3

 

“That should do it for this week. Thanks, Ram.” Rori lifted the tailgate lid to the ancient truck and slammed it in place. The entire frame trembled.

“You’ll need to be replacing this here truck before long, Ms. Rori.” Ram, the owner of the animal supply store, chuckled as he ripped off his work gloves. He tapped them on the top of the tailgate with one hand, rubbed the gray stubble lining his jaws with the other. He tugged the cap down that perpetually hid the upper half of his face.

Rori didn’t mind. Somehow, not being able to see into his eyes made her feel less vulnerable around him, made her trips into town for supplies more tolerable.

“Yeah. I know.” Rori stared at the dent-ridden black utility truck. How much longer could she count on the clunker to run? This afternoon she’d dig a little more into grant opportunities for vehicles. Maybe she’d find something that she missed in her research earlier this week. She sighed. Seemed like the livestock just ate right through her cash flow, leaving little for things like working vehicles or sprucing up the house. Even so, she wouldn’t trade any of them for a nicer truck or house. She’d just have to make do and keep applying.

“Well, I better be going. Thanks again, Ram.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Rori. See you next week.” Ram tipped his hat, tugging it even lower on his head, and hurried back inside the store.

Rori opened the door, gripping the keys tight. Her fingers itched to crank the engine and get the truck moving towards home.

“Rori, wait!”

She closed her eyes and groaned. She’d almost made it. Who wanted to speak with her now? Could she slide into the truck quietly and slip away, pretending she didn’t hear whoever called her name? Not likely, and she didn’t have it in her to be rude.

God, please, if You’re alive and real as Graham believes You are, will You help me shake my social phobia? The prayer, more like a sigh, bubbled up from the depths of her soul.

God hadn’t answered that prayer in almost twenty years, and truthfully, she didn’t really expect Him to. Why would she think God listened to her or cared about what she wanted? But in some small way, addressing her thoughts to God made her feel a little less crazy, less alone in the world.

Rori forced her lids open and turned around.

Corbin Randolph rushed towards her. His veterinary clinic was located next door to the animal supply store. He’d probably seen her through one of the exam room windows.

Now that Graham volunteered at the sanctuary most days, she no longer considered Corbin her vet, but Graham wouldn’t be around forever. He had his own practice to take care of. Disappointment swelled and hope deflated just as quickly. Guess she still needed to consider Corbin the sanctuary’s official vet. The least she could do was thank him for sending Graham to the sanctuary. She hiked a boot on the truck step, waiting for him. “Hey, Corbin,” she said, as he neared.

“Hi.” Breathing hard, he slid a hand through thick, blond hair while his blue eyes flashed appreciation. He’d asked her out on several occasions, but she’d rattled off one flimsy excuse after another. He just didn’t seem to take the hint that she wasn’t interested.

Graham’s dark head, the little crinkles lining his twinkling eyes, and his flirty-yet-shy smile flitted across her vision. She tapped the truck with her boot, tamping back her frustration. She couldn’t be interested in him, either.

“Rori, didn’t you mention that an on-call vet showed up to help with your llama delivery?”

“Yeah. Thank you for sending him. He was a big help.”

“Male or female?” Corbin’s sandy brows furrowed.

“Male.” Definitely. All. Male. Rori’s pulse kicked up a notch. She cleared her throat, lowered her boot to the ground and tucked her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

“What did you say his name was?”

“His name?” This line of questioning was growing stranger by the minute. Didn’t Corbin know the names of the vets he partnered with for emergency calls? How many vets were there in the small town of Harrison? Oh, maybe he utilized a veterinary service in Charlotte. Of course, if that was the case, he probably wouldn’t know who’d been sent to the sanctuary.

“Yeah. His name.”

“Graham.”

He scratched his head and frowned. “Is that a first or last name?”

Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. Graham had completed the volunteer forms, but she’d tucked them away in the file without sparing the time to review them yet. She had no idea if Graham was his first or last name. He would have mentioned if she were calling him by his last name, right?

“I think it’s his first name, but I don’t know for sure.” She wagged her head. “I can find out when I get back to the sanctuary.” Suspicion moved in, replacing the embarrassment. She narrowed her brows. “Why?”

Red crept up Corbin’s neck and covered his face in splotches. “Uh...”

“Ms. Harmon!”

At the sound of the all too familiar female voice, Rori jerked her head to the right. A woman dressed in stylish slacks with a silk shirt— a silk shirt in mid-October? What was she thinking?—and decked out in what looked to be four-inch heels tottered towards them.

Rori dipped her head and moaned. Could the day get any worse? Why hadn’t she hopped in the truck and taken off before Corbin got hold of her? She had parked in the back of the shopping center.

How did the reporter find her? And why did she continually track Rori down after she’d refused the interview?

Rori gritted her teeth. How could she be more firm without being rude?

“I’ll catch up with you later, Rori.” Corbin turned, appearing anxious to leave. Apparently, the reporter had that effect on him, too.

“Sure. I’ll call when I find out Graham’s full name.”

With a quick nod, he hustled back into his office.

If only she could scurry away like that, like a rat into its hole.

The reporter approached. The private parking lot had erupted into grand central station this morning. Rori shook her head. Who would’ve guessed? She definitely needed to consider changing her schedule. She tapped her boot on the ground, hands clenched against her sides. How could she calm herself before speaking with the reporter? Stilling her boot, she mashed moist palms into her pockets and pulled out a couple pieces of candy. She breathed deep and hummed a little tune that she used with the llamas while she unwrapped the candies, and then popped them both in her mouth. Rori kept humming as the chocolate and peanut butter flavors merged on her tongue. There. That was better.

When crazy-high-heels-and-silk-lover was within hearing distance, Rori stopped humming.

“Good morning, Ms. Hanson.” The reporter’s face sported a triumphant look. What was up with that?

“Harmon.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s Harmon. Rori Harmon.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. How could I forget?” No apology for the error. What did Rori expect from the reporter?

“Ms. Greenway.” Rori flicked her head once in acknowledgement, dread pitting her stomach.

“What a pleasant surprise to find Graham Decker at your facility yesterday.”

Graham Decker. So that was his full name. Why did it sound familiar? She couldn’t place it. Unwilling to swipe her sweaty palms against her jeans again, she tucked them in her pockets and fingered another piece of candy, waiting for the woman to get to the point.

Nan hiked thin brows and angled her neck, looking at her expectantly.

What did the reporter want from her? “Graham’s been a tremendous help.”

“Help?” Nan’s voice erupted in a near screech, more shrill than the llamas. What was wrong with the lady?

“He volunteers at the sanctuary,” Rori offered.

“Volunteers?” Nan’s jaw dropped.

Rori could have sworn the woman swayed slightly. Must be from parking those four-inch heels in gravel. If she planned to stick around town, she really needed to invest in some quality leather boots.

“Ah. He volunteers at the sanctuary. I see now. That makes sense.” Nan’s head bobbed, a slow up and down motion that made Rori uncomfortable. “Something to do with the Graham Decker Foundation, I’m sure.”

The Graham Decker Foundation. Now that name really rang some bells.

“Still, how does a highly successful racecar driver afford time away from his shop to volunteer at an animal shelter? Why doesn’t the man just write a check and be done with it?”

What?

Graham was a racecar driver? Not a vet?

Rori reared back as if the woman had struck her in the face. Her left eyelid twitched, and her lips trembled. Her lungs lost all capability for normal function. She sniffled and jerked her hand out of her pocket. She watched the last piece of candy drop to the ground. Fitting, wasn’t it? She swiped a sleeve across her face, trying to regain her composure, but failing miserably.

Seriously? Graham. A racecar driver?

According to the reporter, and Nan should know, Graham wasn’t just any racecar driver. He was highly successful.

So why was he volunteering at her ranch?

“I don’t…” She needed time to process this information. She had to get away from the reporter, away from people, away from the hurt and humiliation that never seemed to loosen its grip on her or her family. “Excuse me, but I need to get back to the sanctuary.” Rori took a step towards the truck on unstable legs, as weak as overcooked spaghetti. She reached for the door handle to steady them, and then heaved herself into the truck. Without offering Nan another opportunity to plead for a personal interview, Rori cranked the engine, nodded at the reporter, and stomped on the accelerator.

The fresh breeze floating through the open windows couldn’t cool her hot face or tame the tears that tracked down her cheeks. The unsullied air didn’t ease the pain or erase the condemnation, the years of pointed fingers and whispered conversations behind her back.

She’d thought that by choosing a career path working with animals she could escape the vicious gossip and censure, the disapproval. But no. Twenty years later and here she was, staring at the same mess, just a different person leading the pack. Rori swiped a denim sleeve across her face and made the right turn leading towards home, her focus blurred.

“Why, God? My dad’s been dead for two decades. Why can’t these reporters just leave us alone? Why must they constantly hound my family?” If she were honest, that wasn’t what bothered her the most. “And what about Graham? Why did he even show up at the sanctuary in the first place? What does he really want?” She didn’t care that she spoke the words aloud. Nobody would hear her on the long, lonely stretch of road.

Especially not God.

“The first guy I meet that I might be remotely interested in, ever, and he drives racecars for a living! How rich is that!” Sniffing, she plucked a tissue from the box in the center console and wiped her nose, keeping her eyes on the road. She swiped at her eyes, stiffened her shoulders and steeled her resolve.

Graham Decker had some explaining to do.

She didn’t care what he did for a living—OK. Maybe she did. As a volunteer working with her animals, she needed to know his motive for being there. There. That felt better. She lifted her chin. She’d confront him and listen to his reasoning. Then order him to leave.

An image of the man leaning against the fence, his head angled over a shoulder, sporting that tender expression on his face, stole her breath.

Why, God? Why couldn’t he be the man I thought he was?

And why am I talking to a God who could care less about me?

 

****

 

Graham hummed, the stiff bristles of the brush sliding along Pocono’s back, the strong scents of leather, hay, and horse becoming familiar and almost as comfortable as the hand cleaner, steel, and rubber smells from the shop. “There you go, Pocono.” He unhooked the halter and led the beautiful specimen back into the stall. He secured the door with the latch and rubbed the horse’s soft muzzle. “See you next week, buddy.”

Where was Rori?

He glanced at his cellphone. He had a plane to catch in a few hours. He needed to clean up and head out, but he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye and to let her know that he’d be back on Tuesday. The conversation could wait until next week, couldn’t it? He put the brush back on the shelf and sighed. Tuesday seemed so far away.

He would miss her. Over the last week, he’d grown accustomed to her shy looks in the mornings, which eventually warmed to sharing lunches and coffee breaks. His lips curved thinking about the occasional glimpse of cute dimples that flashed around full lips and gleaming white teeth. The laugh lines that fanned out from her eyes every time he dumped a shirt in the soiled stack.

A truck roared into the driveway, grinding to a rather abrupt stop directly outside the barn. A door opened, and then slammed. Boots mashed the gravel, determination in the rapid steps. What had her all riled?

He grabbed a towel and wiped his hands.

A shadow blocked the waning sunlight from the open barn door. Rori. Her hands fisted against her hips. Leather boots planted firmly on the dirt. Rori’s shoulders pressed back, all stiff and starch. She looked ready to pummel him. Her cowgirl hat hid most of her face, but he knew her jade eyes flashed anger and her lips were compressed into a thin line. Angry or not, she was beautiful. And, apparently, now she knew about him.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration at the timing pumping through his veins. He inhaled a ragged breath, and then exhaled sharply. So much for waiting until next week to confess.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her lips quivered.

Because he hadn’t wanted her to judge him by how fat his wallet was, but he couldn’t say that to her. His shoulders sagged, and a disappointed sigh eeked out.

Her arms dropped to her sides, but he noticed her hands were still curled tightly into fists. She stalked inside the barn, her steps measured and determined, her back proud and stiff, her nostrils flaring slightly. “You’re not a vet. You’re not qualified to treat animals. Didn’t you see how that might present a problem?”

“The thought did occur to me.” Fleeting, but it had passed through his rather weak excuse for a brain once or twice.

Her brows arched menacingly, and she stepped closer until her cowgirl hat almost touched him. She glanced up.

Yep. He was right. Those amber specks glittered with fury, and the cute dimples had left home. Looked like he was in some serious trouble.

“The thought occurred to you?” Her incredulous tone indicated that she had a hard time believing him.

What had he been thinking? Obviously, he’d been overwhelmed and dumbfounded because she didn’t recognize him. Was that an excuse? He gave a slight shake of his head. Not one she’d accept. She’d dazzled him with her beauty in a natural, shy, not even knows it kind of way. So different from his ex-wife, Lisa, who flaunted her beauty in front of the camera every chance she was offered. Rori’s beauty was refreshing and pure, pristine as a mountain spring, bubbling and inviting. He surely didn’t want to admit that right now, either. He cleared his throat and brandished an arm, encompassing the stalls and the pasture outside. “If any one of these animals had suffered—”

“If they had suffered, it would have been your fault.” She jabbed a slender finger against his torso, her chest heaving.

“I would have admitted—”

“By then it might have been too late.”

“Who I was.” And that he wanted the opportunity to explore something between them before his added baggage of celebrity status got in the way.

“Who are you?” She took a step back and crossed arms over her chest.

He’d rather she still poked him with her finger. She was closer that way. “Graham Decker.” What was so wrong with that?

“What do you do for a living, Graham Decker?” Dark brows framed wide, expressive eyes, the rich, vibrant color of a grassy, forest floor after a much-needed soaking rain. She knew.

He sighed, hating that he’d deceived her, but somewhat relieved that it was now out in the open. “I’m a racecar driver.” There. Now his identity, and his wallet, separated them. A huge, gaping chasm. His gaze never left her face, never veered to the left or right, waiting and searching for her soul-deep response.

“A far cry from a vet, don’t you think?” Her eyes grew fat with tears that never spilled over. She was a trooper, but the guardedness on her face was evidence that she knew disappointment on a first-name basis.

Disappointment. Wariness. Not the usual reactions he experienced from fans when they found out who he was. She didn’t run for the camera or squeal with surprise. She didn’t even ask for an autograph. And she definitely didn’t show signs that she’d known who he was before now.

He lowered his head and scrubbed the whiskers covering his cheeks, not wanting her to witness his surprise at her reaction. He couldn’t squelch the seed of promise, the burst of anticipation, which budded and bloomed in his gut. He raised his head, honesty pouring from his heart, as he traced soft and gentle circles along her upper arm. “I would never have let your animals suffer. Trust me on that, Rori.”

“Trust you? Why should I trust you?” She looked pointedly at his hand, but she didn’t jerk away from his touch. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

“I love animals. I’m sure you could see that this week. And why would I bother showing up if I didn’t?” He allowed his hand to slip away, and although the warmth of her skin faded quickly, the tingle from touching her resonated all the way to his new boots.

She inhaled, sharp and deep. Her voice lost its fire. “Well, there is that.”

He nodded, feeling vaguely reassured.

“Don’t bother coming back.”

His head jerked back as if she’d slapped him. “What? Why not?”

“Because I will not have someone here at this sanctuary I can’t trust.”

His cellphone shrieked an alarm. The absolute latest for him to still make the flight on time. He wasn’t ready, and he didn’t want to leave her for four torturous days with this hanging over them. Dread pitted in his gut. Talk about terrible timing. He cupped her chin and tilted her face up. She tried to turn her head away, but he held her in a firm, yet gentle grasp, trying hard to resist the pleasure he felt at the touch of her smooth skin against his rough hand. “Rori, please. Look at me.”

Her dark brows rose, revealing forest green orbs, full in equal measure of sass and charm.

“I promise you that you can trust me. I’ll be back on Tuesday morning.”

“Don’t bother.” Her hands remained clenched at her sides, the tears glistening, but still refusing to fall. She might appear fragile on the outside, but she was tough as steel on the inside.

“I won’t let you down, Rori. I’ll be here.” And he would. Not a single volunteer had shown up this week besides him. He would be the man that she needed.

She could count on him.

 

****

 

Rori poured coffee into two cups and carried them onto the back deck. She handed Burk a mug.

“Thank you.” He took a short sip.

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming over tonight.” She settled on one end of the wicker couch, curling her legs underneath her body, disappointment slinking into her chest and making its home there. “I just don’t know what to think about him.”

The sun made its final dip past the horizon and darkness blanketed the sky. With the light glowing from the fire pit, she could barely make out Burk’s dark brows, furrowed in concern. Just like her big brother.

“I don’t blame you, Rori. I don’t know what to think either.”

“Why would he work here all week and make me believe that he was a vet when he’s actually a racecar driver?”

“It doesn’t make sense. Would you like me to make some phone calls and see what I can find out?” A crease lined Burk’s forehead. His almost-black hair stood up from raking his hand through it.

Burk, such a sweet older brother. He’d always looked out for his family, forever worrying over them, especially his twin, Beck. Beck had left town years ago, his way of escaping the pain of their father’s suicide, and Rori knew Burk fretted the most about him since their mother, Lessa, had remarried.

Rori shook her head. “Nah. Graham Decker won’t be back.”

“He said he would, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but—”

“I wouldn’t discount his word.” Burk’s quiet tone, meant to comfort her, didn’t work. Her stomach twisted. How many knots could she have inside her belly?

“Why not?” Rori stared at him, her jaw gaping open.

Burk and her stepfather, Ryan, were the only two males in the world she could depend on. Why should she believe Graham? He’d deceived her, put her animals at risk, and made her look the fool in front of the reporter. Not that Rori cared about the reporter, but she did care about her animals.

Graham Decker’s word meant nothing.

“Well, for one, he’s a public figure.” Burk raised his index finger.

“Exactly. That’s another reason not to believe him.”

Burk cocked his head, shooting her a disapproving glare.

“It’s the truth,” she mumbled, still not willing to concede.

“In Rori’s world.” Burk’s voice was soft, not condemning. Gentleness abounded in his words and expression.

True. But that’s the world she was forced to live in.

“I’m a public figure.” Burk’s fingers scraped the heavy evening stubble lining his jaw. That was funny. With that gesture, Graham looked like her older brother. How had she not noticed that before now?

Dark hair. Unshaven most of the time, with a few days worth of whiskers lining their faces. But where Burk was serious, Graham tended to joke around. Tease. Get under her skin. And where Burk was tall, slender and more tailored, Graham’s thick athletic torso and muscled arms bulged from beneath rugged work shirts.

“Semi-public. You’re the man behind the man.” Burk was a Deputy City Manager who did his best to stay behind the scenes.

Ignoring her comment, Burk leaned forward, waving two fingers in the air. “And two, he did show up to work all week. He didn’t have to. I’m sure he has a ton of other commitments.” Her brother reclined against the couch, crossing one leg over the other.

Another true statement. Rori scratched her head. She had wondered how he’d managed a busy vet practice when he wasn’t in the office to treat his patients.

As a racecar driver, what did he give up to be here all week?

With nervous energy, she unbuckled her legs from the settee and stepped closer to the fire pit, staring into the orange glow. She sipped the hazelnut brew, the warmth sliding down her throat, but not enough to thaw the chill that shrouded her heart since finding out about Graham. “Burk, did I tell you that Nan Greenway asked for an interview?”

“She called me, too.”

She turned around to face her brother, hugging one arm across her waist. “What did you tell her?”

“No. The same thing I always tell her.” He sipped his coffee, and then set the mug on the side table.

“Yeah. Me, too. But she actually showed up here on the property this week. Graham showed her around.”

His green eyes rolled, and he wagged his head back and forth. “Nan probably thought she hit the jackpot.”

“Really, I was just glad that Graham showed her around.” Rori’s blood pressure had escalated to the point of threatening to throw Nan off the property when Graham had taken over. He’d exercised such finesse, such smooth control with the reporter. “Not only did he get her off my back, but also he really had a talent for handling her and her nosey questions.”

Burk’s brows hiked. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and cupping his chin in his hands. “I guess there is some advantage to having the guy around, then.”

Yeah. There was that. Graham had accomplished the work of three of her this week, allowing her to enjoy a beautiful evening chatting with her brother in front of a radiant fire, instead of working.

But, he wouldn’t show up again. Not after she’d warned him not to come back. Wasn’t that what she wanted? Rori hung her head. Truthfully? No. But that’s what she expected. He was probably no different from her father. Showing off a charismatic persona to the camera, but inside, he allowed a dark side, the polar opposite of what the world believed he was, to dwell and flourish.

“Burk, it’s been almost twenty years. Why can’t I seem to move on with my life like you and Mom have?” Rori plopped back down onto the cushioned couch, the sigh she heaved coming from deep in her soul.

Burk’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He reached along the wicker back and tugged her under his shoulder, snug against his side. She cuddled against her big brother, sniffling.

“You’ll get there, Rori,” his voice rumbled over her head.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like Beck’s gotten over it, either. He’s not back yet.” She shook her head, the soft cotton of her brother’s shirt drying the moisture that accumulated around her eyes.

His rough chin moved up and down. “He will. Beck will come home. Just like Graham Decker will show up on Tuesday. You wait and see.”

Rori gulped, disillusionment warring with hope, the former winning the battle. She craved Beck’s return, longed to wrap her arms around her brother to comfort him. Graham was different. She wanted to wrap her fingers around his neck for a very different purpose. What would she do if he showed up on Tuesday like he said? Tell him to take a hike?

Was Graham a man who actually stuck close to a friend through high floodwaters or did he just give up and wave the white flag, surrendering, when times got tough? Graham had already spent several days at the sanctuary and that was after a llama spewed crud over him on multiple occasions. He’d also assisted with a messy cria delivery and mucked out the barn. What if he proved to be a man she could depend on?

Rori shivered and looked out at the stars lighting the now black sky.

Beck was out there somewhere, gazing up at the same sky.

So was Graham.

She sighed, finding warmth and comfort from her brother’s arms. “I hope you’re right about Beck. I can’t wait to see him again.”

If she never saw Graham Decker again, it would be soon enough.