be in town, she knew she had to move it along, but he had proven himself adept at avoiding her. Every morning he rose early and then isolated himself in the office for the remainder of the day. Knowing where he was didn’t matter, because he was never alone. She’d stood on the porch for the past three days and watched a never-ending stream of visitors in the form of ranch hands, suppliers, and vendors head into the barn, all eager to meet the Nelms behind the name.

  At Reuben’s request, Brenda had provided his accountant access to the business’ bookkeeping software. She filled that man’s inbox with information and records for the past few years, and then found he left her pretty much alone, too.

  Reuben was definitely avoiding her, burying himself in the tedium of an everyday routine completely unfamiliar to him. Something he had never really been involved in, and all, it seemed, so he didn’t have to see or talk to her. She wasn’t sure where his head was, if he had been struck with a sudden desire to understand the business, or—and this thought cut her to the quick—if he didn’t trust her to run things anymore.

  Gill wasn’t making things easier by going around her, and she decided to attack this issue head on. Making a scoffing noise in the back of her throat so both men’s eyes swung to her, she saw Reuben’s dark ones assessing and Gill’s light blue ones questioning.

  “The agenda today is to check all the hay shed roofs. We can’t risk leaks like last winter ruining half our bales. Then, the agenda includes checking on the two dozen heifers penned near the main barn; see how close they are to calving. Then, if there is time left in the day, we’ll amend the agenda to include maintenance items. Because, as we all know, there’s always fence to run, and stalls to check.” Gill made a wry face and nodded, acknowledging her unspoken point about still being the boss and he turned to leave the room.

  “Brenda,” Reuben’s deep voice filled the room, “a word, if you don’t mind. Thanks, Gill.” With two short sentences, he effectively both put her in her place and released Gill, wresting control back from her with such ease she thought her head would spin.

  Gill nodded, and as he stepped outside, gave Brenda an apologetic glance, pulling the door to the office closed behind him. She and Reuben waited in silence until they heard the outer barn door slide shut, which meant she was fuming by the time Reuben stood, planting his knuckles on the desktop as he leaned over and barked his question irritably, “What the hell was that?”

  “What’s what?” She shrugged one shoulder. “Oh, you mean me making sure the boys all know when you waltz back out of town, it’s still me they need to answer to? Is that what you’re referring to?” Her own frustration sounded clearly in her tone. Over the past three days, he had refused to interact with her, and now he wanted to call her to task for doing what he had been paying her to do for years?

  “I don’t plan on waltzing out of town, as you put it. At least not until I know what was so damned important you had to threaten me to get me to come home.” He had straightened and hands on his hips, stood behind the desk, glaring at her.

  “Well if you’d talk to me, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” She shook her head, leaning her shoulders against the wall, arms crossed beneath her breasts. “But, you’ve either been out and about, or holed up in here, so we haven’t talked, even though you’re finally in the same freakin’ time zone as me.” Drawing what she hoped was a calming breath, she deliberately lowered her voice to continue, trying hard to sound reasonable. “Reuben, I didn’t mean to step on your toes just now. But, I can’t lose my authority with these guys and expect to be an effective manager. And you know I’m right, so if you want me to stay on, then you have to let me do my job.”

  His jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth, turning his head to look at the pictures thumbtacked to the bulletin board beside the door. Following his gaze, she clenched her own jaw when she realized which picture he was looking at. Taken five years ago, Tommy stood with his arms around her and Eli’s shoulders, holding them close to his sides, a broad grin on his face. In the photo, she and Tommy appeared nearly the same height, with Elias already more than half as tall as Tommy. The picture was a little deceiving because she was actually taller than Tommy by nearly five inches, and a then five-year-old Elias had been in the middle of one of many growth spurts.

  They were posed in front of closed and quiet chutes with a big cardboard check positioned in front of them, still in the picture but she and Elias held it low enough so you could see the gigantic belt buckle Tommy had just won. Tommy with his dark complexion and dark hair, looking like he could be a larger version of the boy who had his head tilted up, somberly staring at the man he knew as his father.

  That had been one month before Tommy’s diagnosis of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, ALS. Four years and ten months before her world came crashing down around her ears, carried there by a brief, clinically-worded report in a plain white envelope.

  She saw movement from the corner of her eye and turned to face Reuben as he stepped close, catching the end of his nod towards the picture. “That Elias’ father?” Oh, man, is that ever a loaded question, she thought, not wanting to lie to him but not wanting to have this discussion right now, especially not like this, when he was already more than half-angry at her.

  Neither denying or confirming, she simply said, “Tommy Calloway.” She paused and took a breath, verbally sidestepping even more with, “My husband.”

  His gaze swung back to her face, and he asked, “Where is he? That was a present tense response, so the husband part is still in effect, yeah? Haven’t seen him around. Why’s that, Brenda? Is he out on the circuit?”

  As it sometimes did, the pain and grief of their loss swept over her, followed by what felt like a traitorous relief, her dismay that rode along with the last emotion nearly buckling her knees. If it hadn’t been for the supportive wall behind her, she knew she would have collapsed to the floor. Biting her lips hard, struggling for self-control, she lowered her gaze to the floor as she said, “He died five months ago.”

  “Oh, darlin’, I’m so sorry,” Reuben murmured, and his hands were on her shoulders even before she knew he had moved. He pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest as she melted
into him, her body remembering too well how this felt, how good this could be. This was who she knew him to be, the Reuben she had watched all her life. The boy who stood strong for everyone around him, the man who was a fierce friend…and generous lover.

  For a moment, she considered just letting go, thinking about how good it would feel to be free to accept this unspoken offer to take some of the grief from her. In the end, the walls she had built over the years and months were too high, those paths too well worn, hard to deviate from. The thought of opening herself up to rejection from Reuben again filled her with paralyzing fear, and without giving herself a chance to change her mind, she shut down the impulse. With dry eyes, she leaned back to look up in his face, his arms still wrapped securely around her waist, holding her tightly. “Thanks, Reuben. You give good hug.”

  Ignoring her unspoken desire to move away, he stared down into her face, concern written on his features. Gently, he asked, “What happened, Brenda?”

  “ALS. Flat stole him away, took everything he loved, except Elias and me.” She glanced back at the bulletin board, but her mind was seeing Tommy in the hospital bed positioned in the living room, where he had spent his last days. Shaking free from the bitterness of those memories, she smiled at the picture on the board. “That was the first prize money he had taken in about a year.” She sighed. “And it was the last time he competed. He knew something was wrong. Went and saw the doc. A few weeks later, we knew, knew for sure. From then on, it was a waiting game, but the disease progressed fast.” She pushed against Reuben’s chest again, blowing out a huff of air when he didn’t release her. “Reuben, let me go.”

  In response, he didn’t loosen his grip, but instead, snaked a hand up her back and into her hair, turning her head to press her cheek against his chest. “I’m so sorry, darlin’.” He repeated his words from before, but now she felt as much as heard them. “I shoulda picked up the fuckin’ phone. Lost and caught up in my own shit, but that isn’t any kind of excuse. I shoulda picked up the phone and I shoulda been here for you.”

  “It’s okay, Reuben. It still hurts, but it was a release for him. By the end, he was trapped inside his own body, and…for a man like Tommy, that’s worse than death, really. I know he wanted to stay for Eli, but…well, everything happens for a reason, right?” If it hadn’t been for ALS, she would never have done the gene testing on Elias, would never have seen the words on the paper denying Tommy’s paternity of their son. Would never have had to remember the single night spent with Reuben, before he'd left Lamesa, and her, for good. The beautiful night branded into her memory, something she never dared think about while Tommy lived, because the what-ifs could overwhelm her if she did.

  She pushed back against his hand, forcing him to loosen his hold as she looked up into his face, seeing his expression was shuttered, closed off. Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard when his hand gently cupped her cheek, the scorching heat from his palm welcome against her face. Feeling the fiery puffs of his breath against her lips, she waited for a moment, half-hoping he would kiss her, but then his lips touched her temple instead, pressing and holding for several seconds. His voice was low and smooth when he asked, “He your bull rider? The one you talked about that night?”

  That night. So, he remembered their encounter too, because it was certainly the first time she had ever mentioned Tommy to anyone. Talking about him to Reuben made her infatuation for the athletic, good-looking man seem real. But their conversation took place only hours before they had been drunk enough to fall into bed together—a bed where there weren’t many words, just talking with their bodies. The way she felt that night, with him, the rich wealth of emotions swirling through her when they were together made her schoolgirl crush on Tommy laughable, and in those hours, she came to realize she had always been in love with Reuben.

  Then, when morning came and she woke, her heart full of hope, he had been gone. A brief goodbye note on the nightstand the only thing left behind. Not quite the only thing, she thought, her eyes flicking again to the picture. “Yeah, that was Tommy.”

  “So, you guys hooked up. That’s good. It’s what you wanted, right?” His voice rumbled in his chest, and she wondered if she imagined the wistful tone she heard in his voice.

  “Yeah, it was good. We were together nearly eleven years.” She smiled, thinking about those first years, her working the stock contracting business, him chasing buckles and checks across the western half of the United States.

  She would take Eli with her to visit Tommy when he was off on trips. Often, all three of them would stay in the living quarters of the bull-hauling trailer she used to transport stock to rodeos. She and Tommy got along well enough back then and learned to give each other the space they needed to become the people they wanted to be. Things changed later, but she clamped a lid on those memories, ruthlessly shutting down her mind from those pathways.

  “You loved him.” This was a statement, but she answered him anyway.

  “It was a decent relationship.” She nodded, a smile curving up the corners of her mouth. “He was a good partner, and good with Eli.” Her chest hitched, because at least he had that. He never knew he wasn’t Eli’s father, and had died believing he was leaving part of himself behind. She pulled in a shuddering breath, then another one which came a little easier. “Now, you gotta let me go before I blubber all over you.” Stepping back, his arms loosened and dropped away, leaving her longing for a return of the secure feeling his embrace provided.

  “Is this why you called, Brenda? You need to focus on Elias instead of the business?” His quiet question pulled her attention back, and she nodded, but then just as quickly shook her head.

  “I don’t mind the work, and I can generally take off when I need to. I just…more than anything, I wanted…needed to talk to you.” She shook her head, laughing softly. “My tactics might seem a bit…extreme to me now. I knew I didn’t have any right to ask you to come home, but I did. Couldn’t stop myself, Reuben. I’m sorry.”

  Her chin was gripped in his palm and he lifted her face so their gazes locked. “I’m not,” was all he said, but his thumb grazed across her lips. “I’m here for as long as you want me, darlin’. As long as is needed.”

  “Hmmm.” She sighed, pulling back, missing the heat of his hand as it dropped away. “Want and need are two entirely different things.” She tried to lighten the conversation with a joke. “While I have you, I’ll work you, though. I warn you, I’m a slave driver.” She paused, but his expression didn’t change, so she continued, “We can settle some questions I have on the direction you want to take the breeding program, make sure I’ve done the right things. There’s some land I’d like you to look at with me. I think we could use some additional acreage given the head of stock we’re carrying these days, but I want to make sure it’s an investment you’re okay with.” Maybe now is right, she thought. She took a step backwards, creating more distance between them. “It would be good to have a Nelms at the rodeo, too. Do you think you can stay that long?”

  “As long as you want me,” he said, leaving off the qualifying words this time, his message even less clear than before. Was it possible he meant what she thought he did?

  Closing her eyes, she took in a shuddering breath, and then released it, looking at him. This is the time, right now. This is right, she thought. “Reuben,” she began and the phone on the desk rang. Shit. Shaking her head, she pointed at it as she stepped towards the door. “Better get that, boss man. Time to earn your keep.”

  ***

  Duck watched the door close quietly behind the woman he had loved for as long as he had known her. That’s a puzzle, he thought. Her family, torn apart by disease. She had been with the bull rider for eleven years, the man had given her a beautiful son, then died, and she characterized their relationship as only decent. Something there didn’t smell right.

  He had been purposely keeping himself separate, even going so far as to eat his lunch in the office, working on various projects unt
il well after dinnertime, trying to maintain distance. Calling home to Chicago, talking to his brothers in the evenings, keeping his finger on the club’s pulse as best he could from here. He found himself even keeping Mason at arm’s length, holding back about anything except club or the contracting business while he tried to sort out his feelings for Brenda. Until five minutes ago, he wasn’t certain she even remembered their night, but now…his hand reached out to scoop the handset. “Du—ˮ he began and then swiftly corrected himself. “Nelms,” he said with a headshake. This going back and forth was going to take some getting used to, he thought.

  “Reuben.” Memory danced along the edges of his mind, elusive, as a voice he should know called his name. “Damn, boy. Welcome back. I heard you were back in town. Wasn’t sure whether to believe the guys or not.”

  “Yeah, got in a couple days ago.” Hopefully, his evasive answer didn’t expose his lack of recognition for someone who apparently expected to be remembered from just a voice on the phone.

  “Hey, me and Donny are going to Mitchell’s tonight for a couple of beers. Want to join us?” The reference finally identified the person for him. This was Steve Simmons and he was going to a local bar with Donald Lewellen. Reuben had played football with them all through high school, and then they had traveled together to rodeos for a couple of seasons, competing in different events for the most part.

  “Steve, the last time I drank with you, I was too hungover to stand on my own two feet the next morning and had to scratch from my event.” He laughed, receiving a chuckle in return, and followed up with, “I’ll come have an iced tea, but I am not drinkin’ with you, dude.”

  “You do remember,” Steve said with satisfaction, then shouted at someone away from the phone. “Reuben’s in, we’ll meet up about five. Don’t be late, Donny.”