Jenna's Cowboy Hero. Brenda Minton
She greeted him with a wavering smile.
“Jenna.” He held his hand out to her brother, his white hat tipped down, shading the smooth planes of his suntanned face. “Clint Cameron. I haven’t seen you since we played against each other our senior year.”
“Fifteen years.” Clint shook Adam’s hand. Jenna waited, wondering what came next. “Jenna said you’re back to take care of the youth camp.”
This time Adam smiled at her, that slightly boyish yet wicked grin that made his blue eyes dance. “Yeah, something like that. It looks as if I’m in charge, and I need horses. Maybe a dozen or so, with tack.”
“Got it. I think I can round them up. It might take a few weeks.”
“I don’t have a few weeks.” The edge was back in this voice.
Jenna looked up. She watched as her brother considered the words of the other man. And she made a way to escape.
“I need to get supper started. I’ll let the two of you take care of business.”
Chapter Four
Adam watched Jenna go, surprised that she was leaving. Let down? No, of course not. He wanted space, time out from relationships. He wasn’t let down by her walking away.
He was surprised, and a little bruised by her lack of interest. Typically she was the kind of woman he ran from. The kind that was looking for a husband and a father to her kids. She didn’t seem to be looking, though.
Horses. Clint’s one word brought Adam back to his surroundings, and his gaze shifted back to the man standing in front of him, away from the retreating back of a cowgirl.
“A dozen, at least.” He followed Clint into the barn. “She runs this place by herself?”
“She does.”
“Impressive.”
Clint shrugged and walked into the tack room. He hung up halters and lead ropes that were tossed on a shelf. “She’s always been strong.”
“It has to be tough, raising two boys alone.”
“It is, but she has family and friends who help.”
Adam picked up a currycomb and ran the sharp metal over his hand. “High school was a long time ago, Clint. If you’re still holding a grudge about Amy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was playing a game with the two of us.”
Clint turned, smiling in a way that felt a lot like a warning snarl from a dog. “Amy is fifteen years of water under the bridge and I have no regrets. I have a wife that I love and a baby that we adopted a few months ago. My concern now is for my sister.”
“You don’t have to be concerned on my account. I’m here to get this camp mess cleared up, and then I’ll be leaving. I’m not here looking for a relationship.”
Clint shook his head and walked out of the room, switching the light off as he went, leaving Adam with just the light from outside. When he stepped out of the tack room, Clint was waiting.
“Adam, Jenna’s an adult. She’s also my sister. Don’t use her. Don’t mislead her. Don’t hurt her.”
“She’s not a kid.”
Clint took a step closer. “She’s my kid sister.”
Adam lifted his hands in surrender. “I don’t plan on hurting your sister. I don’t plan on getting involved with her at all. She’s offered to help me get this camp off the ground so I can leave. Believe me, my only goal is to get this done and get out of Oklahoma.”
“Okay, as long as we understand each other.” Clint grabbed a box and walked out of the barn. “I’ll get back to you on the horses.”
“Thanks.” Adam watched Clint Cameron drive away and then he turned toward the two-story farmhouse, a small square of a house with a steep, pitched roof. The boys were playing in the front yard and a sprinkler sprayed a small patch of garden. The few trees were tall and branched out, shading the house, a few branches brushing the roof.
The boys. He couldn’t remember their names, and he’d had dinner with them yesterday. He walked in the direction of the house, thinking about their names, and not thinking about why he was still here. Timmy and David. He remembered as he walked up to them.
He smiled when the bigger boy looked up, a suspicious look on a dirt-smudged face and gray eyes like his uncle Clint’s. The little boy, wearing shorts, T-shirt and flip-flops, sat back on his heels. He picked up his toy soldiers and nudged his other brother.
Adam knew their names, but couldn’t remember which was which. “One of you is Timmy, the other is David.”
“I’m David.” The one who sucked his thumb. The little guy wouldn’t look up.
“I’m Timmy.” The bolder of the two. “And we still don’t talk to strangers.”
It was a long way down to the ground. Adam sighed and then he squatted. “I’m not really a stranger now. Aren’t we sort of friends?”
David looked up, gray eyes curious. “Are you friends with my mom?”
“I guess.”
“Did you know her in the army?” The little guy pushed his soldiers through the dirt. “Were you there?”
“No, I wasn’t in the army.”
He hadn’t known Jenna was in the army. But did he ask little boys about their mother, and about the military? He didn’t think so.
“She was in Iraq.” Timmy solved the problem of Adam asking for more information.
“That’s pretty amazing.” More amazing than he could imagine. She wasn’t much bigger than her boys, but he had pegged her right. She was tough. She had something that so many women he’d met lately didn’t have. She had something…
“Boys, time to come in for supper.”
She had two boys and no interest in him.
Adam stood and turned. She was standing on the porch, leaning on a cane. He didn’t know what to do. Had she heard their conversation? Her face was a little pink and she avoided looking at him.
He should go. He shouldn’t get involved. He didn’t ask the women in his life if they were okay. He didn’t worry that they looked more wounded emotionally than physically. He didn’t delve into their private lives.
He had easy relationships without connecting because if he didn’t connect, he didn’t get used. The girl in high school, Amy, had used him against Clint. She had used them both for her own games that he still didn’t understand. As much as he had lived life, he still didn’t always get it. Maybe because his childhood and teen years had been spent on the football field guided by his dad, and without a lot of social interaction off the field.
“Do you want to stay for supper?” It was Timmy, holding a hand out to him, not Jenna offering the invitation.
“I should go.” He looked down at the little guy and tried to remember when he’d last had supper cooked in a farmhouse and eaten at an oak table.
“You can stay.” Jenna walked onto the porch, her brown hair pulled back in an unruly ponytail. “I have plenty. It’s nothing fancy.”
He pushed his hat back and stared up at her, a country girl in jeans and sneakers. He resented Billy for putting him in this position and Will for telling him to stay. Because this felt like home. And he hadn’t been home in a long time.
It had been so long that he’d forgotten how it felt, that it felt good here, and safe.
“Adam?”
“I shouldn’t…”
“What, shouldn’t eat? Are you afraid it’ll ruin your boyish figure to eat fried